Grand Finale

Well, here we are. Full circle. 365 entries later. Am I older? Technically. Wiser? Meh, perhaps. Have I learned a little from this experience?

I'd say so. Granted, it's only a very little bit, but it's something to take with me as a souvenir of That One Time When Jacquie Blogged Once A Day For A Year. I've come to the following conclusions:

Folks don't care about what I have to say. Now, hear me out on this one. I readily admit that I've kind of done this one to myself. In order for people to care about what I have to say, I have to write things that are, well, worth reading. I didn't exactly hold up my end of that bargain. Sure, I wrote one bit of hard-hitting, buffalo-style, editorial piece on the Chick-fil-A debacle, but other than that? A lot of narcissistic drivel. Bleh. We've become so self-serving with the Internet. It's always about us. What's relevant to me? What purpose does this serve me? Me me me. And don't give me that look; I'm guilty of it too. A side effect of the human condition is looking out for Number One first. Now, if I were to do this whole thing over again, and I had a theme of sorts, this might've worked out a little more differently. Which brings me to my next point:

I'm not much of a writer. I figure that, in order to be a writer, a real, honest-to-goodness, genuine article writer, you have to enjoy doing it even when you don't enjoy doing it. You don't mind trudging to your computer once a day to write a fat lot of nothing because, hey, you're a writer. This is your bread and butter. You hate that computer. Hate it. But write anyway. I love writing when I know I've got something good to say. When I don't? When it's obligatory? It's a chore. It's the worst. Still, I hope to paint pictures with my words one day, yet again, very soon.

I enjoy being a free spirit. Like so many American adults in the rat race, I look at a computer all day at work. When I come home from said rat race and settle down with my piece of cheese, what's the first thing I want to do? Oh, that's right. Not look at a glaring computer screen. Maybe a pen-and-paper journaling gig is more my speed. And certainly not once a day. None of that obligatory mess. Nope, just let me have my hair in the wind and be free as the dang wind blows.

I'm glad I did this. Yes, it was obligatory much of the time, but to say that I actually committed to a sorta-kinda New Year's resolution for a full year is pretty exciting, I'd say. Maybe I've unearthed a few more nuggets of wisdom and truth than I know. It ain't been so bad, really.

Will I come back to post occasionally? Sure. When I've got something valuable to say. Until those valuable things come along, you just sit tight.

I'll be back.

Dag nabbit

Well, see, I was going to post this lovely entry to culminate my 365-day journey. As it is, our internet's not working. So, I've composed that heartfelt piece offline and it's waiting in the wings.

So, consider this a placeholder until we get that back up and running. BONUS CONTENT TOMORROW, GANG.

Penultimate

Tomorrow's my last obligatory entry in the ol' blogosphere. Can't say I'm not a teensy, tiny, maybe-a-little-bit-bigger-than-tiny bit appreciative that I've just about fulfilled my resolution.

But you know, I'm also a little bit proud of myself for maintaining the one-blog-a-day gig for a full calendar year. That's not to say that I've been writing hard-hitting journalism by any stretch of the imagination. I've learned a lot, though.

My culminating entry will be tomorrow. A grand finale of sorts, if you will. Get excited, stay tuned, and you cats have a great upcoming Friday in the meantime.

NyQuil Ni'cap

Sometimes, the worst kind of "sick" you can be is when you're not exactly unable to function. If you're laid up in bed with a debilitating stomachache, at least people feel sorry for you. They leave you alone (or help take care of you, whichever is your particular love language).

But when you've got the usual autumnal run of a sore throat, occasional phlegmy cough and general fuzziness, it doesn't matter much. Nope, gotta put on your best and you stick out your chest and go off to the races again.

And again. And again.

For this reason, I've taken the last available dose of NyQuil in the cupboard. It's not even a full dose, but I'm hoping it'll help me sleep. Last night was wretched, let me tell you.

Peaceful

Tonight, I didn't crack open my laptop in a mad panic that I was missing anything on the usual social media outlets. (I still haven't cracked open my laptop; this here entry is composed on my phone.)

Instead, I walked to Suwanee town center with David, enjoyed the fall foliage, ate there (Five Guys, heavens yes), walked back, played some old school Sega Genesis, and took a relaxing bath.

And you know what? It was amazing.

Because reasons

We need to get a corgi, for the sole reason of these six seconds:

Side note: If you happen to watch this and are not filled with an outrageous desire to implode from sheer cute, I question your humanity. And, to a lesser extent, my ability to be your friend.

*Flop*

Been in go-go-go mode all day, and with zero time to really prepare for the utterly nutso week at work that's coming up.

Silver lining: next week is Thanksgiving week. Hello, three day work week. Until then, I'mma make like Leonard and:

Can do

Purchased a Ball Home Canning Discovery Kit today. Now, I'm no Millie Pontipee, but I think this might be a great idea.

Who wants a bulk batch of sweet apple cider butter? Don't shove; there'll be plenty for all.

