Meine Klo

As promised, we're traveling to mainland Europe. As expected, it took me six weeks to write this post.

In reality, six weeks isn't that bad. But what's sad is the realization I had the other day about this project.

Like everyone else, I've been watching the London Olympics for the past few days. Seeing London on TV makes me miss that city so much. I actually started this toilet project when I went to study abroad in London...which was 10 years ago. I have been working on this project for 10 years, and I've yet to hang one framed picture in my bathroom.

Sure, I've had some other things going on in my life during those past 10 years — graduating college, getting my first job, moving halfway across the country twice, getting married, having kids, etc. But have any of those activities made me so busy that I can't print out some pictures, frame them, and hang them in my bathroom? Or am I just lazy?

I'm going with lazy. When I look at these pictures, and I think about what I did in Europe, what I've done over the past 10 years, what I did last weekend, one thing becomes clear: I drink a lot of beer.

Like my last toilet post, this one features an unknown drinking establishment. I know I took this picture in Munich, Germany, and I think it might be the Hofbrauhaus. But I'm not positive. Sadly, I didn't think to get another picture when I went back to the Hofbrauhaus on my honeymoon (classic honeymoon destination, no?).

Munich, Germany

Next week (or month, or year, or whenever I get around to posting again), I'll try to feature a non-drinking or eating establishment to prove to you, and myself, that I've done more with my life over the past 10 years then drink and eat.

Potty mouth

In a little less than two months, Maya will be two. On one hand, I can't believe she's so big already. On the other, I feel like she's already been two for months. She's running and talking and becoming opinionated. We can almost have little conversations with her. It's pretty incredible.

She's at the age, though, that sometimes only Chris and I know what she's saying or what she means. "Choo choo," for example, means she wants to watch Thomas the Engine. "Gaga" means she wants to listen to music (the kid likes Lady Gaga. I have no idea how that happened). And "beer" is what she calls anything adults drink, be it coffee, tea, wine, whatever. To her, it's all "beer" (we are awesome parents).

And then there are the even more troublesome mispronunciations, especially these three: Spoon, which she pronounces "poon"; Grape, which she pronounces "rape"; and fork, which she pronounces as, well... I assume you can figure that one out.

I know this will pass. But until then, please accept my apologies for my foul-mouthed little lady. She can't help it. She takes after her mother. And her father.

Things 237-243

From workout clothes to work clothes:

From 365 things

The first group are mostly things I swear I'm gonna wear, but never do. The black dress on the left is one I have actually worn many times because Chris likes it. But the problem is, it's a wrap dress that doesn't wrap so well, and it flies open an inopportune times, which is probably why Chris likes it. 

From 365 things

The group contains a white blazer a co-worker once told me looked like a lab coat (he was right), a sweat shirt, and a white cable-knit sweater that's been through one too many nose wipes.

The past week; a culinary tour

The last week of the year is always a busy one for us. In addition to all the usual holiday chaos, Chris and I both have our birthdays. This year was no exception in the madness department. Maya even pitched in and got an ear infection last week (on Chris' birthday, in fact) to make the week even crazier than normal.

But rather than give a play-by-play of the past week, I thought I'd steal a post from a fellow blogger (who's on a blogging hiatus at the moment) and just give you all recap of what I ate over the past week or so:

Goat-cheese pizza
Sweet potato fries
Popcorn
Pork tamales
Pecan-crusted salmon
Cheese
Chicken skewers
Falafel
Jalepeno-stuffed green olives
Turkey
Sweet potatoes
Dried fruit
Mixed nuts
Chili dip
Cheese omelet
Broccoli cheddar soup
Mediterranean sandwich
Beet & potato quesadilla
Chili mac
Pumpkin pie
Apple pie
Cookies
Potato chips
Stuffed cabbage
Carnival squash soup
Raisin bran
Steak
Whole-wheat pancakes
Chicken & butternut squash curry
And of course, inordinate amounts of wine and beer.

'Tis the season.

Things 3, 4 & 5

Wow. I have a lot of crap. Let's start with Thing 3:

From 365 things

I got this candle from my boyfriend in high school. It's a black light candle, which is way cool when you're 15 and sit around staring at crap under a black light. Then one day you wake up and you're 30, and you realize that this has to be the ugliest candle you've ever seen. Like, seriously. Fugly.

