I am so loopy right now. I was just quoting 'Little Women' aloud in my apartment. P.S. Happy Birthday, Nick, Jeremiah, and Jason!

36 minutes and 41 seconds.

This is the duration of my phone call with Pops just now.

I was trying to file the FAFSA, and then I got confused about my deadline, based on state of legal residence, blah blah.

So I called him with a quick question and then ended up stressing him out (sorry, Pops. Bless your heart). Well we were stumped by two questions on the form and Dad whipped out some magical form that acts as a calculator and he asked for some numbers and I gave them to him and eventually he said "enter this number" and I said "how high!"

(That was supposed to be a play on the classic joke, "When I say 'jump' you say 'how high?!,'" and then pairing that with my total and utter cluenessness in Tax Land, causing me to just blindly do what my Dad says since I don't know how the H to figure it out on my own...Then as soon as I typed it I thought, ha ha, that's funny, because I should really be saying "how LOW?" because I made verrrrrrrry little money last year and so THEN I thought it would be funny if in reality I had said to my Dad "how high?!" because it'd be like I was acting like I was surprised at how rich I am when in reality I'm buying store brand Pop Tarts for a reason (i.e., not rich)...)

ANYWAY.

So prior to my phone call to Dad, I was calculating my gross income or something and it asked for my "dividends." So I googled "what are dividends on fafsa" and the first hit I got cracked me up!

One person asked the question: "What are dividends for FAFSA worksheet? in the income estimating what is that dividends part, I don't understand it?" and then someone replied:

"They are investments. If you don't know what they are, you probably don't have any."

To this I say (while laughing out loud at the person's response and the awesome truth of it),

"How high?!"

I don't know what investments are, this guy says that probably means I don't have any, moving right along. Next question, please!

I used to date a guy who was studying accounting...Maybe I should head over to the business college on campus and start, ya know, hangin' around...See if any cuties wanna help me with my taxes...

YouTube content analysis. Heyyyy.

Okay, so we're gonna try something a little different with tonight's post. I went to the YouTube home page, and you know how if you scroll down to the "Most Popular" section, how it has 10 genres of videos that are currently most popular?

Well I'm going to write, off the top of my head (ooh, writing improv) something about each of these topics. Not necessarily relating to YouTube, just in general.

Got it? Ready? Does this idea bore you? Well, to be honest it kind of bores me too, but I have a big day tomorrow so I can't spend too much time here today. :( So...

Okay, let's do this!

Entertainment

I find cross stitch to be quite entertaining/soothing.

News & politics

Umm...I've got nothing. Wow that doesn't look good. I'm in a journalism program. [Shoulder shrug.]

Sports

I went for a run today because it was in the 50s and 60s today and it was cloudy so it was delightfully humid. To be honest the run kind of hurt, but it was a good hurt. I stopped two or three times (which I don't usually do, so it was obvious I was struggling) but each time realized I wanted to keep going. So I did. Tomorrow's a definite rest day, though, because I think my body is super tired. Plus I have at least four specific times to be in different places with different people meeting about different things on my calendar for tomorrow. YUCK.

Science & technology

I bought my toaster cheap. It doesn't do the best job. But it does the job of drying out and heating my bread, at least to some degree, so I'm grateful to have it. Okay a toaster is an appliance, but it takes technology to make it. So...thus this comment is allowed in this category. Blog author declares this exception.

Most viewed

I have been watching (well, more so listening to) this video so much! I discovered it because the Shaytards were singing the song on one of their videos (Callie and Mommytard are sisters), but I've been going straight for the goods by pressing play on the music video itself:

Music

What other songs have you been listening to, Bailey? Well, until I found Callie Moore's gem, I was (and still am) listening to Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" a LOT (this video is so cool, P.S.):

Film & animation

The King's Speech won Best Picture!!! Yay! Totally deserved it!

How to & style

I'm finding that making my side swept bangs look good is not as difficult as I remembered it being the last time I had them. Well maybe it wasn't hard to style them last time. I don't really remember. Anyway, I'm satisfied with the simplicity.

