29 July 2010

Hey -- tomorrow is Friday!

I just noticed in the "Dancin' Homer" episode of The Simpsons that when Homer spells out "Springfield" with his body, he spells it "Springfeeld." I feel like I catch things after several viewings, and I thought I had seen everything there was to see in every Simpsons episode, but I finally noticed something new. YAY!

Last weekend when I came back from Girls' Weekend, I was so psyched to have a weekend coming up with nothing planned. Granted, I was fairly certain I'd be hanging out with The Boy I Currently Like. However, hanging out with him is not really "having something planned." He doesn't count, if you know what I mean. Being with him isn't work.

Now, of course, I am doing dinner with my siblings, nephew and sibling-in-law-to-be tomorrow night. That would be in the not counting category if I didn't have to drive 25 miles home from his place and there wasn't all of this wedding stuff hanging over my head. I feel like there's some ulterior motive in my brother inviting us to dinner. Mostly because it seems like everything he's invited us to over the last year or so has had an ulterior motive.

But it's okay. I only have to go for a couple of hours. And tonight I got to spend some time on my deck tonight with the Law Talkin' Gal. She finished the bar exam yesterday and she'll be back to a normal-ish life in no time. Sure, I skipped the gym, but sometimes that's okay. Especially when it is Thursday and you're wiped out and the gym is such a fucking chore.

I think I'm kinda talking out my ass at this point and I should just lay down on the couch and chill. But before I go, I'd like to say Happy Birthday to my Dad (I did leave him a voicemail this morning) and the same to Jerious Norwood. As I said several days ago, this may or may not be his actual birthday, but the sentiment remains. I raised my gin and ginger ale in your honor tonight, sir.

28 July 2010


Yesterday, I was reading a story in the Strib about Target Corp. donating $150,000 to an organization called MN Forward. It's a "pro-business group" that happens to be run by former Pawlenty administration staffers and is supporting Tom Emmer, the Republican candidate for governor in our lovely state of Minnesota.

Everything I've read about Emmer makes him seem like a real piece of work. There was the tip credit debacle, he apparently really likes to sue people, he wants to nullify all federal laws in Minnesota and of course, he's anti-gay marriage.

So, reading that Target gave a considerable chunk of corporate money (corporations are people, too, dontcha know!) to an organization that is only supporting Emmer puts a very bad taste in my mouth. Especially when Target is allegedly such a progressive company, especially when it comes to GLBT issues.

Look, I'm not naïve. I know corporations give money to politicians. And Target's practice on the federal level of giving to both sides is what I expect. Getting involved in the state gubernatorial race and backing a candidate who, quite frankly, seems like a bit of a wingnut, is a bit much.

Now I'm contemplating not shopping at Target. This is difficult for me, because I love the fuck out of Target. I use a TON of Target private label products. I do feel shitty sometimes about buying grocery-type things at Super Target, because their workers aren't unionized as workers are at other grocery stores.

This is where I get into feeling inadequate. I like shopping at Super Target because they do have really low prices on lots of things. Their private label products are excellent and quite frankly, I like that I can do the one-stop shopping.

I also like shopping at Rainbow. Their private label products are good, as well. It's what I would consider to be my neighborhood grocery store. They're regional (headquartered in Milwaukee), but not local. They have good prices and do double coupons a couple of times a week. And yet, I kind of feel like an asshole about it when I talk to other people.

Why do I feel like an asshole? I don't shop at the co-op. I don't always buy organic. I don't even really make it any sort of priority to buy organic. I eat processed food. Not all the time, but I don't make every damn thing from scratch. Why not? It's not like I have kids or really any other responsibilities outside work. Why am I not trying harder to be this organic-buying, co-op shopping, locavore?