I'm going to attempt to sell it at our yard sale, but I can't imagine anyone would actually want to own it. The only reason I've held on to it for the past 15(!) years is that I keep thinking I'll melt it down and turn it into some other, less god-awful candle. But after a decade and a half, it might be time for me to realize that I'm not going to be struck by some artsy-crafty bug anytime soon. Which brings me to Thing 4...

From 365 things

I bought this pretty blue bottle while on a winery tour around the Finger Lakes in upstate New York. I thought the color was gorgeous and vowed to use it to decorate somehow, obviously forgetting about my lack of craftiness and apartment full of other knick-knacks, like the aforementioned ugly-ass candle. But that's what happens when you make purchases after visiting six wineries. Which brings me to Thing 5...

From 365 things

It's one thing to save a gift from a high school boyfriend or a pretty blue bottle — things that have the teensiest bit of sentimental or monetary value. But it's a true sign of illness when you save some stupid string of plastic obtained for free while drinking in the name of an Americanized holiday honoring an ethnicity of which you are less than 5%.

Maybe I saved it because of the cute, little Chicago flags. Or maybe because it's from Miller Lite — my favorite cheapo beer. Or maybe because I dropped it on a shelf one St. Patrick's Day after a few drinks and never thought about it again.

I honestly don't remember when or where I got this. And for the life of me, I can't imagine why I STILL have it. To the basement dungeon you go, cheapo Chi-rish beads. And take your empty blue bottle and ugly candle friends with you.

365 things

Oy, I haven't posted in more than a month. It's not that I don't have things to blog about: We recently had our annual Cinco de Mayo party, my uncle's doing our landscaping right now, we're getting our roof replaced, we're planning to partially redo the kitchen, and so on.

But instead of blogging about any of those things, I'm going to blog about this iron:

Thing 1

I've had this iron for many years. I don't remember exactly when I got it, but I believe it pre-dates me and Chris' itemhood, meaning that I've had it for at least 8 years.

But I haven't used it in quite a while. This used to be our back-up iron — we had another iron we liked more, but kept this one around just in case. But about a year ago, we got a new, fancy Rowenta number. It's like the Cadillac of irons. And as a result, this iron became our back-up, back-up. So, should our all-mighty Rowenta fail us, we have another iron. And if that one should fail, we have this fella.

That's a lot of ironing insurance for people who iron, oh, maybe once a month.

Which is why this iron is being sacrificed for my newest blogging project — a project I'm sure to get all gung-ho about for a week or so, and then abandon, as I'm wont to do.

I recently read an article in Body + Soul about de-cluttering — something I'm so desperate to do. Chris and I have a problem with clutter. When an English major/lawyer and journalist get married, it's inevitable. Identical copies of British literature. Every copy of Esquire from the past four years. All my newspaper and magazine clips. Old reporter's notebooks. Volumes and volumes of law books. And these are just the things I can see. Right now. From my computer.

Add to that all the things not currently in my line of sight. And then add all the clutter a 7-month-old accumulates. I'm amazed we don't have a show on TLC.

I've managed to organize, file and store things in a somewhat neat way, so to the untrained eye, we don't look like hoarders. But I still know it's there — useless crap taking up precious space in my house.

Anyway, in this article, the author talks about how she decided to tackle her own clutter problem by getting rid of one thing every day for a year. She called it 365 in 365. I instantly fell in love, and promptly decided not only to steal her idea, but to blog about it as well.

Which brings me back to this dear, old iron. This iron is going to go live in a box in the basement with some other things I had already decided to purge. I'm going to keep adding to the box every day. Then, later this summer, we're going to have a yard sale, and whatever clutter doesn't sell immediately goes to good will. And after that? The clutter collection shall continue, until I hit the one year mark, or I run out of stuff to get rid of, or I forget about the whole thing and start some other ridiculous project.

Sweet free

If you watch way too much TV like I do, you might have noticed that the fast food restaurants are starting to roll out their fish-themed advertising. (McDonald's "Give me back that filet-of-fish" is easily my fave, though I haven't seen it yet this year). This influx of meat-free ads means one thing: it's Lent. Well, almost. It starts tomorrow.

