My First Blizzard

Yesterday it started snowing. It was maybe an inch deep whenever I stopped paying attention, then this morning David and I got up to six or so inches of snow on the ground. There is somewhere between 8 inches and a foot now, and I had to practice driving around because I don't know if I'm going to be able to work from home tomorrow. I wouldn't think a 2 hour drive would be worth it, but who knows? Here are some pictures we took. It really doesn't illustrate the amount of snow we have here very well, though. Poor Jack is up to his belly when he goes outside. (As a point of reference, the first picture is the same view of the picture I took for Thanksgiving when it snowed!)

This fat little bird was perched on our balcony this morning. I don't know what he is, but it was cool to see it up so close. I'll also show you our Christmas decorations. They're a little sparse, but we're still gathering them! This is our (illegal...shhh...) Christmas tree. If you look closely, you can see a UofM ornament, and a bigger A&M one.

This is an extreme closeup of the wreath on our door.

These are the stockings I made this year. Poor Jack doesn't have one yet, but I'm working on it. Since we don't have a fireplace, we bought some hangers from Target and put them up on the bookshelf.

And this is the adorable nativity that David's parents gave us last year for Christmas. Not a ton of decorating, but we added a few this year and I guess we'll keep adding until it looks like Santa's workshop up in here. I also had a Christmas puzzle, but it finally drove David a little crazy since it was on the coffee table so when I finished it I put it up for next year. Hope you are all warm and cozy! Maybe tomorrow I can work from home and build a snowman or something!

Autumn in Ann Arbor

This year thanksgiving was more like I was used to. Last year it was just David, Jack, and me, and it seemed weird to me to have such a quiet thanksgiving. This year we decided to have some friends over in our new apartment and put on Thanksgiving. We went and bought a card table from a consignment shop and David helped me make it look festive.

We also have done a little rearranging and decorating, so here is a little tour of our place before the festivities. This is David's office area. This is the living room.

We did a lot of cleaning. Well, David and I did. Jack did this. See how bored and unamused he looks with our efforts? That's because he didn't help.

Once people started showing up though, we had a blast. We had 10 people in our little apartment, a decent sized turkey, a ham, several sides, homemade bread, homemade beer, regular beer, and about 8 bottles of wine. When it was over, there was a few beers left, some turkey and ham, and a lot of dishes. It was a blast. I also learned that brining a turkey is a great idea, even though it does require some extra work. Anyway, here are some pictures from dinner.

This is Kevin and Georgie, our friends from England who are having a baby this February, and Megan and Joe, who are from Utah and are getting married this May.

This is Tom, Allison, Phil, and Michael, who go to school with David, and a picture of us later on that evening. Hope all of you had a great Thanksgiving, too. I'm going to go start decorating for Christmas now!

Gratitude

Some things I have to be grateful for:

My stepmom is quitting smoking! After 30 years, its about dang time.

I got to spend two nights IN A ROW hanging out with my husband. On a school night.

It's officially my last day working as a secretary.

I get free lunch today. And Red Lobster Cheesy Biscuits.

My friends didn't get tricked into taking a crappy job thanks to my mad googling skills.

I ran yesterday. Almost a whole mile. And I could have ran more if my ankle wasn't all jacked up. I'm a little sore- and that is the best part of working out. It's like a little peice of accomplishment.

6 working days left...and counting

So from time to time my boss will pop some popcorn and sit it on my desk for everyone to enjoy. Usually I eat a lot of it, but it happened to get a little burned, and so I have been able to control myself well.

When my coworker (the one who likes tuna and mayo) saw the popcorn, she said "I hate when she brings that stuff in." She proceeds to walk to my desk and grab a little.

Then she sits down, eats it, and comes back for a little more.

This repeats until she finally gives in and gets a bowl so she can save herself a trip or two.

She has refilled this bowl 4 times now.

"See.." she says between crunches and wheezes. "I told you I was going to end up eating it all. That's why I hate when she makes it."

It takes all that I am to not say "Then stop coming back to my desk."

Social Experimentation

David's friend Prachi is coming to visit this weekend. I like Prachi. He's a good friend to Dave. He's talented, and smart. He's as chatty as any of one of my friends. He's bizarre. But there's another quality that both makes the pit of my stomach go hollow and at the same time gives me the giddy anticipation of a child at Christmas.

You see, introducing other people to Prachi is kindof like bringing a puppy to dinner party. People will love him for his charm, or hate him because he messes on the carpet. Well, Prachi is housebroken, but just as unpredictable.

