The Donut

If I Can't Control Animals, How Would I Ever Control a Child?

2012-01-10T22:54:00.001-05:00

Recently, I came home to a jousting tournament. Cow versus cow, with dinosaur mounts.

There were many bets floating around.

I walked out before witnessing the match. These animals are fucking ridiculous, I am telling you.

The Woman in Black

2012-01-09T23:14:00.003-05:00

Arthur Kipps is a young London lawyer sent to Crythin Gifford, a small town far from the comfort and familiarity of London, to attend the funeral of a long-time client of his firm. Mystery surrounds the family and the ancestral house and lands, so much so that the locals will speak nothing of it and seem to pity Arthur's assignment. Before long, Arthur is besieged by terrifying images and sounds, and a mysterious woman in black, old-fashioned clothing seems to be stalking him.

Crythin Gifford, picturesque with flat lands and salt marshes, is not as welcoming as the brash young lawyer expects. When explaining to those he encounters that he must spend time at Eel Marsh House, the home of his deceased client, Mrs. Alice Drablow, to sort her files, he receives little more than pained silences and shocked expressions. He brushes his feelings of uneasiness aside as local tales and makes arrangements to spend a few nights at the house.

I don't think that I took a breath throughout the entire second half of the novel. Hill writes so descriptively and beautifully, and that style continued as she painted a haunting tale of madness, allowing the reader to be swept away to Godforsaken Crythin Gifford. The characters are developed and interesting, and the story never falters. The final twist was not altogether a surprise, but it was definitely a shock. A wonderful, proper ghost story.

This is What I Deal With, You Guys

2012-01-07T08:49:00.000-05:00

This is our thermostat. Let me decode it for you:

On the left, 59 is the temperature in the house. Cold, I know, but I was wrapped in an electric blanket on the couch, so I wasn't aware of just how cold it was until I went upstairs to check.

On the right? 43. That is what Mike set it to - for why? I'm not entirely positive, but I'm sure that there are many reasons and one of them is to see if I'll freeze to death in my sleep. But the joke's on you, Mike, because I don't even HAVE a 401K. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

In his defense, I have trouble sleeping if I'm too warm. I like to breathe cool air. I like to bundle up in blankets and cover everything but my eyes and nose. It's pretty awesome, and it's nice on the weekends. But during the week? That's another story.

My absolute favorite times are when simply turning down the heat does not result in a cool house quickly enough for his liking. That's when the air conditioning goes on. Yes, the air conditioning. In January. The house will be something like, 65 degrees, but he wants it to be 60 degrees, so he turns on the air. It's nice at first, but before I realize what's happening, I am lulled into a state of cool, calm comfort and passively drift away to dreamland.

Oh, and the ceiling fan is usually on, too. I forgot to mention that.

And before I know it, my alarm goes off the next morning, it's 54 fucking degrees and I have to somehow extricate myself from the covers in order to take a shower (generally that is how it works) and it's pretty much what I imagine torture to be.

But I sure do sleep well.

Peanut Dressing/Dip

2012-01-05T20:55:00.002-05:00

I don't remember where I found the original recipe for this dressing/dip, but I've modified it enough so that I feel comfortable calling it my own. You guys, it's pretty awesome. I've used it as a dressing for an Asian noodle salad, as a dip for veggies, and as a marinade for chicken.

This is a quality picture, right?

1/2 cup peanut butter
1/4 cup rice vinegar
splash soy sauce
1 tsp sesame oil
1 tbsp fresh grated ginger
1/2 tsp lime zest
juice of 1/2 lime
1/2 tsp salt
2/3 cup canola oil

In a blender or food processor, combine all ingredients but the canola oil. When thoroughly combined, leave the blender/processor on low and slowly steam in the canola oil so that it incorporates completely.

For garnishes or additions on a salad or noodles or whatnot, you should definitely consider using the following:

1/4 cup scallions
1/4 cup chopped peanuts

Maybe It's Because They Don't Get Out Much

2012-01-02T11:56:00.003-05:00

Remember how I am totally batshit insane? In that Mike and I have stuffed animals and we create lives and backstories for them? Well, when Mike travels for work, I always sneak an animal or two into his suitcase. Then he sends me amusing pictures from the hotel. The latest? Mr. Happy Dinosaur and Grant inspect the desk in the hotel:

"They have never seen a phone like this before..."

January First

2012-01-01T18:14:00.004-05:00

Happy New Year! And holy crap you guys, get these chips.

Get these chips and then eat the shit out of them. They are incredible. Here is where you can find them, my darlings.

Enjoy the new year. And the eighth year of my bloggitude. Good God, I've been blogging since 2005. Yikes. You would think that I would have found something better to do with my time by now, but APPARENTLY NOT.

Kisses!

How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips For Surviving the Biotech Revolution

2011-12-27T10:23:00.001-05:00

In full disclosure, I should probably tell you that I probably wouldn't have even considered reading this book if I hadn't already known the author from college, because science is just not my thing. And Kyle is not just brilliant, he's hilarious. I remember bonding with him freshman year over our love for The State and how we couldn't believe that it wasn't yet on VHS. (Yes, VHS. I'm old.) So I knew that it couldn't be too painful - you know, for science. Ick.

It's only fitting that he wrote a book. And it's a pretty great book. When the first page of the prologue had me laughing, I knew that I was in for a treat.

Terrifyingly informative and absolutely hilarious, How to Defeat Your Own Clone is a preparative guide for the future. The main point is not that cloning and biological advances could happen, it's that they will happen.

Ahem. They already are.

As an aside (and if asides bother you, don't read this book. There are many asides), I was not a fan of science. Were you like me, doodling in your notebook during chemistry, never really understanding those things called "moles," and hoping to God that the next lab assignment wouldn't have you reaching for a fire extinguisher? Well, that was definitely me, so the premise of this book was a bit off-putting. I thought, "Do I have the brains for this book?"

Answer: ten year-olds have the brains for this book. Well, brainy ten year-old brains. It is so well-articulated that the layperson should have no trouble with the scientific prose. It is written in such an intelligent way that the non-intelligent will feel brilliant!

Kurpinski and his co-author, Terry Johnson, have written an informative, interesting, entertaining book. They stick to the facts, but offer real-world examples to help the lay person understand all those science-y type words. For example, in the first chapter entitled, "Cloning and You," the reader learns about viruses:

"A virus is a lot like an unwanted house guest. Some don't seem so bad at first, like the guy who crashes for the weekend on your pull-out sofa bed. The first night he's passed out and appears relatively harmless. But two days later he's still hanging around, and the next thing you know he's overloaded your washing machine and flooded the basement. In the virus world, these seemingly unassuming little visitors incorporate their genetic material into a host genome and may lay dormant for years before causing any noticeable problems such as AIDS. Other viruses are more like the ultimate party crasher who barges in uninvited, messes with all your stuff, and moves on when the booze dries up - except that the virus makes thousands of copies of itself and they all set fire to your house on the way out."

One of my favorite chapters is "Common Misconceptions About Cloning and Biotechnology [Popular Culture is a Poor Teacher]" which explores and debunks the myths about cloning and the like that we gleaned from science fiction movies and books. Would your clone have a soul? Would it be able to harvest your thoughts and memories? And most importantly, would your clone be... evil? All of these questions are answered!

You will also learn what is needed to clone yourself (or what someone else needs to clone you). Be warned: they don't need much. Because "...complex organisms don't exist as a single cell, but they start as one..." that is all that is needed to start building your clone.

Something important to keep in mind is that because clones will most likely have to be built from scratch and inserted into someone's uterus (for the time being, of course), the clone will always be younger than you. But in case science discovers a way to create your clone just as you exist today, remember that the whole nature vs. nurture thing will eventually be your clone's undoing.

I'll leave you with the authors' careful words of warning:

"In the end, your genome can be copied, but the precise series of cellular events that built you cannot, and that just might be enough to spot a rogue clone."

At 180 pages, How to Defeat Your Own Clone is a quick, fun read. Now I'm off to put my retinal scan on file so that my clone won't beat me to it.

Peep Mobile!

2011-12-23T11:09:00.002-05:00

Laurel sent me the most amazing pictures when she was in DC's Chinatown. I give you... the PEEP MOBILE:

You see, I think that it is funny because it is a take on the Popemobile. PEEP MOBILE!

I Hope Santa Has a Backup

2011-12-22T19:42:00.001-05:00

It was all downhill from there for poor, poor Rudolph.

Are You Like Me?

2011-12-21T06:10:00.009-05:00

Are you like me? Do you imagine tiny moments your life as if you were visited by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future?

I fell asleep last night without brushing my teeth. I knew that I should get up and brush them, but I was in the middle of a ~~game on my phone~~ great book. Later, I thought about it again, but I was so warm and comfy in the covers. Then I got thirsty and sat up enough to drink water, and again thought that I should probably get up and brush my teeth, but then I thought, "Meh, fuck it," and promptly fell asleep.

The next morning, I brushed my teeth EXTRA well. But my mind started wandering. "I really should have gotten my lazy ass out of bed and brushed my teeth last night. What if last night was the catalyst for gingivitis? Or another cavity? Or what if it was the kickoff toward a root canal?? OMG!"

Was last night the moment? The moment when that tiny molecule from the ill-advised can of Coke entered my bicuspid (that's a tooth, right?)?"

Ghost Goofy wants you to brush your teeth EVERY NIGHT.
(One of the best Christmas Carol versions, btw.)

And then the ghost of Christmas whatever teaches me a valuable lesson about oral hygiene. I don't know.

You think that I can't get crazier than this? Well, I didn't wash my face, either. Ta ha!

So, are you like me? Or are you a normal person?

Donut Sundae? Are You Serious?

2011-12-20T00:41:00.001-05:00

No, not the name of my band (which would be borrowing heavily from the best band of the nineties, Hot Sundae), but an incredibly ridiculous dessert.

A dessert that was FORCED upon me at Zingerman's Roadhouse.

That is a donut. With gelato. Whipped cream. Caramel sauce.
Peanuts. Cherry on top.

It was delicious.

Also, the nineties were weird. Why is Jessie wearing a belt?

For Sale: One Kick-Ass Magic Couch

2011-12-19T22:03:00.001-05:00

It is with deep regret that I must say goodbye to one of the best couches ever created:

Color: Blue...ish, lightly faded
Measurements: Who cares? It can go anywhere! It's practically an accessory!
Manufacturer: The great Ikea (Ektorp series)

For just a small dip into your wallet, you can own a third-hand couch! And it is a GLORIOUS couch. Let me tell you more:

-I bought it used from a super sweet gay couple in Thomas Circle in the summer of 2003. They were "completely redecorating" and were not planning on "blue."

-During the relocation (in Dealey's Montero) from Thomas Circle to Arlington, we forgot the feet. So it sits quite low to the ground directly on the frame. But this is okay! It is not at all a problem! Falling into the couch is romantical.

-It is slip-covered, and therefore washable. I mean, I assume that it's washable.

-It has lived many places, including its current home in a storage unit. It has never known cold, and that is why I need to find a new home for it. Before it gets really cold.

-I have only heard rumors about hook-ups on the couch. As I did not witness these supposed events, I choose to believe that the rumors are false. No sex on this couch! I have spoken!

-I am almost positive that no one has vomited on, near, or around the couch.

-There have been children on this couch, but they are adorable children. Here's one now:

"I love Aunt Heather's couch!"

-Is comfortable to EVERYONE. When six-foot tall K-10 would visit, she preferred to sleep on the MAGIC COUCH rather than a bed. Did the MAGIC COUCH alter its length to accommodate her? IT IS ENTIRELY POSSIBLE. Also, falling asleep on the couch is like a pastime. Here is Merrick, asleep only 3.7 seconds after sitting on the couch:

Granted, we'd had a long day, but still.

Remember earlier, when I mentioned a "small dip into your wallet?" Yeah, you can just have it for a song. Or some ice cream. Whichever makes you most comfortable. Magic couch just needs a good home!

How to Make Baking Tolerable

2011-12-18T00:31:00.005-05:00

I am not a baker. I mean, baking is fine and all, but I am a much better cook than baker. And yes, those are different things.

A cook can add or omit ingredients, can make substitutions, and can cook something to her desired consistency, temperature, or doneness. I think that it is fun to cook.

Baking, now? Everything has to be perfect. The butter has to be room temperature, but cannot be softened in the microwave because it will change the consistency of the dough. Do you not have cream of tartar? Might as well kill yourself, because those fucking sugar cookies are not going to happen.

Baking? Is STRESSFUL.