After sort of giving up alcohol last year (I gave it up, but really just used Lent as an excuse for not drinking because I hadn't revealed my pregnancy yet), and giving up meat in 2008, I thought I'd try on a new vice to banish. So as of tomorrow, I'm giving up sweets. No cakes, cookies, candies or confections.

Appropriately, I've so far spent my Fat Tuesday eating Oreos and chocolate-covered pretzels.

This is a strange restriction for me. During my college years, I totally lost my sweet tooth. I'm not sure why. I remember going months without eating sweets for no reason other than having absolutely no taste for them. Then, I graduated and started working in an office. And that's when the 3 p.m. sweet tooth set in.

Now, when late-afternoon rolls around and my morning coffee has long worn off, I start scavenging for sweets. Mostly, this scavenging takes places in my cube mate's desk drawer. When the drawer's offerings aren't up to my standards, I try the kitchen on the off-chance that there are leftover cookies from a client meeting, or one of our many fabulous home bakers brought in some goodies. When all those options bear no fruit, I usually give up. Although on occasion, I hit up the vending machines or convenience store for my fix (typically, peanut M&Ms).

I still haven't worked out the exact restrictions. Can I have a fruity cocktail? O how about pancakes if I don't use syrup? And what about jelly? I don't know. Guess I'll figure it out along the way (i.e. justify that something isn't technically a "sweet," eat it, and then feel guilty....have I mentioned that I'm not Catholic?)

Christmas Cards

Back in December, I sent out a round of Christmas cards, mostly to people who live out of town, knowing that those cards would take the longest to arrive. Then, in mid-January, I sent out another set. This time to family in and around Chicago. I saved many of my friends for the last stack, knowing they'd be most forgiving about receiving a Christmas card in late-January.

But now it's February, and that stack of about 20 cards still sits on my desk at work. Cards I stuffed into envelopes, addressed and return addressed, and then never sent. I have excuses: Every time I went to CVS to get stamps, they were out. Then I went back to work full time, then we went out of town, then... it just never happened.

So I've decided that as penance for my extreme tardiness, I need to hand deliver the rest of my Christmas cards. Because really, I'd rather visit and socialize with my friends than send them some meaningless card. That's the whole Christmas spirit, right? Taking the time to keep in touch with old friends?

At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

Merry Christmas everybody!

On leave

First of all, here are the results to the "3 Reasons" post:

1. To hear how Maya vocalizes her love for left thumb.
2. As Highnumber correctly guessed, to hear Chris get very impressed with a midget's weight.
3. To hear the thumb-sucking stop long enough to let out a nice fart.

You missed that last one, didn't you? I think you should go back and watch it again.

Second, I've returned to the working world, and honestly? I couldn't be happier. I struggled with, and am continuing to struggle with, the fact that I did not enjoy maternity leave. It was hard. Really hard. Harder than my job by a long shot.

In the first few weeks, I was physically limited. I couldn't sit for very long, or stand for very long, or walk for very long. I wasn't sleeping and barely had time to eat or go to the bathroom.

As my strength returned, Maya also starting sleeping at night (or perhaps my strength returned because she started sleeping at night), which made things a bit easier. But sleeping at night meant she was awake most of the day. And most days, she spent a good deal of her awake hours crying. If she'd been changed, fed and burped and still cried, pretty much the only thing that made her stop was being carried around while I paced the halls for hours. We'd walk from the living room to the kitchen and back. Over and over again. Then up and down the stairs. Again and again.

Sometimes we'd go for a walk outside, but this was more difficult than it sounds. Going outside meant I'd have to change out of my pajamas and into real clothes and shoes. And that process was not fun because it was usually accompanied by a screaming baby. Once I'd put her in her crib to go change, she'd start screaming. The kind of screams where her whole head turns red and no sound comes out and tears roll down her cheeks, and I'd feel so terrible that most days, I'd choose to pace the house for hours rather than put her through 5 minutes of this type of screaming.

