What's the Opposite of being too bored to blog?

So sometimes I'm not very good at posting because I'm totally boring and there is nothing of any interest happening AT ALL.

This hiatus has NOT been one of those times.

So much has been happening lately, I'm a little overwhelmed when I think about the 40 or so things I should be creating pithy posts about. I can't even deal with that kind of pressure!

So I post nothing.

But then I'm all in a quandry, because I don't want to forget it, either.

And if I know anything about myself it is that I am a Great Forgetter. I used to be a Great Rememberer, but I think my brain is full. There's no room in the Inn, but stuff keeps getting crammed in there. So now everything is all muddled up and I can't remember what year I did what, or who I was with, or if I've already shared such-n-such story with you twenty times. So I've got to just suck it up and jot it all down.

So really, this post is more for me than for you. Sorry world, I can't entertain you today. I got some 'membering to do.

Gave the funniest White Elephant present: Las Vegas in a Box! Each item had a luggage tag with a picture of the Fabulous Las Vegas sign and a clever little note about the present. Stuff like, "Know when to fold 'em" on the pack of cards. The box had the following stuff:

• a roulette game
• pack of cards
• bridal veil
• wig & dark glasses (I even got those old man dark glasses - so HOT)
• a champagne glass
• a trashy novel to read by the pool
• a lounge music CD
• a silk scarf to look the part

Clever, right? I was really excited about this present and thought it would be the toast of the party. But then someone brought a HUGE bottle of Vodka ... and obviously Vegas in a Box cannot possibly compete with vodka.

Christmas was great ... spent it here. The heat went out twice. Brrr-a-la-brrr-brrr.

New Year's was awesome. I went to two parties. I was conspicuous at the first party for two reasons: First, I was the only girl. Second, I was the only straight person. We had a great time, but I made sure to skedaddle before midnight. I wasn't sure what might happen, but I was pretty sure it'd be awkward.

Directly after New Year's the celebrations for my birthday began. I had expected it to be a very low-key year since my birthday was on a Sunday and everyone knows that Sunday birthdays are the Lamest Birthdays of them All. But it wasn't. Not low key at all.

The festivities began on Saturday and just kept on going, and going ...

Saturday

• Treated myself to a box of gourmet cupcakes from Hello, Cupcake
• Treated myself to a big bowl of Tangysweet FroYo
• Treated myself to the Broadway production of Legally Blonde at the Kennedy Center

Sunday

• Treated myself to a lazy day around the house
• Treated myself to a hot dog/chips/diet coke combo for lunch. (YUM!!)
• Maria made me a steak dinner
• Charlene made a riiiiiidiculous Rasperry-Lemon cheesecake

Happily Birthdayed I thought the fun was over.

Wrong. The fun was JUST BEGINNING!

Monday

• Work pals take me to lunch and make a big production with chocolate cake and singing.
• During lunch they try to convince me to go to drag bingo. "Sounds like fun, but will it help me with my New Year's Resolution to meet straight men?" I ask. Probably not, but still will be fun.

Tuesday

• Work pals tell the Drag Queens at drag bingo that A) its my birthday and B) I'm Mormon. (As such I was a tiny bit out of place at a gay sports bar).
• Sang Happy B with my new favorite ladies Shiqueeta Lee and Akasha Cassadine
• Forced to do a shot (of cranberry juice) to the stomping and cheering of an entire bar
  
• Being called to the front to call out the numbers
• Being generally Heckled and Celebritied all night long

All of us with the fabulous Shiqueeta Lee and Akasha Cassadine.



Friday
Camie wanted to through me a party because she hadn't been able to participate in any of the other parties. I was well and truly exhausted by this point, but thought it would be fun to have people over to make decorate cookies and have a quiet night in.

So we did. It wasn't that quiet. But it WAS super fun! Even Mustard decorated one or two.





I never thought turning 34 would be so action packed! I'm pooped.

Mustard and Gretchen Write a Chirstmas Letter

"Hey Mustard," I hollered, "Come in here. I need you!"

"WHHHHYYYY?" he hollered right back.

"We have to write our Christmas letter and I need your help!" I said, still hollering.

It took a minute but I soon heard him commentating as he sock-skated his way from the kitchen to the living room. "Woosh! Woosh! And its that Ice Devil Mustard coming in from the outside!" before he burst into the room and with a giant Risky Business Slide slammed into me on the couch.

"oooophhFFF, Get off me!" I said, pushing him off my lap and onto the seat next to me.

"So!" he settled in looking at the computer screen, "Whatcha got so far?"

"Not much. I can't really remember this year."

"Well, that makes sense. You're old and senile" he said matter of factly.

I gave him a look that said, Watch it mister. Sadly, idle threats don't really phase Mustard, so outloud I said, "I remember that it was a great year -- infinitely better than 2007 -- but what in the world did we do?"

"Well, we ... uh ... oh yeah! This Spring we went ... no, no, that was last year. .... Shoot! You're right! What DID we do this year?"

"Exactly" I said drily.

"This can't be right. We had a rockin year. At least I had a rockin year. Your life was probably pretty boring" he said. "Let's think about this. OK. For one thing we moved to Capitol Hill during that monsoon. That was awesome."

"Oh yeah! That move was crazy, but living here IS Totally Awesome. Mini high-five for moving!" And we high fived. "OK. What else did we do?"

"We went to the beach for that week long vacation in May" he said.

We looked at each other and said in unison: "BEST VACATION EVER!" And then sighed deeply as we remembered its amazingness. Then I said, "And then, remember going to the beach every weekend in August? Good times."

"True dat" he said. "And remember when you got your braces off? But then you put them back on two weeks later cuz you were a super fussy-pants and then had to have them on for six more months?" He laughed while I glared, "You weren't expecting to look like a doofus for ALL of 2008, were you?!"

"Oh Yeah? Well shut up, cuz I'm getting them off -- FOR REAL THIS TIME -- on the 29th!"

He grinned and said, "Suuuuure you are. I'll believe it when I see it."

"ANYWAAAAAAAY. It wasn't the biggest mover-and-shaker of a year. We've established that. But it was still a fun year, true?"