But still, I decided that baking cookies would make for a fun afternoon while Mike and Larry played drunken Twisted Metal. Drunkenly. And this is how I coped:

Lemon drop shots with a Woodchuck chaser. Some of the sugar cookies are too crisp, but at least I don't give a fuck. Just like the honey badger.

Is it wrong that I want the coveted Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer for the one time all year that I make a concerted effort to bake?

If it's wrong, I DO NOT WANT TO BE RIGHT.

This is the Most Glorious Thing That You Will See Today... Or ANY Day

2011-12-17T00:40:00.005-05:00

Remember Surf Style?

This van looks just like those 1990s jackets (which you can find on etsy, omg).

You wish you lived near me so that you could see this bitchin' van every day. WITH MATCHING RIMS. You do.

I = Lazy

2011-12-15T12:37:00.004-05:00

This is our Christmas tree:

This is our tree next to a poinsettia:

It's a tiny tree, you guys.

I have a six-foot tree that I've decorated for years now, but my extreme laziness, coupled with Kohl's insane deals, led to the purchase of this four-foot pre-lit tree.

(I mean, it's on sale for like, $13 or something, and then you get a discount, plus another discount, and then a scratch-off discount at the register. Question: How does Kohl's stay in business, anyway?)

Right, so pre-lit trees, in my opinion, are the FUTURE OF TREES.

It took 32 seconds to set up, followed by three minutes of ornament-hanging. Mike still hates it, but hates it on a much smaller scale. Plus, all of the ornaments are birds, dinosaurs, a Detroit Pistons bobblehead of some player I've never heard of, and a 5-hour energy bottle with a string around it.

(Which ornaments were Mike's contribution?)

MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Who Drew This? Your Three Year-Old? GOD.

2011-12-14T00:43:00.001-05:00

Stop it, Target:

"DINO Dinosaurs ruled the Earth Jurassic Period"

So, who made this? Non-English speakers? That's my guess.

Because FIRST OF ALL, you guys, dinosaurs lived in several different periods. The Tyrannosaurus Rex pictured here so anatomically correctly lived during the Cretaceous Period, GOD.

Second of all, run-on sentence much?

THIRD OF ALL, Target needs to stop selling things from China.

Nope! I Don't Understand.

2011-12-10T16:45:00.000-05:00

Do you have $42 to spend on nail polish? Neither do I. Neither does anyone in her RIGHT MIND.

Most intelligent purchase EVER.

I suppose that it's considered a deal as one bottle of polish goes for $18. Savings!

Arguments for and Against Personalized License Plates

2011-12-09T00:48:00.001-05:00

Yes, the Michigan Secretary of State thought that this license plate was just a-okay. This one, though? Is brilliant:

I have much respect for the owner of this car. Much respect.

A Leader Emerges

2011-12-08T09:56:00.005-05:00

It's been established that Mike and I are... special. We have stuffed animals. And we are weird. So it comes as no surprise to me that as we amassed more and more creatures, alliances were forged, friendships made and broken, and there was even an attempted murder (I am told that it was a ploy to get my attention, but it doesn't excuse Mr. Happy Dinosaur and Sammy the Sauropod from putting Babbity Rabbity on a dinner plate).

Apparently, Teddy has declared himself the leader of all animals. Perched atop Ms. Pillow (oh, have I not explained Ms. Pillow? It's a good story), he seems to have demanded an audience with all animals in the kingdom.

To be completely honest, I don't know why there has yet to be an uprising.

Onesies

2011-12-04T17:48:00.009-05:00

"Rawr!"

I don't know that there is a single inanimate object cuter than a onesie. I mean, LOOK:

Look at the dinosaurs' smiles. Incredible! I purchased two of these ADORABLE onesies for Mike's nephews, but they will never wear them because I am an idiot.

Yay!

You might be wondering, "But Heather, what happened? That is the cutest dinosaur onesie ever! Children should wear those always! If they made that onesie in adult sizes, I'd be wearing one right now instead of this Snuggie!"

"I mean, wouldn't you be?"

HERE IS WHERE OUR STORY BEGINS. I have two nieces. Mike has three nephews. You would think that I would have figured things out by now, but ALAS I HAVE NOT.

This Christmas, I was (happily) tasked with purchasing the most adorable, comfy, dinosaur-y outfits imaginable for Mike's nephews, age: almost 2. I would have sent Mike to get them himself, but I have a feeling that it would not have ended well, I would have ended up at Target and/or Kohl's myself anyway, and time would have been wasted, the end.

And so, with explicit instructions to buy 12-month clothing, I went shopping.

"Hey! Idiots! The twins are like, 20 months old."

I found the CUTEST things: matching outfits (they are twins, after all), pajamas, shirts and pants... I saved an assload at Kohl's with their scratch-off coupon at the register and headed to Target to spend more!

"This isn't going to end well."

The next day, I shipped everything to Seattle and felt mighty proud of myself. Until Mike called on his lunch break:

"What size clothes did I tell you to get for the twins?"

Heather, confidently, "Twelve months."

Long pause.

Mike, dejectedly, "Yeah. They're almost two."

Heather and Mike, simultaneously, "Fuck."

And then I got to go shopping again! I figured that it would be easier, but let me tell you, IT WAS NOT. Shopping for infants is easy. Colors are important, but not tantamount. Onesies are not only acceptable, they're pretty much mandatory.

It gets so much more complicated when they get older. There are many levels of complication:

First off, there are about eleventy billion more options of clothing for little girls. Like, 90% of the children's clothing is for girls. I mean, obviously that's great when you have girls to buy for, but I did not. And it was frustrating.

Secondly, two year-olds don't really wear onesies that much, right? I wish they would. Onesies, as mentioned earlier, are the best and the cutest. Why can't they just be babies forever??!?

Third, girls can wear whatever they want. If they like outfits with dinosaurs or trucks or football, they are totally welcome to wear them, and hopefully are encouraged to wear them if that is what they like. So not only can they already wear 90% of the toddler clothing, they have access to the remaining 10%. Boys aren't so much um... able to wear pink princess shirts without inviting unwanted commentary and parental criticism.

Not that I would buy pink clothes for Mike's nephews, even if I wanted to, but you know what I mean.

"I would totally wear Disney princess pajamas,
but that's because I am a pterodactyl."

ANYWAY. I found new clothes. They were purchased and mailed to Seattle. The 12-month clothing was donated. All is well. I remain - and Mike remains - stupid for not remembering how damn old the twins were as of December 2011.

Gah.

MINI RANT: Is 24-month clothing the same as 2T? If so, WHY HAVE THEM BOTH? Why do you buy months-sizing for a while, and then switch to "T" sizes? Are those ages? I DON'T KNOW. Conspiracy.

Oh, and not only is Mike's sister preggers with another boy (Four boys! Kill me!), my lovely sister-in-law, Kari, is pregnant as well (sex of child TBD in March)! So I'm thinking that I should probably figure this out, and figure it out soon.

Or at least keep a better calendar.

Thanksgiving is Tiring, You Guys

2011-11-25T20:16:00.006-05:00

Oh Holy Baby Jesus, Thanksgiving came and went, and lo, it was awesome. Let me tell you about it.

First, there was the turkey. A massive 22-pound bitch of a turkey, which took over FOUR DAYS to thaw, including an overnight bath in the set tub in the laundry room. That's sanitary, right?

Heather almost dropped me on her foot.

And then there was the stuffing for the mother bitch bird. I had to TRIPLE my mother's recipe, which meant I cubed three whole loaves of bread. It's a good thing that I don't have a life, let me tell you, because my perfectionism sure as hell didn't allow me to fly through this step.

That's a roasting pan. Full of perfectly cubed bread.

Then came time to add the remaining ingredients to the massive amount of bread cubes. Onions, celery, and BUTTER. I am not going to tell you how much butter ended up in that pot, because you will no longer have to wonder about my weight. It's not a thyroid problem, people. It's Thanksgiving stuffing.

It was a butter stew, basically.

This is what a triple recipe of stuffing looks like, with sage, thyme, salt, pepper, and of course, BUTTER.

I am going to be honest and tell you that some of that stuffing never made it into the bird. Or the oven.

It was finally time to stuff the bird and throw her in the oven, and much to my dismay, the inner, um... cavity... was not very large. Plus, whoever packaged this whore bird for sale sloppily removed the neck and whatnot, resulting in a turkey that now had a vag where the neck once was.

It was obscene, is what I'm saying.

The mighty vag-bird!

She went in upside-down, as is my super-secret method for awesomeness.

And then, five and a half hours later, she emerged.

Perfectly cooked vag-bird.

Oh, and even though I made delicious cranberry sauce from scratch, my mother FORCED me to serve... this:

I was so embarrassed, oh my God.
And you should have heard the sound it made when it came out of the can.
Horrifying!

Then it was Friday, and I stayed in bed. ALL DAY. Apparently I can no longer handle hostessing duties with the same enthusiasm as I did when I was twenty-five and still expect to be physically mobile the following day.

I did make stock with the carcass, though. It took hours, but I'm hoping that it was worth it. It's in the freezer right now, waiting for me to regain strength and actually want to cook again.

Onions and carrots and carcass! (Oh my!)

An Ode to Leggings

2011-11-22T14:56:00.002-05:00

Oh leggings, you are the bane of my existence
You are unforgiving and cruel, thin and sometimes baggy.
You are plastered to the legs of everyone around
Clingy and annoying and leaving nothing to the imagination.
But.
I have realized.
You are so comfortable.
You are so freeing.
My over-sized sweater hides my crotchly area.
Why have I resisted for so long?
I LOVE YOU.

I Have Strange Memories

2011-11-21T13:42:00.002-05:00

Is it weird that when I was getting dressed this morning, I thought to myself, "Hey! I got this pair of panties at Macy's after Northwest lost my bag on Christmas Eve?"

I know where and when I acquired all of my underthings. I love shopping for underthings. UNDERTHINGS! Seriously, it is the most fun. They are pretty and girly and when they're on sale it's like Christmas.

Oh, and I have a pair of panties that I bought in Marks and Spencer in London when Continental sent my bag to Florida instead of Gatwick. So there's that.

Hmmm. It seems that airlines are fully connected to my choice of underthings. But I never would have purchased said underthings (at the airlines' expense!), if not for the incompetence of said airlines, so perhaps I should be thanking them? THANK YOU FOR MY UNDERWEARS, AIRLINES!

Did I just write an entire post about my underwear?

T-giving Countdown

2011-11-20T13:15:00.003-05:00

For the first time since 2007, I am cooking Thanksgiving Dinner. And I am SO EXCITED.

When I lived in DC, I hosted many a dinner for my friends, and I loved every minute. Maybe it's because I just love being a hostess, but loving to cook helped, too.

So this year, Mike suggested that we host Thanksgiving. I was expecting a little push-back, but once I heard my mom's reaction you would have thought that I had just told her that she won the lottery or something.

She's been making T-giving dinner since, I don't know... the 90s or something. She teaches ten year-old little fuckers, and then makes food for three days straight. Her Thanksgiving "break?" 100% exhausting and not really much fun for her.

(Oh, and the principal just hired at her school? Younger than ME. Let's just say it's like she has another ten year-old to deal with every day. The woman is STRESSED, is what I'm saying.)

So I offered to make everything - except for the pies and the gravy, that is. She's the pie master, and my last five attempts at gravy resulted in some pretty inedible creations.

So here is where the fun begins:

Shopping cart of AWESOME.

My mom, Kari, and I hit up the grocery store today at 8:00 in the morning. And let me tell you, the grocery store is one of my favorite places on Earth, but at 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday? HEAVEN. Even with four days to go until Thanksgiving, there was NO ONE THERE. It was brilliant. Just brilliant.

Thursday cannot come soon enough. Hee!

2011-11-19T10:56:00.001-05:00

I think that I found my Christmas cards:

Thanks, Urban Outfitters!
And Merry Christmas to all!

Soccer Star

2011-10-17T09:37:00.006-04:00

Okay, so I might be a little biased, but my nieces are the best nieces in the world. They are the cutest and the sweetest and the BEST.

First, Alexis. She is six years old... going on sixteen. My poor brother wants to lock her in the basement for the entirety of her teens, and he might have to rely on a gun for all the boys that will inevitably come calling. Or nunchucks.

Alexis had a soccer game this weekend, and I figured that there was probably nothing better for me to do than attend that game. I mean, watching a group of 6-8 eight year-olds run around like banshees for an hour wasn't going to be the most entertaining thing in the world (it wasn't), but it's nice to support family, right?

Alexis was pretty much incredible - scoring three goals and successfully defending the goal. Basically, she's awesome.