Education

Education is kind of kicking my butt at the moment. I mean I guess I'm kicking its butt, too, but why can't we all just get along? Why can't we just read the books, but have time to read the books? And be able to read the books without losing sleep? And why can't all of the books be good? Yeah, I said it. I went there. I don't think that every book out there should have necessarily been published. And some of them maybe should have been published, but an editor maybe should have shaved off 100 or so pages first. Just sayin'.

Hey. If I ever publish a book, I'm not gonna want to hear a painful truth, but if I'm too long-winded and it's becoming boring to read on, then please tell me. I don't want someone to be sitting there with my book going, "Ugh, get to the point already!" I want them to enjoy the ride, and details or no details, want them (you) to feel that you are happy to be reading, not growing angry and resentful of my publisher.

Top favorited

Um, as for videos I have "liked" by pressing the thumbs up button this week, I have to say that among them this one from Shaycarl was pretty stellar. A man showing his emotions? Yesss.

Okay so this was a little long. And a little Shaytard heavy (but, you know, if you're a Shaytard lover, then this is a good thing for you. If not, well as we've reviewed before, no one is making you press play on any videos presented here at the DB). Here's hoping for a little more creativity tomorrow.

Smooches!

Seeking fellow Western trekker

Is it wrong to "test" your friends based on whether they'll move to the desert with you?

There is a (from what I can tell) very great journalism program in Arizona, at which I am looking for a potential Ph.D. endeavor.

First I went to Riley and Caitlin, because I've already told them that Dibbs and I have dibs on their attic to live out our cat-lady lifestyle while they enjoy the thrills of newlywed life and I continue to wait for Mr. Right, in the meantime whittling away my time with books and research (oh, research. Be still my heart).

They were less than thrilled. Clarification: they are totally fine, I think, with me living in their attic. They were less than thrilled about Arizona. Read on.

They want to stay up north--WHY?!?!?!!--so they basically shot me down. (Caitlin also told me that Dibbs will not be their flower boy nor is he even invited to the wedding. Rude. He's family. I mean I'm pretty sure her dog Phoebe is going to be at the reception. What gives?) We had a series of emails going back and forth, giving points (or no points) to Arizona, Kansas, Indiana, and Wisconsin. I believe Indiana scored zero points, even though the three of us owe our delightful undergraduate years in part to the Hoosier state. Let's just say I got the heck out of Dodge when I had diploma in hand, and they're planning on doing the same.

Anyway, I tried to reason with them, offering the benefits of AZ--NOT COLD, yes it's hot but it's a dry heat. Now Riley is one of those actual fans of the Royals, as opposed to those of us who brag about the 1985 World Series title but really only go to the games when we're really bored and could go for some peanuts and beer, so I tried to lure him to the West with a baseball angle. I reminded him that we know the guy who helped design the retractable roof on the Diamondbacks stadium, so we could maybe get free tickets to games.

My defiant younger brother (I wonder where he gets it?) replied,

"No more snow and no more humidity sounds like a boring winter and really dry skin.

Also, I care very little for the D-backs."

Ouch.

So today I tried Nick. I (stupidly) went straight for the baseball angle.

"Ooh! Ooh!" he replied,

"Baseball tickets! That makes me want to move to the 105 degree desert!"

Hmpfh.

I need reliable friendships nearby me if I'm going to isolate myself in the abyss that is doctoral study. Somebody's gotta take on this responsibility as my live-in counselor. I'll buy the peanuts and beer!

The things we put up with for (pet!) love

Okay so I am sick of searching YouTube to find the clip I want, so I'll just describe it to you.

Have you seen the episode of Friends where Marcel the monkey messes with the TV remote and sets it to Spanish instead of English? And then none of the humans can figure out how to fix it?

I might need to rename Dibbs "Marcel."

Yesterday he screwed up my keyboard. Like, in a pretty complicated manner.

Today he really outdid himself.

I called Dave, who helped fix my keyboard situation yesterday, and he seemed less than amused at my precious little ball of fur who makes me SO happy, Dave, and as we know keeps me sane.