But I do try. I have my CSA membership. I get my meat from my family farm, for the most part. I go to the Uptown Market. I cook a lot of my own food. I bake. And when I do go to the grocery store, I go to stores whose corporate headquarters is either in Minnesota or Wisconsin, save for Trader Joe's. I'm not perfect and I never will be. I need to stop beating myself up for thinking I'd rather save money on some things by shopping at Rainbow or Super Target so I can spend money at the Uptown Market or be able to afford my CSA membership.

Writing all of this didn't make me feel any better. I wasn't sure it would, but I guess I just have to keep trying to come to terms with my shopping habits. I suck. I wear makeup and perfume. I like makeup and perfume. I use a lot of hair products and spend time working on my hair. I like purses. I don't shop at the co-op or farmers market every week. I am who I am. What can you do about it?

26 July 2010

BaconQuest Adventure #1: Ready Meats.

The first step on my quest to find a back-up bacon to that from the family farm began yesterday. Actually, I've already had delicious bacon from Widmer's Super Market in St. Paul on a number of occasions. The Boy I Currently Like gets his bacon from there when he's not cooking up the stuff I bring him. I enjoy Widmer's bacon, but I'm looking in Minneapolis now.

Diana did me a very nice favor and picked up two pounds of bacon from Ready Meats in Northeast. It looked like the price averages out to about $4.50 per pound. This seems reasonable to me, but as I've said before, I have NO idea how much bacon costs. The Rainbow weekly ad has Farmland brand sliced bacon on sale, two for $7, whatever that means.

I fried the bacon in a pan on the stove top, which is not my preferred method of cooking bacon. I like to cook it in the oven -- much less mess and you can essentially set it and forget it. You know it is done when the smell lures you into the kitchen.

Despite the fact that it wasn't my preferred cooking method, I thought the bacon was pretty good. The girls seemed to like it. Between us and our hostess's grandparents (10 people), we polished off almost the entire two pounds. And I'm pretty sure I had fewer than three pieces (2.5).

As of now, however, Ready Meats bacon won't be my replacement bacon. Of course, I've much yet to try. The Ready Meats bacon was lacking a depth of flavor (maybe more like smokiness) I enjoy in the family farm bacon. At the same time, I feel like it didn't get a fair shake because I was cooking it on the stove at someone else's house and I was under something of a deadline. I do plan to give them another shot. I'm in Nordeast every now and again, so I could totally stop and get more.

The rest of my contribution was scrambled eggs that I cooked in the bacon grease and to which I added some cheese. The girls seemed to like them, but I was unhappy. I thought they were lacking in flavor. Bacon grease and sharp cheddar apparently aren't salty enough for eggs ... which I kind of knew, but I didn't want to take the risk of oversalting.

The rest of Girls' Weekend was awesome. There was much floatie time, drinking, eating and bonding with seven of the most awesome chicks out there. Also, we brought the CORGI! with us and there were two dogs at the big house. So, I had some serious dog time this weekend. I even had a dog in each hand quite a bit. No sunburn, but I did get a little color. For me, that's pink and/or reddish brown, because I don't tan. No bears attacked me while I was going to and from the outhouse in the wee hours, nor did many bugs. I am awfully happy to be back in my very own place now, though.

22 July 2010

Work is thwarting my ability to work.

I have all this stuff that must get finished today so I can have tomorrow off, so I can go to the gym, run my errands and pack in time to be at the GTs estate so I can head off to Girls' Weekend. Truth be told, I want to get there a little early so I can get some CORGI!-petting time in before we go, as well.

However, we have no access to any of our drives, so I can't get to anything I need. This leaves me to fuck around on the Interwebs until I can do some work. It is distressing. It's also distressing when I want to fuck around on the Internets but can't, because I have too much work to do. Work distresses me, is what I'm saying.

Last year, I missed Girls' Weekend because I'd needed to sink a pantload of cash into my new car. That turned into an extended period of fiduciary problems, due to the payroll department being made up of complete and total morons.