"Very true, Jeeves, very true" he said.

"What was your favorite part?" I asked him.

"Oh, that has to be when you went to Las Vegas and that -- "

"STOP!!"

"And you were like, 'Bathtub???!?! WTF? Who ASKS that?' and --"

"Mustard! For real!!!! We are NOT talking about that."

"Sorry I'm laughing so hard! But your face was so classic!"

"Its not my fault people say stupid stuff to me! Will you please stop laughing? Really. Its not that funny."

"Hoooo! Sorry!" he said wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.

"You are really not helping with this Christmas letter. You're just bringing up all of the things I'd rather NOT remember about 2008" I said.

"Sorry, sorry. What would you rather remember? Lame stuff like your favorite movie?" he asked a touch scornfully.

"Sure! That's the kind of stuff you look back on and laugh about. Not embarrassing things that should STAY IN VEGAS."

"Alright, fine, little Miss Boring Face. My favorite movie was Tropic Thunder. That retarded scene? Classic!! What was yours?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course that would be his favorite.

"Mmmm" I said while I mentally thumbed through the movies I saw this year. "I have no idea. There were a bunch I liked."

"Listen Missy, you gotta pick. That's the whole point. Otherwise, its no fun, and I get to tell another embarrassing story from 2008 that you'd rather not remember."

"OK!!! Geez. You play dirty! My favorite movie was probably TheDarkKnightWall-ESex&TheCityWanted."

"Um-hum." I could tell he wasn't very thrilled with that cop-out answer. But they were all REALLY good! "Favorite song?" he asked.

I effected a Family Feud voice and said, "iTunes SAYS! White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes. Good choice iTunes - I do really like that song! Yours?"

And he busted out singing:
"She got them Apple-bottom jeans"

I promptly joined in, "Boots with the fur! The whole club was lookin at her!"

Simultaneously we both got off the couch and dancing we sang, "She hit the floor. Next Thing you know. Shawty got Low Low Low Low Low Low Low!!"

And that's pretty much where the letter writing ended, and the dance party began. It was a great year for us! We hope you had a fantastic time too!

Pimp Ma House, Christmas Edition

I wasn't going to decorate this year, because I didn't really see the point. If I took the effort to pull the decorations out of Narnia (btw, this is the name of the storage closet under the stairs because once you make your way through the the coats, its a whole new world) I'd have to take just as much effort to put them BACK in Narnia. Seemed like a lot of work. And its not like I need an extra dose of Holiday Cheer. I'm 100% Jolly 100% of the time!

But then my friend Adam came over and brought me a tube of silver tinsel. And I was like, "AWESOME!! Tinsel!!" And he was like, "Girrrrl, that ain't no ghetto Tinsel! That's a Mini Tinsel TREE! with Lights."

And I was like, "God Bless You, every one."

So I put it up in my window, so the neighbors walking by would think to themselves, "My, My, isn't THAT apartment festive with its Mini Tinsel Tree! with Lights."

Fa-la-la-la-LA!

So since I was now decorating I decided to pull out the rest of the decorations and gussy the place up.

My Favorite and Most Beloved Diet Coke Tree returned this year. And I also found this cute Ice Cube Snowman ornament. So now I'm thinking ... Gosh, All I need is a glass to have the cheeriest holiday around!

(Can you see that little snowman? He's between the gloves on sticks. He's super see-through.)

I also discovered the balls that USED to go on my tree before I converted it to a Diet Coke Tree. And So I did the easiest slash coolest thing ever and artfully arranged them in this giant flower bowl.



Cute, Eh?


But then I REALLY went crazy and taped these snowflakes to the mantle. You know, as if it were snowing INSIDE!! So crazy. But so pretty!




And look at how serene and lovely this little nativity looks on my mantle. My Sister in Law sent it to me last year. Its good to remember that there's more to Christmas than Tinsel, Diet Coke, and snowflakes. Not much more, mind you, but more. (I'm totally kidding, relax people)


And now I am all set to have an awesome and amazing Christmas here in my little CapHill house. Feliz Navidad!

On Family Old and New

Hallo! Just back from my Thanksgiving week in Phoenix, AZ, year two. Everything was the same as it was last year. Same Brother and Sister-in-Law being super hospitable and fun. Same Parents being goofy (like when my Dad hid his See's chocolates in the microwave. Would've worked too except we all watched him hobble over and stash them inside. He's a master of deception.) Same warm sunny weather. Same never-ending swaths of BEIGE BEIGE BEIGE. Yup. All basically the same as last year. Except I didn't puke my guts out. And we didn't go to the Grand Canyon.

Oh. And this year I have THE CUTEST NIECE IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE. No biggie.

Please visit her Online Shrine for your daily worship.

One fun thing we did this year was force my parents to do Oral Histories. I learned several interesting stories about my grandparents.

For example:
My newly married and very poor maternal grandparents were lucky to get one of the very small log cabins at the WPA worksite. They knew a skunk was nesting underneath the house, but so far everyone was getting along just fine. Until some neighbors stopped by for a visit. (Here you should picture me cough-saying "Visiting Teachers." Can't prove it, but do the math. They show up at your house + try to "help" = Totally Annoying Results. I'm just sayin'.)

The "neighbors" saw the skunk and had the GENIUS idea to chase it out of its cushy sub-cabin home. Well, it was the thirties and I'm guessin that good cabins to live under were few and far between. Old Pepe wasn't going anywhere without a fight.

He ran under the cabin to defend his territory. And ....

SPRAY SPRAY SPRAY

... Just like that, poor Grandma and Gramps returned home to find their house and all of the contents therein completely saturated with skunk stink. They had to move out of their cabin and lost all of their stuff. INCLUDING a brand new sack of FLOUR. Which in Great Depression Currency was like three Hermes Birkin bags. If my Grandma had even known these words she probably would have told her no-good "helpful neighbors" to stay the freak out of her biz-nas from now until like forevah. (That's what I would have told them, anyway.)

To add insult to stinky injury, they smelled so Skunky no one would be their friend or rent them a new apartment for weeks. Poor stinky fore-fathers. Life was so so SO hard for you.