Here it is

A bit of a twist on my usual moment of zen, mostly because I'm more and more coming to terms with my own introvert tendencies.

I love being by myself. I love my "me" time, when I don't have to worry about what people think of me, or whether what I do is cool enough, good enough. It's not that I don't like hanging out with people; I do. I love my friends. But I don't need a slew of them - just a small, significant, handful of people that I genuinely care about and that genuinely care about me. But being social doesn't give me energy. Being with myself does.

Introversion doesn't ever seem to be seen in a positive light, but boy howdy I love it.

Nine days

So sad that I'm counting, but it's a strain to write daily. I'm too far in (and way too dang close) to give up now.

Updates: I feel puffy. I made chicken caesar sandwiches in the Crock-Pot for dinner. I've been experiencing burnout at work for weeks on end, and I'm ready for it to end. I feel otherwise disconnected and somewhat inconsequential today, but I know that's largely my own doing.

Crabby. Grumblecakes.

Brighter

When my work day went from "hey, this isn't so bad" to "pardon me while I stammer helplessly at you through the phone because I simply cannot do anything for you," a few silver linings brightened my damp little cloud:

• Getting my hair cut for the first time since May (it's cute, shorter. I'd take a picture but I'm sans makeup and hair's sans-style. If I get enough demand from my adoring fans, I'll take one later.)
• Having leftover harvest stew for dinner but mostly a slice of Funfetti cake
• Doing a bit of eBay shopping for beauty items and a new iPhone case, because reasons
• My skin's finally on the mend and feels healthy and by golly, I feel more like myself because of it
• I have less than 10 entries left before I'm no longer obligated to this blog

Yeah, I'm a little bittersweet about that last one, but I'll be glad to not feel the pressing obligation of hammering out a blog entry each day. I'll still come back, y'know, when I have something valuable to add to the blogosphere.

That'll happen. I promise.

Electorally Introspective

As the polls are shuffling out their votes to be tallied and folks wait on edge to hear about each state's electoral outcome, just thought I'd pass along a little nonpartisan food for thought:

Consider casting aside political zeal and itchiness to call the other team a bunch of morons in favor of mutual respect and earnest, civil discussion.

Hey -- it's okay to be friends with people that have differing viewpoints. It's darn good for you, I think. Yes, there's an intrinsic value in being among friends that share your ideas (it provides some social affirmation, for starters), but don't let that warm and fuzzy group turn you into an ignorant, hyper-exclusive sort that can't hear the other folks out.

This presidential race is neck-and-neck enough that half of this country will be pretty disappointed come morning (or, y'know, whenever the final counts are made). Half. That's not a small number. Those people have souls. They might be on your "team" or they might not be, but don't be so quick to slander them if you're on the winning side of this election.

And if you're among the losing side, think before you condemn the nation to hell in a handbasket just because your guy didn't win (or re-gain) the presidency. Grumble a little, get it out of your system, then build a bridge. Life will go on. The sun will still rise and set. It will be okay. God's still in control, and God is still far more almighty than any jasper in a power suit.

Look, I know I'm a little all over the place. But just the same, I really wish that we the people would see ourselves as people. Not demographics, not neat and tidy categories, not wing-nuts. Just... people.

Give your political enemies a hug today. Deep down, you've got to agree on something. Maybe it's ice cream. Hey, it's a start.

Indecision 2012

Whoever wins the presidential election tomorrow isn't likely to win by a ginormous majority. If the split-right-down-the-middle polls aren't a total fabrication, approximately half the nation won't be doing a happy dance tomorrow night.

And what should the winning half do with the losing half? Rub their faces in their lack of electoral votes? Create even more ugly, divisive, name-calling behavior? Or can we hope to be a little less degrading to each other? Gasp --dare I say it? -- get along?

If nothing else, I know that we can all put up a united front in saying that thank HEAVEN this will all be over tomorrow. Bipartisanship right there. Kum ba ya and all that.

Happiness is

Watching Hey Arnold on Netflix and being snuggly with your sister.

Se-gaaaaaaa

David and I bought a collection of classic Sega Genesis games at Wal-Mart for like 20 smackers. It includes all of the Sonic games ever.

So, y'know, it's basically the best gaming purchase ever.

A Mhaighdean Bhan Uasal

Your Friday moment of Zen is brought to you by "A Mhaighdean Bhan Uasal," which has been playing approximately 5,302,288 times in a row as I'm milling about the kitchen this evening.

I don't even care that I don't know Scots Gaelic (or any Gaelic for that matter, save for fáilte, shillelagh, and bodhrán, and none of those can be strung together into a cohesive sentence). 

I'll seize my chunk of Scots/Irish/Celt mutt heritage (and my natural inclination to pronounce Gaelic words correctly), memorize this song, and sing it to my someday-daughter.

Oh, and grow my hair out like Elinor. Girlfriend has the ballingest locks I ever did see.

Burnout

As a sortakinda follow-up to yesterday's lamentations over why I decided not to participate in NaNoWriMo this year (or, y'know, participate any year), I came to the understanding that I'm kind of experiencing writer's burnout.