See...This Picture is of David getting away from Prachi because he was trying to kiss David for the New Year.

He was a groomsman at our wedding, and he made my aunt cry. Okay, most of that was because she was catering the reception and was extremely stressed out, and almost all of the rest of it was because my mother's whole side of the family (myself included) has a tendency to overreact and take things the wrong way. But there was a significant portion that was entirely due to the fact that you never know what words are going to be coming out of Prachi's mouth. He's random. He reminds me of the function on wikipedia that generates a random article for you. You're talking about a concert you've just seen, and he brings up...oh....let's say...the Byzantine Empire. Oh, in some vague way it will be related. But just barely.

Another thing that makes me slightly nervous is that we have the pleasure of having him for three days. I've only been around Prachi for a maximum of three hours at a time. During that time, I have to fade in and out of conversation because it will drift between topics that I know and understand to topics that I would never bring up in a social situation. I remember one conversation where his girlfriend at the time explained how tampons worked. His response was "Oh...like a harpoon!" Other conversations revolve around computers and codes and video games and guitars and physics...these conversations make my brain go numb. Luckily, on day two I have a bachelorette party to attend, and so I'm praying this is when most of the brain-numbing conversations will take place.

But mostly, I'm excited. I'm excited to see the faces of the other people we encounter while Prachi is here. I'm excited to see what random nuggets he sneaks into the conversations. And I'm excited to see whether people love him for his charm or if he messes on their carpets.

A very tall 5 year old

Last night David helped to host some recruits for the Chemical Engineering program here. We attended this last year and it was so much fun that I was really supportive of him participating this year.

Until I realized that meant I would spend the weekend by myself a lot. I'm a huge baby, and I don't like to be home by myself at night. It freaks me out. Every noise is amplified and I remember all of the scary movies I've ever watched and wait for them to come to life in my very own living room. It's rediculous, but I can't help it.

Last night all the recruits went out for dinner. I decided to use the time be by myself and watch some tv. I was relaxing, about halfway through the Office, when Jack started growling at the front door.

I looked at him to see why he was making such a weird noise (since Jack rarely makes any sound at all) and then he started barking. So I hyperventilated and covered my head with the blanket I was using.

After I realized this wouldn't really help me all that much if someone were hiding in my bushes, I went to make sure the front door was locked. Then I looked out the window and saw that no one was there, and continued to freak out. I was too scared to go near the back door, so instead of checking to see if it was locked, I hid under the blanket somemore. Eventually, The Office ended and I had to force myself to go to the bathroom. So I ran full speed up the stairs (tripping in the process) and turned on every light on the way. I got ready for bed, turned on all the lights in my bed room and did some light reading until David got home.

He finally arrived at 10:15. He thought I was asleep, but I told him my eyes were just tired from reading.

David: "Oh really? What are you reading?"
Me: "The Bible."
David: "Hmmm."
Me: "I got scared and figured if someone was going to break in and kill me, at least they might feel bad about it if I was reading the Bible."

Another reason why David is crazy to have married me

Sometimes I have dreams that make me spend the rest of the morning convincing myself that the events that went on in the dream were not real. The first one I can remember having was when I was a little kid.

My dad had just dropped me off at my mom's house, and as he was leaving he managed to get hit by a car. In fact, he some how ran over himself, but the details didn't really matter. I woke up devastated and bawling, and my mom had to remind me that my dad was fine, that you couldn't run over yourself with your own car, and that I had made up that horrible scenario in my head.

I had one 4 years ago. I had just gotten back from visiting David at A&M, and he called me to let me know that him and my friend Julia (who I hadn't seen in 2 years at the time) were together. He also insulted me and then I broke up with him. I woke up convinced of two things. David was the biggest jerk alive, and I was no longer dating him. Still groggy, once I figured out that the cheating on me part was a dream, I still had to work through the fact that we weren't broken up. I think I called him to apologize and make sure we were okay and to let him know that I wasn't mad about the dream, and then logic kicked in and I figured out that he had no idea what I was rambling on about.

This morning I woke up livid. I woke up and rolled over to avoid touching him. He got up and walked to the alarm clock to turn it off and I covered my head to avoid looking at him. Then I went to the bathroom and the fog slowly lifted. He had not, in fact, just taken off in a car with another girl. He had been sleeping 6 inches from me, clueless that I was ready to lob my pillow at his sweet, pillow-matted head.