I'm glad we did these family histories because now I know that my mistrust of "helpful neighbors" is both well-founded and genetic!

PS. Does this strike anyone else as a story that could only happen in rural Idaho during the Great Depression?

Wherin Halloween Becomes My Favorite Holiday

This has been one of the best Halloweens of all time. AND IT'S ONLY HALF OVER!! I'm heading out in a few minutes for round two of parties.

You're probably wondering why this particular Halloween is the best?

Here's why.

First, and nothing to do with me, our new neighborhood appears to be a destination Trick-or-Treating neighborhood. And there were Kids Galore cruising the streets last night. Since becoming an adult I've never lived in a neighborhood so trickertreat heavy. It was totally fun!

But more interesting than living in Kidlandia, I had the easiest, most fun costume. Utilizing both my awesome new haircut and my dip back into the braces pool I was able to pull off a TOTALLY Convincing Ugly Betty.



But most people said something like, "Are you Ugly Betty? Pffft. More like CUTE BETTY!!!" And I was like, "Ohmygosh! Your sooooo nice! But I totally am, right?!"


My rockadelic outfit was made, Oh, about 1000 times better by these snoopy-on-a-sled socks.




At the office, I rocked the stiff competition and WON a $20 gift card!! (along with that jukebox and Stahlin)




After work, Camie and I went to Bryan and Adam's house for a delicious and diet-friendly dinner party. Everybody loved Lucy. And got "I Love Lucy" stickered to prove it.



The party was just starting, though. From there we went to meet party friends Jen and Steve (featured in video below) at a Liberty Tavern in Arlington.

WAY SUPER FUN!!!

This clip is basically what it was like all night. Two things to notice. 1) They're playing Thriller. Which is, in and of itself, WAY AWESOME. 2) If you listen closely you can hear Camie yelling "Faster Faster FASTER!!" All I can say is, Billy Blanks ain't got nothin on me.




That clip? Yeah, that's pretty much what its like everytime I go dancing. Me = Ridiculous

I hope you all had a fun and safe Halloween!

Wherin I Suck At Easy Decisions

Here's the sitch:

• I have 30 days of vacation that I must use before December 31. (35 if you count sick days).
• After five years of gaining points on my miles credit card I have enough miles built up to buy a ticket worth around $1000. Which basically means I can go anywhere in the world, maybe twice. (I'd like to thank my ridiculous rent from the past 5 years for it's major contribution to this outlandish balance).
• I finally faced filing my tax return, and somehow, magically, I am getting back a FAT return.
  
• I have this sort-of half-formed goal of going to every continent (except Antarctica, brrrr!) before I'm married, or dead. Whichever comes first.
  

and now for the part where I make the obvious unnecessarily complicated .....

• None of my friends have any days of vacation, let alone 30 days.
• None of my friends have any money to spend.
• I'm sort of scared of traveling by myself. It just seems so overwhelming! All of that time - all day every day - to entertain myself - by myself - no one to comment on the prettiness to except strangers - strange strangers - who may or may not want to use me to smuggle cocaine or diamonds into the US - lots and lots of strangers - all speaking strange languages and using strange colored money - requiring me to convert their strange colored money which, as you know, I cannot do - and do you or do you not include tip here? - will my failure to haggle (or convert) leave me stranded in the street after dark? - with the mafia? - and stray dogs? - it's a bit overwhelming.
  
• I'm a worrywart chicken.

Sooooooooo. I'm sure you can see how these two sets of bullet points have succeeded in canceling each other out, and thereby reduced me to a quivering blob of indecision.

Which is how I got to the point where I'm starting to seriously entertain the idea of Voluntourism. Have you guys heard of this? Basically you travel somewhere and do some volunteer work while you're there, and then you can travel around a little bit before, during, or after depending on the program.

Under normal circumstances this would be pretty much the opposite of what I'd want to do for a vacation. This is a definite do-gooders type of vacation and so the percentage of people apt to be wearing patchouli oil and hemp clothing is WAY too high for my liking. I'm not really a Build-A-Hut-In-The-Amazon kind of girl. But I read about this project where you work to reconstruct these historic stone buildings that are crumbling away. Oh and it's in the countryside in Provence. FRANCE. After a morning mortaring you can spend your afternoons ambling around the countryside. I mentioned the part about Provence, right?

So now I'm thinking to myself that this could be the best of both worlds. Perhaps this type of program would give me a little structure so that I'm not overwhelmed with the possibilities - good and bad - of how to spend my days which would otherwise cause me to freeze into stuttering spaz who can't make up their mind (see worrywart chicken bullet point above). It would allow me to also have some interaction with people in a safe and engaging way, but still have some time to be able to do my own thing. Yes! And Please!

Of course, it might not be that great. It could be a trip with a bunch of kumbaya drum-beating weirdos. And they're all jazzed to save the earth, and I'd be like, "Well, yeah the Earth is pretty great and all ... but do we need to smell SO bad to save it?" and they'll be all like, "Your global footprint puts Sasquatch to shame." And then we'd glare at each other from across the drum circle. So obviously we won't like each other but we'll still be forced to share mortar and get along! It will be torture!

....

See how easy that was? One little jaunt down Imagination Lane and I'm back to being a quivering blob of indecision. Help me, Internets, you're my only hope!

Should I travel alone? Or do Voluntourism? Or just stay at home and put my tax refund toward a house?

Why Exaggerate When Stuff Like This Happens?

I opened my front door this morning and found that someone had left me a Valentine treat on my doorstep! Getting presents, in whatever fashion they arrive, is my favorite. But getting them mysteriously dropped on the doorstep is even MORE my favorite.

Except, perhaps, when that present is a partially used 20lb bag of cat litter.

At first I thought it was a gift from the Ghost of Valentine's Day Future come to give me a wake up call. But the note attached explained that one of my neighbors (the one that stole my iron, incidentally) is moving out and thought that I might be able to make use of the litter.