Savannah. She's almost four years-old. LOVE.

So it was a fun day, you guys. Profile on Savannah is forthcoming.

The Way

2011-10-13T09:07:00.009-04:00

I had the opportunity to see an early screening of a movie last night, and the director, writer, and star were in attendance afterward to answer questions and to talk a little bit about the film and the experiences they shared.

The film is The Way, about a grieving father walking el Camino de Santiago de Compostela, also known as The Way of St. James, as a way to honor his deceased son who died on the first day of his journey on el Camino. Pilgrims have been walking the Camino for over one thousand years. It is an intensely spiritual journey for many, and though Tom attempts to keep to himself, he meets wonderful characters along the way and learns to open up and share his once closed-off life with others.

Tom Avery (Martin Sheen), an opthamologist from California, lives a "bubble life." His estranged son, Daniel (Emilio Estevez), has abandoned his doctoral studies and has decided to see the world. Estranged from each other since the death of Tom's wife/Daniel's mother, Tom wonders if he'll ever be able to bridge the gap between them.

"It is the life I chose," Tom tells his son, Daniel, in a flashback. Daniel replies, "You don't choose a life, Dad. You live one."

On el Camino, Tom learns how to live his life once again, outside of his comfortable California bubble.

The Way is an intensely intimate look at a man discovering life for the first time, exploring a part of the world he never planned on seeing, and coming to terms with the relationship he once had with his son. It's beautiful and thought-provoking, the acting is superb, and while the storyline is a little predictable, it takes nothing away from the meaning of the film.

After the film, Martin Sheen, Emilio Estevez, and the Producer, David Alexanian, came on stage to answer questions about the film. People gave nothing but praise, and I was surprised to see over 50 people stand up when asked how many in the audience had walked el Camino.

There was even a group of nuns in the audience, who presented Mr. Sheen with a rosary. It was really something.

What a fun night!

The Eye of the Beholder and Whatnot

2011-10-08T23:35:00.001-04:00

I took this picture a few months ago, and I still can't decide if it's cool, or just a blurry rose.

Hmm...

Sunday Lunch

2011-10-04T21:28:00.001-04:00

Because apparently I revert to my seven year-old self on the weekends.

Peanut butter and honey sandwich (CUT IN HALF), apple slices, cheddar cheese, and crackers.

Look What My Boyfriend Brought Me!

2011-10-03T09:26:00.002-04:00

A kick-ass case of beer.

He really does love me.

We Went to DC! And Shane Got Married!

2011-09-22T22:40:00.013-04:00

When I moved to DC for graduate school, I didn't know a soul. I met a few lovely ladies in classes, but they went home to Texas and Nevada for the summer. Shane was pretty much my first friend there. He went above and beyond as a friend (I'll never be able to tell you how many drinks he paid for, knowing that I couldn't really afford them), introduced me to his friends, and made it so that I finally felt at home in DC.

So when he told me that he was getting married, there was no way that Mike and I were going to miss it! We decided to drive down a few days before the wedding, so that we could have a mini-vacation, and that was a great idea. Besides, Mike had never been to DC, so it was my time to play tourist again, and I was really looking forward to it.

Mike's favorite part, I think, was either the metro ("It's like we're in a movie!"), or the goldfish that they brought to our room. I'm not sure.

We left for DC a little later than we had planned, which was fine because we avoided rush hour. The drive was one I had taken many times when I lived in DC, and it was a nice bit of nostalgia. Especially that one rest area on the Ohio turnpike. GROSS.

Yes, the animals came with us. Yes, all of them.
Yes, I am aware that we have issues.

Me and the Garmin are totally in a fight though, as the bitch told us to stay on the Beltway when I knew that we should take the GW Parkway, and GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT, GARMIN? Thanks for the hour-long traffic jam in rush hour, GARMIN.

But when we finally arrived at the hotel, all was forgotten. It was gorgeous:

The animals liked it, too.

After unpacking and relaxing, we walked two blocks to Red Mei, one of my favorites in Old Town Alexandria. We sat in the window, people-watching as we decompressed from the trip, and returned to the hotel early. Mike passed out almost immediately (in the kick-ass king sized bed!), and my darling Merrick walked the few blocks from her house and we sat in the lobby of the hotel, catching up.

Oh, and she was just about nine months pregnant at the time. This is her now:

We slept in on our first real day of vacation, and it was AWESOME. I mean, we didn't roll out of bed until 10, you guys. We had a tour scheduled for the afternoon, so we metroed in to DC and grabbed a quick meal at Union Station.

From there, we strolled around Capitol Hill, checking out the changes, and stopping by my old apartments. I still can't believe that I lived in that shitbox on 4th Street. I don't think that Mike was too impressed, either.

Remember my bitch of a landlord who wouldn't fix our door even though it didn't shut all the way and snow was getting in? Yeah, she was the worst.

I'd never taken a tour of the Capitol before - at least, not with someone other than my father. And OH SWEET GOD, I wish my dad had been there for this tour, because I was ready to punch our guide in the throat. He was absolutely awful, always sidestepping questions yet never really answering them. Then he got into a bit of a "discussion" with a British tourist who wanted to talk about the cowardice of the French. It was... weird. But now Mike has been to the US Capitol.

"Gerald Ford was mauled senselessly by a circus lion... in a convenience store."

We hit up Austin Grill in Old Town for an early dinner and then Mike went to watch baseball or something. Kristen escaped Arlington for the evening, and she and Merrick and I went shopping. As you do.

The rest of the trip was fun, but extremely tiring. I forgot how incredibly taxing it is to be a tourist. We hit up a few museums, saw the sights, ate some great food, and generally exhausted ourselves to the point of idiocy.

I mean, can you be more awesome than this?
The answer is no. No you cannot.

This is Grant. He was in our minibar. We decided to keep him. Mike named him Grant because he has awesome facial hair like our 18th president.

Look, the White House!

Look, the Old Executive Office Building!

Look! Grant is at the Washington Monument!

Coffee at Peregrine.

Mr. Happy Dinosaur hanging out with
Dickens and Dumas at my favorite bookstore.

Mike and the animals watch the Michigan football game.

Wisenheim is a coffee snob, fyi.

And OMG, you guys! I almost forgot to tell you about the best part! Our hotel brought us a goldfish to keep us company:

His name was Jon.
I mean, seriously, could the hotel be any awesomer?

Sunday was the day of the wedding. It was scheduled for a little later in the afternoon, and it was our last day of vacation before the long drive home, so we thought (I thought) that it would be an absolutely grand idea to go to Arlington National Cemetery so that Mike could see the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and other assorted sights.

Y'all, that place is HILLY. I don't know the total distance that we actually covered, but by the time we got back to the hotel, it felt like hundreds of miles. And before we knew it, we were getting ready for the wedding, held at River Farm - the headquarters of the American Horticulture Society.

Shane and Katie's wedding was gorgeous and simple. The details made it one of the sweetest weddings I've ever attended, and seeing so many friends made it a fun social event. Katie was absolutely stunning in a simple, flowing gown, and Shane was dapper (Dapper. How often does anyone get to use that word? Dapper.) in a pale yellow suit.

Thanks for welcoming me back, DC. I hope to see you again soon!

The Perfect Storm

2011-09-20T11:22:00.005-04:00

So I take these online surveys and earn points, and there isn't much in the company's rewards catalog that I like. Except magazines. I love magazines. The only one that I have religiously subscribed to is National Geographic, and that's because I love it. And also because my dad has been getting it for me for Christmas since my junior year of college.

Best. Day. Ever.

I walked to the mailbox in the rain yesterday, which was fine because I LOVE getting the mail. I seriously do. You never know what you'll find! Obviously, the best is when there is a package, but that doesn't happen every day no matter how many free samples I try to get.

But yesterday? Three magazines. THREE. Besides Nat Geo and Smithsonian, these are the best. Food & Wine, Elle Decor, and Bon Appetit. GLORIOUS.

So I spent my evening watching DVRed episodes of Sarah 101 and Good Eats while reading my magazines. If Mike has to travel, so be it. At least I have distractions.

Good vs. Evil

2011-09-18T18:33:00.005-04:00

Have I created a "Things I Covet" tag yet? Because this would definitely be something listed:

Good Sponge vs. Evil Sponge?
HOW I WANT THIS LET ME COUNT THE WAYS.

At $28, it's a bit too hi-falutin' for my pocketbook, but Columbus Day is coming soon, and we all know that Columbus Day is a great gift-giving day!

Lunchtime Dilemma

2011-09-12T23:31:00.000-04:00

Don't worry. I ate both.

Hi! I'm the Worst! Also, ADHD.

2011-09-09T19:51:00.002-04:00

Dear Mike,

I know that I said that I would clean the kitchen, but things started happening.

First, I remembered that I really needed to set the DVR to record all of the shows. ALL OF THE SHOWS.

Second, I noticed that the bird feeders were empty, so I refilled them. I love birds.

Third, I wanted Biggby. So I went to get a coffee. That took some time because I also brought my book and I sat there and read for a while.

Fourth, I got home and was about to start cleaning, but I thought that there was something in my eye, so I went to check, and when I discovered that there was not something in my eye, I thought that I would rearrange the makeup drawer in my bathroom.

Then, I realized that it was probably time to wash towels, because I couldn't remember the last time we had washed towels, and I thought that it was probably time.

And that's why the kitchen is still a disaster.

Love,
Heather

Even Owls Enjoy Baseball Games

2011-08-29T21:17:00.001-04:00

Mike took me to a Detroit Tigers game for my birthday and we had kick ass seats in the club type place where there was food and alcohol and none of the unwashed masses that you encounter in the bleacher seats.

Wisenheim came along, because he had been watching the baseball with us for months, and wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

He liked the pop more than anything, even though it was Pepsi. He also liked my beer, but I forgot to capture the moment. SORRY.

Anyway, the Tigers won, it was a glorious night, and we took a stuffed owl puppet to a baseball game in downtown Detroit. We win the day.

Peanut Butter is Fallible, As it Turns Out

2011-08-24T19:27:00.002-04:00

I love peanut butter. Jif, though. Not Skippy, not the store brand, and certainly not that crap natural, healthy kind. Gross. I love nothing more than a peanut butter sandwich. Or the Tagalong Girl Scout Cookies. Or Thai peanut dip. REESE'S PEANUT BUTTER CUPS. Or apples and peanut butter...

I LOVE peanut butter, you guys. But my tolerance for sweets has changed. I don't eat candy like I used to. In fact, I can only eat one Reese's Peanut Butter Cup at a time. I save the other one for later. Seriously. And I have to be sure that there is plenty of water around.

I'm like, old and shit.

Plus, since I don't buy the natural, healthy peanut butter, I try to make up for it elsewhere. Like not buying candy.

But when I was having the shit day of all shit days, and I saw Twix Peanut Butter in the little convenience store, it was a race to the cash register. I couldn't believe my good luck! Peanut butter will solve my shit day!

That afternoon, while "working," I diligently ate my lunch at my desk. I waited until the boringest part of the afternoon - 3:30. I slowly unwrapped that Twix like Charlie Fucking Bucket, hoping for a Golden Ticket.

Let me be the first one to tell you: Twix Peanut Butter is ridiculously inferior to Twix original.

It was SO DISAPPOINTING.

Booooooooooooooooooooo!

First off, the cookie part was chocolate. Now, I know that complaining about the presence of chocolate may seem sacrilegious, but I am telling you that it was WRONG. Everything about the chocolate cookie was wrong. It wasn't Twix.

Then, peanut butter. It was... fine. It wasn't Jif, that's for damn sure.

Then, caram... THERE WAS NO CARAMEL.

Why? Why would they remove the caramel? It's the best part! I never let myself have candy bars, and when a blue moon DOES materialize in the sky, I want my candy bar to be amazing, not a waste of calories! BOOOOOOOOOO!

I am scarred.

Thirty-One

2011-08-22T21:44:00.003-04:00

So it was my birthday. I'm 31 now, no big whoop. I had to share the best t-shirt ever with you (okay, maybe it's not THE best, as it doesn't have a dinosaur on it, but still. It's pretty awesome), courtesy of Mike's mom:

IT GLOWS IN THE DARK, YOU GUYS. Isn't the monster so cute? And he has cookies! AND he implies that there are MOAR COOKIES. The availability of cookies in the "dark side" is an overwhelmingly positive trait.

Do you think that there are also some cupcakes?

This is Why We I Can't Have Nice Things

2011-08-19T22:30:00.002-04:00

After reading about my laptop's destruction, were you wondering if it was possible that I could be any more idiotic? Well, let me tell you. It most definitely IS possible.