What Diblets did today is...he rotated my screen a full 90 degrees!

Dave said that he doesn't know how Dibbs made that happen because that requires some complicated keystrokes. Then he sighed and told me to "right click and go to Properties..."

Well we got it figured out, but it was hard to do because the mouse was acting in a mirror image, portrait-instead-of-landscape mode so it was really hard to get the arrow landed on the buttons I needed to click.

Hahaha, this is so ridiculous the more I think about it. But he is so worth every last computer fiasco. Look at that precious little sideways face:

Haircut, keyboard, smooches

Holler!!

Guess what, friends, Bailey has a YouTube channel! Yay!

I saw some of those eye rolls, those of you who are less than enthused. Relax, you don't have to watch anything, you can just ignore that tantalizing little box at the bottom of this post. You do not have to click play.

Speaking of, should you choose to click "play" (you should), beware of the sound lag. I made this using Dell Webcam, and well it should come as no surprise to you that I don't know why there is lagging sound, nor do I know how to fix it.

So that said, who would like to be hired (for no pay except cookies and cat time) as my video expert helper person? For starters, you could teach me how to record myself without the sound lagging. Then we'll move on to bigger and better tasks, such as you buying me a camera. :) Annnnd, if I don't have any takers, well then this might be a short lived YouTube channel.

Oh, and I'm not sure why when you click on the little YouTube button below the video box it doesn't take you to my channel, buuuut my channel is: http://www.youtube.com/missdailybailey (I'll have my unpaid intern get this figured out pronto ;).

Now without further ado, in the words of Aerosmith, "just push play":

Colonel, send in the soybeans

How does your average American who is moderately accepting of Western-medicine handle a headache?

Probably pop an Advil or two, then drink lots and lots of water.

How does Bailey handle it?

Pop two Aleve, a Zyrtec, make tea and cook soybeans.

Method to the madness?

• Aleve--to fight monster, borderline-migraine headache
• Zyrtec--to combat allergies which might be contributing to monster headache
• tea--caffeine to further kill headache (I'm ruthless, but so are these headaches as of late, so I'm only fighting fair)
• soybeans--not sure I've had any protein today, which is possibly contributing to headache. Considered cooking a chicken breast, but they are frozen and I am too lazy to wait/do the work

Just for the record, it is safe to take the aforementioned drugs in their aforementioned doses together for my age group/gender/body weight (to the best of my knowledge), and I do not advocate any dependency on or abuse of pain medications. I am only here to sympathize with the migraine sufferers, and offer you a picture of the ridiculous diets that some of us adhere to after throwing our hands up in surrender. May the skull-splitting nightmares be far from you. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go show this thing who's boss...with my soybeans and jasmine tea.

Hey.

A massage would be delicious, but I'm on a budget here. Leave me alone.

Nerd ALERT

This is how much of a geek I am:

Today in research class we were fed a plethora of details and I was literally in my chair with knees bent, feet tucked under my butt. You know, how kids sit when they're excited. I was not too far from holding my raised hand up with my other arm, stammering, "Ooh ooh ooh! Me! Pick me!"

Well after some generic lecture, with some minimal Power Point slides, our professor took us into PAWS (formerly SPSS--a statistical software program) and was showing us around through the nuances of statistical calculation.

People, now when I say "nuances," I mean nuances.

These were things like, "Now if we want to include all data that coders coded as grayscale/black&white/duotone instead of full color, we select this here, and this here, and this here...And if we want a bar chart we do this...And if we want to exclude responses from survey participants who refused to answer the question or answered 'don't know/unsure,' we make sure we check this button, and we want to uncheck this box, and voila!"

Followed by,

"Uh oh. It seems we have an outlier. We've gotta go find it by inspecting our data set."

Bailey sits in her seat, thinking excitedly, "Yes! Let's find it! Data entry mistake!" Almost clapping her hands.