This process of waking up and separating fact from dream takes ENTIRELY too long. I have the most rediculous dreams ever. In fact, I am really afraid of the day that I become pregnant, because I know that my dreams will become even more psychotic. I don't know if that's even possible. They are already completely impossibly insane. You would think that after waking up from a dream where my boyfriend is cheating on me in Texas with a girl who lives in Washington D.C, or one where my dad gets hit by the car that he is driving, I should be able to laugh.

But I don't. I freak out.

I get my feelings hurt. I start rehearsing what I am going to say. I scramble to see if I can mend our broken relationship. I call the person I just dreamed about.

And on the other end of the phone is usually stunned silence, followed by "Now wait...WHAT?"

Love...In an elevator

Yesterday I got a call from one of the professors that I work for asking me to call the maintenance people and tell them that one of our employees, a 6-months-pregnant Asian lady, was stuck in one of the elevators. The elevator wasn't in my building, and they asked all kinds of questions I didn't know how to answer, like what floor she was stuck on and what the elevator number is. Eventually they gave me a work order number and said they had someone on the way.

Fast forward to 10:00 am today, almost 20 hours later. The elevator is apparently broken again, because I just heard another maintenance call take place 30 minutes ago. My phone rings, and its the plant ops (maintenance) customer service rep. She wants to know how satisfied we were with their work.

"Well, from what I understand it is still broken," I say.

"Yes, but I wanted to make sure the pregnant lady got out okay."

I haven't seen her today at all. For all I know she's still in the elevator. Wouldn't you expect the people who fix broken things to go back and check the "broken elevator with pregnant lady inside" off of some master problem list? And if not, wouldn't you hope that they would check on the pregnant lady's safety sometime sooner than 19 hours later?

Do not be anxious for anything...

For those who have ever had the pleasure of helping me make any kind of decision whatsoever, you may know that patience is not exactly my strong point. When I decide I need something or want something, I want to snap my fingers and be there.

There have been times where I contemplated setting off smoke bombs in the bathrooms of some of my friends who spend what seems like hours longer than I do to get ready to go somewhere. You are all beautiful to start with. But mention brunch at Mi Cosina and Meg has to start from scratch. Go out with some friends and Lizzy decides to learn to sew her own custom clothing. Visit Ray and Tiffany for New Year's and I realize why all of my friends have better hair than I do.

It takes time. It takes practice. It takes PATIENCE.

Anyway, right now I am in the process of interviewing for another job. The job I currently have hired me the way I like to be hired. I interviewed, they called later that afternoon, I started two days later. This job actually cares about making sure that I am the right person for the job, and whether I will be a good fit for the long haul.

I know I will not have anything remotely in the form of an offer until sometime in the middle of next week.

This makes me a little crazy.

Every car I've ever bought I bought the day I went to look at it. That's probably the reason I have owned a car that blew up, a car that proceeded to slowly fall apart the day I brought it home, and a car that didn't have an ounce of oil in it every time I went to get my oil changed (on time, too, thankyouverymuch).

I'm thankful for the opportunity to become less impulsive. But I also have had the feeling that I was leaning a little too far over the edge of a lion's cage at the zoo ALL DAY LONG. Some call it butterflies. I call it "where on earth did my internal organs go?". Patience is hard.

On another note, here are a few additional things I am grateful for:

David. He's super. Stop gagging.

Lizzy and Tiff. Both gave me tons of advice regarding the interviews.

I found two long lost friends from elementary school on Facebook. They're both mommies now. That's insane to me.

My interviews have been going really well so far.

My doggie. Even though he won't stop licking certain areas of his body because his loving owner isn't so handy with the trimming shears. Sorry puppy!

Cue Lou Reed song....

I have had the most perfect day today. The sun was out and shining for my morning commute. I went for an interview that went smashingly, if I do say so...I made it on time, did well, was invited back to shadow someone in that position, and wore a new black suit! I came home and had the best lunch (bbq chicken pizza that I made last night and a chocolate and peanut butter chip cookie). Then I went to the lady doctor and although that wasn't the best experience, all is well in the reproductive department. I went home and took a little nap with Jack, and I'm on my way to hang out with some people from my church. Its still sunny, the snow is starting to melt again, and next week it is going to be in the 50's one day. That's really warm to me now. (Kinda sad)

It has definitely been a day with a thousand little tiny things that add up to a great day...but I knew today would be good before I left the house. You want to know why?