Not what a tire should look like.

This is one of the front tires on my car. Those are steel wires. Sticking out of the tire. Apparently, this is not a good thing.

Also not a good thing? Spending your morning at Belle Fucking Tire as they replaced the original tires with a brand you've never heard of: Hankook. Hankook?

Yes, Hankook.

Mike and my dad have now formed a two-man army against me and my idiocy. Every week, I hear from at least one of them about the status of my last oil change, fluid levels, and windshield wipers. And... it turns out that I need the support.

I shouldn't be allowed to own a car, is what I'm saying.

Although, thanks to their meddling, I will get an oil change this week, and I didn't go 8,000 miles since the last one! Not this time!

Sigh.

21 versus 31

2011-08-16T22:33:00.002-04:00

I am turning 31 years old in two days, and I think it's... kind of funny. I sure as hell don't feel 31, but then again, what is a 31 year-old supposed to feel like? I know that I am a completely different person than I was at 21, but I wonder how many differences have popped up in the past ten years. Let's compare, shall we?

A Typical Week
21: Go to the bar 5-6 times a week
31: Go to the gym 5-6 times a week

Nighttime Routine
21: Fall into bed at 3 a.m. after studying, partying, or bar-hopping
31: Wash face, brush teeth, use night cream. At 9:30 p.m.

Shopping for Groceries
21: Cart full of ramen noodles
31: Cart full of ramen noodles and fresh produce

Football Saturday Routine
21: Wake up, drink, go to game, go to party, drink
31: Wake up, go to gym, watch football from comfort of own couch, drink

Leisure Time
21: Read
31: Read

Tolerance for Alcohol
21: Four beers, after which I would throw up.
31: Four beers, after which I turn into a mean drunk.

Need for Sleep
21: Six hours, tops
31: Need eight hours, get six

Restaurant Choices
21: Would try nothing new
31: Can't believe I lived for over 21 years without trying sushi

Work
21: The only way to pay for beer
31: The only way to pay my car insurance

Love
21: If it comes along
31: Can't live without

Should I Be Worried?

2011-08-15T18:21:00.000-04:00

Me: Merrick's in Brazil right now, isn't that cool?
BF: That's a non-extradition country.
Me: How do you know that?
BF: Might come in handy someday.

I Remember the First One. Does That Make Me Old?

2011-08-14T22:31:00.001-04:00

Do people still buy these?

Did You Get Free Cheerios in the Mail? Oh. I Did.

2011-08-12T23:11:00.004-04:00

I think that I've mentioned how I love to sign up for free stuff, right? Well, one of the most fun things about this insane quirk of mine is that things tend to take more than a few days to arrive. Sometimes the free bounty takes weeks. Months! And then I forget that I was going to get said treat in the mail, and when it arrives, the day becomes glorious!

And I can't even tell you how many fancy tampons I've received. SO MANY TAMPONS, you guys.

But it gets better (as if free tampons isn't the best it could ever get)!

Sometime last August, I discovered that Ann Arbor is one kick ass place to be on one's birthday. I got free meals, free coffee, free cupcakes, free candles. Free tea, free bagels, and Lord knows what else. Well, I must have signed up for some of the birthday clubs too late, because I have no fewer than ten emails in my inbox for MOAR FREE SHIT.

-Free burger at Red Robin
-Free coffee at Caribou
-Free burger at Ruby Tuesday
-Free dessert at Macaroni Grill
-Free ice cream at Coldstone
-$10 gift certificate to World Market
-Gift cards to The Limited, Ann Taylor, Banana Republic, and other yuppie stores that I like

Basically, I've never been sad for a birthday, even as I've breached thirty. Birthdays are fun! They are a new beginning, a new start, a new way to count one's blessings, blah, blah, etc.

Oh, and FREE SHIT.

Let's Learn About One of My Pet Peeves!

2011-08-10T10:04:00.005-04:00

Of which I have many.

Today, and many other days, one of my pet peeves really smacked me in the face.

I'm inching along in the parking garage, trying to find a spot that isn't on the freaking roof - which is made all the more difficult because there is construction going on, and half of the spots are inaccessible, making me more and more irate as I have to skip the third level altogether for lack of an available spot - and lo! I see one! Just past that big ass SUV...

It's like a beacon. It's like light is shining down. I get ready to pull into the spot, thrilled that I won't be up on the roof of the garage, and...

It's a FUCKING MAZDA MIATA.

Goddamn stupid mini cars, ruining everyone's lives. GOD.

I mean, LOOK AT IT. It's a fucking Lego car.
That driver? Is a tool.

Bossypants by Tina Fey

2011-08-08T11:15:00.007-04:00

God, I love Tina Fey.

I waited weeks and weeks for this book to become available to me at the damn library, and now that I have it, I don't want to give it back. I want to hug it and squeeze it and love it forever. And then read it over and over again. It's a book like this that makes me reconsider my self-imposed book buying ban.

Reasons I love this book:

~It's a fast read. There are stories and anecdotes galore, and the spaces are filled in with hilarious self-loathing. It's amazing.

~It's a memoir that won't leave you wishing you were dead. (See my review of Blood, Bones, and Butter.)

~If you watch 30 Rock or watched SNL when it was tolerable (when Tina was the head writer) you'll love the stories. YOU WILL LOVE THEM.

~You get to learn about all that went on behind the scenes during the last Presidential race, i.e., her Sarah Palin impression, and why she was actually hesitant to do it.

~She talks about her life as a mother and refers to having a child as "living with a drunk midget."

That's GOLD, you guys.

It's Art Fair. Again.

2011-07-24T10:28:00.002-04:00

It's Art Fair time here in Ann Arbor, and that means crowds, heat, and a bunch of crap masquerading as art. There are a few diamonds out there in the rough, though.

A friend and former coworker carves wood into amazing pieces of functional art, like bowls. I've always wanted one of his pieces, and this year I followed through:

HERE IS WHERE I WOULD POST A PICTURE OF SAID BOWL IF I HAD REMEMBERED TO TAKE ONE AND WAS NOT A DICKSHIT.

Another good thing about Art Fair is that the local shops go into full-blown sale mode. And lo, it is amazing. When I was a college student, living in Ann Arbor in the summer, we would salivate over the offerings at Urban Outfitters and local clothing boutiques. Now, however, you couldn't have paid me enough to go near their tents.

And then there are the things that drive me absolutely insane. Besides the traffic, and the people, and the heat, and the strollers, and the walking, walking, STOPPING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SIDEWALK FOR NO REASON, walking, STOPPING, STOPPING, ARGH, there are things like this, and there is just no excuse for this idiocy:

MORONS.

My guess is that they were so worried about spelling souvenirs correctly that they neglected to spell-check the rest of the goddamn sign. I mean, seriously.

Books, Borrowing, and Patience

2011-07-23T11:02:00.001-04:00

With Borders closing (SAD FACE), I plan on relying on the library even more than before. To be completely honest, I haven't purchased a new book in months. I did, however, get a kick ass bird book at an antique store for five bucks, and it's awesome and I love it and I totally didn't break my "no book buying" rule because it was used, AND I was on vacation.

The problem with the library is the sharing. I don't like to share. I want my book when I want it, which is usually immediately. I have been waiting for Tina Fey's Bossypants for months. At my last check of my account, I am the 34th person of 228 people on the waiting list. Granted, the library ordered dozens of the book, but with three weeks to enjoy a book, and perhaps a lack of speed readers up in here, I am not anticipating my copy until September. At the earliest.

The best thing about libraries is the sheer volume of books available, but also the fact that I am saving money and using the resources of my community. Yeah! However, my sense of community diminishes whenever I check my online account:

I am currently 108 of 147 for In the Garden of Beasts: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler's Berlin, and 63 of 95 for Game of Thrones.

Yes, Game of Thrones. I figured that I would see what all the fuss was about. It's what all the cool kids seem to be reading these days.

So, in conclusion, READ FASTER, PEOPLE.

The Grand Idiot

2011-07-20T08:52:00.004-04:00

Okay, so I've done some stupid things in my day. Hell, I've done some stupid things in the past day. But this one takes the cake.

Here is where I would tell you what led up to the tragedy, but it's extremely boring and involves me tripping over things, because that's what I do because I am my mother's daughter and I constantly have bruises and cannot remember how said bruises came to be.

Anyway, I broke my damn laptop. The screen is busted and I am an idiot and I really, really hate myself.

I know that it's not the end of the world - it's a thing, not a, I don't know... leg - and it can be replaced. I know that this now gives me an excuse to get a computer with the kind of memory that I've been craving, but I have not the money for this kind of situation.

I have not the money for many situations. For example, it would be nice to fix the side mirrors on my car, but do I have the money for this? No, I have not the money for this. I would also like to purchase nice bookcases for the living room so that my beloved books do not perish from mold and neglect in the storage unit, but do I have the money for this? No, I have not the money for this.

Anyway, my laptop has now become a desktop and I'm using a monitor my friend Josh gave me back in, I don't know... 2005?

The Animals or How Mike and I Are Really Glad That We Found Each Other Because No Other Sane Person Would Have Us

2011-07-18T16:04:00.006-04:00

This has been a really, really rough week you guys. Mike had to go to Iowa (of all places) for work and I really missed him, I was totally PMSing, and my teddy bear -- my precious Teddy -- was undergoing major, life-altering surgery.

Those who know me well know about Teddy. They don't even think that it's strange that I am 30 years old and still have a strange affinity for my childhood friend (at least, they don't say it to my face).

I wrote about Teddy some time ago, and I'll just reiterate that my connection to him has not changed. Nor has his appearance.

(If you don't feel like reading that link, here are the basics: Teddy has been through way too much. It all started when I was a toddler and used to rip out his fur and stick it up my nose. My parents laughed hysterically rather than tried to stop me, and now he has fur on his head and paws. And nowhere else. Also, since I used to carry him around tucked with his neck under my arm, there is no stuffing left in his neck. It's pathetic, really.)

You see, Mike and I are a weird couple. I'm not kidding. We are bizarre, extremely strange people, and we are lucky beyond lucky that we found each other because we just fit.

Obviously, we recognize this, or else I would be way too embarrassed to share all of this with you. So here it is: We have several stuffed animals (more than eight) and we have given them all different, distinct personalities.

Often, I will come home and find them arranged in hilarious ways. Once, they were playing poker:

Lamby Lamb had a good hand, you guys.

Another time, they were all mooning me for neglecting to take them on a car ride out to Holland with me:

Great.

It all started with Mr. Happy Dinosaur. One of the best gifts I've ever received, Mr. Happy Dinosaur made everything better. Plus, no one would ever mess with me if they knew that I had a dinosaur to protect me.

So Teddy had surgery. And I was distraught. But now? His head doesn't flop over and stuffing isn't pouring out of his neck. So, that's good.

Yes, that pillow has eyes. Yes, I sewed eyes on a pillow.
The eyes are the window to the soul, you guys!

Basically, we are crazy people with stuffed animals, and we admit as such. But we're happy, in our own completely bizarre way, so we're cool with our collective insanity. But if you disagree, feel free to leave comments. I'm sure that Lamby Lamb will take it well. EXCEPT THAT HE WON'T and will most likely murder you in your bed.

"Where the Hell is Cheboygan?"

2011-07-16T10:03:00.007-04:00

For the Independence Day Holiday, I headed up north with K-10. Her dad has an amazing house on the shores of the Twin Lakes in Cheboygan, Michigan.

I know, Cheboygan sounds made up. But I assure you, it's a town. And a super awesome kitschy one at that.

For most Michiganders, "Up North" means exactly that. The majority of us leave the Detroit area and head north on I-75 and stop when we reach our cottage on a lake. It doesn't have to be one of the Great Lakes - there are many, many inland lakes that will do the trick. For us, the easily amused here in the Mitten, it is the ultimate retreat from civilization, work, bosses, and responsibilities.

Did you know that Michigan's number one industry has nothing to do with automobiles? It is tourism. Who'd have thought!

Anyway, it was an awesome, relaxing trip. K-10 used her vacation time to train for an upcoming triathlon, while I used the time to sleep, read, and watch birds. It was brilliant for the both of us.

From the driveway.

I don't know. I thought it was cute.

It's like being outside. BUT NOT.

View from the living room.

View from the deck.

Here's a good story: This is a winery behind someone's house in a residential neighborhood. We pulled into their driveway and K-10's dad knocked on the door of the house (which is what the sign instructs), and the guy took us to an out building where we sampled the sweetest wine ever (and not in a good way). It was... weird. And extremely awkward. But that's Michigan - we do awkward REALLY WELL.