I wasn't too bummed because my other problems took over my life. I was also just kind of unsure about the whole thing. It's been years since I've done any vacationing-type things with friends. Too much vacationing with family, no money and no opportunities would be the reasons, I suppose.

But I'm a freak, so in advance of last year's Girls' Weekend, I was starting to freak out a bit about what kind of guest/traveler I am. Will I snore and bother the others? Will I be unable to poop and therefore be uncomfortable all weekend? How is everything supposed to work with food and drinks and OH MY GOD, IT'S SO MUCH STRESS.

Those things have occurred to me this time around, too. However, I care much, much less. This group of Classy Broads is as laid back as you could possibly want. I'm pretty sure they like me and I try to be a good guest, so I'm sure everything will work out fine. Besides, I think I need this. With all the family responsibility and things I HAVE TO DO, this weekend is a vacation. I'm not in charge of anything, save for breakfast on Sunday.

The Classy Broad-bonding will be a huge bonus, as well. I mean, I hang out with my girlfriends often, but this is different. I never figured myself the type to need that girl-bonding weekend or anything like that, but I'm really looking forward to that part. And I'm just realizing that now. Huh.

I'd already been stressing about being able to get everything done tomorrow, so this not-being-able-to-work shit is just making matters so much worse. I had it all planned out to be done with my work and I'd have all day tomorrow to get everything I need (and I need EVERYTHING -- I'll even shop for a swimsuit if I have time. My earlier efforts didn't work and it's obviously too late to order anything) and go to the gym. Oh, and I have to pack, but at least I can start that tonight.

Once upon a time, I'd planned on baking banana/pumpkin bread, plus Irish soda bread for toast on Sunday morning, but I don't think any of that is going to happen. I need to make banana bread soon, though, because frozen bananas are taking over my freezer. That is a matter for another day, though. Today, it's all about VACATION tomorrow.

20 July 2010

That dog has a puffy tail!

Oh, curse my short attention span. Or the fact that I'm easily distracted. Or possibly the fact that I have a touch of adult ADD. Who knows the real reason? What it comes down to is that I had this blog post I'd been composing in my head for several hours (I've actually composed this one a number of times over the last several months), but while walking home from the gym, I was struck with an idea.

I will be missing Interpol at First Ave in a few weeks. The exact same day, I will be missing Brother Ali playing the Pizza Luce block party, and the party I usually have before/during/after that particular block party. Why? My brother has planned a wedding party golf outing in our hometown for that day.

Since I am not only a family member but also (so fucking grudgingly) a member of the wedding party, I must attend. Oh, the invitation says to RSVP, and I suppose I could RSVP "no." But if I did that, the family would talk shit about me from here to the end of time. That's pretty much why I'm in the wedding at all. Things that are important to me are fucking ridiculous to them. But of course, I should TOTALLY be gung-motherfucking-ho about golfing. Because it's totally fucking boring AND I DON'T PLAY GOLF. Not only that, I am not a fan of a sport that is traditionally just for rich white dudes. I mean, there are still golf clubs today that don't allow women. YES. PLEASE LET ME GET INVOLVED.

Anyway, so I have to do this and I've been on the verge of angry tears about it a number of times over the last few weeks. Sure, I guess it's saving me from having to choose between Interpol (one of my favorite bands in the entire. fucking. world.) and one of my favorite events in Minneapolis that finally has a really great music lineup, which I had to miss last year due to a wedding. But that's a choice I'd like to have to make.

So, I can't have my party for the second year in a row. I'd been actually looking forward to entertaining, as the only time I've done it in probably the last year, at least, was for the Mardi Gras party. That was a weeknight and in the winter. So, you can imagine how well-attended and awesome that was (it was awesome for a small, weeknight dinner party).

However, I could totally have a casual, happy hour-type gathering at my place the night before Interpol/the Pizza Luce Block Party/the stupid goddamn golf outing. I'm not sure what made me think of this, but it struck me as a really great idea while I was walking through my neighborhood: make some snacks, buy a couple of boxes of wine and a case of beer and open up the deck to whoever wants to stop by. Why not? I'm sure someone would come.