Not writer's block, mind. That's when nothing comes to mind. Writer's burnout is when you have ideas, sure, and certainly more than a few of them are worth writing about, but you're so tired of writing. It's become an obligation as opposed to a hobby. And you know what they say: when you feel obligated to do it, it's often just not fun anymore. In fact, it can be downright annoying.

Just like that one friend. We all have one. Maybe two; maybe more. Maybe it's me, even. You're fine, you're pals... When all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, straight-up everything they do drives you nuts and irritates the snot out of you. That's my writing muse, personified. She's all needy and junk. "We need to hang ouuuuut. Whenarewegonnahangouuuuuuut? How about tonight? No? Tomorrow?"

She probably needs a hug. I'll give her one, eventually, but she's gotta stop pestering so dang much.

So what's a creative soul to do but paint her nails with crackle polish and contemplate going to bed early? (Related note: I'm a champ.)

Maybe next year

I swore up and down that this year would really be it: this year, I'd do NaNoWriMo.

Yeah, about that.

Crying shame, really, especially since part of the reason I'd resolved to blog for the last 12 months was because I was going to hone my little craft to be good enough to pen an entire novel. And the thing is, I could write a novel. I really could. But I don't know what it'd be about.

"That's okay!" you NaNoWriMo enthusiasts might say. "You don't have to have a plot. Just write!"

"Sorry. I threw around plot ideas like popcorn kernels over the past year and I've yet to come up with anything fruitful or novel-worthy."

"But but but but--"

"No buts. Not doing it. You can't make me."

"...But merch. You could have a sticker."

Tempting, really. Because stickers. But I just couldn't. I don't have the discipline to write a novel in 30 days when I don't know what to do with it. That didn't work for me last year, and it won't work for me this year. Maybe I'll write some short stories, since the fact of the matter is that I do miss writing something fierce. That writing bug has gotten under my skin for ages, and it's yet to be satiated. Help?

In other, Halloween-y news, we've had the ca-yootest band of goblins invade our front porch: pirates, ladybugs, miniature witches, a tiny Spidey, Princess Jasmine, a pop star, a ninja that had a persistent sniffle. A regular onslaught, I'll tell ya.

Zzzz

I don't ever think an early bedtime on a weeknight is ever a bad thing. Of course, it doesn't help my case for stay-awakeness when I'm sitting on my bed and my cats are being all sleepy and the house is nice and warm and --

That came outta nowhere

Saturday, it was like, 70 degrees. Yesterday, it got down to the 40s. That came out of nowhere.

And all at once, just like that, summer and fall kind of dissolved away to a snappy wintry feeling in the air. Which, of course, leads me to believe that spring and fall aren't really seasons at all, but the bits of gradient between weather extremes.


Still, that means it's time for several of my favorite things:

Scarves
Boots
Tights
Layers
Warm Desserts
Crock-Pot Stews
Hot Cocoa
Impending Christmastime
Etc.

Un-Pack-A-Palooza

I don't know if it was the high of having Our Very First House, but David and I have almost unpacked everything. I have a few more clothes to put away and a few more boxes to sort through, but other than that? Dunzo, man.

Which means, of course, that I hoe to rejoin the real world tomorrow evening. And by "the real world," I mean "the world of being online-responsive."

Because, let's face it: you've all missed me. Decision's been made for you.

Welcome Home

Unpacking has been straight-up like Christmas morn, you guys. Christmas with lots of cardboard and newspapers.

This house is AWESOME. So awesome.

We interrupt this move-a-palooza

to bring you the excitement of knowing that tomorrow night, we'll be sleeping in our bed in our NEW HOUSE.

Move-a-palooza commences tomorrow. Get excited!!

As Scarlett would say

"Tomorrow IS another day."

Let's give you a mulligan this time, dry and eczema-prone skin. Try to be healthy and un-painful tomorrow?

Almost there

Emerging from my scarcity from the online world to say just how flipping glad move-in day is only three days away (two if you count the day we can start moving boxes into the house).

Look out, world.

Because I'm a little bit lazy

Here's a bit of Internet gold that David dug up earlier today.

Yes, I did watch all 4 minutes. I wish I could tell you that I'm ashamed of this fact, but I can't quite bring myself to do that.

I did it

I kicked today's butt. Hard. I got to work early, left late, and got a ton of stuff done. And, in a sweet turn of events, I apparently won this month's award for best HR associate. Not too shabby, I'd say.

Now commences the work that is home life: laundry, cooking whatever food is still perishable before we move, and passing the heck out at a decent hour, like so:

Let it begin

The week from you-know-where commences after an all-too-short sleep tonight: getting my ducks in a row for this huge national meeting for work this week and finding time to pack and get all of my personal ducks in a row to take over the new house on Friday.

I might be scarce online during this nutty time, but it's going to be so very worth it come Saturday. Believe you me. Until then, time to get my game face on and kick this crazy week's butt. Hard.

