Just one of those days

There are days when I should just not get out of bed. Days so filled with bad luck, I would probably serve myself better by simply snuggling as far as possible under my down comforter while 24 hours pass. One of those kind of days just happened to me, and being the responsible glutton-for-punishment that I am, I left the safety of my bed to face it. First, I overslept, and since I had a long day ahead of me all planned, I basically made it much longer. Then on my way to work I spilled half of my HOT coffee all over my only clean pair of jeans (I really need to do laundry), which not only left a nice wet spot in a very embarassing area but also stained them brown for the rest of the day. Everything I touched literally fell to pieces. I broke a number of glass bottles, got the printer to malfunction, and caused a computer to freeze and probably almost crash. I almost messed up every project I had planned for the day, so really I should have just stayed home. Oh well, according to Ralph Waldo Emerson, this probably means I am going to have one hell of a spectacular day coming my way. I'm just wondering when it will get here. I may miss it by staying in bed.

Shout out to my talented sis!

I just have to give a shout out to one of my talented sisters. She is a great artist, and tonight we are going to go check out her paintings, which are currently hanging up in a local restaurant. I am always amazed by her creativity. This picture is one she gave to me, and I just love it. Can't wait to see her paintings!

My Little Friend

I have recently gained a new friend during my morning commute. He hops around, likes to eat crumbs off the sidewalk, and is not afraid to come within a few inches of me. No, he is not the crazy homeless guy that shouts obscenities towards the sky. I'll give you a clue--he has feathers. He is a little brown bird that haunts my bus stop looking for crumbs that people drop from their morning bagel/croissant/donut. One morning I saw him hopping around looking for crumbs. Apparently, the commuters were not our usual messy selves because he was having no luck finding breakfast. I just happened to be eating a croissant, and I thought I would help the little guy out by throwing him little pieces of the flaky crust. At first he was pretty hesitant, which is not surprising, being a native Bostonian he is likely to be very cautious and skeptical of any handouts. He would pick up the pieces and quickly retreat to a very sad looking clump of bushes next the bus stop. When he was ready for another piece, he'd hop out slowly and look at me from the corner of his eye as if to say, "Are you for real lady? Are you going to squash me during my next bite?" We continued in this way until he had finished my croissant and hopped away with, judging by my lack of croissant, a very heavy belly. I looked up, and all the other commuters were completely fascinated by the bird. Some people even had little smiles on their faces! Who would have thought that normally stoic commuters could be entertained by a little bird? I figured if he could brighten the morning of others by simply eating some breakfast, he deserves a little treat now and then. Now it has become something of a ritual. I try to bring bread or a croissant with me, and if the little guy is around, I throw him little pieces. He has become brave enough now that he almost will come within inches of my feet. It's not much, but I like to think I am making someone's day better.

Bored in the Midwest?

This past weekend was my darling husband's grandparent's 60th wedding anniversary. We got to see a lot of his extended family, which we had not seen since our wedding, and we ate lots of food (I think my husband ate almost a pound of steak). It was a great weekend, but I have to say that the most memorable thing about this weekend was the entertainment at the reception hall for the anniversary party. My husband and I went for a little stroll after the lunch for the party. Behind the reception hall, a pen was set up, and a bunch of people were standing around it in anticipation. My husband and I decided to walk over and see what all the fuss was about. Inside the pen, a grid was marked out on the lawn in yellow paint, and each square in the grid had a designated number. As we walked up to the pen, this guy was trying to get three miniature goats into the pen. We had no idea what these people were planning on doing with the goats until a nervous goat poohed on one of the squares. Everyone started cheering! Apparently, the object of the game was to place a bet on which square the goats would pooh in, and if they pooh on your square, you win! Can you believe that? I think only midwesterners could come up with a game like that!

Men with Claws

For the past year and a half, I have been noticing an alarming trend in the length of young men's nails in Boston. When I go to shake their hands or they hold open a door for me, their long claws are instantly noticeable. What was even weirder is that it was only on one hand. Were they two lazy to clip both sets of fingernails? Did they have some weird disease where only their nails on their left/right hand grew extra long called Mononailelongisis? Was this their way of sticking it to the Man? Even one of my male friends started growing his fingernails long. So I asked if he decided to put a ban on nail clippers, and he told me he keeps them long because they help him play the guitar better. I'm not sure how this helps since I thought that was what a pick was for, but being the musically-challenged individual that I am I can't really argue. What I can say is that it is definitely not the most attractive thing in the world to see yellowing nails about an inch long at the end of a big, muscular arm. Maybe it's balanced out by the fact that being able to play the guitar is pretty attractive to most women. Anyway, if you have ever wondered why some guys have long fingernails on one hand, now you know why. Unless they are trying to break the Guinness World Record (the current record is held by Lee Redmond, who hasn't cut her fingernails since 1979).

My addiction and more on the Shoe Nazi

I have been accused of being addicted to books. It is true. I love books. Some people may think that compared to crack or cocaine, books are not the worst addiction, but I am beginning to wonder. I get way too emotionally involved in books. I recently read a book about a women whose husband is a complete SOB, and as a result, I get angry at men including my husband. Also, when the main characters were eating popcorn, I got a massive craving for popcorn! Now granted this phenomenon does not happen with every book I read, but I really think books are my drug. They alter my moods and give me the munchies!

Update on the Shoe Nazi: I have been in the building where the Shoe Nazi works only twice in the past week. The first time she was not talking on the phone to friend/relative/other shoe nazi, so she did not say anything about my shoes. The second time she was replaced by a man (who did not appear to have a problem with my clacky shoes). Needless to say, I have not confronted her yet, and maybe I won't have to if she got transferred somewhere else. If so, myself and my shoes will be eternally grateful.

Bachelor Pad

Recently, my darling husband informed me that some of his friends think our apartment looks like a "bachelor pad". I was completely mortified! I live in a bachelor pad, moi? Then I started to look around our place. Yes, there is an ugly green futon covered with golfers in our living room. Yes, fishing, camping, biking, and various other manly equipment are strewn everywhere. Yes, my husband has pictures of himself with his friends who are girls around the apartment. Yes, there is a coat hanger shaped like a paddle and a stolen park sign still attached to its metal pole in our front entry way. Okay, apparently I live in a bachelor pad, which is perhaps not much of a surprise since I have never been much of a decorator. If any specific style would accurately represent my decorating skills it would probably be minimalist. So what can I do to improve this situation? Here is what I came up with.

1. Get new living room furniture. Goodbye golfers!

2. Organize and store various outdoor equipment, preferably in a place where they won't be seen.

3. Get more knick knacks. I've never really had knick knacks, but a bachelor probably doesn't have knick knacks.

4. Paint the walls various shades of purple, yellow, and/or pink.

5. Get flower-covered curtains. I have these wonderful blue striped curtains in our bedroom, but again, they look kind of male.

6. Lower testosterone level in apartment while viewing (basically, kick Leif out until people have seen the place; sorry honey).

7. Get milk. Okay, not going to get rid of my bachelor pad problem, but I definitely need to get some.

If you have any other ideas, let me know!