Hi.

I wanted to eat here. I wanted to eat here SO BAD. I wanted to meet the owners and shake hands, as this is the best bar name EVER.

Mama loon and baby loon, you guys!

Another loon!

I'm Heather. I'm Disgusting.

2011-07-14T11:23:00.004-04:00

Mike's been traveling all over God's green earth lately, for work, and I've been alone in the house. In some ways, it isn't so bad. I miss him like crazy, but I've been staying busy enough that it's not too bad.

So in an effort to avoid the crushing loneliness, I've been working out lately. Like, every day. It's not that I'm bored (I mean, I am), it's that I'm going to be thirty-one in mere days and let's face it - no one's getting any younger!

So as soon as I get my ass home from work, I change into my workout gear and I head to the gym with Kelly. Working out with a friend is pretty much the best plan. We push each other to GET GOING when one of us would rather sit on the couch. Luckily, the lack of motivation seems to hit each of us on opposite days.

Of course, there was that time that I showed up at her house with nachos and sangria when I was supposed to be picking her up for the gym.

So my routine has been working quite well, though the house has not been faring as such. I try to keep it clean, I do, but it's hard!

Basically, by Thursday, the house is a trash dump, and when I get home from the gym there is nothing I'd rather do than pass out on the couch. Instead, the night melds into a tornado of vacuums and cleaning products. I can't let Mike think that he's shacked up with a dirtier Tasmanian Devil.

Time to destroy the house, yay!

I mean, seriously. I am a slob. Why I can't seem to be able to clean up after myself on a daily basis is beyond me, especially since I am usually so organized.

The dining table? Not for eating! It's a dumping ground for anything and everything!

The kitchen counter? That's where everything goes that I determine belongs elsewhere than in the fridge or pantry.

The fridge? Oh God. If you're ever at my house, promise that you'll never look in the fridge.

Promise me.

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk

2011-07-13T23:55:00.001-04:00

This was the first David Sedaris book I've ever read. I had heard that he was, um... quirky, but jeez.

I recognize that not all authors appeal to everyone, and that a reader might not love every single thing an author has to offer, but I wish I hadn't chosen this Sedaris offering first because I'm now a little nervous about sampling his other works. I read this because his writing has been praised, but I can't pretend that I liked this one just to be cool.

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is a collection of short stories with animal protagonists, living human-type lives and dealing with human-type problems. Thank God the stories were short, because I don't know that I could have read more than a few pages of his prose.

Each story was weird. Each was equally depressing. I totally get that Sedaris was making observations about the human condition, and in a way, the stories were quite reminiscent of Aesop, but sweet God, man - did you have to be so disgusting?

The story that stuck with me most featured a crow talking to a ewe about child-rearing. The crow seems to be enthralled with the ewe's lamb and how content it seems to suckle from its mother. The crow commiserates with the ewe about children and how difficult it is to relax when one is so consumed by motherly love and that damn protective instinct. The crow talks about how she meditates to relax, convinces the ewe to do the same, and while the ewe is experiencing another plane of existence, the crow pecks out the eyes of the lamb in order to feed her own babies.

What. The. Hell.

Again, allegories. I KNOW. I get it. But it doesn't mean that I have to enjoy it.

The illustrations are by Ian Falconer, of the famed Olivia books. The drawings are an amazing addition, and as weird as some are (there is one of a hippo's anus), they really do make the book whole. Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is an imaginative, interesting, intentionally creepy (?), brilliant work. And I hated it.

The Magicians

2011-07-12T19:24:00.000-04:00

How to describe The Magicians? Calling it a "Harry Potter for Adults" would be underestimating its power and creativity. Perhaps a cross between Harry Potter, The Narnia series, and a typical college experience would be more appropriate. With more than a few hangovers.

Quentin is bookish, at the top of his class in high school. His best friends are as nerdy as him, and they all have grand plans for their futures at university. But everything changes when Quentin is transported to a hidden school, masterfully passes a (seemingly) ridiculous entrance exam, and is admitted to Brakebills Academy. A school for magic.

Magicians is gritty. It feels true to life. Lev Grossman satisfyingly describes his teenage characters truthfully, without holding anything back. Yes, teenagers swear. Yes, teenagers have sex. Teenagers rebel against authority, go through an apathetic stage, and perhaps have a moment of awakening.

I really wanted to love this book, and for the most part, I did. But while the first two thirds of the story were wonderful, the last third fell short. It was trying way too hard to be something else (namely, Narnia), and became extremely predictable. While creative, I felt like there were too many similarities. I've since read that Grossman was paying homage to books from his youth, and I think that's wonderful, but there is a little too much of that going on for my liking.

The sequel, The Magician King, was just released. Just because Magicians didn't meet my expectations, Grossman is simply too talented to ignore. I'll be reading his second outing.

The Devil In the White City

2011-07-10T23:40:00.006-04:00

Erik Larson crafted a page turner in The Devil in the White City, chronicling the construction and production of the 1893 Chicago's World Fair while interspersing the narrative with fascinating accounts of one of America's first serial killers.

After the brilliant display of the 1889 Paris World Fair, the idea that the United States would host the next fair was laughable to the world, and even to most of America. The unveiling of the Eiffel Tower was deemed one of the most incredible feats in architectural history, and consensus was that the U.S. would never be able to match that feat, let alone surpass it. How would a lowly industrial city ever pull it off?

Daniel Burnham and John Root, the Chicago Fair's architects, were determined to wow the world and to prove their critics wrong. They assembled the best and the brightest designers, landscape architects, performers, and visionaries and fought forced budgets and the powers that be to bring their collective dream to life.

As for outdoing Gustave Eiffel, they brought George Washington Gale Ferris, Jr. to Chicago. He had an idea about a large wheel.

But something sinister was lurking, just at Chicago's edge. A madman, putting his devious plans into motion.

H. H. Holmes was an attractive, charismatic man. He charmed women, left long-suffering creditors at ease, and was an extremely successful businessman.

He was also a psychopath.

Armed with facts, while sometimes forced to imagine himself in the minds of Holmes's victims, Larson brings the reader along the path of a deviant mass murderer as he charms his way into women's pocketbooks and legacies before murdering them in cruel and sickeningly imaginative ways. After skirting his debtors for years and murdering countless numbers of people, Holmes is finally brought to justice by a tireless detective.

I was sure that I was going to skim the sections about the World's Fair and devour the parts about H.H. Holmes. I'm weird about the macabre. Much to my surprise, the entire book was amazing!

Larson's accounts of the conception, planning, development, and construction of the World's Fair were intriguing, and his writing style ebbs and flows in a way that I found myself devouring every word. I am looking forward to reading his next book - In the Garden of Beasts: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler's Berlin.

The fact that there are sixty people ahead of me on the library waiting list should tell you something about Larson and his skill in creating a pager-turner!

"It's the Best Day Ever Again!"

2011-07-06T22:39:00.004-04:00

I love cats. I've always wanted a cat, but I am incredibly allergic to them. It's clear that they think that they are lions and tigers in the wild, creeping around and peering through house plants - searching for prey and whatnot. And that's why I love them.

But this is probably an accurate representation as well (NSFW):

Honey Badger Don't Care

2011-07-05T14:46:00.001-04:00

Maybe this is old news to you people by now, maybe not. Either way, I cannot rest until I know that people are aware of the HONEY BADGER.

This thing is insane. It is ferocious and crazy and it certainly "don't give a shit." Watch the glorious, glorious video and enjoy. And then watch it again, because you'll want to do so. YOU'RE WELCOME.

An Advantage to Having Small Feet

2011-07-03T12:40:00.000-04:00

When the grocery store has JELLY SHOES in kids' sizes,
you can relive your 1980s childhood!

Llama?

2011-07-02T20:16:00.000-04:00

I found this in my sister-in-law's Facebook pictures:

Doesn't its neck look like a sock?

Happy Llama Day! Or, Happy Whatever the Fuck This Is Day!

Comparison

2011-07-01T18:55:00.004-04:00

While reading Catching Fire, the second book in The Hunger Games trilogy:

BF: "I really like these books. Reading those fucking hobbit books was like work, only worse."

Poor Lazy Person Pasta

2011-06-28T20:19:00.009-04:00

Ever have one of those days? You know, a day when you realize that all that exists in your freezer are your boyfriend's Lean Cuisines and a bottle of vodka? All you can find in the fridge is one bottle of Guinness and a half of a shriveled lemon, and the pantry consists of canned beans and microwave popcorn.

Today was one of those days.

Luckily, I was sort of prepared. I almost always have a few produce items on hand, so I was able to throw this dish together. And it was lovely.

Lazy Person Pasta

-Pasta that you discovered in the back of the pantry
-1 semi-shriveled onion that you left on the counter for several weeks, diced
-2 cloves garlic, also shriveled, diced
-2 tablespoons olive oil
-salt & pepper
-1/2 pint of grape tomatoes that have been sitting on the counter for three weeks
-10-15 leaves of basil that you stole from your sister-in-law's garden last night

Pine nuts would have been good here if I had some. Alas. Anyway:

~Cook pasta according to package directions.

~Heat the oil on medium heat and add the onion. Add freshly ground salt and pepper. Saute for several minutes and add the garlic. Saute together until the onions are translucent.

~Cut the grape tomatoes in half lengthwise and add to the pan. Stir them in and cover pan with foil. Lower the heat to low/simmer. Allow to steam for 7-8 minutes.

~Chiffonade the basil by layering the leaves on top of one another, rolling into a cigar shape, and thinly slicing to make a confetti of basil.

~Add the basil to each dish just before serving.

Diet Pop Can Suck It

2011-06-27T14:09:00.003-04:00

On Sunday, I switched to diet drinks. Coke Zero and Diet Dr. Pepper. I like them both. They both taste more like their sugar-filled counterparts and they both contain caffeine - something that is entirely necessary lest I fall asleep at my desk.

Oh, it has happened.

Today, though - Tuesday - I am done with them. Two days was enough time to show me that diet tastes disgusting and that I'd rather drink ~~water~~ NOTHING.

And to top it all off, it made my GERD go batshit insane and now I'm in pain. Thanks so much, Diet Dr. Pepper. THANKS.

See? He hates it.

Speaking of monkeys... BABY MONKEY:

Who Even USES Checks Anymore, Anyway?

2011-06-24T01:10:00.003-04:00

I went strawberry picking with my lovely sister-in-law and my adorable nieces today.

See? ADORABLE.

Anyway, we went strawberry picking and it was a highly fruitful endeavor.

Heh.

Kari paid because she had cash and I had none, but I told her that I would write her a check for my half. Later, I got my checkbook, flipped it open, and realized that I didn't have any new checks.

Now, like most people in this digital age, I rarely use physical checks and do most of my banking and bill paying online. During the last year or so at my old apartment, I was sending electronic payments to my landlord instead of handing her a check with "RENT" written in the subject line. I couldn't tell you when or why I wrote my last check.

So I've searched all afternoon for my extra checks (of which I KNOW to exist), and I have NO idea where it is hiding. I looked in every conceivable box, bag, and drawer, and then I moved on to my car.

My car's trunk was full of stuff from the apartment that I just hadn't gotten to yet, and to be honest with you people, it probably would have remained untouched until another one of these inevitable situations arose.

Alas, no checkbook.

I then moved on to the few boxes that I have stored in the garage. There aren't too many - just things that I didn't want to place in storage in case I needed to get to them in a hurry. One would assume that the checks would be there.

They were not.

The next step is to search the storage unit.

I don't want to.

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon

2011-06-22T10:26:00.000-04:00

I read lots of Stephen King in middle and high school - it was all part of my King/Grisham/Crichton phase, which died out after about a year when I discovered Jane Austen. You know, as you do.

Recently, a suggestion on the internets brought me to The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. I had no idea that this book even existed, and now I've read it twice. It's that good. I read it again specifically so that I could review it here. People! Read this book!

Trisha McFarland is nine years old, and she is lost in the thick woods of Maine. The child of a recent divorce, her mother had planned the day trip (one of many, recently) as a way to occupy Trisha and Pete, Trisha's older brother. While hiking with the two of them on a three-mile portion of the Appalachian Trail, Trisha falls back - mostly, she has to pee, but she was tired of their constant arguing.

Instead of backtracking, she decides to follow what seems to be a parallel trail, assuming that it will loop around and she'll be able to rejoin her family.

It was the worst mistake of her life.