Above: GPOY

Cure for writer's block

As soon as I'm done with this blogging-once-a-day experiment (November 17th, which is less than a month from now, but who's counting, right?), I think I'll take up pen-and-paper journaling again.

And when I do, I'm going to start it off with this little beauty:

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, brought to you by this snapshot of the truly real and not-made-up World Internet HQ:

The U-Haul has been reserved

This is getting mighty real, mighty fast. HOME OWNERSHIP, GUYS. I want to go all gangsta and chuck money out the window just like that one time Spanky did.

Cold weather skin

I love fall. I truly, truly do. But there's a big problem that arises when cold weather sets in: my skin takes a turn for the worst. Yours truly has battled eczema every year of her silly little life. Some years it's practically non-existent. Other years, it's wretched.

This year, it's been particularly wretched. Anyone out there in TV land have any sure-fire tips for moisturizing and dealing with this awful itch?

Almost there

Only about 30 entries to go until I've fully fulfilled my write-a-blog-entry-every-day-for-a-year goal. I'm pretty impressed at how well I've stuck to it over the past 12 months, even if I'm constantly filled with a lack of desire to type anything for the world to see.

I've learned a lot, too. Probably worth culminating in my final entry. We'll see what else I can scrounge up between now and then.

Thankful

Happiness and gratitude are a choice. I'm going to make that choice today (and, okay, tomorrow should carry over by default).

Even if that does mean I have a dentist appointment tomorrow.

Fried Green Tomatoes

For Mumsey's second day of her visit, we moseyed on down to Juliette to show her the home of Fried Green Tomatoes.

And, naturally, that included a trip to the Whistle Stop Cafe to indulge in the real deal. My word, thems is some delicious delicacies.

Suwanee Saturday

Spent a delightful day with Mommy, David, and Brian scoping out Suwanee. We got to check out the house again, and it made me positively itchy to get moved in already.

Itchy, I tell you.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, brought to you by the way I feel now that my mommy's in town for a visit:

Approved!

Today, we got some awesome news from our realtor: we officially have short-sale approval for our cute little dream house in Suwanee!

Monday, we'll have the home inspection. Provided all goes well, we'll get our paperwork for the loan squared away. After everything is said and done, we just might be able to move in by the end of the month.

Holy smokes, do I ever need to start packing.

Cleanse - Day 7

Last. Day. Of. The. Cleanse. Brown rice, corn, broccoli, and oh, what the hey -- I'll splurge with some oatmeal. And to mine own self be true: I'm already so excited about eating Real Food However I'd Like It tomorrow. Man. Such unspeakable power I hold.

And hey: tomorrow, I can go back to writing things of actual substance, in the imaginary land of People Actually Care About Menial Details On The Internet.

Cleanse - Day 6

Almost there! Today was strictly my concoction of beef and veggies, blended with the rest of my spaghetti squash. Lots of water, and the usual vitamin.

Tomorrow's my (gasp) last day of the cleanse. And I get to eat brown rice! Glory be, I've missed eating grains.

Cleanse - Day 5

Welp, I'm well over the hump of getting this cleanse done. Today was ground beef and tomatoes, and a crap-ton of water. I confess to squeezing in a spoon of peanut butter, a half-cup of hot cocoa, and a fun-size Butterfinger in as well. In my defense, I'm experiencing a visit from every girl's favorite aunt this week. It's a wonder I didn't eat a regular-sized Butterfinger and a chocolate shake.

Look, I know none of you really care about how well this cleanse/diet/whatever-it-is thing is going, but it's at least keeping me (somewhat) accountable. And hey, I'll have some stuff of substance to write about again come Thursday!

...Possibly.

Cleanse - Day 4

Kind of a weird regimen today: like 6 bananas, a few glasses of skim milk, and the rest of that vegetable soup I'd made. I tried something interesting with some of the bananas (thanks to Pinterest): Freeze a few of them in pieces, then run 'em through the blender with a little bit of skim milk. It ALMOST tasted like ice cream. It definitely had the consistency, almost more like a Wendy's Frosty. Oh, heavens yes. It was enough to stave off my craving for sweets.

Earlier tonight, I threw tomorrow's regimen into the slow cooker: lean beef and tomatoes. I added a little onion and green pepper for flavor (because seriously, what are vegetables going to do to sabotage my cleanse/diet?), and it'll be ready bright and early for a little bit of breakfast tomorrow before work. Then lunch. Then dinner. Whee?

I'm doing better than I thought I would, and at least the hard part's over. Tomorrow and Tuesday I can have meat again. Wednesday I enjoy the sweet luxury of brown rice. And then I'm done (and hopefully conditioned to make healthier choices and not go so bonkers).

Cleanse - Day 3

Fruits AND veggies today. Was particularly challenged since we went to the Cumming Country Fair today. You don't know an internal struggle until you've walked through the aisles of fried carnival food and said no to all of it. "No" to fried Oreos. How could I?

I'll admit, I did cheat a little. Had eggplant soup and two slices of a Greek veggie pizza. But still, it was LOADED with veggies. I needed some calories after walking around in the heat all day.