I used the last of my toothpaste, the last Crest White Strips, and emptied the bag of cotton swabs into the clear container and threw away the bag.

Nothing brings me more satisfaction than using the rest of a product, and I mean all of it, and then throwing away the empty container. It is a small sense of accomplishment. AND, I then get to go out and buy a new product. New shampoo? Different brand of Mascara? Another toothpaste flavor?

Well, lets not get crazy or anything. If our toothpaste doesn't taste minty, we have to buy new toothpaste.

Dave thinks cinnamon flavor is actually red-hot flavor, and the two are not synonyms. It makes him gag and yell about things.

I think Orange and Vanilla and Tutti Frutti and Bubble Gum flavored things taste wrong. Unholy. Immoral. It makes me chuck them in the garbage unused. And that makes me feel wasteful.

There has only been one time where I smelled a non-mint flavor on someone else's breath and thought YUMMY!

She was eating starbursts. I can't do that every morning. I am prone to cavities. It'd be unwise.

Anyway, I am about to go hang out with people and hopefully run this perfect day right on into a perfect night. I hope you are all having perfect days of your own, filled with the little things (like sonic cherry vanilla cokes and clean sheets and whatever it is that makes you shine) that make you sing Lou Reed. If you haven't heard his version of "Perfect Day", you should. Unless your depressed. Because for some reason if I hear it happy I become happier, but if I hear it sad, It can make you depressed. Way, way depressed.

Jethro

For those of you who know my dad or have at least seen a picture of him...

I can't get the Beverly Hillbillies themesong out of my head, and because of this I have an overwhelming urge to call my dad. I just sang the whole first half to David via instant messenger. HA.

TGIF

Since marrying David I have listened to National Public Radio at least 5 mornings a week. A lot of times I totally zone out (their voices are so soothing, even talking about tragedy in the middle east) but sometimes I listen and am enlightened. But David is absolutely hooked. He knows the shows, can tell you about the hosts and which ones are crappy...it's really funny. I feel older and way nerdy when I listen to NPR, but I've grown to like some of the shows and segments, especially the stories about other peoples lives. Hearing NPR makes life seem calm and uncomplicated.

NPR has also brought out a quality in my husband that is the nerdiest thing to date that I know about him and at the same time is absolutely precious to me. We'll be driving along on the last work day of the week, about to pull up to the building I work in and I'll see him get all excited...

"YESSS! It's Science Friday!"

BWAHAHAHAHA

The statement alone is hilarious, but wait. It's better. Science Friday is his FAVORITE segment on NPR. It only comes on Friday, and they talk about new technology, scientific findings, and...um...Science stuff. How nerdy/adorable is that? Can't you just see a skinny 10 year old genious child who rebuilds all the electrical appiances in his room for fun with messed up hair and big glasses run up to you and say

"YESSS! It's Science Friday!"

Because I'm pretty sure that will be our son. And my contribution to this child? He will talk incessantly about why Science Friday is so cool, and then change his mind and tell you why, instead, Technology Tuesday is better or Medicine Monday or some other made up segment that he could CHANGE THE FACE OF NPR with....and then he'll change his mind again and start talking about polishing rocks or building volcanoes or programming robots. David's brains and my incessant and random chattering.

I'll never find childcare. Oh well. It's SCIENCE FRIDAY!

Trimming the Fat...

So like most people that I know, I gave up on making new years resolutions when I was 10. I can't ever stick to them, or I forget that I even resolved to do whatever, and it ends up being completely disappointing.

But each year when lent rolls around I admire people cutting small things that they enjoy out of their lives for 40 days. Lizzy is giving up the f-word, Dave's friend Neil is giving up alcohol...but I feel weird adopting a little peice of someone else's church life and so I always just admire their sacrifices from afar. I told David about how I felt guilty wanting to steal this one little piece of Catholicism every year and he suggested that I just give something up for March. It's the same sentiment, but not like I'm totally ripping off Lent. Just borrowing little details.

So I thought about the areas of my life that I should tidy up. I've got several little attitude and lifestyle alterations going right now and so that ruled out a lot of the options.

I'm eating differently to try to curb my semi-obsession with eating, so I'm not going to cut out any particular food item or group because I am already being disciplined, and frankly that is hard enough right now.

I'm trying to work really hard at my job so that I can forget how disappointing it can be, so I'm going to just leave it how it is.

I'm going to church or church related functions about twice a week, so I'm not going to completely forsake hanging out with our normal friends at bars, because I think that they are all amazing people that I enjoy being around.