I even thought that maybe this could be one of my Big Deal events that I really want The Boy I Currently Like to attend. And maybe I could invite some of his friends to make him feel more comfortable. I've got contact information, dammit.

Obviously, I'm getting ahead of myself. That could be one of the last of The Boy's summer hour Fridays, and if that's the case, we're going to see us some goddamn polar bears. There are any number of things that could put a halt to my momentarily brilliant idea. But at least I feel like something positive might come out of this stupid fucking wedding party golf outing. Sure, I'll hold a grudge against my family for years because of this, but if I have fun the night before, maybe I won't be a HUGE BITCH on Saturday.

19 July 2010

Dear Readers: I need your help.

That's what I was planning to say if I'd written this in the morning, anyway. However, I've done some research over the course of the day and I have formulated tentative plans. That doesn't mean I shouldn't still check to see if anyone might have ideas/suggestions, though, right?

With Girls' Weekend fast approaching, there are a couple of things I need to purchase. Well, there are many things I need to purchase, but these two items are particularly vexing.

I'm on the hook to co-make breakfast on Sunday, and I'd promised bacon. However, there was no bacon in the freezer when I was home for the 'rents' anniversary party. In fact, my dad and uncle were only just talking about butchering hogs for the family. The bacon (and ham) takes even longer, because it needs to be smoked.

So, I need bacon. The problem is, I've never in my life gone out and bought a pack of bacon anywhere. And I'm not about to just grab a package of Hormel (though, the hog buyer from Hormel was a frequent visitor/caller to the house when I was growing up) at Rainbow. I want bacon from an honest-to-goodness butcher shop.

Quite frankly, I'm only passingly familiar with even the usual suspects. I very, very rarely buy my own meat (*insert innuendo here*). I order chickens through my parents through a farm in Southern Minnesota. Nearly all of my beef comes from the butcher shop in my hometown. I'll buy deli meats and chicken breasts, the occasional rotisserie chicken and maybe ground beef once a year. I have no idea who much a pound of bacon even costs. ("I mean, it's one banana Michael. What could it cost? $10?")

My research has me leaning toward Everett's Food & Meats on 38th and Cedar. Part of my criteria is that it be in Minneapolis, preferably closer to my neighborhood than not. Finer Meats on Nicollet & 38th might be my close second. It has fewer reviews, but it's closer and apparently has its own smokehouse. Third on the list at the moment is Ready Meats in Northeast. Many good reviews, plus they're close to where I'll be heading before we roll out of town.

Despite my own research and vague plans, I think I'd probably be well-served to ask anyway. Do you Minneapolitans have a favorite butcher shop? BaconQuest(tm) won't end after I buy my bacon Friday (thank you to The Boy I Currently Like for coming up with that campaign name).

But wait -- there's more! I want a tinted moisturizer. My current moisturizer doesn't have any sunscreen in it and I don't want to have to go to the trouble of putting on my mineral make-up to get sun protection. I was hoping to get by cheap (like, under $20), but that doesn't look like it's going to happen. Both Sephora ($18 marked down to $8) and Ulta's ($10) store brands had horrible reviews.

At the moment, I'm probably going to choose between Stila and TheBalm. The Stila reviews seem to be consistently better, but TheBalm is like, $11 cheaper.

Is there one I'm missing? My skin is greasy as hell and the more coverage the better, because my skin is horrible. And yes, it'll all come right off as soon as I get wet, but whatever. At the very least, I guess, I could go back to MAC. That stuff was so hard to get on evenly, though. It's apparently now a face and body foundation, that is water-resistant and water-based. With no SPF. Dammit all to hell.

So, help me dear readers. You're my only hope.