This is a nice thought, except for that I don't have a cat. And I'm not really keen on pets in general. And it's VALENTINE'S DAY. And presents given on Valentine's Day should be of the chocolate or candy heart or diamond variety. Not of the turd receivership variety.

Take it from me, if you're a single girl in your 30s and let's just say you're a librarian and maybe you have a slight phobia about being destined to become a crazy cat lady, the last thing - and I do mean the VERY LAST THING - you want to see on your front step on Valentine's morning is a 20 lb bag of cat litter. That's just cruel. Ironic and cruel.

Dear Job, Stop Fighting It and Be My Valentine

This year I am asking my Job to be my Valentine. On the surface this sounds really pathetic. But believe me, we used to be seriously in love with each other. But I don't know ... somehow the magic just faded.

I said some things ("Why do you suck so bad?") and it said some things ("You act like you don't even care anymore!") and then I said some more things ("I would care if you gave me anything to care about. But you don't! You're so distant!"). And well, it wasn't too long before we were talking about divorce. It was a dark, dark, boring time.

But no matter how many other suitors I entertained, the fates kept us together. You just can't fight destiny. Believe me, I tried and I failed. Oh how I failed!

But now, I'm happy to say, we are working really hard at being there for one another and really making our time together count. So far, it's been great! Sure, we've still got a long way to go before we get back to that honeymooning stage of our relationship. But I really think we're going to make it. I really do. I, for one, am already feeling loved and I hope it feels loved right back.

You hear that, Job? I said I love you! So, what do you say? Will you be my Valentine?

On Prayers and Parties

They say that when you don't feel like praying, that's when you should get right down on your knees and pray until you FEEL like praying.

In my opinion, the same goes for parties.

(Especially parties of the New Year's Eve variety. Le sigh. I'm glad you're back from the cleaners, Sequined Top, I need you now more than ever. Dick Clark's siren song is particularly strong this year.)

The Jew That Saved Christmas

Pull out your nearest map of the United States. Locate the East Coast. Now put your finger about halfway up the coast. That's where I live, in Washington DC. Now slide your finger all the way across the Ohio River Valley, the Great Plains, the Rocky Mountains, and the radical socialist compounds of Northern Idaho all the way up to the upper left of the United States. That's where most of my family lives.

Pretty far, eh? But in this age of air travel it isn't like I have to spend a week in a steam engine or a couple of months on a wagon train to visit Ma and Pa. Nope. Nowadays it only takes about $400 and six hours to go 3000 miles.

Unless, of course, you factor in all of the non-air travel to get where I'm going:

• Traffic to the airport and parking (add 2 hours)
• Security (add 1 hour)
• Layover (add 1 hour, if you're lucky)
• Waiting for baggage (add 1 hour)
• Drive to The Parents home situated distantly (albeit scenically) on an island in the Puget Sound (add 2 hours)

Now we're talking about a solid 12 hours of travel ... all at the busiest, grumpiest time of the travel year. So this year I told my family that they better take a good look at me during Thanksgiving because I wasn't coming home for Christmas.

Given that everyone I know was going to be gone for Christmas I was mildly concerned about getting bummed out here all by myself. So not one to mope around I made a list of things that I could do.

• Put together a Christmas Card
• Repack my Grandmother's China (which has been spread all around my bedroom for about 10 months. Maybe longer. I've lost track.)
• Refold all of my sweaters and stack them by color
• Clean my house
• Get some last minute Christmas presents
• Do some mending ... Holey Socks Be GONE!
• Take that stack of unwanted clothes to the donation bin
• Go the the National Cathedral
• Go see the Temple Lights

Good list, right? Pretty productive. You'll be interested to hear that I have completed approximately none of these things.

Instead this is what I have been doing with my time.

• Reading (surprise, surprise.)
• Went to see Atonement (way better than the book, mainly due to James McAvoy's unbridled hotness) and National Treasure (Nick Cage's smokers voice didn't ruin this movie. I was glad.)
• Went to the Gym (!) TWICE(!!!)
  
• Investigating new music and looking up top 10 music lists
• Eating chocolate chocolate-chip cookies
  
• Sleeping. A lot.
• Making DELICIOUS Christmas Chipotle-Shrimp Enchiladas. BEHOLD the Deliciousness of my traditional Christmas Dinner:
• Watching the last 10 minutes of a series of Lifetime Christmas movies, making me cry.
• Watching the Will & Grace Christmas episode, making me laugh.
  

Good times, eh? But all solo activities. After 4 days of Me Time I was starting to worry that I was turning into a bit of a hermit. I had to get out of the house. And I had to talk to someone. I was in danger of being monumentally bored. Not to mention being a total Christmas loser.

So I called my favorite Jewish friend up and said, "Hey, I've spent all morning celebrating Christmas the Christian way by putting on all of my new clothes at once and riding my new bicycle around the neighborhood. But do you want to celebrate Christmas the Jewish way with me this evening?" Of course, he said "Heck, yes!"

So we met later to go to the movies and then joined the rest of the Jewish population of Silver Spring at the Asian Bistro for Chinese food. I explained to him the meaning of Christmas, and how it's the season of love and giving and please don't love us or give us anything if it isn't Christmastime. He explained that to Asians all white people look the same, which was why our server kept forgetting about us and we had to keep asking for things. I told him about how Christmas came to be celebrated in December instead of in the Spring. And he told me about how the Jews gave Christians Christmas because Jesus was a Jew and all. Then we argued about which came first Chanukah or Christmas. I diverted the argument by saying, "Maccabees-schmackabees. Does it really matter? What matters is that you're the Jew that saved Christmas." And he said, "Yeah. Good point. We're a very helpful people."

It was an evening of great cultural and religious understanding. As well as an evening full of friendship and MSG. Just as Christmas should be.

I hope you all had a Very Merry Christmas too!

Wherein I Deck My Halls With Caffeinated Cheer

Ain't this the cutest Holiday Cheer you've ever seen?

Suffering For My Art

I'm sort of an expert at shopping. Like I do it all of the time. So I'm a little bit devastated to find out that when it comes to Christmas shopping I totally suck!

I tried really, REALLY hard to buy Christmas presents on Saturday .... and while I had a blast ... alas, I was a total failure.