Finally I came to the stuff I do while I'm at home. It usually boils down to watching 2-4 episodes of Friends a night and doing whatever absolutely has to be done. Like laundry, dinner, and dishes. That's all I get accomplished. And the really sad thing is I'm pretty sure that there isn't a single friends episode that I haven't seen at least twice before. I don't want to give up tv altogether, because lets face it, I like my tv. Especially the Office, but I've also become really interested in Oprah and this show on TLC where they give little kids a camera and let them document their lives. I love it because children are so pure and honest, and they break my heart and challenge me to be a better person in really surprising ways. So I'm not going to turn off the DVR subscription and pawn my tv set or anything. I am just not going to indulge myself with hours of tv that I've already seen anymore.

For the month of March, I am giving up watching Friends reruns. This may sound small, but like I said in an earlier post, I like small things, and I think this one will give me more time to get things done that really need doing, and ultimately give me more time to hang out with David.

Freebies

So this woman that I work with, Beth, comes in today with 3 boxes. She stops in and lets us know that after a recent visit to her allergist, she has figured out that she is allergic to everything in her house and we can help ourselves to the chemical ridden products that she can no longer use. Curious, I go to her desk downstairs and look to see what she has to offer. Some of the contents were

Lotions
Bubble Bath
Hair Products
Clorox Wipes
Lysol
Makeup Remover
Beauty Products
Bathroom Cleaners
3 slightly used chapsticks

And Lots, Lots more. So I helped myself to a few of the items, including an economy sized container of Lysol sanitizing wipes, a brand new lotion from Bath and Body Works, and some bubble bath and went back to work. Later, on the way to the coffee room, I noticed the remnants on the table that people set stuff on that they want to get rid of. In it set a half used bottle of shaving lotion, an almost empty Lysol spray can, and a bajillion hotel samples.

Why didn't she just throw this stuff away to begin with? Where does one draw the line between "stuff that someone used that is still okay to take" and "stuff that someone used that makes me uncomfortable to put in my bathroom"? I think that for me, if it is used for shaving, is half empty, or was used while the other person was potentially naked, then I don't really care to own it second-hand. Which explains why all the things I took were brand new. Except the lysol wipes, but they are just so handy!

I think the best part of my day will see what is left from the reject box.

The little things

So, it would be kindof an understatement to say that work has had me down lately. But I'm trying to be positive about it and suck it up and all that, so rather than rant about it, I'll share the highlight of my afternoon, which brought about a minor epiphany. I was asked in early January to organize a meeting for a post-conference poster session thing and I was really anxious about it going over well. It all went down yesterday, and I'm happy to report that NO catastrophies of any magnitute happened. Which was a reward all on its own.

But one (of the 9 or 10) of my bosses came in this afternoon with a little pot of daffodils for me and my coworker. They are now on my desk beside the picture of David and me in sunny Dallas that was taken the summer before we got married and make my whole desk as sunny as the petals.

And that got me thinking that it really is the little things that make a difference.

David made me a surprise dessert Sunday that was like a reeses cup/icecream sandwich. And he made it from scratch. So sweet. Literally.

I found a recipe for tomato florentine soup like I used to love to eat when I worked at Fox. I used to get so excited when that was the soup of the day.

Clean sheet days (in fact, I may wash the sheets tonight just to have one. Even though they aren't even dirty!).

Waking up on saturdays without an alarm or a noise or anything. Just opening my eyes and it's sunny and quiet. And remarkably, it isn't even noon yet!

When David and Jack jump all around the living room being crazy.

Remembering I have an episode of the Office saved that I haven't seen yet.

Having a long phone call with Tiff, or Susan, or Lizzy, or any of my friends from College and High School that are now light years away.

I should really turn things around so that the whole day is just full of these wonderful little things. Or maybe they are great because they are so simple and still infrequent enough to be special.

For the Dogs....

So I just shared with David a memory that I didn't even know I had. For those of you who would like to know MORE random little facts about me, here's a little story for you.

My mom used to have these friends in Little Rock named Rusty and Lois. Rusty had a ton of fish tanks all over his living room and Lois was bleached blonde and hopelessly thin. We spent a lot of our time there for about 6 or 8 months, then I never heard anything else about them.