There were a lot of days that I wanted nothing more than an hour to do the dishes and tidy up. The house got so unorganized. We had tons of gift boxes and bags from friends and family on the coffee table, in her room and on the floor. Newspapers piled up on the front porch. Dishes overflowed the sink. Dog hair covered everything. We went weeks without changing the sheets. In my old age, I've become more and more obsessive about a clean house. When the house is full of clutter, I get stressed out. And many days during leave, I'd sit in the rocking chair nursing Maya, staring at all that clutter, about to have a nervous breakdown.

And some days, I did break down. She'd cry all day, and so would I. It wasn't until she was about 8 weeks old that her crying slowed down. She's take regular naps and I've have a chance to eat, clean and relax. And when she was awake, she was in a good mood and we'd play. That's when maternity leave started to get fun. But it's also when I went back to work.

Currently, I'm working from home a few days a week and going into the office on the other days. Chris is doing the same, and my parents babysit once a week. Next month, Maya starts daycare. And although I'm a little sad about her spending the majority of her waking hours with non-family members, I know that it has to be this way. I like going to work everyday. I enjoy eating lunch at a leisurely pace without the fear that the baby will begin crying any minute. I like have the option of going to the bathroom when nature calls rather than getting trapped on the rocking chair holding a nursing or sleeping baby. I enjoy working with people, helping clients, solving problems, and most of all, not watching TV all day.

And I like missing Maya. It sounds terrible, but it's true. I'm so happy to see her when I get home from work everyday. But when I was on leave, I can't say I was always happy to see her. When Maya was about 5 or 6 weeks old, I went to the grocery store by myself, and Chris stayed home with her. It was the first time in her life that we were apart for more than a few minutes. I was only gone for about an hour, but honestly, I wanted to stay at the grocery store all day.

Part of me feels terrible for feeling this way. As a mom, I'm supposed to cherish every moment I spend with my daughter. I'm supposed to wish I could stay home with her. I'm supposed be the only person who knows how to make her happy or stop her crying. But I'm not that mom. I'm the mom who loves her daughter, but also loves her job. And I'm the mom who sometimes — a lot of times — has no clue how to make her daughter happy.

I'd like to conclude right now with something like "but I'm OK with that." But I'm not yet. On one hand, I'm glad that I value both my career and my family, and that I can admit that I don't have all the answers when it comes to being a successful mom. But on the other hand, I can't help but beat myself up over the fact that perhaps I wasn't born with that mom instinct.

So instead, I'll conclude this way. I still don't know how to feel about any of this, but I think it's important to be honest about it in a public way. There were many days that I'd think about and reread this post from my bloggy-friend Melinda, and this post from my co-worker Michelle to remind myself that yes, I'm miserable, and yes, that's OK.

On Oprah

Since going on maternity leave, I must admit that I've become a fan of Oprah. It all started as a study. I watched her show to try to figure out why people worshiped her. I used to work at a book store back in high school, and her effect on book sales was unbelievable. She puts something in her book club, and it's an instant best seller. Why is that? How can she have that kind of power?

So, nearly four weeks ago, I started watching Oprah. And now, I'm one of them. I watch her and I'm mesmerized. She mentioned a certain brand of jeans yesterday, and all I wanted to do afterward was go out and buy those jeans. She had Chris Rock on recently promoting Good Hair, and since then, I've been dying to see that movie. Everything she does, everything she loves, I can't help but want to do and love also.

But the weird thing is, I still don't know why she has that affect on me, an otherwise independently minded, non-trend following person. Perhaps my removal from the working and social worlds has somehow shut down the part of my brain that can think for itself. Or maybe she really is that amazing. I have no idea.

The summer after I had meningitis was sort of similar to being on maternity leave, except for the caring for another human being part. I was mentally active, but physically unable to do much of anything. So I spent most days on the couch watching bad daytime television. That summer, I got hooked on the Rosie O'Donnell show. I loved her and watched her show religiously. She was part best friend, part therapist, part entertainer. When I was finally able to return to school, I never had a chance to watch her show during the day. It wasn't until about a year later that I happened to be home during the day and decided to revisit my old friend, the Rosie O'Donnell show — and I distinctly remember hating it. I remember thinking to myself, how on Earth did you get hooked on this show? It's mind numbing and insincere and in general, just plain stupid. But for whatever reason, when I was laid up and an emotional wreck after being sick, none of those things bothered me.