It wasn't that there weren't things to buy. There were. Nor was it that I didn't know what to get for people. I did. The problem was that I couldn't resist buying things for myself at the same time. I do not understand those women who say that whenever they go shopping they never end up getting anything for themselves. WHO ARE THESE WOMEN? And where do they get such discipline? I clearly do not have it.

I started out ok while at the craft store. In retrospect, it's not too surprising that I didn't lose control there ... the siren song of puffy paint is pretty easy to ignore. But then I hit Anthropologie. Experience should have told me that there really wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of me getting out of there without at least a little something for myself. But what can I say, I'm an eternal optimist. (Or delusional, whichever). Here's a peek into my brain while browsing around. FYI, I don't want to spoil the surprise, so I veiled the names and presents, I'm sure you understand.

"This great little knickknack is SO PERFECT for my friend, and ohh-la-la this little treasure will be superglam for my sister. Ooooh! Look at this little guy. This is quite cute. Crap. Now I've done it, I'm seriously in love with this chinoiserie tea light thingy. But No! NO! I'm supposed to be getting things for others. Think, woman, think! Who would like this? hhhmmmm. It isn't really anyone's style. Well, except for mine, of course. It's only $10. You can't even get a coaster at Anthropologie for $10, it'd be a shame not to get it. And I'm already getting this other stuff, so its not like I'm making a special trip to the register for it. Why don't I just get a gift receipt for it, and I'll think of someone to give it to later."

Like how I rationalized that one? I do, cuz it really is SO cute. Doncha think? (don't mind my craptastic photography. My real Christmas present to myself will be a new non-sucky camera.)



This is now displayed attractively on my television, waiting for me to think of a recipient for it. Or not.

Later I was shopping for jewelry for my sister and it was literally a "One for you, two for me" scenario. But here's my FAVORITE thing I ended up getting at Banana Republic (on sale of course!)



Bracelets are hard for me because I've got crazy small wrists and they usually slide right off. But this little cutie is perfect! I didn't really mind being so selfish where there was this much cuteness on the line. (Besides, who knows if others would even like such a bracelet? It's a fairly bold piece and just too risky to risk losing this to the unappreciative.)

I've still got one more week to get my act together. And I promise here and now. If I have to buy something for myself every single time I need to get a gift for someone else in order to get my Christmas shopping completed, well then, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

Burried in Boston

Help! Help! I'm stranded in Boston!

I came up for a 1 day seminar and due to the 6 inches (and counting!) of snow that have fallen in the past 4 hours my one day trip is turning into two.

Not only did I only pack enough clothing for one day, entertainment wise I'm really really unprepared to be stranded. I didn't bring my laptop. I didn't bring my cell phone charger (yeah, battery's pretty much dead) so no phone calls. I didn't bring more than one book, I figured I had enough left of the current one to see me through. BIG mistake. BIG. I finished my book last night, and the gift shop doesn't have any books, even of the tawdry bodice-ripper variety. Sure, they've got HBO, but I've already checked the schedule and the only thing on is Ever After, which I just watched from NetFlix like 2 days ago (seriously, WHAT ARE THE ODDS? That movie is like 40 years old. Isn't HBO required to show relatively current content? I do love Drew in that movie though.)

So with no way to entertain myself you know what's going to happen, don't you? I'm going to end up hanging out in the bar with all of the other stranded people, that's what. And we'll probably all start by making small talk about the weather, and what brought us into town and if we'll ever get back home again. And before you know it, we'll be having a gay old time. Ugh. We'll probably end up drinking mulled cider and singing carols around the fire. Then the concierge will take off his jacket and loosen his tie and accompany us the piano, because the normal pianist is stuck on 95. Then as the carols die out since no one can remember the words to Auld Lang Syne, he'll start playing something a little more soothing and we'll all stare out dreamily into the courtyard chatting idly while we watch the snow continue to fall. At about midnight the party will start to break up when someone stands up and says "Well better hit the hay; long day tomorrow" and we'll wander laughingly back up to our rooms where we'll sleep soundly under our hypoallergenic comforters.

Doesn't that sound AWFUL? Don't you feel sorry for me? Socializing!! At Christmas!! Sheesh!

This could be the WORST enforced vacation EVER.

Mixing Up Your Holiday Mixers

It's the time of year in which Holiday parties are running rampant. If you find yourself with multiple parties to go to in one weekend I recommend that they be as different as possible. You don't want to stagnate halfway through and thereby deprive yourself of your share of swedish meatballs and mini quiches. The key to avoiding Holiday Burn Out is mixing it up. Its the same principle I use when creating seating arrangments at a dinner party. Just as a simple shallow-deep-shallow-moody-shallow-deep pattern works best for encouraging conversation, you should mix your party types to stave off a crushing sense of pointlessness. You shouldn't pool your shallow people or your shallow parties. Just a tip I've picked up over the years.

Take this weekend, for example.

Friday night was a sweet and innocent affair as I took my Young Women for pizza and to see Enchanted. Then we came back to my apartment where we gossiped and read fashion magazines. (I love pretending I'm a teenage girl!)

Saturday night's house party, on the other hand, was not exactly sweet and innocent. The Diet Coke was flowing, my hair was in excellent Farrah Fawcett-flipping condition, the music was just how I like it (loud, danceable, old-school), and the flirting was in high gear. I was lucky to be home by 4AM. It was a little bit crazy. And by crazy, I mean Crazy FUN!

And then on Sunday, as befits a holy day, I attended an intimate dinner party. You know those dinner parties that you see on romantic shows like Notting Hill where the table is immaculate and there are several courses of food, all of which is amazing? And everyone is clever and stunningly funny? And you think, "Oh my gosh, that looks like it would be so much fun! Why aren't the dinner parties I go to that much fun? And why isn't Hugh Grant at any of them? This is so unfair." Well, friends, that was the dinner party I went to on Sunday (complete with the role of Hugh Grant as performed by my adorable friend Joseph). I sort of couldn't believe I was at such an amazing event. Everything was perfect! Especially the company. I have some damn funny friends, just so you know. And I could really wax lyrical about the food. It was all so beautifully prepared! And even more beautifully tasty. I practically made myself ill with all of that eating and laughing and eating and laughing. That can't be good for the digestive tract.