I was probably only 10 or 11 when all of this took place, and my mom and Rusty and Lois would sit around the living room, talk a lot, and smoke a joint together. In heinsight, I should have been somewhere else, but I usually found myself in the middle of the room watching tv and catching hints of adult conversation here and there. We spent one fourth of July there and I almost caught their house on fire by lighting a roman candle (the one that shoots bright balls of fire) and aiming it upside down toward their bushes.

Anyway, one day we were spending time at their house and Rusty begins to talk about the "Dog Pound" club, or something like that. And they all had these incredibly cool nicknames, like TopDog and BigDog and BadDog. I wanted to be part of this club so bad. I also have no idea why I thought that this was cool, but again, I was 10 or so. I had badly permed hair and puffy bangs, and I coordinated green fold-down socks with green keds.

So in order to be part of the "Dog Pound" you had to eat dog food. I don't know how much, or why...but my mom told me that we could be so cool as some female-dog-name and "Pound Puppy". And we ate Milkbones as part of the initiation. I just ate a little piece, but my husband just found out that I have eaten dog food before. His response?

"Don't worry, I've tried one too."

"WHY?!" (I wanted to be cool and part of a group of middle aged stoners. What's his excuse?!)

"Just curious I guess...my dad did it first."

Parents are really bad influences.

Charred, silver linings

Praise the Lord that it has actually been above freezing for TWO DAYS IN A ROW. I still can't see grass in my backyard, but I know that it is just a matter of time before that groundhog doesn't prove he's a total punk.

To treat myself, I bought a lovely candle on sale last Friday from Urban Outfitters. I put it on my desk and try to drown out the smell of my coworkers favorite lunch, tuna and mayonnaise, as much as possible. This morning I cought some poor girl's application to the summer program that my department offers on FIRE. Again, this is something that only I can manage to do. I put it out with another important paper and now my desk is smeared with soot. Luckily I have some of those Lysol wipes in my drawer so I was able to hide most of the evidence. But the burned paper was a little undeniable. So I cut off the burned part (Luckily it was just the corner) and made copies. An obvious gray spot in the corner showed up in the copies. So I swallowed what little pride I hold on to and confessed to the mean German guy thatI work for that I cought it on fire. He didn't seem to care, but I think he suspects that I'm borderline retarded.

An Alternate Universe....

One where they advertise sonic to tease me. To mock me.

You see, sometimes I have these days when a pick-me-up is in order. It doesn't take much to do this for me. During college, my roommate Suzy showed me the endorphin releasing magic of Cherry Vanilla Coke (and only the sonic kind will do). I would have a monster final schedule, a bad hair day, and a 12 hour shift as a hostess to look forward to, but a quick trip to sonic would bring things back into perspective. Its like a rainbow in a styrofoam cup.

There are commercials for sonic, but I haven't seen one since I've been in Michigan. So I thought, "I'll just look at their website to find the nearest location." I would drive 45 minutes to go to an outlet mall on Saturday, and a trip to sonic would make it all the better if there happened to be one along the way.

But there isn't. In fact, there isn't a sonic for 15o miles. at least. The nearest one I found was in Indiana. I can't justify a trip to Indiana for any reason. I've tried.

There are great things about Michigan. They sell hard alcohol in grocery stores (Margaritas are now a one-stop option). There is snow consistently for Christmas. They sell soup everywhere. Lots of coffee and hot chocolate. Lots of diversity. Cool Music venues. Antique theaters. Beautiful scenery.

There are things I hold personally against Michigan. Like never closing down for snow. No HEB. No sonic. No mexican food. I can't ever wear flip flops. Or skirts. Or go sans-parka. No parking. Rediculous rent. I mean, this isn't California. It isn't New York. The closest major Metropolitan area is DETROIT. I don't want to pay $1000 a month for a one bedroom 45 minutes from Detroit. I want to be paid to live that close to Detroit. I'm scared to even visit Detroit. David went for a car show and said it was like stepping into a third world country. People are constantly getting shot.

Location, Location, Location?

Whatever

Cupid always lurks up...

So I blinked and Christmas turned into Valentine's Day, even while the month dragged on with sub-zero weather and snow everyday. And I realized the same thing I realize every Valentine's day.

I am a non-creative, sad excuse for a girl.

This is what I get for being romantically linked to the same person for 7 valentine's days in a row. So every year gets a little harder than the one before it. How do you let a guy know that he makes you a little bit better of a person every day? Chocolate? Unfortunately-this magical food doesn't do the same thing for boys that it does for girls, and to be honest, it only does it for me about once a month. It's delish, but doesn't quite do the trick. Flowers? Um. No.