Tomorrow, it's back on track.

Cleanse - Day 2

Veggies today. I did cave and had a few fruits, but I behaved myself for the most part. I was allowed to have a freaking baked potato for breakfast, so there was that. Lots of the veggie soup I had, some southern-style cole slaw (that consisted solely of cabbage and apple cider vinegar, and salt and pepper).

And I made spaghetti squash for the first time! It was pretty bland all by itself, but I added some lemon juice and a liiiiittle bit of butter. That plus a salad, and I'm kinda full. Tomorrow is fruits and vegetables, but all I really want at this point is some freaking protein. And cake. Lots of cake.

Now comes the hard part: sticking to the plan over the weekend. We're going to a freaking fair this weekend. How am I not going to want to jump the bones of the first funnel cake I see?

Cleanse - Day 1

Here we go, gang. Day 1 of 7 of non-processed food cleanse. Today was fruit day. All fruit. As much as I could muster. Apples, pears, grapes, cranberries, cantaloupe, and a ton of water.

Last night, I made the "wonder soup" (which is supposedly allowed whenever you want) that consisted of cabbage, onions, green peppers, tomatoes, and celery (plus one permitted packet of onion soup mix). A crap-ton of it, to be honest. I had a little bit of it for dinner. Right now, though, I'm experiencing a serious sugar crash. I'm exhausted, and it's barely 9 o'clock.

On deck for tomorrow: Veggies. All of the veggies. I'm even supposed to have (gasp) a baked potato with butter (okay, so just "a pat," but c'mon) for breakfast. Then it's probably more soup, my own personal brand of cole slaw (i.e., just cabbage and white vinegar), steamed broccoli, and whatever else I can literally cook up.

Let's Try This Again

Going to try another cleanse again. This time, I'm allowing myself some solid food. It can't hurt. Fruits, vegetables, lean meats, lots of water? Might be tricky, but I'm willing to take a crack at it.

Day 1's going to be tomorrow. Fruits only. Bring on the cantaloupe, apples, pears, and grapes. Lord, give me strength. And no cravings.

Scaretober

When David comes home, he's been getting into the practice of (a) eating candy corn and (b) watching scary movies and The Walking Dead on Netflix before bed. 

I wish I could join in, but (a) candy corn is ugh-yuck-ptooey and (b) scary movies aren't my thing. Golly, but it'd be nice if they were. Life would be easier if I enjoyed things like scary movies and haunted houses and roller coasters. I'd be more socially acceptable. As it is, though, I'll veer toward comedies, the occasionally intriguing drama and, of course, a plethora of Disney films.

There is a fine line

between exercising your right to free speech and supporting your candidate of choice (or, more accurately, bashing the other guy) and bludgeoning us over the head with your political rage fits.

Yes, we know there will be universal, abject misery if the OTHER candidate gets elected. We know we'll be on God's bad side and on the fast track to the apocalypse if he's in office. We know the other guy is one "zeig heil" away from being the next Adolf Hitler. We know that only intelligent/rational/true Americans will vote for your guy.

We know that your opinion matters. We know you've got the right to say whatever you want. And yes, we know that if we don't like what you've got to say, we can filter you out of our feed. We get all of that. But we also know this: your tantrums aren't likely to sway the opinion of your neighbor, especially when both of your hands are filled with the mud you've been slinging.

Sincerely,
The Majority of Users on Social Media

PS: We still love you. But shhhhh. Inside voices, please.

Home Stretch

Roughly about 49 required posts left of this blog before I've gotten to my year's mark. Not that I'm counting. Heavens, no.

It'll be nice to only blog when I've got something I want to say, not out of sheer obligation. Poo-poo on these once-a-day resolutions. They never seem to change a person, merely make them feel obligated to do something (and then excessively guilty when they don't follow through). That's not a way to self-improve.

Granted, I'd like to make sure I get my required glasses of water a day, but if I mess that up, I won't beat myself up over it. Sure, I'll get dehydrated, but meh.

In other news: Monday? I'm ready for you. Bring on your drudgery. I'm gonna slap it square in the mouth and show it who's boss. (Hashtag: motivation.)

Crafty

Today, I learned that sewing machines can be as expensive as $7,000. I also learned that Mimi's Cafe makes a darn good turkey croissant with brie and cranberry relish. All in all, I also consider that it's been a successful Saturday, since I can lay claim to having made one of those fleece tie-blankets.

No joke, y'all. It's pretty much the greatest thing ever made.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, brought to you by the fact that it's now the weekend!

"Thank you, God," is right!

Birthday Bear

Some folks will tell you that they can't remember anything from when they were three. Call me bizarre, but I have a few very vivid snapshots or two. One of those memories was when my family moved across town. I sat in the moving van and wore a yellow t-shirt with a pocket in the front. I remember my shirt sleeve flapping from the wind outside the window.