So maybe after I go back to work and my post-pregnancy hormones aren't raging quite as much as they are now, I'll catch Oprah again one day and wonder the same thing. Or maybe she'll feature some new product, and no amount of willpower will be able to keep me from going out and buying it.

Does not play well with others

I had my monthly baby appointment this morning, and since my last appointment, I've gained 6 pounds. So since getting pregnant, I've gained a total of 12 pounds, which I guess is pretty much normal.

But, it bothers me a bit, mostly because I know the weight gain has less to do with the 8 ounces of baby in my belly, and a whole lot more to do with the past few weeks' steady diet of Mexican leftovers, all-you-can-eat conference buffets, regularly dining out and tres leche cake. Add that to the zero times I've worked out recently, and well, 12 pounds adds up fast.

I really don't have body issues, at least, not about my weight. But I do like being, and feeling, healthy. Usually, if I pig out for a day or two, I'm pretty good about balancing that out over the next few days. But lately, I've had no willpower, and more importantly, absolutely no interest in sharing. If I have leftovers, there's no way Chris is even getting a bite. The other day I went out with a few co-workers, one of whom got an order of tater tots. I pretty much ate half the order, leaving the my 6 co-workers to split the other half. Then today, we had pizza at work, and I was the first person in line, grabbing up as much as I could.

It's like some weird hoarding/famine instinct has kicked in. I do not recognize, nor like, this part of me. In fact, it's one of my pet peeves. It reminds of times I've been to weddings that serve buffet style and you have to wait until it's your table's turn to go through the buffet line. It seems like I always hear someone complain, "When do we get to go up to eat? Why did that table get to go before us? There's not even going to be food left by the time we go!" And I always roll my eyes and think, "Good grief, it's just food. As long as the bar's open, I'm happy."

I have a feeling if I were to go to one of those weddings right now, I'd waltz right up and get in line with the bride and groom.

The Dry Life

I gave up alcohol this year for Lent. Last year, I gave up meat, and really, it wasn't all that hard. In fact, after Lent last year, I never really went back to eating a lot of meat. I do eat meat from time to time, but I'm still partial to fish and seafood. So this year, I didn't think giving up meat again would any sort of sacrifice. Alcohol, on the other hand, that's a sacrifice.

So far, it hasn't been too bad, although there are times when I want red wine so much I have to smell some just to get a fix. Other than that, there have been some surprising benefits and drawbacks to going booze-free.

Pros:

• Saving money: Since Ash Wednesday, when Chris and I go out to dinner, we actually spend more money on food than booze. Pre-Lent, I can't remember the last time our bill wasn't at least 50% alcohol.
  
• Motor mouth: When I drink, I talk. A lot. And I often say things I shouldn't. Nowadays, I am much more trustworthy with your deepest secrets.
  
• St. Patrick's Day: This might seem like a con, because St. Patrick's Day always falls during Lent, making it difficult to enjoy one of the hundreds of days throughout the year Chicagoans find an excuse to get blitzed and stumble through the streets. (Other excuses Chi-towners have been known to use include New Year's Eve, Memorial Day, the 4th of July, Labor Day, Easter, Fat Tuesday, the entire week of the Taste, any day there's a parade somewhere in the city, and every time the Cubs win.) This year, Chris and I returned to the Abbey Pub, where we spent St. Pat's last year. While there, we witnessed a very drunk couple in an argument that involved lots of teetering, pointing, confusion, and incoherent ramblings. I smiled and remembered that last year, we were that couple.
  
• Better sleep: Drunk sleep is the worst. And waking on up Saturdays and Sundays having slept well the previous night leads to...
• More productive weekends: I actually wake up refreshed on the weekends, ready to accomplish all kinds of to-dos. I've even had time to make all kind of yummy breakfasts, like whole-wheat blueberry pancakes. Despite this new-found productivity, I still manage to fit in a disgusting amount of TV on the weekends, but at least I'm not watching TV simply because I'm too hungover to get off the couch.
  