Three parties in three days, each as different as could be, but each one super fun. See how that works? Without mixing the formats up I would have been bored half way through, I guarantee it. I may not know much about some things, but by golly, I know how to get through the gauntlet of Holiday parties.

Wherin Thanksgiving Inspires Me to Give Thanks

Thanksgiving Vacation is sadly, so sadly, coming to a close. Le sigh.

In a way I'm sort of happy to see it go. As far as Thanksgivings go it was a bit of a rough one for me.

It all started at about 3AM on Thursday morning when I woke up and said to myself, "You know, I could really go for a nice vomit right about now. That would really hit the spot."

This is weird for two reasons. First, it is against my religion to wake up in the middle of the night. Once I'm down, I'm down for the count. Second, puking my guts out isn't really my idea of a great way to spend, well, any amount of time really. And if it must be done, it should be done at a convenient time like when I'm at work or something. ("No, I will NOT rewrite that project proposal -- Baaaarrrfff! -- So there!") Puking should under no circumstances interrupt my precious sleep time.

So I was surprised at how nonplussed I was to trot down the hall to worship at the porcelain throne. I practically skipped there.

But even though the first trip was sort of my idea, my body took over after that and thought it was Great Fun to send me running, and I mean RUNNING whenever it thought I wasn't paying attention. The element of surprise was its favorite tactic, it seemed. From 3AM to 9AM my brother's house was turned into a track meet as I sprinted around corners and hurtled over couches in and effort to avert disaster.

So I spent much of the day in bed. It was essentially the Thanksgiving that was the opposite of all that Thanksgiving should be. No playing Mayflower with the kids that came over, no nonchalant picking in the stuffing, no decorative napkin folding. And most heart wrenching of all, no desire to eat so much I wanted to puke. Which is just wrong. So wrong.

And yet, oddly, I gave thanks. Many thanks, as a matter of fact.

I was thankful to be at my brother and sister-in-law's house for several reasons, but foremost among them was that since my SIL has been combating morning sickness they were well stocked with saltines and ginger ale. The closest thing I have at my house to invalid food is penne pasta and Diet Coke. I have no jello, no juice, no bread, not even any medicines that haven't passed their 'Use By' date. So I was thankful that I wasn't at my house where I would have ended up a dessicated husk of a person.

I was also extremely thankful to have so many hands on deck. I had a steady stream of people coming in to check on me. And I'm here to tell you, I may talk a big game about being a sassy independent single chick, but in the face of illness I'm a total wuss. I felt no shame about blatantly using my Mom to do the simplest things for me. I'd just lay there and yell, "Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!" until she'd come check on me. And then I'd ask her to pass me my juice box. It's been a long time since I've been sick and had my Mom around to fuss over me (in that perfect not-too-fussy way that Moms have) and I took full advantage. I appreciated it so much I told her that I'd forgiven her for calling me the "weirdest of all of her weird children." And yes, I've forgiven her. But I have not forgotten. I will never forget. You hear me, Mother? Never! (Mostly because it's totally NOT TRUE! My brothers and sisters are so much weirder than I have ever been.)

So, all in all, it was a thankful Thanksgiving. Even though I wasn't thankful for normal things like a turkey leg and mountains of mashed potatoes and had to settle to be thankful for stupid stuff like 'good health' and a 'loving family'. Sheesh. Is that the lamest thing you've ever heard or what? Like I said, it was a rough Thanksgiving.

FYI, you'll be pleased to hear that Mustard wasn't put out by my illness. I caught him trying to make off with this pie while everyone was watching football.


Oh he tried to backpedal by telling me he was "bringing it to me because I didn't get any." I wasn't buying it, however. He wouldn't bring me pie if I were on my death bed. Fortunately for him, I didn't have the energy to stay mad at him, the little stinker.

I hope you all had just as Thankful if much less Pukey Thanksgiving as I did!

Vacation Part Deux

What's this? I'm on vacation AGAIN?!? That's how it goes when you live the vida loca like I do.

This time I've jetted off to Phoenix, AZ for a little Thanksgiving hoedown.

Some notes from my travels today:

• I saw a middle aged woman in a CareBears sweatshirt (not really surprised since I was in the Midwest. I expect that sort of thing there. Just as I expect the scrunchies per capita to go through the roof.)
• I watched my first television show in HD. In my opinion HD reveals more pores than I'm really comfortable seeing. I like my television stars blurry enough to make me feel bad about myself.
• FYI, I am a Majhong GENIUS! 23 games played, 21 games CONQUERED. Would FreeCell dare to enter the ring?

And finally, this isn't technically from today's travel ... but it should be noted. And since I'm talking travel, this is as good a spot as any.

• On the flight down to Cancun last week, the woman I was sitting next to started using her cell phone while we were landing. I realize that while it is against the rules to use your cell phone on a plane it isn't technically the biggest catastrophe you're going to encounter. But if there is ever a time to not use you phone, you know JUST IN CASE something could go wrong, I think during the LANDING would be that time. I'm just sayin.

Happy Thanksgiving travels to you all! I'll be bringing you updates from my stint in the Grand Canyon State.

Yo Soy Mostaza

Mustard had a blast in Mexico. He was off and running from the second we got off the plane exploring the beach and making friends with the locals. He certainly didn't need me to shuttle him around. I barely saw him, actually.

His favorite thing at the beach was climbing the palm trees. He thought it was hilarious to perch up there and holler out "Yo Soy MOSTAZA!" at all of the people lounging below. Mostaza, which is Spanish for Mustard, rhymes with Mufasa. And he loved saying it all Lion Kingy. Over and over again. It was SO annoying.

I was like, "Yo Doofus, I'm trying to take a nap down here. You're driving me crazy!" He wasn't about to let me rain on his parade so he gave me a cold look and said, "I'm sorry, am I confusing you? I am not 'Doofus'. YO. SOY. MOSTAZAAAAAA!" And then he doubled over laughing at how hilarious he thinks he is.