I have another distinct memory from when I was three years old. It was 1989, and my mom was great with child. In preparation for the baby's arrival, she had a boatload of stuff, including a little Snoopy rattle.

On this quite ordinary day, she was standing in the dining room, facing out toward the living room, and let me shake said Snoopy rattle at her belly. I was told that my soon-to-be-little sister would probably like that sort of thing.

Not quite the same model, I don't think. But close.

A short time later, that very sister decided to arrive. I remember staying at the Pogorelecs' house, friends from church, while Mom and Dad were at the hospital. That morning, I wasn't hungry for anything, barely even finished half a glass of orange juice as I overheard Marie talking on the phone with my parents about the new little bundle of joy. Her name? Nicole Marie.

That was 23 years ago today. I've had 23 years of sisterly love from the wonderful Nicole Marie. Yes, we bickered -- sisters have to; it's a requirement -- but so much of my memories of those years were nothing but playtime with our overly active imaginations. Our Disney barbie dolls got into so many predicaments (I never did understand why we made John Smith the idiot), and our "radio shows" that we recorded on re-re-re-re-purposed cassette tapes couldn't be beat.

Three and-a-half years' difference provided quite a strain sometimes (because, let's face it, there was a vast difference between what a ten year-old wanted to do for fun and what a fourteen year-old wanted to do), but as we passed on into our later teenage years, it simply didn't matter. We simply became pals. Best pals.

To this day, she and I maintain a connection that many have tried to decode, but none have. We'll speak entirely in You've Got Mail quotes (including the occasional Heavyweights or Cool Runnings throwback). We'll recall all of the inside jokes that have "technically" made it into our lexicon throughout our childhood. And then, when all else fails, we'll be snuggly and be sisters. I couldn't ask for more.

Coley, you're a beautiful young woman. You're 23 today, and although you've grown to be plenty capable and plenty grown-up over these past few years, you'll always be a fussy little Bear -- one that Daddy always lets roll just one more time at Yahtzee -- that I happen to love so very much.

I'm so thankful we're sisters. My life's experiences have been made so much sweeter with this simple fact: you've been part of them. You're positively beautiful, charismatic, spirited, so very full of life and love. I'm proud of you. I love you.

Happiest of birthdays, Coley Bear.

PS: Good thing it wasn't the fish.

Disgraceful, Denty

First I was all

But then I was like

Disney. What. Is this madness. "Fresh and relevant," my backside. Cindy would never throw her hips foward all "hey girrrl" like that. (I was trying to find a good photo of some of the other princesses; it's not pretty. Belle be looking all trampy and they gave Snow White a perm or some insanity.)

A thing of beauty

I really love painting, I've decided. These painting sessions I've attended here and there are downright therapeutic. I feel better, more peaceful when I paint.

And I've never done a Burton-esque tree, so that's pretty fabulous.

RachRabbit

Today is someone's birthday. Someone awesome's birthday.

That someone is a friend of mine that I've known for ages. Years, really. She's quirky in the best way, insightful in the most valuable ways, and there in every way. 

Rachel, you're one of the most genuine, amazing people I know. Your humor is contagious, your spirit infectious. You make gorgeous effortless and yes, even Amy Adams is jellin. I'm so excited about what the rest of your time in South Korea has in store for you, and even more excited when you're back stateside and I can finally give you that long-sought-after hug I've owed you ages ago.

I love you to bits, missy. You'll always be welcome with me (physically or otherwise, but let's be honest, physically is preferred), and you'll always have the Fonzie suite reserved with your name on it.

You deserve a happy birthday, most certainly, but I wish you a happy day-after-your-birthday, too. And a happy day-after-that. And day-after-that. And so on. A happy life. Always.

Happy birthday, my dear friend. Now go have a Will Smith dance party. You've earned it.

 

And yes, I do hope as you celebrate with your nearest pals tonight with The Princess Bride and wine, that it'll only be the culmination of what I know will be the...

Best. Day. Ever. <3


Love Always,
Mrs. B

Determination

I should be miserable because

(a) It's Sunday night,
(b) I'm not even tired yet,
(c) I've got to get up early tomorrow
(d) to go to a job I'm generally unhappy at
(e) and repeat it again for five days before an all-too-temporary reprieve.

While those are all valid reasons for being disgruntled, I know that life is too short to spend it being grouchy about circumstances beyond my control. In fact, I'm happy because

(a) I have a job at all,
(b) I had an amazing day in the mountains with my awesome husband,
(c) I have an awesome husband,
(d) the weather was exceptionally pre-fall,
(e) I get to make gnocchi for dinner tomorrow.

Perspective. I'm gaining it, slowly but surely. There's so much to be thankful for in so many arenas. I'm hoping to re-align the puzzle pieces to go back where they belong to create that full, complete picture.

The good stuff

Sometimes, I can't help but feel like much of my life is like a magazine. And, so far, all I've been doing is thumbing through the five-hundred pages of fluffy ads. I haven't even reached the substance yet.