I wrote letters a couple of years.

I made a book with illustrations (well, stick figures) one year.

I pretended I didn't care about the commercial holiday one year. I also happened to be lying that year.

Because Valentine's day is the one year when you are expected by everyone to publicly announce how amazing the person that you chose to be with actually is. Every other day, people think Oh just go get a room. Eliciting gagging isn't exactly what I'm going for, but lately I realize how rediculously much more considerate my husband is than I am.

Like if I am exhausted after being a peon at work for 9 hours straight, he leads me upstairs, tucks me in bed, and hands me the remote. Then he kisses my forehead, turns off the light, shuts the door, and leaves me alone until I emerge, two hours later, with sheet marks in my face.

On saturday mornings, he wakes up consistently at 9:30. He also consistently pulls the covers around me and lets me sleep until I feel guilty enough to drag myself out of bed. Then when I come down stairs, 50% of the time he is making something delicious for me.

5 days a week, he goes outside and starts the car so it is warm when I get in it. Even when it is negative nine degrees outside. Usually, these are the same mornings that he sweetly reminds me to go to work so that I can keep my job.

What says, "Thanks for letting me be a total sloth and still treating me like I'm worthy of being pampered"?

I mean really, sometimes I wonder why he doesn't send me back where I came from. I have good moments too, but I can be an utter brat. Lately, I don't really feel like doing anything unless it doesn't interfere with me sitting on the couch and watching 4 consecutive episodes of Friends. All of which I've already seen. At least twice. I also don't feel like going to work. I also think he should stay home from school and be a sloth with me. I also scatter all of the crafts that I have started on all over the area that was supposed to serve as an office. For now, I think of it more as a fabric/bead/yarn catcher. With a computer in the corner. See. He needs his head checked.

Maybe that's what I can get him for Valentine's Day...

I'm sure I won't get a multitude of responses, but do you have any suggestions?

My seasons are all jacked up....

This is my desktop right now. I have to think optimistically. Otherwise I'll run away to live with my friend Lucy in Hawaii. I mean, I still like the snow and all, but in my mind, snow = Christmas. holiday cards. Peppermint Mochas from Starbucks. All the way until the first week of January. But once the after-Christmas sales are over, I want to think about spring. Therein lies the problem. Spring is SOOOOOOOO far away. There is an inch and a half of snow on the ground. It's supposed to snow all week. Maybe longer. White valentine's day? Nonsense.

I'll go shopping to find more sweaters, since I've been wearing the 7 I own constantly since October. Do i find spring colored sweaters now that its 20 degrees outside? Nope.

Sandals. Skirts. Short sleeved shirts and halters. Bright new camisoles. BATHING SUITS.

Are you kidding me? I still look like the stay-puff marshmallow man. Layers upon layers upon layers. I can't even find winter clothes when I feel a little down. Only clothes that make me think about abandoning my loving husband and adorable puppy to live with one of my friends in Dallas. Oh, I realize that Texas has been under a little cold snap of its own, with snow and ice, but they have a light at the end of the tunnel. High in ann arbor: 29. High in Dallas: 45. High in Austin: 49.

Its supposed to snow and be gray until March. I'm starting to think about tanning beds. I'm looking into beach getaways. I don't know if I can do this for five years. I might have to go on anti-depressants or something.

BOO! I miss warmth. And sun. And the colors blue and green when they occur in nature.

Be forewarned. I may show up at your house and refuse to leave until the weather channel says the thermometers in Michigan have reached at least 60. I'm not even kidding.

On another note entirely...

David and I are now looking for a new apartment. Now, not only do we have to find one that allows Jack, has a washer and dryer and is reasonably close to Campus, but it also can not have stairs. Anywhere. Otherwise I might die.

Because I have a tendency to fall down them. Once head first, resulting in my head slamming into the wall and my elbow almost breaking the banister on the way down. Frequently on the way up, when I get ahead of myself and miss a step. Unfortunately, this one was witnessed twice in half an hour by Lizzy when she came to visit. And most recently, on my back the entire way down the stair case. My neck hit every step on the way down. I feel like I worked my back out with someone who recently won the strongman competition. So no more stairs. They're hazardous. If we buy a home, it can be ranch-style, sprawling across the neighborhood. Or david can install an elevator. Otherwise, I'm sleeping on the bottom half of the house.

On why I would be an amazing 50's housewife...