Cons:

• Non-Motor Mouth: When hanging out in social situations like bars, parties, etc., I feel like most uninteresting person in the room. Although being sober means I'm not saying things I shouldn't, it also means I'm not saying much at all.
• Food compensation: I thought I'd lose weight when I gave up drinking. Instead, I've been compensating with snacks. My skinny jeans still don't fit.
  
• I now find drunk people extremely annoying and/or boring: Ever get into a conversation with a long-winded drunk who keeps repeating himself and talking about things that don't really follow what he just said two seconds before? Ever tried to get through that conversation sober? I don't recommend it.
  
• The realization that I used to be, and probably will be again, that guy/girl.
  

Saturday, on my couch

What I planned to do today:

• Go to Target
• Clean out filing cabinet
• Clean bathrooms
• Organize hall closet
• Go through clothes, finally admit that some things will never fit me again, put in a box for Goodwill
  

What I actually did today:

• Went to Target
• Watched the Cubs game
• Fell asleep on the couch while listening to my old friends Len and Bob
• Ate my weight in pita chips and hummus
• Played tug of war with Rosie while sitting on the couch until we broke the tug-of-war "toy" (old sweat pants I cut up and tied into knots)
• Watched Food Network
• Watched TLC
• Watched Animal Planet
• Watched "Millionaire Matchmaker"
• Ate my weight in Taco Bell
  

Pop off, part 2

I'm once again attempting to give up pop. Last time, I only made it two weeks without soda. This time around, I don't think I'm going to give it up cold turkey, but rather, just give it up on weekdays. At least for now.

To cope, I drink seltzer water with fruit juice, because my addiction to pop has more to do with the bubbles than anything else. So far, I haven't had any dreams about accidentally drinking pop, so maybe I've worked out whatever pop-identity issues I had.

I'm also cutting back on caffeine. So far this week, I've only had one cup of coffee each morning. Eventually, I'd like to totally kick the habit. I'm going to do this one-cup-a-day thing for about two weeks, then try to switch to decaf and see if I feel a difference.

This cutting back mostly has to do with the fact that I don't like being addicted to things. And because I like testing my willpower for no reason. (See Lent 2008.)

Or maybe this is just my way of justifying the fact that I haven't been to the gym in months. See, giving up pop means I'm being healthy, so I don't need to work out, right? Too bad my jeans are still too tight.

Things you never wanted to know about me

- I finally got snow boots yesterday. They're cute and warm and comfy. But having something around my calves is a constant reminder that I haven't shaved my legs in who knows how long.

- Over the past two days, every time I blow my nose, a little blood comes out.

- After getting out of the shower this morning, I felt like I had forgotten to do something, but I couldn't figure out what. After getting dressed and doing my make-up, I started to do my hair, which wasn't behaving normally. That's when I remembered which step I missed in my morning routine: I forgot to wash my hair. Those of you out there with thick hair don't understand, but me? I've got really fine hair, and when I don't wash it, it's super greasy. But, I was running late for work, so I just left it that way.

- This morning on the train, I sat on some girl's lap because I lost my balance while trying to sit down.

- I always laugh at other people when they do that.

New Year's Resolutions 2009

Despite my best efforts, and even tracking my efforts on this here blog, I didn't meet all my New Year's Resolutions in 2008, which were:

1. Lose 10 pounds. Didn't do that. In fact, I gained weight by the year's end. Lose 5 of those 10 by Feb. 15 (I’m heading to Aruba for a wedding the following week.) Only lost 3 ... which I promptly gained back.

2. Drink at least 64 oz. of water a day. (I've already started working on this one. It has increased my bathroom usage by 33%) Sorta lost track. But I drink a ton of water, so I'm good.

3. Run a 5k in less than 30 minutes. Didn't happen. I think my best time was around 33 minutes.

4. Run at least 500 miles total this year. Once again, lost track. But I'm pretty sure I got nowhere near that number. I probably ended up in the 100 range. Maybe more.

5. Reduce emails in inbox to less than 250. Never happened.

6. Email or call at least one friend or family member other than Chris each day. (I’m horrible at keeping in touch with people.) I'm still horrible.