18 July 2010


Spent Saturday night watching Carl Pavano and his dastardly mustache beat up on the Bitch Sox with The Boy I currently Like.

Today, I went to the Bastille Day Block Party and met up with W&J (still working on their blog nicknames). I did also see Fat Mike the Gangsta and his lovely lady friend, and met a few of all of their friends, who all seem to be very lovely people. I hate to be so bold, but maybe I'm fostering my own friendship with W&J (W for sure, 'cause that's how girls roll, right?). They're a lot of fun.

I have a happy buzz after hitting the Indy with W&J, and I have plenty of time to chill before bed. No lunch to make for tomorrow, as I have the components available. I think.

Short week on the way with a girls' weekend in Wisconsin to follow. Things are pretty good at the moment (though, I felt that way last weekend and look how this week turned out), I'd say. Work is going to be busy, but I guess that'll keep me occupied.

Also, it may be bit early, but if Facebook isn't lying to me, today is Jerious Norwood's birthday. I had been wishing him a happy birthday on July 29, which is the same day as my dad's birthday. That would be because he told me it was his birthday. But like I said, Facebook tells me differently. So, if Facebook is right, Happy Birthday, Jerious Norwood. I'm very glad I finally got to meet you a few months ago. I hope you've had a lovely day.

If Facebook is wrong, check back in a couple of weeks for another birthday wish. Who am I to believe, really? I was hoping I'd get confirmation today, but I heard nothing.

Anyway, productive weekend of cleaning, cooking and errand-running along with fun stuff. This girl can't ask for much more.

16 July 2010

This just in: Booze makes you productive.

There's no other way to explain it. After an ass-kicking week, I finally managed to leave work two whole hours early today. I braved the Mall of America to return a pair of defective capris and buy new capris with a forgotten gift/merchandise card. Then I went to Target where I had to pee like nobody's business, but I had to wait, because the loo was full of people pooping.

When I got home, I had a brief period of downtime. I sat on the couch and watched the "Homer Bad Man" episode of The Simpsons (one of my favorites) while organizing my underwear drawer.

But after the underwear drawer was organized and I'd had a little booze, I became a freakin' dynamo. I put clothes away, picked/tidied up, dusted and vacuumed (though not too terribly well ... I need a new vacuum). Then I cooked up my Swiss chard, made cilantro pesto and washed dishes. And now here I am. Drunk before 10:00 and watching the Twins hopefully beat the hated Bitch Sox.

Normally, I clean after I get home from the gym on Saturdays, so I'm already sweaty and don't get sweaty when it's not necessary. I figured cleaning tonight would at least make me be a tiny bit active (it was just too fucking hot to be outside any more than necessary), so I wouldn't feel terrible about skipping the gym. Also, now I can go to the gym tomorrow and then all I need to do is laundry before I go to The Boy I Currently Like's house.

This means I won't have anything to do before or after the Bastille Day Block Party on Sunday. So I can go get drunk with at least one of the Shawns, hopefully KayGee and The Prison Librarian and also W&J. I don't have nicknames for them yet. Maybe someday.

Either way, I think I'm done with all my shit for tonight. Save for a shower. I didn't get horribly sweaty while cleaning, but I feel gross enough that a shower would be good. Then I won't be stinky when I go to the gym tomorrow morning. To get stinky. I swear, it all makes sense in my head.

Anyway, yay weekend, yay booze. Yay motherfucking couch.

15 July 2010

You can do it!

Just one more day. I'm almost there.

I thought maybe I'd be able to leave work on time today. I'm not so foolish as to think I could leave early. Besides, I was saving that for tomorrow. But no. Nothing ever works out quite the way you'd like, does it?

Eventually, I had to leave because my brain pretty much stopped working. There was a brief moment of clarity at the end, and I did what I could to make note of what I was thinking, but staying there and trying to work was just not a good idea.