Everyone else in the class sits overwhelmed, bored, or confused (not to say my classmates aren't competent--these are some smart peeps, I just doubt they're as nerdily excited about survey data as I am. I will say that I think at this point my neighbor Kelsey seemed a tad excited herself).

So throughout all this I kept giggling at the subtle research jokes that were being made by our professor! When our professor would laugh, I would laugh. I mean, like our TA would laugh at something our professor said, and he's a Ph.D. student, and our prof. has her Ph.D., and then there's crazy Bailey in the back row laughing with them!

Not to indicate that being chummy with your teachers is silly. People. I love teachers, and I hope you do too.

It gets worse.

I cracked my own joke.

So when we first got to class this morning, we got our recent pop quizzes back (which Bailey the nerd did not do well on, because she hasn't been doing her readings--being a nerd doesn't equate with star student), and Dayne laughed at himself and showed us his, saying, "I spelled my name wrong!"

He left off the last letter of his last name. Maybe he's a closet nerd, and he rushed through the name writing to get right to the quiz he was so excited to take. I'll have to ask him.

So then when our professor was discussing the "don't know" option as a survey response, I whispered to Dayne, across Kelsey who was between us, "Dayne, you might need a 'don't know' option on the name portion of your survey."

He smirked.

Kelsey, who's not mean, and may have been serious when she said this, told me, "Good one, Bailey."

That's right, I'm awesome.

Smack in the face! From technology!

You know how sometimes we learn lessons?

Well I just learned both a life lesson (or maybe more than one) and a writing lesson.

I typed a solid blog post just now, edited it, tweaked it.

It kept saying "Autosaving...autosaved" at the bottom of the screen!

But when I clicked "PUBLISH POST,"

gone.

"Request could not be processed," or some crap like that. I was basically logged into blogger but logged out of my personal google account at the same time. Don't ask.

Ugh. Grumble, grumble.

Okay. Well sorry. I really think you might have enjoyed that post. Or maybe been offended by it. Perhaps a mixture. If anyone wants the synopsis, call me for coffee. I'm too worn out to type it again right now. And besides, it wouldn't be the same...

sniff.

A demain,

Bailz

Cat Dad

Just had dinner with my parents and Dad's bestie from high school and his wife.

Need I say more? We call that free entertainment.

And now Dad is having a heart-to-heart with Dibby.

"Oh, Dibbers! You're the boy! Yes you are!"

Dibby's smiling. :)

Photo albums are distracting...

So I am sitting here flipping through a photo album to pick out pics to replace those that are already in frames--some of them, no joke, have been in these frames since high school. Time for a change.

Well there are some real gems in here, including the pic of me and Dad, in which neither of us are actually high, but our faces suggest otherwise. Oh, and I'm wearing an ice skater costume and he's dressed like Superman, wig included. Small detail.

It was Halloween. We're crazy, but give us a little credit--we don't normally put on costumes and pose for pictures looking high. And I'm sure it wasn't our intent to look high, period.

Yes, I realize I am describing pictures but not providing you with a visual aid.

I don't have a digital camera.

I don't have a scanner.

I got a cell phone in August, don't rush me down Tech Lane any faster than I'm willing to go, friends.

Anyway. There's another pic, of me and Riley, when we were little and it's uber-prec. because Riley is holding a box of raisins in the picture. Riley has always loved raisins. Oh my goodness, he and Caitlin should have raisins at their wedding.

Riley, Caitlin, instead of throwing birdseed or blowing bubbles at you, can we please,

pleeeeeeeease

throw raisins at you?

Unless that's harmful to birds. Then I don't want to.

Oh, and can Dibbs be your flower boy?

Okay, I really did have something entirely different from all this that I was going to say in the first place. I just thought I needed a little introduction, and it's just gotten completely out of hand.* I'm sorry.

Okay, so there's another picture of me and Ri. He's a little booger baby, lying on his stummy, and big sis Bailey (read: future BFF) is lying on her side next to him, head on his back, hammin' it up for the camera. I tell you this not so much to brag about how cute we were in the (presumably) late 80s--I mean, duh, we've been over the fact that I don't have a visual aid, so why would I talk up my childhood looks if I can't even prove them to you?--but to tell you that I just noticed a significant detail about my outfit in this picture!!