He has no respect for me. None whatsoever.

After an insufferable amount of time, he gave up the tree (and the shouting) and decided to get a game of Soccer going with some of the local kids. He played goalkeep, and did a surprisingly good job for someone who is only 5" high and has no arms or legs.


After his game, he grabbed a fruity drink and chilled out. Thank goodness. It isn't often that he's quiet ...



I asked him if he wanted to go shopping with me. And surprisingly, he said yes. I didn't think he'd be interested in it at all. But he said he was up for it ... but only if we didn't look at lame chick stuff. I told him I wasn't making any promises, and to get his lazy butt up and come get ready.

Here we are on our way back to the room to get ready. Obviously, we're both actively Bringing Sexy Back.


(Just a side note - See my visor? It's pretty sweet, eh? I was napping on the beach one day, and Camie poked me with a stick and said, "Hey! Here comes your Club walking down the beach." Groggily I looked up, and said, "What? These 3 old women? In the visors?" She nodded. "You think that just because they have visors, and I have a visor that we're in the same club?" I asked. Obviously pleased with her joke she nodded again and said "Yup!" I said, "A of all, that is SO not my club. And Secondly, I can't believe you woke me up just to piss me off. You totally suck." Let me just say that one of us now has a burned forehead, and it isn't the person that had a VISOR.)

So Mustard, oh sorry - MOSTAZA - and I headed into town to check out the Mexican wares. By and large it was a bunch of junk. A fact that one vendor refreshingly acknowledged when he said, "Hey guys, there's more crap inside". I gave him points for honesty. Mustard started off strong, admiring these little bobble-head turtles. He thought they were adorable and he ran all over the display table trying to keep all of their heads bobbing!


He kept this up until the shop owner glared at me and said, "BASTA!" Which translated, means "STOP IT, you annoying Gringos." After that, Mustard had no interest in shopping, and he dragged along behind me as if this were the worst torture he had ever endured in his life.

I was just about to tell him that it was his choice to come, and if he didn't like it, he could try to make his way back to the hotel himself. And it would be pretty interesting seeing a bottle of mustard hail a bus, so good luck with that you little whiner-face. When suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and breathed, "Soooooo AWWWESOME!!!" I turned to see what he was looking at and saw this:


"Mexico is the COOLEST country!" he cried. And since he was transfixed by this wrestling poster, I happily left him to stare at it while I finished my shopping.


Speaking of things that transfixed Mustard, he was ADDICTED to the MTV. I mentioned before that MTV plays videos all of the time in Mexico. Both Mustard and I couldn't get enough. Here Mustard is rockin to Kanye's "Stronger" video while we are getting ready to go out.



Now, you'd think that Mustard's night life would be a little dull. But, oh no, he went out practically every night. Hooking up with his "hombres". Seriously, he'd say that (he's such a nerd!) "I'm going out with my hombres tonight. I think we're going to that beach-side club we saw earlier. I hope there are some Honeys there." I was like, "Whatevah. Just so I don't have to bail you out of jail."

These are Mustard's "Hombres" ...


They're all a little too spicy for my taste. Trouble makers, every one of them. I prefer his American friends: Tartar, Ketchup, and Mayo. But I've given up trying to control Mustard ... he does what he wants when he wants.

So that's it. Mexico was AWESOME! Mustard stayed out of jail, didn't get detained by the HazMat people in and out of the country, and all in all made the trip even more fun. Not surprising since he always makes things more fun ... that's just how he rolls.

Mexico Requires Too Much Math

Even under the best of circumstances I'm not so great at math. I recently took an assessment test that asked me a lot of complicated math problems which I did quite handily, so it's not that I can't do math ... it's just that I CANNOT be bothered. I will only do math under extreme duress or if I am the only possible person available to do it. Usually I'll just stare at the dinner bill until someone just tells me how much I should leave for a tip, and Voila! doing math is avoided once again. So far this strategy has worked like a charm.

Camie isn't a mathematical wiz either (for a while there we were outsourcing our math to one another - I handled subtraction, while she had addition. It worked very well), so you can imagine my distress while in Mexico when we had to convert Real Money into Mexican Pesos for practically EVERY TRANSACTION. It was a special form of torture. And I don't mind telling you, I was a first class moron at it.

The conversion wasn't really that difficult - like 10% - the only percentage I can actually handle. But I could never figure out if it was up by 10% or down by 10%. It continued to eluded both Camie and me for the entire vacation. Secretly, I was glad it wasn't just me ... I hate being an idiot by myself. Here are a few examples of our bumbling. Just for your reference, 5 Dollars = 50 Pesos.

The first night at dinner our waiter brought his little hand held credit card machine to the table, which, incidentally, I really like from a security point of view. But it sure made my "stare at the bill until someone tells me how much to tip" strategy seem especially awkward. When it became apparent that I was on my own for this one I started looking for the Tax so I could double it. BUT THERE WAS NO TAX! (at least as far as I could see). The only option at this point -- much to my horror -- was guessing. Even at this point I wasn't about to do actual math. So I just looked up at him and asked $7?? I have no idea if that was even remotely close to 20%.

Out at the most sucky bar, Senor Frogs, Camie and I bought some RIDICULOUSLY expensive drinks. And, I was so proud of her, she accidentally gave the bartender a 30 CENT tip instead of a 3 dollar tip. The place was so sucky and the drinks so overpriced I felt that this was a case where bad Math was doing a good deed.

Camie haggled a vendor down to $15 dollars for some little presents, but then tried to only give them $1.50.

I tried to give a waiter a 500 peso tip, or $50, when really I wanted to give him $5.

Ugh. Don't these people know that when I'm ON VACATION the last thing I should be required to do is perform basic MATH? That's why I go on vacation, so I don't have to do anything I don't want to do! Duh.

Mexican Minutes

Here I am, blogging from the beach. Well the lobby actually. While lovely and charming in every other regard, our hotel doesn't have wireless access in the rooms. Y'all should feel extra special that I felt compelled to trek out to the lobby to bring you this little sneak peek into the trip so far. The lobby, as far as lobbies go, is pretty nice. It's an open air plan so I'm enjoying ocean breezes and a poolside view while I write this. But still, it's not as convenient as say writing from the balcony of my room. In my underoos.