Tomorrow, I'll go in fresh! I got to the gym (barely) and I'm going to bed at a decent hour (if this Twins game ever ends and I actually go to bed), so I'm sure it'll be fine. There's just that one thing I need to do, anyway. I mean, I need to do a lot of shit, but just one thing has a deadline.

Also, I was just bullshitting when I said I'd get to bed at a decent hour and be fresh tomorrow. I mean, there's something generally uplifting about it being Friday, no matter how much the week has kicked my ass (most of the time). But by about 2:00 tomorrow afternoon, I will be useless. And considering I've got about six extra hours in this week, I think it might be a good time to leave. *crosses fingers*

In other news, my fridge is packed with vegetables (I got the whole CSA box this week), and I spent the entire evening post-gym working with this week's and last week's vegetables. I think tomorrow I will have to cook down some greens (Swiss chard and the beet greens I thought were in my stir-fry on Sunday) just so I can have some goddamn space in the fridge.

I think I'll make cilantro pesto (what else will I do with all that cilantro?) and maybe carrot cake/muffins/bars, because I have a fucking assload of carrots. What I'm going to do with the five enormous cucumbers is beyond me. I've still got refrigerator pickles in my fridge from last year for Christ's sake. I know I should have tossed them ages ago, but I put some work into them, and they're pretty! Guess I need to buy some new jars.

14 July 2010

Dear Stupid Hippie Substitute Yoga Instructor:

It's bad enough that we have a substitute instructor. But if you think I'm going to stay for class when you're leaving ALL THE FLUORESCENT LIGHTS on, you are motherfucking high.

My day was long and stressful, as was the day before and the day before that; my brain hurts, for Christ's sake. All I wanted was to relax, and to calm and center myself during yoga. But there isn't one goddamn thing about bright, fluorescent lights that is relaxing or calming. It's bad enough that they suck the juice right out of my eyeballs at work on a daily basis.

I should have gone with my gut instinct from last week when I saw your stupid hippie ass for the first time. And I should have heeded the warning of putting my yoga pants on backward tonight. But no, I had to give it a shot. Now I know. And now I certainly won't be so kind as to hold not one, but TWO doors for you if you come into the gym at the same time as me.

Please go to Hell.


13 July 2010

Can't blog. Working.

I hate this week so much. I have a ton of work to do, I'm getting yelled at for not being done with something that's due tomorrow for which I have a time budget of five hours. I've got this jackass sales guy jerking me around on a new client. And I'm working at home at night. Except I can't access my work computer, because the remote connection hasn't worked for me for I don't know how long.

I'm tired. After a couple of really clear, decent-looking skin, my face has exploded again. My apartment is a pigsty. I'm broke. Seriously. This week fucking blows.

However, I had a good workout tonight. There is nothing on my calendar for the weekend (Bastille Day Block Party is penciled in mentally and I'll hopefully see The Boy I Currently Like), so I can maybe chill a little and get my apartment cleaned.

All is not lost. I will get through this week. I will not go bitchcakes on anyone. I hope.

11 July 2010

Summer Sunday Stir Fry.

It occurred to me this evening, as I was making a stir fry with my CSA and Uptown Market veggies, plus a pork steak from the family farm, that I really enjoy this ritual. Of course, I often spend my Sunday nights cooking up something that will be my lunch for the bulk of the week regardless of the season, but the summer Sundays seem that much better.

The settling down from a fun-filled, fairly action-packed weekend and getting ready for another work week is a ritual that centers me, I guess. Yoga centers me, too, but this is different. It's probably good to have more than one ritual that centers yourself, right?

Friday and Saturday nights I was at the Basilica Block Party to see Spoon (Friday) and The Avett Brothers (Saturday). I've only been once, to see Pete Yorn, about four years ago. They just usually don't have bands I like. Last year, I would have loved to have gone to see The Hold Steady, but I had to go to my cousin's wedding (I swear to fucking Christ, weddings have ruined so much of my last couple of summers).