Trisha is soon too deep into the woods to realize she's lost until it is much too late. She has a small lunch in her backpack, along with water, a bottle of pop (I suppose it would be soda to her, since she's an East Coaster...), and a poncho. Most importantly, she has her Walkman, and she realizes that she can listen to the radio broadcasts of her beloved Boston Red Sox and their closing pitcher, Tom Gordon.

She makes poor decision after poor decision, but as she hears mention of her disappearance on the radio, she imagines the hundreds of people forming search parties. She guesses that she'll be rescued in mere hours.

She's wrong.

As the days and nights pass, Trisha looks deep inside for survival, and Tom appears to help guide her on her way. Together, she feels she can and will survive. But what happens if he disappears?

This book touches on so much more than survival and instinct. It's about family and family dynamics, friendship, and hope. But mostly, it's about the power of the will.

Of course, it wouldn't seem like a Stephen King novel without a little supernatural freakiness, and it has that, too. Whether Trisha's visions are real or hallucinations is for the reader to decide.

Bridge to Terabithia

2011-06-21T19:11:00.000-04:00

In a quest to read popular childhood books that I overlooked at the time, Bridge to Terabithia called to me. And thank goodness that it did - I can't believe that I went thirty years before reading such an incredible book.

One of the most beautiful and haunting coming of age tales I've read, Bridge to Terabithia follows the strong friendship of Jess Aarons, a self-described "weird kid" with a talent for drawing and the misfortune of being the only boy in his family, and Leslie Burke, an imaginative, kind-hearted child of "hippie" parents who moves to the area just before the school year begins.

As Leslie and Jess enter the fifth grade, it's clear that she is different. She beats all of the boys in a foot race on the first day of school and later naively reveals to the entire class that she doesn't have a television, sparking ridicule by most and a protective instinct in Jess.

Jess is completely annoyed by Leslie at first, her having ruined his plans to be the fastest sprinter in the school, but cannot deny that she has an incredible spirit. With her imagination and his steadfastness, they create a world of their own in the woods near their homes. Leslie bestows the name Terabithia and within it, they rule as kind and queen.

Together, they face problems both inside and outside of Terabithia. From marauding attackers to the school bully, they work as a team. A snap decision and seemingly selfish act leads to tragedy and Jess soon realizes how much he has grown since meeting Leslie.

It's a fast read, being that it's a juvenile book, but its lessons and themes resonate strongly. I can't even imagine how I would have dealt with this book if I had actually read it when I was ten years old. I'm guessing that I would have been absolutely gutted. And I'm guessing that I would have loved it just as much as I did twenty years later.

Oh Roku, How On Earth Did I Live Without Thee?

2011-06-18T01:16:00.002-04:00

Mike was a groomsman in his cousin Neil's recent wedding, and as a groom's gift, he not only received a pair of gorgeous cuff links, but also a Roku. I may have had something to do with that last item, but I plead the fifth.

OMG, it's amazing. ROKU IS AMAZING. MARRY ME, ROKU.

I have finally been able to really crack into my Netflix queue (who has over 200 movies on their lists, honestly?), and have also finally gotten the chance to watch some television shows that I have been putting off.

Archer: Are you kidding me with this show? It is AWESOME and while I am aware that it's on cable and therefore semi-immune to the extreme censorship the networks deal with, I am still amazed at the raunchiness. Of course, that's only part of what makes it so hilarious. Archer is a spy in a secret spy organization run by his mother. He's a womanizing asshole, and yet, you love him. Half of the voice actors are from Arrested Development, which is brilliant.

The League: Who knew that a show about a group of friends and their fantasy football league could be so funny? And dirrrrty.

Parks and Recreation: Now I finally know what people have been talking about. I'm only a few episodes in to the first season, and I've heard that it only gets better from here. Great!

Party Down: Wannabe actors working as cater waiters. It's painfully funny.

The Pillars of the Earth: I read the book, I've started the miniseries. It's goooood.

As for movies, I've watched Ballerina, a documentary on ballet at the Kirov, Let the Right One In (what an incredible adaptation, by the way), and a horrible movie that should have been better but totally wasn't. But then again, David Duchovny was in it, so I should have known.

Lastly, I've watched two episodes of the new BBC version of Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock, updated for the 21st century. It's absolutely amazing. The acting is phenomenal, but the writing is probably the best part of the whole show. It's entertaining and yet hearkens back to Conan Doyle's original works. There's a bit of romanticism to any adaptation of Sherlock Holmes, in my opinion, and the fact that it's set in a time of cell phones and wifi doesn't change that at all.

ROKU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND.

Fucking Squirrels

2011-06-17T19:35:00.001-04:00

You know, all I want is for my little birdie friends to get enough to eat. That's all I ask. But instead, this fucking squirrel is the bane of my existence.

What I don't understand is why he's going after nyjer seed anyway. It's the smallest seed ever and finches are some of the only birds with the patience to go after it. I like it for that very reason. As much as I would love to have a wide variety of birds at my feeders, knowing that the birds won't have to compete with squirrels is a bonus.

Except that this asshole squirrel is really pissing me off.

Like you're not fat enough already, SQUIRREL.

So I tried to compromise. I put out suet. Suet is good for attracting huge varieties of birds, but I wouldn't know anything about that because squirrels usually get to it first.

Fuckers.

Traffic Circles. If You're Scared of Them, Then GO A DIFFERENT WAY OH MY GOD

2011-06-15T13:36:00.007-04:00

THIS IS NOT BRAIN SURGERY.

Do you want to know who is good at traffic circles? ME. Do you want to know who is not good at traffic circles? EVERYONE ELSE.

Oh my GOD, people. They are NOT DIFFICULT. There are yield signs. If you are approaching the circle of horror, glance to your left. Is there a car there? Is there a car about to be there? If not, PROCEED. It's not a goddamn four-way stop and it's not something placed on this earth to specifically stress you out.

God.

I can't tell you how many times in the last week alone that I have almost gotten into various accidents because of these fucking traffic circles. Actually, no. The traffic circles are not to blame. The traffic circles are lovely and work quite well. In theory. The idiotic drivers who seize up in terror at the mere mention of traffic circles are to blame.

My commute is really not that bad. In the morning, I take the expressway and my entire drive is less than twenty minutes. I spend almost as much time locating a parking spot. In the afternoon, the fastest, most direct route - IN THEORY - are the back roads.

And when I take that way home, there are FOUR traffic circles. That means that other drivers give me a minimum of FOUR mini heart attacks in a twenty minute time frame.

My favorite part is when I am about to approach a circle of death. There is a super helpful sign that reads "Traffic Circle Ahead." INEVITABLY, each and every driver hits the brakes as if anticipating all of their simultaneous heart attacks.

Now this?

Is one scary-ass traffic circle. The traffic circles that I encounter daily, however? Look like this:

But with more bunnies and deer and flowers and happiness.

GAH.

The Benefits of Shopping at Target

2011-06-10T22:40:00.002-04:00

Why would I eat goldfish crackers when I could be eating chickadee crackers?

OMG LOOK AT THE CHICKADEES!
THEY ARE SO CUTE AND ALSO THEY ARE DELICIOUS!

Here is a haiku I wrote about the delectable chickadees:

Very cute chickadees
Cheese birds made to be eaten
Better than goldfish

Golf Lessons, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Accept My Suckitude

2011-06-09T15:06:00.001-04:00

Oh my God, you guys. I had my first golf lesson the other day, and let me just tell you, I WAS AWESOME.

Obviously, my outfit was adorable. Plus, I actually found shoes in my size. That fact alone is a winning situation.

pic of shoes

So I met with the golf pro, and I learned many things!

First, I learned my stance. As it turns out, there is no getting around how stupid you look when in a proper golf stance.

Second, I learned my grip.

Third, I learned how to swing. You can't imagine the elation you feel when you pop a tee out of the ground with your swing.

And then I was convinced that I was the next big thing. That's JUST how awesome I was.

A few days later, I headed up to the driving range to hit some balls. It... didn't go well. I hit a few balls quite well, but I definitely lost track of the amount of times that I ground the club into the dirt.

It was also a little awkward considering every other person there was right handed, and I was facing ALL OF THEM as I stood there with my left-handed clubs.

Anyway, I am still awesome. I just need more practice.

They mock me.

The Chewbacca Defense

2011-06-08T08:41:00.003-04:00

The high today is 93 degrees.

I am sitting in my office, huddled around a space heater.

It doesn't. make. sense.

Maybe I Should Have a Shopping Buddy...

2011-06-06T12:49:00.008-04:00

All I wanted was a few comfortable summer dresses. The ones I've been wearing for years have become a little too "young," if you know what I mean, and it was just time.

Target is Mecca, as many will attest, and I happened upon a rack of dresses completely by accident. They were comfy and flowy and didn't make me look like I was twelve. I got home and modeled them for myself and set one out to wear to work the next day.

It was a little windy that day, and it kept catching the dress and puffing it up. In the stomach area. There was a LOT of extra material.

Y'all, I accidentally bought maternity dresses. And trust me, I am NOT pregnant.

I wondered why an extra small fit so well...

Sammy the Sauropod Has An Adventure

2011-06-03T22:21:00.000-04:00

Where am I?

Where is Mr. Happy Dinosaur and also, where is Wisenheim?

What is this strange place?

I'm hungry.

Oh, what's that? A snack?

Snack! Snack, come back!

Maybe I'll go over there.

OH MY GOD WHAT ARE THOSE?

OMG FLYING SNACKS!

Come back snack! Come back!

DAMMIT.

Food?

Snacky snack?

WHAT IS HAPPENING?

OMG.

June 2nd

2011-06-02T18:08:00.008-04:00

Four years ago today, I met the love of my life.

I was in Michigan for my niece's 2nd birthday party, and Kelly invited me to her condo to hang out a bit. We were planning on driving into Detroit to watch the Piston's playoff game at a bar, but instead went to one of her friend's houses - a guy named Mike who had a condo in the same development. He was a gracious host and even helped me at euchre - the first time I had played in over a year.

By the end of the night, I knew that something was there. There were sparks.

On the walk back to Kelly's, Mike called her and asked if we didn't want to stay a little longer. Not wanting to look too desperate, we made plans for breakfast the next morning.

After breakfast, we went to Ann Arbor to visit my old museum, and on the way home, Kelly devised a plan to get the two of us alone. It was pretty lame, actually - something about watching episodes of Family Guy.

Thing is, we really only watched one episode. We talked and talked and gradually learned about one another. What really drew me to him were the similarities in our upbringings and our shared values.

And his eyes. Oh my gosh, his eyes.

Before long, I had to leave - my flight was at 7:00 that evening. It was amazingly bittersweet. I honestly knew that I had met the love of my life, and I now had to fly 500 miles away from him. I drove to my parents' house, packed my things in their car, and my dad dropped me off at Detroit Metro Airport.

As I approached the U.S. Airways area, I knew that something was wrong. There were far too many people, and many looked angry. I soon discovered - my flight had been canceled!

I had never had a canceled flight before. Then again, I had never flown U.S. Airways before. Connection? In any other circumstance I would have been irate. But I was absolutely giddy.

I texted Mike, I called my Dad, and before I knew it, I was on my way back to Mike's.

We stayed up way past midnight talking and sharing stories, and neither of us were able to sleep very well. I had to be up at 4 to get to the airport for my re-booked flight at 6:00. When I left, he walked me to the car and we had our first kiss as the rain was drizzling down.

I moved back to Michigan five months later. And I am happier than I ever thought possible.

THE END.

No Excuses, Just Laziness

2011-06-01T12:51:00.003-04:00

You guys, I am about.. oh, a month behind on posts. It's not that I don't have the content - I do - I am just made of pure laziness and I don't want to take the time to make them perfect.

I'm actually writing this on June 25, but posting it as June 1. Because I am sneaky and lazy like that.

I have lots of posts awaiting a single picture, or a final edit, and they are just lolling around in internet limbo hoping that I will stop with the procrastinator attitude and just exercise my right to use my brain and hopefully entertain others.

THEY PERHAPS WAIT IN VAIN.

So I am most likely going to post about twenty posts in one fell swoop and it's going to be EXTREMELY OVERWHELMING for everyone involved (mostly me), and I'm suddenly filled with the egotistical notion that people will just take time from their busy days to read twenty different posts of my rambling prose without even a bathroom break, and that is just too much to ask.

I don't want to stress out anyone, after all.

Basically, what I am saying is that I might attempt this stunt this very weekend, but then again, I might also attempt cleaning out the closet or unpacking some boxes from my move back in April. Or maybe I'll go through the boxes in the garage. There is almost definitely going to involve wine.

Yeah, there definitely will be wine.