I have a teal tee on, and then what appears to be a one-piece pair of pink overalls. But that's not even the best part. The overalls say "HOLLYWOOD FUN."

If I had a pair of adult size pink overalls here in 2011 that said "HOLLYWOOD FUN" on them?

I feel like I'd have them on once a week, minimum.

That's all I really wanted to tell you. Thanks for hanging out with me for this roundabout post. Smooches. See you tomorrow, God willing. Maybe I can tell you about the picture of me in my star-print jeans and chicken slippers (am I making that up? Hmm, I wonder...).

*Mary, are you sure you still think I'm a Type A?

Little ball of fur

My favorite thing about February 2011?

Dibby's newfound hobby of lying in my lap.

Sweet booger, in my lap right now. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr purr purr:

Keeping (prenatal) time

I'm currently tracking a post-it baby race.

Stay with me here.

That I am aware of, I know seven--

SEVEN!--

couples who are expecting (some of them may no longer be expecting, they may already be diapering and feeding at 2 a.m., I am that absent of a friend recently that I don't exactly know).

I realized during winter break, I believe, just how out of hand this number was getting (it's great that so many babies are coming! It was just getting out of hand for my brain's organizational system), so I devoted a virtual sticky note to the cause on my desktop.

It is titled "babies who are coming to greet us." It is pink. Which I just realized is ironic, because several of these babes are boys. Oh wait, I love to defy gender roles--in that case, the color is appropriate.

The list is of the couples' names, because at first that was all I knew for several of them. Meaning, I didn't know due date months and/or gender of the baby. Following their names is baby gender and due date month (and in once case day--C-section :), if known. My coz is expecting twins, so she and her man have a "B[oy] x 2" next to their names.

Anyway.

So at first the list was in a random order. Then I added months and genders as I found them out, and then I realized that I was still stressed out about this, because I was like,

"Well which one's coming first?!"

I've gotta be ready with my congratulations, and I don't want to look ridiculous seven months after a birth showing up with a card or a huge hug for Mom and kisses for (hopefully chubby) baby, apologizing, "Oh I'm so sorry, my post-it note wasn't organized well enough, so I was so focused on the August baby that I completely missed your April baby."

So then the list became rearranged, soonest arrivals at the top, laters below those, I-still-don't-know's at the very bottom.

I still have some gender question marks (Dee, call me when you've got that info ;), one for sure uncertain due date, one semi-unsure due date.

Today I was doing some facebook research on the "semi-unsure" and concluded from some wall posts that said baby is not quite here, but coming pretty soon. So I posted a comment of excitement, and then,

like habit,

headed to the post-it.

I moved the couple to the top of the list.

And then I realized--this has become a race. A post-it baby race. And I am the official time keeper. Okay, that's really God's job, but I'm monitoring things on the sticky note front.

Ahhhhhhhhh

I am

so.

freaking.

excited.

about the weather outside right now (my sympathies to those in the northern areas who may still be sporting a parka today)!

I stepped outside of my apartment today and felt the tremendous warm breeze, and it took me several moments and head turns to find a patch of snow on the ground. I eventually found some, but the point is I had to look for them.

I am wearing a wrap dress that Mama bought for me two years ago, and leggings that Ma & Pa bought for me last month.

P.S. LOVE that my parents have a hobby of buying me clothes. I have no idea why they have this hobby, but when they lived in California they would mail me dresses and such, and on their recent Chicago vacation they decided it was appropriate to celebrate Mom's birthday by hitting up H&M and Filene's basement to pick out duds for me.

Footwear? Flats, without socks.

Yessssssssss.

I went for a run last night, and while I had to wear bulky sweats instead of shorty mcshort shorts, I was running outside which is what counts.

Oh, and did I mention the sun is shining? As in, visible, not hidden beneath a blanket of clouds?

I used to love winter. As in, preferred it over summer. By far. I'm serious.