Anyway ... the important thing here is that I'm in MEXICO!

A couple of interesting things about Mexico and me.

First, some of you know that I speak Spanish. This was a side effect of serving an LDS mission in Chile. Don't feel bad if you didn't know that I speak Spanish, it is a fact that I don't share readily. There are ample opportunities to hablar in my neighborhood, but I avoid it like the plague. It just isn't something I feel comfortable doing. But oddly enough, here in Mexico I'm proclaiming my Spanish skills far and wide. I am surprising myself at every turn as I chat up vendors and cabana boys in Spanish. In fact, the whole South America - Spanish thing is really taking me back to my mission experience. But in a good way, a reminiscent way. Not in a "get me the hell out of here right this minute" way.

Second weird thing about me in Mexico is my fixation with the time. In my normal life I don't care very much about the time. None of my clocks (except my VCR) say the right time. I don't wear a watch. I don't think I've been on time (whenever that is) to work in years. And I'm generally not too stressed if I'm late arriving at certain places. I just don't get all worked up about the time. You'd think that I would be thriving here in Mexico but I find myself wanting to know what time it is all of the time. Heaven forbid I don't know the exact hour and minute while I'm laying on the beach!

The fixation started on Saturday night when we got into our hotel and I couldn't figure out if my cell phone clock had updated with the time change or not. Was Cancun on Central Time? Do they do Daylight Savings? Does that make it one hour or two? There was no clock in the room to compare with, and so I had to count backwards to see if the pieces fit together. We'd arrived at 7 pm, and my clock said it was 10 pm ... had it really taken us 3 hours to get through customs, listen to the sales pitch offered to all naive tourists, and take a long shuttle ride? It seemed like 3 hours was too long, but where was the proof? (Let me also note that I was SERIOUSLY sleep deprived since I'd gone to bed at 5:30am the day before ... which is another story all of it's own.)

I felt like one of those time-deprived psychology experiments. I kept asking Camie what time she thought it was. Of course this did not drive her crazy at all. After going on at length about what time I suspected it was she threw up her hands, brushed the sand off and went and asked someone. We found out that my clock was one hour faster than the local time.

You would have thought that knowing the time would have made me calm down. But it didn't. Instead I started in telling her what we'd been doing at various times during the day. "That means we were on the beach by 9AM! We had gotten up at 6AM. We went to dinner at 5:30PM. We might as well have joined the Senior Tours Bus and gotten the early bird special." I cried.

Fortunately, we did not make that mistake today. Today it was out of bed at 9AM, on the beach at 10AM, and dinner at 8. Like normal people.

Also on the agenda for tonight is dancing. One great thing about Mexico is that MTV plays actual videos. We've been glued to it! It's got me totally ready to shake my bon bon. I can't remember the last time I saw a music video, let alone five or six in a row. Way to go Mexico!

Just for your information, Mustard is having a blast. I'll post pictures when we return on Wednesday. But the boy is all over the place.

Until then ... hasta! (see that Spanish? I just can't stop myself!)

Mustard and I Celebrate Guy Fawkes, Bonfires, and Smores

I'm telling you, I have to watch Mustard every minute. I came home from work today, Guy Fawkes Day, to find him in him already in his Guy Fawkes costume.



I was like, "geez Mustard, can you relax for a few minutes? Let me eat some dinner? Maybe take my shoes off? I told you we'd celebrate ... but chill, man, chill!"

But he was worse than a damn puppy yapping around my heels while I put my chicken nuggets in the oven. "Don't you think those nuggets would be better Flame Roasted? Doncha? Doncha?" I didn't.

Ever since I told him about how fun Guy Fawkes Night is he's been driving me nuts. Personally, I think he just wants to light things on fire. He's such a boy that way! If you aren't familiar with this most excellent English holiday it involves burning things in effigy and fireworks - which is basically the recipe for an awesome holiday, people. Leading up to the day kids ask for money ("A Penny for the Guy?" ) to buy their Guy effigies or fireworks. Apparently, Fall is the international season for sanctioned child begging; Americans ask for candy, English ask for money. Go figure.

Anyway, Mustard is WAY excited to light some stuff on fire. (I didn't have the heart to tell him that his costume was pretty creepy, but I made him take it off for the burning part, I didn't want him to have an accident since he's plastic and all.) I asked him if he had prepared our Guy effigy while I was at work. He had:



I said, "Alrighty then, let's get this party started! Mustard, prepare the traitor!"



Mustard said, "Guy Fawkes, I hereby skewer you in the name of the Parliament People, and Burning, and S'mores!" And he was soundly skewered. "Wench Gretchen, prepare the bonfire!"

"Don't call me wench, if you want to keep doing this."

"Sorry. Bonfire Mistress, Is the bonfire prepared to receive the traitor?"

"It is." And it was.


"Then cast him in!" Mustard cried. (he's really enjoying this. It's making me mildly concerned. )

As Bonfire Mistress I cast poor Guy Fawkes to his toasty doom .....


Guy, you are smelling delicious. And your flames are quite impressive!

Ever the classy executioner, Mustard chants, "Burn! Burn! Burn! Burn!"


As Bonfire Mistress, I declare Guy's final moments of flamitude should be carried out in the sink.

"Burn! Burn! Bur ... Wait, don't stop burning!!! .....


..... Hey, Mistress Bonfire .... he's going OUT! What do we do? "

"Nothing Mustard, we just say 'Happy Guy Fawkes Night' and clean up the mess you made."

"Not me. If you need me, I'll be taunting the carcass. .... HA! Stupid Guy Fawkes ... I fart in your general direction. "

"Ok, have a good time. But don't quote Monty Python, it really shows your age. (And your lameness). AND If you make any S'mores out of the body, be sure you share. And don't touch the stove, it's still hot and you'll melt."

Seriously, I have to watch him every second.

Happy Guy Fawkes Day Everyone!