That's What She Said

As of August 7th Zack is done with his summer associateship in Minneapolis. It totally flew by, right? I know! And I wasn't even the soggy, drippy puddle of squishiness and tears that I expected to be (for lo, I am Emotionally Dependent) (also apparently exceptionally brilliant at summering alone, thankyouverymuch) (and loving on those parenthesis today).

And since it's clear from past posts on this here bloggity blog that I am List Master, here's one crafted lovingly to convey all the things I will not miss once he is back in Chicago full-time.

1) Taking the dog out EVERY EFFING TIME. I am way over that.

2) Having random discussions about Important Things over the phone because we will not see each other at home. Particularly discussions of the While-I'm-At-Work variety.

3) Carrying all the heavy shit home from the grocery store (note to self: Quit being the douche of your own life and pick up some freakin' cat litter already. No more putting it off in the hope that some burly dude will magically appear to carry it for you. That stank is getting out of hand).

4) Frying my own bacon. Those grease droplets that spit up at you are ouchy!

5) Airports can suck it. Particularly the security checkers at Midway who took 25+ minutes to check my stuff when there was no line whatsoever and the Delta/Northwest checker-inner guy who was a bitch to me when my flight was canceled from O'Hare for no particular reason. Wait! No! Airports I love you! Please don't make me take the MegaBus again! NOOOOO!

6) Doing ALL the housework ALL by myself ALL the time. I am not so generous as to take joy in doing all the chores for my beloved like some people I know.

7) Doing aaaaaaall my laundry only to pack it all up and smush it all into a suitcase [because I way overpack no matter where I'm going or for how long] thus ruining the fresh-from-the-dryer wrinkle-freeness of the clothes and then back home not having the "I'm living out of a suitcase" excuse for being wrinkly because technically I - ahem - don't have to live out of my suitcase anymore even though I am. Not that I do that for weeks after I return from a trip or anything.

8) Except that this summer I can't live out of my suitcase for weeks at a time because I am repacking the damn thing like every fifth day or some shit. To go to Minnesota. Which I thoroughly enjoy, for the record. But traveling so much is exhausting and I would like a weekend here or there to do things like see my friends or visit my mom. Or just laze about in my underwear all day, you know?

9) Eating cereal for dinner every. single. night. Cooking for one sucks.

10) Zack is super awesome at remembering to kick the cats the fuck out of our bedroom at night. Me, well, not so much.

I was delighted/horrified when a friend described me on a whim as follows: "You make a joke, Erin makes a sex joke. That's all you need to know." So is it any surprise that, over mostly empty bottles of red wine, one of our very own bloggers suddenly posed a Who Would You Rather Do It With question?

This:

No disrespect MJ. Moonwalk in heaven.

My mind is whizzing all over the place! So here's a list of what's been going on.

1. Zack's birthday was Saturday. Since I wanted to get going with that whole grand loving gesture business, I decided (months and months and MONTHS ago) to give him 25 gifts for being a quarter-century old. He had noooooo idea what I had in store for him and was pretty shocked at the giant stack of presents awaiting him on the morning of his birthday. Photos forthcoming of my aesthetic gift masterpiece as soon as I locate my camera cord hooky-uppy thingamajig. I also baked him a cheesecake, which I of course forgot to photograph. It was good! Was impressed with mah kitchen skillz. That is, until I attempted to make pesto from scratch but the handmade pasta did not cooperate and instead everything turned into a big mushy disaster. Lucky for us we had a late lunch and so it was more show-dinner than necessary-dinner. We topped the evening off with a trip to Kingston Mines, Zack's "Most Favorite Ever, Only Blues Bar Worth Stepping Foot In" bar. Overall, I'd say the day was a raging success. Except for the part where we saw the movie Bruno. Um, yuck. I do not recommend.

2. We also saw Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince this weekend. I RECOMMEND. I may have shed a tear or five. So. Good. And the theater wasn't even a quarter full so that was happy. I only had to give the stinkeye once to some girl who decided to start talking in a normal voice about what she thought of the previous scene during like, the most touching part of the film. People, wrangle your children! God, you'd think Harry Potter was like a kids' movie or something. Hmph!