7. Floss daily. Nope.

8. Read at least 15 books I haven’t read before. (Cookbooks don’t count). Started out great, but got stuck at The Iliad. Like, 6 months ago.

9. Pay off credit card debt. I did this one!! I am debt free (well, except for that pesky mortgage, which bring me to...)

10. Buy a house. Done, done, done!


2.5 for 10 ain't so good. So, for 2009, I'm only making one resolution. Well, maybe three.

1. Find a beat.

Not like this, but rather a newspaper beat, but for my personal life. Basically, I need something to be passionate about.

I'm a generalist; I know a little bit about everything. But, outside of work, I'm not really, deeply into anything. In fact, when I'm not at work, I'm either thinking about work, or zoning in front of the television, often watching football, because I was in a football pool at work.

I wouldn't consider myself a workaholic, but I like my job. I enjoy going to the office everyday, and I don't feel a huge urge to bolt for the door at 5 p.m.

But, when I think about my former lives, I used to be a much more well-rounded individual. In high school, I played soccer, went on cycling trips, was active in my church, did theatre, played trumpet in the band, was really into piano, and followed around various boyfriends and their rock and/or punk and/or death metal bands.

These days, other than my backside, I'm not so well-rounded. Next week, I'll start playing soccer with a work team, but otherwise, not too much going on.

The thing is, I don't feel like my life is boring. I don't feel unfulfilled. But, I also don't have that fire about anything. I need some fire.

2. Redesign my Web site. It looks pretty bad. If we're currently in a Web 2.0 world, my site is like, Web 0.5.

3. Start volunteering somewhere. Actually, I'm pretty sure I know where I want to volunteer, I just need to get off my butt and actually make the effort.

Hopefully, by greatly reducing my expectations of myself, I can actually accomplish my resolutions this year. But we'll see.

My pants are too tight...

... probably because I haven't been to the gym since we moved.

That is all.

Week of drink

Today, Chris and I are entering Day 3 of "The Week of Numerous Holiday Parties," also known as "The Week of Neglecting Our Dog While Testing the Limits of Our Livers." Basically, we have a holiday party almost every night this week, and other than a short reprieve next Monday and Tuesday, most of next week as well. The majority of these parties are quite booze-fueled. As a result, I need to restock my desk supply of ibuprofen.

Last night, poor Rosie went about 90 minutes longer than normal before getting to go outside. I was worried she wouldn't make it, but she was asleep when we got home, so I guess she was fine. We made up for the neglect by playing with her out in the snow for about an hour last night. Because of the aforementioned alcohol consumption, Chris and I didn't seem to notice the cold. Plus, Rosie LOVES snow, so there was much bounding, leaping and spinning on her part, which just warms our hearts.

Hmmm, I really need to get a video of Rosie in the snow. Stay tuned...

Friends with Photoshop

A few months ago, my friend Jon was in town on a photo assignment. Because he's a photographer and kinda goofy, he decided to follow me in to work and photograph me paparazzi-style. It was amusing. But then today, he posted this little illustration on Facebook.



I should note, Jon has an unhealthy obsession with poop.

In other Facebook news, you should go check out this post from Anything Said. Dude. Hilarious, and sadly, so very true.

Kitchen adventures

Last night, I managed to cut my finger while sifting flour. Yeah, I don't understand either.

In other kitchen news, we still don't own a microwave. But, I find that I don't really miss it. There are really only two times when I long for one: when I make popcorn, and when I want to reheat leftover tamales.

For the former, I've solved that by making it on the stove top. But it's kinda messy, so I'm thinking about getting a popper. My parents had one when I was growing up, and I remember it being a lot of fun. Plus, it's probably a lot healthier than the microwave option.

For the latter, microwaving tamales is nice because it sort of re-steams them. I could reheat them in the oven, but they dry out a bit. And I could steam them on the stove top, but that's a big pain, especially considering tamales and late-night drunkenness kind of go hand-in-hand. Pots of boiling water and intoxicated Sarah, however, do not go hand-in-hand. (Ahem, see the aforementioned sifting accident, which occurred while I was completely sober. Had I been drinking at the time, who knows? Maybe I would have lost a finger.)

Anyway, got any ideas for reheating tamales sans a microwave and hot water?