Emily Has a BABY, You Guys

2011-05-31T15:36:00.009-04:00

This is what he looks like:

This photo is titled, "Woe is me, as life is so hard!"

His name is Brian Arthur. He is adorablecakes. Arthur is Emily's dad's name and I can't tell you how much I love when people do that. It's such an amazing way to honor your family while giving longevity to a name. My dad is Mark Steven and my brother is Steven Mark. I love that. I don't know why.

Classic names really do stand the test of time, don't they? Fad names really don't grab me, but I can see why people want something different.

Like, I would love to use one of my grandmother's names if I ever have a daughter, but one was named Sylvia and the other was named Hedwig, and while classic in their own time, they feel like middle names to me now. But who knows? Maybe in a generation, we'll be back to 1920s names. Who is to know?

Anyway, I have known and loved my Emily for over twenty years and so I drove many, many miles to the edge of the universe (well, close to the edge of the state of Michigan, but it's pretty much the same thing with gas prices as high as they are), to see her brand new spawn. I mean, it seems like only yesterday that we were playing "Pin the Sperm on the Egg" at her baby shower, and now, poof! Baby!

(Yes, there is a game called that, and yes, we played it un-ironically.)

This photo is titled, "I am about to wake up and scream bloody murder until mom unleashes her boob, NOM NOM NOM."

I thought that upon holding the bundle of infant that I would have heart palpitations and my biological clock would jump start and I would feel incomplete without a child and I would want to go jump Mike's bones. Or clearly I would adopt one. Mike and I don't do that, Mom and Dad.

But my heart was happy... for Emily and Tim. I'm just not ready for children, and I don't know that I will ever be ready for children.

And lo, this post has suddenly revealed one of my existential life crises.

I am beyond lucky that my family isn't pressuring me to have children, though part of that might have something to do with the fact that my brother and sister-in-law have taken care of that for me (Yay, nieces! All of the fun and none of the work!). But at the same time, they are, in fact, pressuring me to get married, and let me tell you that I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT and there is SOMEONE ELSE THAT YOU'LL HAVE TO TALK TO ABOUT THAT SO LEAVE ME ALONE.

Dammit!

Anyway, this whole thing just illustrates that I am selfish and not at all ready for children, as I embarked upon this post planning on devoting it to my friend and her baby, and I pulled you all into my ridiculous internal crises instead and that, my friends, is why you do not want to be inside my head.

YOU'RE WELCOME.

Look! The whole animal kingdom is procreating!
Is there something wrong with me?

Chickpea Salad

2011-05-22T12:26:00.011-04:00

Warning - This is pretty much the perfect recipe. You will want to make it ALL THE TIME and it is super good for you. Enjoy!

Also, I HAVE NOT A PHOTO of this dish, so you are going to have to TRUST ME.

Seriously, trust me. It's amazing.

And away we go!

1 can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
2 scallions, chopped
1 cup fresh mint, chopped
1/2 cup dried cranberries*
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper, to taste

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper and mix well.

Serve with crostini or as a salad. Or eat it out of the container with the fridge door open. Because THAT'S HOW GOOD IT IS YOU GUYS I SWEAR.

*Note: The original recipe calls for pomegranate seeds, which are generally only available in the winter. I substituted dried cranberries, and the result is tart and sweet. That said, I can't wait until pomegranates are in season...

Reason to Love Ann Arbor #11

2011-05-20T10:29:00.000-04:00

Cleverness.

The Descent

2011-05-18T21:25:00.007-04:00

"If there can be a historic Christ, why not a historic Satan?"

The Descent is many things: adventurous, scary, philosophical, religious, and hopeful. At the same time, it can be a little slow, a little depressing, and sometimes predictable.

The narrative begins with several related stories, set all over the world. A group of climbers are stranded in a cave after a surprise snowstorm... A nun stationed in Africa discovers a proto-human species and hears whisperings of a being called Older-Than-Old... In Bosnia, something is stealing massacred bodies from mass graves...

...with grisly results.

It is soon discovered that humans are not alone on Earth - that is, they may no longer be the dominant species. In fact, there is a massive underground system deep under the crust of the planet, developed by human-like creatures over millions of years. They are rarely seen, but are vicious. The few people who have escaped from their clutches are irreparably harmed, both physically and psychologically.

There have been sightings of these creatures over the centuries, but they soon begin to journey to the surface more often than ever before. Given the scientific name Homo hadalis and nicknamed "hadals," the world is soon forced to accept the fact that humans are not alone. The idea that aliens would come from below rather than above is shocking.

The story focuses on several main characters, or groups of characters. Some are seeking Satan- not just pure evil, but an actual, embodied King of Hell. Armed with the belief that "He" exists, then it's only natural he can be destroyed.

Additionally, some are looking to conquer this underworld and make it a military stronghold (because of course they are). Scientists are hoping to discover new plants, animals, insects, and resources. And one woman is attempting to pinpoint the beginning of language.

Lastly, the hadals. What do they seek?

With so many variables and storylines, one might think that The Descent is just too much. Luckily, Long weaves these stories simultaneously, allowing his characters to grow from their predetermined "identities" into so much more. The differences between the humans and hadals seem immense at first, but seem to diminish as the novel progresses. Long's grasp of the human condition is eerily accurate, which is also a little depressing, to be honest.

The Descent is a good book. It's not great, and that's mainly because of long periods of nothing happening. But it was very different from books I normally read, so it was fairly refreshing for me. It has something for everyone at some point (adventure, horror, romance, philosophic wonderment, etc.), but that might not be enough to get through the whole thing.

**I don't know if this novel was an inspiration for the film of the same name, because I haven't seen it, but there are many similarities in the plots (or at least, from what I read at imdb).**

THIS STORY IS HYPOTHETICAL

2011-05-17T20:25:00.001-04:00

So, hypothetically, say someone was driving down an Ann Arbor street, at or maybe possibly above the posted speed limit, when, all of a sudden, some doucher in a Land Rover wouldn't share the road and I, I mean, someone, was forced to swerve toward the curb and possibly hit the right side mirror on a garbage can that someone forgot to remove from the fucking street and this happened:

What would one do to fix this? I'm just wondering. Hypothetically.

Blood, Bones, and Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef

2011-05-16T21:29:00.002-04:00

In her satisfying memoir, Blood, Bones, and Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef, Gabrielle Hamilton invites the reader into not only her New York City restaurant, Prune, but her entire life. In fact, this memoir is just as much a story of family as it is of food.

BB&B is divided into three sections: Blood, her adolescence, wild teen years, and her start in the food world; Bones, the structure that led her to where she is today - college experiences, travel, opening her restaurant; and Butter, her life as a restaurant owner, head chef, wife, and mother.

Hamilton is driven by food, but not just because she enjoys cooking. The thought of cooking - preparing, eating, sharing, and providing - is what makes her a chef. She wants customers at Prune to feel as she felt when traveling across Europe and Asia - hungry and alone - to feel as deliriously happy as she did when she encountered people who took pity on her, fed her, and gave her a place to rest.

Hamilton's planned, multi-year "disappearance" in Europe is a tale that could stand on its own, but its inclusion in BB&B is just part of what makes her book so delectable. Overall, BB&B is more about family than anything else. Hamilton's relationship tales - with her parents, her siblings, her friends, and her husband and children - are peppered throughout the book and are so complementary to her narrative, that's it almost immediately obvious that she holds an MFA in creative writing. Her descriptions of food make you not only hungry, but leave you yearning for whatever it is that she's describing.

Her strained relationship with her divorced parents clearly marks her life trajectory, cements her choices, and pushes her to be an adult long before she is ready. She makes decisions that will change her life, and some of her choices are absolutely perplexing to the reader.

Personally, I had a bit of a problem with the final third of the book. While I loved reading about her summers in Italy with her husband's family, some felt a little too personal. I almost felt like I was eavesdropping on very private feelings and conversations. But since Hamilton was clearly writing a memoir - not just a chef's memoir - every word is important.

Green Beans with Eggs, Cilantro, and Pine Nuts

2011-05-15T13:13:00.001-04:00

My latest issue of Food & Wine magazine had a ton of recipes I wanted to try, but this one was at the top of my list. It's amazing how the different ingredients complement each other. It's traditionally served cold, but I tried it when it was still warm. And it was wonderful.

There were a few alterations to my dish - mostly I omitted the spicy stuff and used pine nuts instead of walnuts. Because I didn't have walnuts.

1 pound green beans, cut into 2-inch pieces
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 small onion, finely chopped
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 cup cilantro, chopped
2 tablespoons toasted pine nuts

Cook green beans in boiling, salted water for six minutes. Drain and set aside to cool.

Melt the butter into the vegetable oil. Add the onion and cook until translucent, about 7 minutes. Pour in the eggs and scramble over medium heat to your desired done-ness.

Mix the eggs with the beans. Toss with chopped garlic, cilantro, and pine nuts. Serve warm or chilled.

About Five Minutes Before a Storm

2011-05-13T23:57:00.000-04:00

So I'm Getting Implants

2011-05-12T09:33:00.004-04:00

It's time, you guys. I'm not happy with things the way they are. So I am getting implants. I had my consultation the other day, and I am still coming down from the experience.

Also, just to be clear, I'm talking about oral implants. Teeth, you guys.

Hee!

(Mike saw paperwork on the table that said "something, something implants" and I thought he was going to lose it. "You don't need implants! What's going on?!?!?!")

Anyway, remember how I once told y'all about my snaggleteeth and my years and years of orthodontics? Well, my little retainer thing that has my fake teeth on it? It's now over twelve years old and I live in fear of the day that I will break the thing and have to walk around without eye teeth looking like Bugs Bunny.

My dentist referred me to an oral surgeon, and to make a long story short, it's going to take nine months to complete the process, it's going to cost an assload, and it's going to have a pretty long recovery time in which I will most likely have black eyes and have to be on vicodin.

I've heard there's a nice market for vicodin. I'm just saying.

Anyway, the fact that I've never had teeth there - the baby teeth fell out and there were no adult teeth to replace them - is a bad, bad thing. There is no bone available for the implants to be rooted, and therefore I have to have a bone graft. A BONE GRAFT.

I don't like the sound of this.

This bone can come from my lower jaw, which will be the first phase, and then implanted into my upper jaw. Apparently they then inject the area with my own blood which does something magical, and helps it heal.

If I'm not amenable to that, they can use bone from a cadaver (a cadaver!), which would make me PART ZOMBIE, which would also be awesome.

So once the BONE GRAFT is done, it will take six months to recover as the bone figures out that it need to be part of my upper jaw. Also, since they are messing with my face, I will most likely have two black eyes. So, pretty!

I FORGOT THE BEST PART, YOU GUYS.

I will be put on a form of anesthesia, sometimes called "Twilight," which will leave me awake and alert, allowing the surgeon to communicate with me, yet I WILL REMEMBER NOTHING of the surgery or the time after. This is pretty much the creepiest thing ever. I will be awake for my fucking bone graft and subsequent blood injection, but I won't remember a thing?

How will this not mess with my mind, you guys?

The second phase will be the implants. Screwed into my freaking jaw. And then the screws become part of my jaw over time because, as my surgeon said, "the human body is quite remarkable." I'm not sure what kind of anesthesia, if any, will be used here. I'm hoping for a full-body knockout, but I don't think that my insurance will cover it. They're barely covering this surgery as it is.

Remind me why I'm dong this again?

CONCRETE OWL IS WATCHING YOU

2011-05-10T11:43:00.000-04:00

Secret Fight Club

2011-05-08T21:18:00.001-04:00

I drive past this building every day, and I have no idea what it is. I've decided that it is probably a K of C or VFW-type fight club. Or perhaps an illegal gambling den. Or maybe a brothel. The Midwest's finest, I'm sure.

There are rarely cars parked there, but always ton of trash cans, a few picnic tables, and piles of firewood.

(Note: I took these pictures whilst driving, something I love to do, and a bonus is that you can see where I scraped the mirror along a pillar in the parking garage. I really shouldn't be allowed to have a car. Seriously.)

Every once in a while, I'll pass by this building as evening falls, and there are forty to fifty cars crammed into the muddy parking lot. There is never anyone outside and there are no windows anywhere visible on the building. I swear I saw a trash can fire, though.

It can't be a hunting lodge or something, because it is in the middle of a residential area.

Help me figure out what's going on! It's driving me crazy!

Evil Genius Cat and Bobcat Say Goodbye

2011-05-04T21:39:00.001-04:00

After heading to my old apartment to gather up the few leftover bags and boxes, an old friend trotted up to me, curled around me legs, and meowed like a psycho.