But I'm done with that. Bring on the sun. Bring on the springtime rain (because I really loooove rain--hey, don't act surprised at this complex personality that is mine. You're not the one that has to possess it).

Here are some reasons/theories why I've made the switch. I know you may not care, but I'm telling you:

1. In the summer of 2005, I was about to spend a semester in southern Africa. So I told myself, "Self, you better get used to heat, and go ahead and embrace that which is summer. Because you're about to live through about seven months of it." And it worked. I successfully made the mental switch. The only problem is it stuck pretty well, and I returned to the Midwest, who is not on the same wavelength.
2. I've discovered in my adult life just how much the winter gets me down. It's not so much the early sunset, it's just the confinement. I mean, I love coffee shops, and I like to be home by 9pm (11 on weekends), but when you feel you must be at home or a coffee shop because it's too blasted cold outside, it's just aggravating. Put that track on repeat for four months and you have one cranky--and often sad--Bailey. One reason I love the rain, ironically, is that it forces everyone to come inside and spend time together. There's less chance of feeling left out of social events and more chance to bond. But the rain stops after a day or two or three (again, my apologies to Oregon/Washington/UK residents). The only way to stop winter in mid-January is to hop aboard Delta and visit Tampa.
3. I generally prefer winter clothing over summer clothing, but I've also discovered in my adult years that I am pretty prone to being chilly year round, so I can layer cute sweaters and fun socks anyway. I pretty much always have a wrap with me in summertime movie theaters and restaurants. Duh. I'm an 80-year-old trapped in a 25-year-old's body.
4. Winter is approximately 1 million times more fun when you are a child than when you are an adult. Let's explore this, shall we?

• Children: Winter=sledding, unscheduled days off from school (which can lead to, if you're really lucky, school night sleepovers), hot chocolate, hot tub (in our former residence in Colorado, anyway--ahh, I miss that thing. Moment of silence, please), Nintendo, hopping in a car and being driven to the movies, etc.
• Adults: Winter=scraping ice off your car, brushing snow off your car, shoveling, going to work whnen kids are out of school, putting on hats, gloves, scarves, extra socks, and remaining cold anyway, not sledding, not playing Nintendo, driving in your cold car, either no day off from school or being stuck in your apartment for three days without any siblings to play Nintendo with, etc.

Okay, so I think you get the point. Sunshine=content Bailey. Winter=crybaby. Yay for the transition.

Brewed boundaries--lips off my java

I have this thing where, in step with my practice of being old, I wait several minutes after purchasing coffee before taking a sip, so as not to burn myself.

I had a dream recently (last night, I think) where I was sitting with an americano (hi, Katie) in front of me and the guy next to me suddenly picked it up, took a sip, then set it in front of me and said, with what seemed to be a mix of disdain and perhaps affection?, "Yeah, it's ready. You can drink it now."

I remember thinking, I'm not sure if he thinks I'm cute or if he thinks I'm ridiculous. I also remember thinking, "I'm not sure how I feel about drinking this now that some stranger put his mouth on this."

This morning in research class (in real life, not dream life) I believe I felt a genuine twinge of happiness that I was drinking coffee that no one else had touched with their mouth.

What a ridiculous way to hit on someone. And what a rude way to insult someone's right to behave 60 years older than her actual age. I hate it when people do that. Leave me and my cats and books and quiet time alone! I've done the bar scene and it's overrated.

Tired, no-longer-infatuated-with-their-twenties gentlemen? Call me. ;)

Spinster Sister

I'm pretty satisfied with my tally of valentines this year.

Five. Count 'em, five.

Their names are Mom, Dad, Dibby, BooBoo, and Yogi.

Never mind that three of them are feline.

Hey, they all let me hug them, two of them gave me money and a card, one let me raid her pantry, and Dibber McDiblets has sat in my lap or very near my lap at least three times today.

I've survived being a spinster this long, with a few cats and two awesome parents, I can withstand a little longer, right? Get back to me when my third and final sibling gets married this summer, then I might start to feel differently...