Guys, I'm desperate to rip all of the unnecessary ads out of my life-magazine. That might only leave me with a remainder of ten pages, but those ten pages are actual content. They're substantial. They matter.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, because, let's face it: can we ever REALLY get enough of Gangnam Style?

I'm home

I swear I made a picture-based post about the Cardinals game last night, but it didn't take. I'll address it at a later junction.

For now, I'm tired beyond most reason. I'll join the human race again tomorrow, promise.

The Lou, Part 2

Spoiled myself rotten with room service breakfast this morning. I felt like Kate Middleton, let me tell you.

The rest of the day was generally uneventful: answered work emails, had meetings with our account consultants, and sat in a ton of keynote speakers and breakout sessions. They were all awesome and relevant, just nothing that's blog-worthy. All of this culminated at an event earlier this evening that included so many hors d'oeuvres that I ended up classifying it as dinner.

By the time we were done with conference-y sorts of things, I had a solid 10 minutes of daylight left before sunset. Thankfully, the St. Louis Arch is right outside my door. And I mean, right outside it. You turn left, and wham. Giant croquet hoop. I walked around outside for maybe half an hour before I started to get that whole white-lady-traveling-by-herself-and-doesn't-look-like-a-local paranoia. Sure, those scruffy (and perhaps homeless) guys might've been harmless old codgers, but I wasn't about to take any chances.

And so here I am, back in the hotel. It's fine, though, since I've got to be back downstairs for more conference stuff at 7:30am tomorrow morning.

It's been just peachy so far, though I'm kind of disappointed that my business trip hasn't turned out like this one:

Don't act like you guys don't watch some Homestar Runner every so often.

The Lou

As I've embarked on my super-fancy, very-first, big-girl business trip to St. Louis today, I'm still drinking in the level of awesome.

Plane travel = not so bad. In coach, but the flight was under two hours. Played Plants Vs. Zombies until we landed. Score.

Food = so far, so good. My boss, my coworker and I stopped at a place called Jake's near the riverfront. Steak was awesome (once it got there), and you really can't beat company-comped food. No, sir.

Hotel = good gravy. Look, I know I'm kind of a spoil sport because I have no desire to play at a casino until 3:00am, but I'm more than content with being a homebody tonight. This hotel room is all mine. The luxurious shower is all mine. The fancy towels? All mine. The double beds? Both mine. The place is right next to the arch, and if I get even partial free time tomorrow, I'm going to go scope it out.

And I get room service breakfast tomorrow. Good heavens, it's a crying shame I've got to work this week. Guess something's gotta keep me from being spoiled rotten, though.

Overused but still true

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

The above statement from good old Teddy Geisel shouldn't be used as a free pass to screw the world, but it's a darn good way for us to set our priorities. We can only chase after the "those who mind"s for so long before we start wondering if they even want to be sought after.

Suwanee Day

As we enjoyed the Suwanee Day festivities today (that consisted of mostly fried-food stands and a smattering of arts-and-crafts dealers that produced things that are quite Pinterest-worthy), and after a bloat-acious bite at Five Guys, we stopped by our house-to-be.

All documentation/paperwork has been submitted to the bank as of last week, and there's a darn good chance we'll know whether the bank accepts the terms of our short sale by next week.

By next week, we just might know whether or not we have a house. This house.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, brought to you by your friendly (and simultaneously creepy) Happy Jello:

Grandly Staircasey

Well, it was either this or we'd be standing in front of the underwater wreckage of the Titanic. This seemed like a less-morbid option.

And kind of the most awesome.

Funfetti Fantastical Weekend

It has begun. And it's already resulted in cake batter puppy chow and cupcakes flavored with 7-Up.

Yusssss.

Almost two weeks later

David came home! A day early!

Everywhere you look

Why can't everything be as simple as it was on Full House?

Here it is

Because:

1. I didn't do it on Friday like I normally do,
2. I know my adoring fans love this segment, 
3. and because I'm confident that I have a slew of adoring fans

I bring you your moment of zen (y'know, just to get you through your Sunday-night-into-Monday-morning):

Pizza: A How-To

Now go get that work week, kids. Steal its lunch money and show it who's boss.

Ice cream imitating life

Oh bother. There it goes.

Reactions

When I was under the impression that David would come home on Sunday or Monday from his trip to Belgium:

When he reminded me that he won't be home until at least Wednesday:

Guys. Why is two days so freaking long.

Sheer brilliance

1. Buy pre-packaged cookie dough at your local grocery store.

2. Preheat the oven to 350.

3. Take out only like a fourth of the package. Arrange on cookie sheet.

4. Bake according to directions.

5. Enjoy the rest of the cookie dough later. And also enjoy your tremendous savings.


Good lord. And all this time I just assumed that society wanted me to eat all of the cookies in one sitting. I ate 8 fresh baked cookies in one sitting and, guess what? I STILL HAVE MORE DOUGH IN THE FRIDGE.

The system has fooled me all this time. Rise above it, and enjoy extra batches of cookies.

Or, y'know, eat all 24 in one sitting. Sometimes that's okay too.