Both shows were great, save for the dude proposing to his girlfriend last night during The Avett Brothers. I may have mentioned my deep, deep hatred of public proposals at some point while writing this blog. Since it happened so far away from where I was situated, I only heard about it when the band mentioned it. I felt cheated in not being able to boo and yell "Say no!" I did anyway.

Unfortunately, by going to the Basilica Block Party last night, I missed The Prison Librarian's birthday gathering. From what I've seen on Facebook, she was having a good weekend, so I'm very happy about that. Hopefully I will get a chance to buy her a birthday beer/make her a birthday treat/hang out with her soon. The Bastille Day Block Party is coming up in a week, so hopefully I will get to catch up with her (crossing my fingers) and a lot of other people there.

Today, I went to the Uptown Market and then to watch the World Cup final with The Boy I Currently Like. At the Uptown Market, I am almost 100 percent certain I saw Conner ... at the Foxy Falafel stand, I think? However, I was in a hurry to get my veggies and some brats for The Boy, so I didn't stop to introduce myself. Next time, Conner (if you ever even see this), I will say hi.

And now here I am, home with a few days of lunch ready to go and a clean-ish kitchen; ready to relax as soon I as I finish this post. Sometimes I'm amazed I can write about absolutely nothing. But that's my life sometimes, right?

08 July 2010

My version of therapy.

Holy shit. I was having a horrible day today. Deadlines and ridiculous requests piled up on a short week and too much other work. Add into that my ridiculously slow computer and a hot office and I was on the verge of punching someone or tossing my computer out the window.

(When my coworkers were talking about how hot our little sleeve of cubes was, I had to literally bite my tongue to not scream at them, "Maybe if you didn't have to have those goddamn blinds open while the sun was beating down through the windows, it WOULDN'T BE SO GODDAMN HOT IN HERE!")

As it was, I threw my mouse a few times. Not too far, of course, because I didn't want to get in trouble. Also, I had a lot of work to do, so I kinda needed to not break shit.

Anyway, I stayed late at work, then I was almost home and realized I needed to go to Walgreens (my own personal Hell) to pick up my thyroid meds. By the time I got home and was getting ready to go to the gym, I was so ready to just fucking stay home. But no! I can see improvement. My time at the gym is working. I must go. So, I did. And I worked the fuck out.

By the time I got home, I'd nearly forgotten about my stupid job and the fact that I will almost certainly get yelled at by Chicken Little tomorrow for not doing a perfect job on a question he very nearly turned down because it was SO FUCKING RIDICULOUS.

However, the hour I spent cleaning my CSA vegetables (also drinking; watching the Simpsons and 2 Stupid Dogs -- it was "Cookies, Ookies, Blookies"; and cooking up the rest of my fingerlings) really completed the coming-down-back-to-normal phase. There's something so satisfying about seeing all that sand and grit at the bottom of my salad spinner. Nothing like a little dirt to bring you back to Earth, right?

06 July 2010

So this is how it happens.

The Boy I Currently Like mentioned not that long ago that he was thinking about trying to be more active. Yesterday, I got this bright idea related to that. I e-mailed him and said, "I know this sounds kinda couple-y workout, which I hate, but maybe we could hang out on a weeknight and go for a walk around Lake Calhoun ..." and he said, "Boy, that does sound couple-y workout. But maybe we could do it anyway."

Wait. What?

Is this how it happens? I've never been the kind of girl who does stuff like that. I mock those people. Yet here I am suggesting something dangerously close to that. And The Boy is dangerously close to agreeing to it.

The thing is, it doesn't feel as weird or icky as I thought it might. Of course, if I stop to think about it, I get a little squicked out. Or I would if I didn't dig him so much. Maybe it's not so bad.