3. I started Weight Watchers today. Um, I am sort of obsessed already. Which is good and bad I suppose. Good because it's taking my attention off mommy blogs and all the babies I can't have. And because I could stand to lose a bunch of weight. (They tell you on the WW website what your healthy weight range is based on your height and yeaaaaaah...I haven't seen those numbers on a scale in a couple years). Bad because...well...maybe it's not so bad after all. (see above)

4. I am also exercising each morning before work. That's right! I am dragging my lazy self from bed a whole 40 minutes early to power walk/climb stairs or to do calisthenics. I sort of hate doing anything exercise-y outside because I'm all red-faced huffing and puffing past the spandex-wearing, dewy Barbie doll who's lapping me (again). The gym is no better. But calisthenics? On my bedroom floor? LOVE! So I am switching it up and doing some of each.

5. My brother is coming to stay a week with me beginning Thursday! (!!!!) He's funny and we have a great time just hanging out together. I got him addicted to True Blood and have been saving all the episodes for him on my wonderful DVR, so I'm sure a little marathon of this season will be happening. There might also be some boozing involved, which is soooort of detrimental to my Weight Watchers goal but you know. BROTHER IN TOWN. This does not happen that often, so no judgment, k?

6. Sunburn update: Other than some strange and terrible tan lines, it's pretty much subsided into what is, for me, quite a nice tan. In related sunburn news, however, I upped my SPF from 15 to 30 in my daily face moisturizer (due to a severe, blistery sunburn on my face in high school I have to be extra super careful and this last sunburn was a little lobstery for my cancer-free comfort). I bought some Eucerin Sensitive Skin stuff that is unscented and so SMELLS LIKE SPF (OMG go figure!). And Zack whines about it every single time he gets a whiff. Which is apparently every time he's within two feet of me because this weekend was a constant stream of beach jokes at my expense. Sigh. $11 for moisturizer that makes your husband crinkle his nose is kind of a downer. Luckily! I can use it joke-free five days of the week because he's in Minneapolis. See? Silver lining to this summer separation. It's saved me 11 bucks so far.

Alright, I'm off to browse in wonder more Weight Watchers recipes. Really, so many sound delicious! Good food + Weight Loss = A Program I Can Get Behind.

In the past three years I have moved four times. I am moving again in 11 months. That equals A LOT of house/apartment/condo hunting. And I am starting to get the impression that I am a weirdo because I get super! excited! about the search. I can spend hours on Craigslist browsing apartments and looking for the best deal for what I know we would want. I even do this when I am not necessarily in the market for a new place (I tell myself it's good to keep an eye on what's available, but really I am just crazy and juggling too much free time). I also watch ungodly amounts of HGTV because...well, read the title of this post!

It has come to my attention recently that this feeling of goodwill toward house hunting is not usually how others feel about it. Apartment hunting is often stressful and anxiety-ridden because it means lots of packing and the problem of changing your commute to work and saying goodbye to the things you love about where you currently live ("But I LOVE that corner store! It's so CONVENIENT!"). Or, you know, you might be moving completely out of the area in which you currently live, and therefore your entire life is about to become a raging mess for a little while. (I am - ahem - still, uh, excited for this type of move).

I hate packing (love unpacking and arranging), enjoy a change of scenery in my routine travels, and long ago decided that while I might LOVE something about where I live (Oh, central Virginia, I would have married you for the wine) I can always visit (or join a wine club that delivers). Strange detachment from the one who is usually so overly-sentimental, eh?

Maybe it doesn't bother me because I moved a lot when I was a kid. My mom casually mentioned the other day that she's lived in her current house longer than anywhere else in her adult life. She's been there seven years, since the summer before my senior year of high school. And seven years - seven years! - seemed like SUCH A LONG TIME to me. I would definitely not say that my childhood was unstable, for the record. We changed addresses with decent frequency but made sure to stay close to our schools. We only changed schools because of a move once, when we came to Illinois from Washington in 1992. Otherwise, the picture of stability! And small petting zoos! But that is another story.

Back to my obsession with living space.

I think I just really like to imagine myself in a new space. You can't really know how you will like a place until you live with it, so even the most well-researched homes have their issues. For example, in our current 680 square feet of apartment, we thought hardwood floors would be awesome. We had beige carpet in our Charlottesville townhome and a puppy who wasn't fully house trained. You can imagine the stains (and the security deposit flowing quickly down the drain).