Choice

Being happy comes easily some days.

Some days, like today, were lousy. I was discouraged, low, cranky, pessimistic. I felt tired, like if I took any more than two steps, I was wading through jello. I felt inexplicably paranoid, as if I was suddenly stripped from the affections of those I care about. Were my friends really my friends? Was I ignorant to the way things really were? And why the heck was celery and hummus a solid idea for a lunch?

And then, some days are best wrapped up by having pleasant conversation with friends, ones that remind me of how I value the genuine people in my life. It's topped off by warm kitties sleeping close by, and consuming an entire bowl of vanilla pudding.

Being happy is a choice. I choose to be happy. I choose to be grateful. I choose to love.

Return from the Tweetbook Fast, Part 2

For what it's worth, I came back from this whole social media-less experience with a few nuggets of sobering truth.

1. I'm generally irrelevant. And I don't necessarily think this is a bad thing. There could be a great many things worse than being useless on Facebook. It just means that I've got my mind on things a bit more profound than whether I'm liking every single person's status/picture/etc.

2. There's a fine, fine line between voicing your opinions and considering all those that oppose you to be mindless, uneducated cretins.  I'm looking at you, presidential election.

3. I can still have friends. In fact, I'll even make the ballsy claim that my friendships have felt more enriched when I left Facebook and Twitter for a bit. I've sought folks out. They've sought me out. We've had good times. It's involved more effort and, true to what you might think, a little more effort makes the reward all the sweeter.

4. Facebook does make friends-having easier, though. Which is why I'm gonna stick around. The break, though, has reminded me that I don't need to check it on my phone/computer every stinking minute. I can get on when I can, provide input when/if it's valuable, and -- gasp -- have a real life.

I needed to remind myself of that. I may have 99 problems, but Facebook ain't one.

Return from the Tweetbook Fast, Part 1

So, I'm back on Facebook and Twitter (and Tumblr, too, maybe, if I'm even relevant there anymore). Then again, there's a 99% chance you already knew that if you're reading this.

Y'all better look forward to my introspective musings about what it's like to be without either social media outlet. That's going to be hitting ya tomorrow.

That one time in Florida when

I had a delightful day with delightful people (including delightful sister), sustained a little sunburn (okay, a lot), and didn't want to go back to the grind tomorrow.

Vacations never are as long as you need them to be. Then again, I've also never had a year-long vacation. That'd be awesome.

Magical

Yes sir, I know I'm one of those weird adults that appreciates Walt Disney World, but I don't need your permish to have had a pretty good time today at The Happiest Place On Earth.

Sorry, not sorry.

Real Quick

Loving the open road. And clean gas stations.

Back to your Friday, everyone.

Labor Day Weekend Eve

Tomorrow's the last workday before I leave for my trip to see my sister, and I can guarantee I'll be generally useless, at least professionally speaking.

Not personally speaking, I mean. I'm going to rock hard at that. After work is over, I mean. Because, after work, I'm gonna be on the open road.

Am I going to Lester's Possum Park? I'll neeeeever tell.

Pleh.

24-hour bugs are the worst, guys. Upside is that I'm feeling much better since coming home at 1:00pm and sleeping for seven hours.

Took a shower (which helped my general achiness considerably), and after indulging on some saltines and ginger ale, I'll sleep through the night and be 100% tomorrow.

So it is written. So it shall be done.

Oh, professional life

Scene: Today at work, when I answer the phone.

Employee: I need my password for herpderp.derp.*

Me: Okay. Let's try clicking that "forgot your password?" link on the login page.

Employee: ...

Me: ...It's on the left-hand side. Go ahead and click on it. It'll ask you for your email address. Go ahead and type your email address. It's herp.derp@herpderp.derp *

Employee: (Repeats the email address back to me 100% incorrectly)

Me: ...

After much correction, we finally get the email address correct, and I effectively guide Employee to click the Submit button.

Employee: I think it sent.

Me: Okay, great! Now, check your company email in a few minutes, and the password reset instructions will be sent to you.

Phone rings. It's Employee again.

Employee: So, I'm looking at this password reset email, and I don't quite know what to do with it.

Me: ...

Me: I'm not sure what you mean. Would you mind reading the email to me so I can help you out?

Employee: "To reset your password, click on the following URL." What's that mean?

Me: ...

Me: There should be a web address that follows that sentence. Do you see it?

Employee: Uh huh.

Me: Click on that, and it will take you to a web page that'll allow you to reset your password.

Employee: It won't let me click on it.

Me: That's okay. If it won't let you click on the text, let's try copying it and pasting it into your web browser.

Employee: I don't know how to do that.

Me: ...Well, maybe I can try to remote into your email account, and--

Employee: My email? I'm not in my email.

Me: You're not?

Employee: No.

Me: But you're reading the email to me.

Employee: Yes.

Me: ...How are you reading me the email if you're not in your email program?

Employee: Oh, I printed it out.

 

This is my life, you guys.


* Proper nouns have been derped to protect my employment.