So if you have had any contact with me in the last 2 1/2 years you will know that I became obsessed with knitting and crocheting for anyone who thought it was as cool as I did (which was really only Erica, and so she got leg warmers and a thing to put her ipod in when I lived with her). Well, in following my new blog obsession I found a girl who used to go to A&M who was way craftier than I, and so I got inspired to try out some new crafts.

First, I bought a dishtowel from Target and made it into a waist apron. David and I cook a lot, and I thought this would be a good little project. David was a little confused about why I didn't make an apron with a bib (which in heinsight would have been very practical for my rediculously clumsy self) but I told him I really just wanted something to wipe my hands on. Plus the aforementioned crafty Texas girl had one and I must prove myself to be as good as she is. Even if I am the only one who knows it. It turned out really well, and I used it last night to make this amazing pot pie that I found on another Texas stranger's blog. I spilled flour all over my black shirt, but my pants stayed clean, Dangit.

Second, I learned to make earrings. I bought three different kinds of pliers and I am already a total pro. Okay, not a total pro, but I wear them in public and am not ashamed. They look like they could have come from Claire's. I'm working on other pieces of jewelry, and anxiously await the day that someone says "nice (insert piece of jewelry here)" so I can say "Oh, this? Thanks, I made it forever ago." Or keep my mouth shut but be very proud of my mad skills anyway. I tried to take a picture but it didn't work out so well.

Third, I made a baby blanket. It is my very first attempt to quilt anything larger than a throw pillow, and I did that when I was 7 years old with my aunt's supervision. But I'm proud of how it turned out. It is so adorable that I wish I had a use for it, but...well, I don't. But it was a good starter project, and it is made out of light green chenille. And now, I'm pretty much hooked. I'm going to drag David to the fabric store tonight to help me pick out fabric (the boy has way better taste than me, which makes me a little sad for several reasons). I'm so stoked, and that makes me mucho dorky.

This is how I rang in 2007. In Little Rock, with old friends and new redneck buddies, feeling grossly pre-pubescent next to my best friend and her work pal and their new, um... assets. And at some point I got annoyed with girls making me erase pictures that were PERFECTLY GOOD because they didn't like how they looked, and so I started sticking my tongue out in all of the retakes.

And everyone ran with that idea. Including Prachi, the guy probing my husbands ear with his tongue.

Christmas was really good, and although we packed on more than 3000 miles and my dog absolutely hates the car, I'd do it again in 6 months or so. 10 days in the car makes you space these little trips out you see. And since no one got me my s'mores machine, I bought one on clearance at Target for 7.50. I had to search all over ann arbor to find the fuel that makes it burn, but Me and David have had s'mores twice, and my heart is full again!

I've been inspired to learn to make a few new crafts, which I am positive will turn into obsession, seeing as how I spent almost a hundred dollars this weekend alone on pliers, beads, peices of cotton, and some polyester batting. I'm so stuck in the wrong decade.

But the best part, the thing I will look forward to all week, is that one of my friends from Texas is coming to see me this Thursday. I am still struggling to make friends with women my own age, and so a visit from Lizzy is just what I need. Especially since I want to quit my job by 10:00 a.m every day. I have to figure something else out. This simply can't be long term. Unless I find out that they will, in fact, reimburse my tuition after a year. Then I just have to suck it up, because being a secretary for 3 years it totally worth 75% off College. And I can do monkey-doo with my degree here, which is so discouraging. But, c'est la vie. Life's tough. Get a helmet.

I went to a church that I really liked yesterday, too. The music before the talk was really fun and kindof like being at a show in austin or something, and it is nothing but college kids, which could be an excellent opportunity to meet new people. It was really sad to me to figure out that one of the community outreach programs the church had was to go to local elementary schools and play games with kids when it is too cold to go outside. Where on earth has my husband brought me? Too cold for a little kid to not want to go outside and play in the snow? MADNESS! Me and my little sister would practically invite frostbite on the one day a year we were lucky enough to get an inch of snow. I remember losing the one pair of gloves I got during a decent snow fall and layering at least 6 pairs of socks so that I could make snowballs. Granted, it hasn't been that cold to me yet, but I have also taken to wearing yoga pants underneath my jeans or slacks and wearing 3 shirts at a time. I get cold when the thermostat isn't on 70, so I improvise. I like to look like this.


Oh, laugh if you want, kids on the playground, but my snowman will be bigger than yours, and if you try to beat me up, I won't feel a thing. HA!