So, hardwood. Ideal! Yeah, not so much. With our three sheddy shedders in such a small space, it is virtually IMPOSSIBLE to keep the damn floors looking clean. So while I am still up for hardwood floors in our next place, I'd like the space to be 1) LARGER (it will be for sure); and 2) sporting a lighter wood floor. We have a dark chocolaty brown wood now, which is really rich and lovely EXCEPT FOR THE HAIR. Oh, God, the hair. It is the bane of my housecleaning existence and I cannot wait to have a place where I can stay on top of it.

Another reason I am ready to publicly defend my silly habit of cruising Craigslist (but not the icky, illegal kind) is that it's just plain smart to know what the market is like. You know what you can get for your budget and which areas are most budget-friendly. You'll have a better sense of what's a good deal and who is ripping you off with that crazy rental price. Lately I've switched from Craigslist to Zillow.com because...ta da! Zack and I have decided to buy a house when we move to Minneapolis! And even though it's still a ways away we've received nothing but commendation from people who know we are already looking. Housing eats up a HUGE portion of your income whether you're renting or buying; so why not be as informed as possible? I may be over the top with my love of the hunt, but I know I'll be ready when the time comes to get serious about it.

Hi friends!

Erin and I were talking this morning and decided the blog needed a face lift. So we gave it one, Hollywood-style. And by "we" I do mean "Erin". My contribution consisted of "OOOOH PRETTY!" and a couple of Google searches. It was Erin who found the template and emitted the brain power necessary to make it ours. We hope you enjoy!

Then you suck. In the past, I've judged strange people like this guy for weirdo dancing alone. But that was before I met Jon O. Jon O likes to dance. A lot. Before a show, Jon O talks about the music based on how great it's going to be to dance to. When he gets to the show, he stretches to get warmed up before he begins contorting and flailing his body in the glorious way that he does. Sometimes he's the only one dancing, alone there at the front of the crowd with a 5x5 foot space cleared for him, shakin his shit. This does not bother Jon O at all. Dancing seems to be something that brings him genuine happiness, and it is for this reason that I no longer frown at crazy dancers. Instead I've come to admire their free-spirited nature.
Now check this other fool out. Look how the happiness spreads! This is someone's video from Sasquatch Music Festival. Invest a minute in this and you will be rewarded. I promise.

Last weekend I was on a boat for six hours straight. In the hot, hot sun. Sporting six applications of SPF-whatever-was-on-board. SIX applications I tell you! And still I have the most terrible sunburn.

Not only do I have said terrible sunburn, but you can see exactly where the sun was in the sky based on the burn patterns across my body. My left half is significantly more lobsteresque than my right. The inner part of my right leg is crimson, while it is the outer part of my left leg that is burned. I have (gasp! the horror! the shame!) bright white sunglass lines blaring from each temple and across the bridge of my nose. My shoulders got the worst of it, though. Oh, how deep the red of my shoulders.

Sleeping is a treat I'm not even sure I can describe, but I'm beginning to think a Ph.D. in yoga would have been helpful in this situation. After several nights of pretending I'm a contortionist I have found that it doesn't hurt so much if my lower half rests on the side of my [relatively unscathed] right leg, while the top half of my body stays flat, my head slightly elevated so as to reduce the amount of touching between shoulders and pillows. Throw a blanket into the mix, though, and everything is just fucked.

Gentlemen: Here is yet another way in which you are genetically blessed while we ladies are built to suffer: boobs. For when one possesses boobs, it is mandated that one must don a bra if one's boobs are any sort of large or bouncy (mine are both) before going out in public. And every time I carefully, painstakingly, pull brastraps onto my shoulders I let out a yelp that makes my dog flee in terror and the cats scurry under the bed. It HURTS.

But NOW - five days post-sun exposure - the peeling has begun. And the itching. It is...severe. My skin is...patchy. In between treatments of cooling and delicious aloe vera after my shower in the morning and before bed at night, I've been slathering on Aloe Vera After Sun Lotion which is wonderfully moisturizing (despite the label blathering on about how it's actually to "prevent and protect from the drying effects of wind and cold weather" (heh? then why do you call it 'After Sun Lotion' and not 'After Wind and Cold Weather Lotion'?! Get it together, Walgreen's label peeps!)).

I wish I hadn't left my camera on the boat in Minnesota, for the photos would be too amazing to not show you all. Really, you would be astounded. But alas, I have no pictures to share. I can only leave you with the promise that I am RED and BURNED and HURTY and PEELING. And a big, fat reminder to all my fellow fair-skinned folk to make SPF 4 Frillion your new BFF and stay your asses in the shade. Learn from my mistakes!