She was saying goodbye.

PET ME. PET ME NOW!

Pretending not to care when I left.

Miraculously, the half-cat, half-bobcat soon emerged as well. While he didn't get as close (he never does - maybe it's because he's 50% WILD? I don't know. I still don't know that he's half-bobcat or if my neighbor was messing with me), he definitely knew that a kind of finality was going down.

Mew... I mean RAWR!

Bye kitties! I'll miss you and your shenanigans!

Hi, I'm a Cupcake

2011-05-02T23:08:00.000-04:00

"Hi! I'm a cupcake. I was recently served at the world's longer wedding shower. I look like a fucking flower, even though I'm a cupcake. I look flashy and sexy, don't I? I look delicious and sugary, don't I? You want to eat me, don't you?

Well, DON'T BOTHER. I taste super gross. And apparently, my cousin, Mr. Cake, is going to be served at the upcoming wedding, and everyone is going to be disappointed because he will also taste gross, and the only reason to go to a wedding is the cake."

FIN.

This Is My New Favorite Website, You Guys

2011-05-01T14:52:00.000-04:00

When Mike's home from traveling the country for his job, we usually watch ESPN, or a movie, or season one of 30 Rock for the ten-trillionth time. And I'm not complaining - I truly don't mind what we watch, and if sports highlights on a fucking loop make him happy, then I am happy. Besides, that's what books are for.

And 30 Rock is the best show ever made, period.

But my two favorite channels are HGTV and the Food Network. And I watch them religiously when he's gone.

It's not that he doesn't like those channels - in fact, he rather enjoys the house-hunting shows on HGTV - it's that I keep them for myself. They are my channels, and I don't like to share. Besides, he usually tries to Mystery-Science-Theater them, which is hilarious but I often miss entire sentences from laughing too hard.

So I know the shows (and the hosts, the subject matter, the recipes, the projects) pretty well. That's why Food Network Humor is the best find of the year for me.

Where else would you find stuff like this?

That... is more than I care to eat in one sitting.
One family member, sure, but the whole family? And a dog?
Bring me some pre-emptive Tums, please.

It's funny 'cause she's a fucking drunk.

I've been saying that for years!

I mean, if I had known flow charts could be that hilarious... well, I would make them all the live-long day.

If You Don't Watch Her Show, You Might Not Understand 83% of This Post

2011-04-30T23:47:00.001-04:00

So I was watching "The Barefoot Contessa" last night - I had DVRed about 30 episodes and needed to get into them or delete them.

So she was cooking dinner for a couple who had won a charity auction. Can you imagine? Dinner with Ina? It would most likely be the most awkward thing that I can fathom. Ina would show up in her best over-sized denim shirt and talk about the flower arrangements and how her husband travels all of the time and demands roast chicken every Friday night.

Note: The auction was to "preserve the Hamptons," or at least that's what Ina said.

But the whole time I was watching, I couldn't help but remember her most recent newsworthy item: A "Make a Wish" kid, dying of leukemia, wanted to cook with Ina as his wish. Awwwww!

Obviously, this raises some questions: Why not Giada? She's got the killer rack and the amazingly huge head - it would be like cooking with an x-rated bobblehead!

Compare that to Ina: When Mike was forwarding through the commercials, he hit play perfectly. "I didn't know to stop until I saw a person taking up the entire screen." Exactly, Mike. Exactly.

So this kid wants to cook with Ina? Easy-peasy right?

WELL INA DOESN'T HAVE TIME. She is SO busy. She has recipes to type and shows to tape and book signings to attend! She can't take an hour out of her day to cook with a DYING CHILD.

Oh my God. My dilemma is now, do I watch her show anymore? I mean, I probably will, but should I?

Anyway, foodnetworkhumor.com has a "Top 10 Reasons Ina Garten Rejected the "Make a Wish" Foundation Boy," and it's much funnier than anything I came up with. Because honestly, one needs good vanilla in one's pantry at all times.

Let the Right One In

2011-04-29T10:29:00.002-04:00

Oskar is a lonely kid. Overweight and bullied at school, he's allowed himself to fall into routines just to avoid the daily beatings and constant humiliations from his peers. Strangely macabre, he collects newspaper articles about murders and reads stories about Jack the Ripper. Living in a manufactured town that seems to be forever stuck in a loop, people go about their business, their routines, letting each day end and the next begin the exact same way as the day before.

But as several grisly murders make the community, routines are chucked to the sideroads, and the community is forever wary of what lies in the darkness.

Oskar soon befriends Eli, a girl who has moved into his complex. She's a little weird, though. He never sees her during the day, she never seems to be properly dressed, and she... smells horrible. But she's nice to him, which is a welcome and desperately sought form of affection.

With an intertwining cast of colorful, perfectly constructed characters, they are all somehow touched by Eli. Oskar benefits the most from his friendship, growing into his own confidence and making adult decisions that will forever change his life.

This is a chilling, haunting book, and a welcome twist to the vampire genre. However cliched those adjectives are, they are the absolute best ways to describe John Ajvide Lindqvist's novel. On the one hand, a sweet coming-of-age tale, on the other, a vicious attack on the dangers of complacency, Let the Right One In is one of the best books I've read in years.

Anthropologie, You Make Too Many Weird Things That I Want

2011-04-28T08:58:00.004-04:00

Is it bad that I want to spend $58 on a watering can when I don't have anything to water?

Evil Genius Cat #2?

2011-04-27T15:41:00.003-04:00

I love living with Mike, believe me, but there were bound to be a few things that I would miss about living in my little place in Ann Arbor.

I miss my back deck and feeling like I was amongst the branches of the trees in my backyard; I miss my backyard just because I had a backyard; I miss my neighborhood for its relatively quiet yet crazy hippies...

But most of all, I miss Evil Genius Cat. For the last few chilly months, he was huddled inside the neighbor's house, most likely curled up on someone's feet or possibly blocking the television, rarely venturing outside. Whenever he was outside, however, he was always waiting for me to come walking down the sidewalk after work.

Where have I been? Where have YOU been?
I swear to GOD, if you don't pet me I will end you. NOW.

He did make an appearance when I was packing up recently, which was nice, but I'm hoping to see him next week, when I get the remainder of my junk from the apartment.

In the meantime, I walked out of my new place to find this on the doorstep:

Look at how fat and large and orange I am!
Love me! LOVE ME.

Hooker Prom!

2011-04-26T21:42:00.002-04:00

When I stopped for tea the other morning, I passed by a bridal shop in the same shopping center. With prom right around the corner, I wasn't surprised to see some prom dresses in the window, but I was surprised to see... these:

Hello, I am here for the garden party.
I forgot my hat, though. And my panties.
Oh, my nipple's showing? Aha ha ha!

I wasn't sure which animal print would look best.
So I got ALL of them, including the rare rosy pink giraffe.
He... didn't die quietly.

This one must be from Beauty and the Beast LIVE!
Sure it looks tame, but the back is actually cut out to reveal assless chaps.
"Please enter this way?" INDEED.

This... I sort of like.
It's whimsically pretty.

Most recently paired with a turban and worn by Joan Collins on Dynasty.

And after prom, we are going FLAMENCO DANCING.

True story: Rupaul wore this on a recent African safari.

New View: Foggy

2011-04-24T09:30:00.006-04:00

This is the view from the front door of the condo, and I love it. There are so many birds and squirrels in there, being merry.

I have to admit, this is a better view than that from my beloved balcony. I saw birds from there occasionally, yes, but I mostly saw into the next door neighbor's backyard, where they kept things that they must have obsessively picked up off of curbs and at garage sales.

Soon, these trees will have leaves, and the birds will frolic. Frolic!

Curly, Evil, Murderous Trees, or Misunderstood Freaks?

2011-04-23T09:11:00.004-04:00

I don't know why I am so obsessed with these trees, but I live in constant awe/fear of them. On the one hand, they just want to grow and be merry, but they have been trimmed into a grotesque shape to suit our electrical needs.

On the other hand, they look like they are transplants from Return to Oz, ready to murder at a moment's notice.

I snapped these shots when stuck behind a school bus or something equally irritating that involved children, and I was especially drawn to the curly branch of this tree:

It's curly and awesome, and yet TERRIFYING.

Oh My God, Why Did She Use Those Quotes? Why??!

2011-04-22T08:52:00.007-04:00

So I've moved in with Mike, almost completely. Some of my random junk still remains at my apartment, because my hippie landlord gave me until the end of April to get everything out.

Well, she decided on an early return to Ann Arbor from North or South Carolina - or wherever the fuck she goes in the winter to smoke whatever the hell she smokes - which has seriously thrown my gradual moving plan into a whirlwind.

She noticed that the furniture was gone, yet other things remained. The closets still held shoes and coats and boxes. The kitchen looked untouched, with glasses and dishes still on the shelves. And Lord help her if she opened the fridge, because whatever smells she encountered were entirely her fault.

Her fault!

So she predictably freaked the fuck out and started calling and emailing me, demanding that I retrieve my things.

The next day, she had relaxed and apologized for her crabbiness, and I got this email:

"Actually Tuesday at 4:00 isn't going to work for me. I have a "thing" from about 7pm through about 2am and I'm going to need that time to sleep and get ready or I won't make my "events." I had the same situation today but because I didn't get my nap in, I came home at 10:00 and missed stuff. Anyway, after Tuesday everybody will be gone and you can come anytime."

What "thing?" Why the quotes? What "events?" What is she talking about!??!? Why does she need to rest?

This is quite disturbing.

Obviously, my first thought is that she was attending some kind of multi-day hippie orgy. This would make the most sense, as she is a total hippie, and old enough that a daily nap would be pretty much necessary. Especially if she was resting up for such "events."

I later discovered that she was attending a bunch of concerts and parties related to the fact that Iggy Pop and the Stooges were back in town. Kind of a disappointment, sure, but I suppose I should be relieved that she wasn't hosting hippie orgies at my old apartment.

The orgy leader?

The Day Sammy Drove to the Mall

2011-04-21T09:30:00.002-04:00

The end.

P.S. Why are we so weird?

This is Why They Shouldn't Allow Internet At Work

2011-04-19T13:39:00.006-04:00

Okay, so clearly I loves me some internets, and I just can't ignore stuff like regretsy, look at this fucking hipster, and one of my all-time favorites: passive aggressive notes. Today I bring you: The Wu-Tang Name Generator.

So I clearly spent about twenty minutes plugging in the names of everyone I know including my boss. But his result was boring, so I bring you:

--Me: Quiet Worlock
--Mike: Tha Overlord

I have a feeling that Mike will enjoy his result, but I don't like that my Wu-Tang name has a tie to Crackpot Charlie Sheen.

But then, I wanted to know how different our results would be if I included our middle names.

--Me: Lazy-Assed Beggar
--Mike: Arrogant Conqueror

What the hell? Why does Mike get the awesome leader-type names, and I am deemed lazy? I mean, it's possible that I spend more time sleeping than awake, but that doesn't mean anything.

Let's see what other names generate, shall we?

My brother: Phantom Commander
Kari: Irate Destroyer
K-10: Shriekin' Leader
Emily: Vulgar Wizard
Tim: Dynamic Hunter
Helen: B-loved Mastermind

Okay, maybe I should get back to work...

"It's Michigan. This is normal."

2011-04-18T21:33:00.004-04:00

Look at this lovely, snowy day! It seems so nice and serene. Of course, it doesn't seem so nice when it's APRIL 18TH.

And everyone is all, "It's Michigan. This is normal."

NO IT IS NOT NORMAL. This does not happen every year.

Michigan, you and your weather are treading a very fine line.

Chronicles of Cohabitation

2011-04-17T23:02:00.006-04:00

Moving in with Mike has been quite an experience. When you take two people who are more than slightly OCD and overly organized and place them in a two-bedroom condo, you might think that the foundation would soon begin to erode.

But it's been awesome! I have come to understand that he likes things a certain way, and he has come to understand that I am more than likely going to change things and drive him crazy.

The kitchen, however stereotypically, is MINE. The only appliance Mike uses on a regular basis is the microwave, and I needed to drastically alter the setup. I only gave him a few minor heart attacks by changing things without telling him (like switching the cabinet that held dishes with the cabinet that held glassware), but now I've learned to alert him to upcoming changes, and he's fine!

Or so he says.

But I knew from the start that he was the man for me. Look at the closet:

It's so... beautiful!

Anyone who meticulously arranges his clothes like that is perfect in my book. I've been color-coordinating my closet since college!

PERFECT MATCH.

Of course, this is what it looks like now that I've moved in all of my things:

I... have too much stuff.