In different and mildly exciting news regarding The Boy I Currently Like, I've decided to start referring to him as my Gentleman Caller. It's genteel, classy, ridiculous and a nod to Blanche Devereaux. He didn't seem keen on it at first, but he busted it out last week and said he's proud to use it. So that's good. Now I need to find an occasion to use it.

05 July 2010


My aunt brought her rat terrier/chihuahua mix puppy this weekend, so the rents' dog Brandi got a playmate for a few days. It was pretty cute to see them interacting, especially after I gave Brandi her squeaky toy yesterday morning. They shared it very nicely. I, of course, was in heaven. Not only did I get to play with Brandi and Maggie, but I got a little affection from one of my uncle's dogs on Friday night, too.


Hanging out on the patio:

Brandi has had enough of this frolicking and photography and she wishes you'd go now:

04 July 2010

Home. For now.

I have a few calm, solitary hours before I head out for another party and then to hang out with The Boy I Currently Like. After the last couple of days, I really just want to stay home alone. However, I made these plans, so I'm going back out there.

I'm exhausted, itchy and a little sunburned. At least I'm clean and relatively cool now. Things went fine, despite my sister taking over as Freak Out Queen for my mom. Though, my mom did plenty of her usual stressing before anyone comes over. She certainly took to her role as diva for this party. If I heard "It's MY day," one more time, I was going to slap her.

Mom had do have that bottle of riesling. She had to have beef in addition to pork. Of course the wine was unopened, and the beef was barely eaten. She and my sister had to do the salads their way. She had to bring that Swiss chard to my uncle's house on Friday night, but then I had to cook it and guess what, "It's not very good." Fuck. Off. It was fucking delicious. She wanted her music, but barely picked out anything. So I augmented the playlist with some of dad's music and some of my own. The first song that played wasn't hers, so she bitched.

But it's over, for now. I'm home and will be seeing what I consider to be the rest of my family in just a few hours. Except, you know, they don't constantly judge me, or second-guess me, or talk shit about me to my face. They treat me pretty damn well.

02 July 2010

Serenity now.

Sweet fucking Christ. I do not know how I am going to get through the remainder of today and all of tomorrow without a) crying (working on that now, actually) or b) totally blowing up at my family members.

Tomorrow is the big party for the 'rents anniversary. The closer it gets to lift-off, the more often people (my sister, actually) are calling and the more they are saying ridiculous shit.

First, my sister called with a question about the wine I was getting. I have a box of white and I'll be getting a box of red. See, the whole discussion we had with the liquor was that we'll get basics -- wine, beer, vodka and gin. Anyone who drinks odd stuff will almost certainly bring their own anyway (we do know our family). Apparently, my mom was not happy that the box of white wine I had was not a riesling. This is her party and she wants to drink what she wants.

Fine, I will get you a fucking bottle of riesling. Suddenly, this is HER PARTY. She can't relinquish control for five fucking minutes because we might not do shit right.

My sister just called again (the third time since I got into the office) to ask me a question about dressings on our salads. I've been saying for weeks that they should all be dressed today, because the flavors need time to marry. That's how it fucking works. We'll leave out cheese, nuts and the like that would get soggy, but the salads will taste better if everything else sits overnight so the flavors develop.

But my sister and my mom know better, so nothing is getting dressed until tomorrow. Why am I even involved? No one listens to a goddamn thing I have to say. My sister is being the fucking martyr because she was at the farm yesterday -- an entire day and a half before me. And she and the future sister-in-law will have everything done by the time my brother and I get home. I'm terribly, terribly sorry that I don't have summers off because I'm not a teacher. I'm sorry we're busy and I have coworkers out on top of that.

If they're not home when I make it down, they're at my aunt and uncles and I should just drive over. How 'bout I just stay at the house with the dog and watch the Twins by myself because I cannot deal with you people

Everything will turn out just fine and all that, I'm sure. But Jesus, getting there might very well kill me. But when you see that newspaper headline that says "Anniversary party turns into family brawl," well, it's not like no one saw it coming.