Happy Valentine's Day, my loves. I hope that if you're not cuddling with a human sweetie, then you have a pet, or talked with someone you love on the phone, or are eating some chocolate, or took it easy today, or just did something (wholesome, of course) that you love. If you haven't done any of these, there's still some time. By my watch, you've got about an hour-forty five left.

Sweat o' clock

Remember the Titans is on TV right now, and right now the scene is airing in which the team gets up while it's still dark out and runs, and then it starts raining, and they end up in Gettysburg.

It's a fantastic scene, literally beautiful with the fog, musically beautiful with the rising notes of the score, and emotionally beautiful with Coach Boone's speech to the team about rising above the hatred of the past and learning to play football like men.

(Let's not forget the beauty in the form of eye candy Denzel Washington, either. Mmm hmm!)

All that aside, however, is it weird that a pre-dawn run sounds really refreshing to me right now?

Good puppy

I received incredible news this evening.

Dibbs has warmed up to another human being.

Gasp!

Okay, to be fair, he has warmed up to Dad. But his presence in a lap aside from mine is essentially unheard of. Photographic evidence. Here is Dibby in a lap that is not my own. Congrats to Kyle for assisting in this scientific breakthrough:

Trouble in a gray coat

The drawstrings from my sweater's hood are tucked in.

I had Boo the cat in my lap, and she started to claw at the drawstrings.

So I went to grab the strings to tuck them in, and then she clawed onto the shirt itself, while holding onto the strings with her paws, or teeth, or both.

Then Mom and Dad stepped in with their advice/assistance, and Boo, clueless, just hung on.

Later, when the itching from her scratch marks on my hands had started to set in, Dad said, "Well, you shouldn't be wearing things with strings around her."

"Dad, I don't think I should be punished for wearing clothing! Especially when it's 2 degrees outside!"

Here's what he came back with:

"Well, then that's what you get for taking something that she had claimed as her own."

Can't win. Notice how he defends the cat, whom he pretends to dislike. You know, when he's not petting and talking baby talk to her...

Bah Bah Baby!

Someone has a tooth:

Someone is crawling:

Isn't someone pretty??

Someone can sport ponytails AND is a Chiefs fan. Taking after her auntie, good girl...

Someone has a pretty mama:

And someone is learning to read (that's a letter I wrote her that says "bah bah bah bah..." because that's all she could say the last time I saw her):

Someone looooves her niece!

If you can't take the heat

So, has anyone reading ever made a cannoli?

I was watching Martha Stewart today, and they were making cannolis.

It looked so. hard.

She was putting the dough through this press thing, I guess maybe it's the same thing you use to make pasta. And she kept running it through again and again, as it got thinner and thinner and I was stressing out about the possibility of it breaking.

Then they laid it out and cut out circles with a cookie cutter thing, then wrapped the circle around a metal tube mold.

Then they fried them.

And then after they were cooled, they filled them with a liquid filling.

It looked so complicated and stressful. The shell seemed so breakable, and the process was enough work that I could imagine one shell break would cause one to throw things, or cry, or both. I like to take on a challenge in the kitchen, sort of. But I think if anyone tried to advertise the making of cannoli as "so simple, anyone can do it," I might have to call them out on it. It didn't look simple.

It did, however, look delicious. To my knowledge I've never eaten a cannoli, and while they were making them I was wondering where I could get one here in town. Some things are worth letting other people do and paying for them.

Dr. Nancy and Ms. Positive Polly

After a perpetual stay in the Dumps, also known as last week, whether it was the result of me choosing to put on rose colored glasses or God slapping them on my face, saying, "ENOUGH of your whining already!"...

I experienced some positive moments today.

Now don't get me wrong, I tossed around quite a few negative thoughts in my head today, more so than the number of positives, but!

I tried to recognize the positives when they came about.

One was that I ran four miles today, after not running since January 27th. Whoa.

Two was that before entering the rec center, there was a full-on car brawl for lack of available parking spaces, and after circling the block once, during round two I noticed an available spot. For moi.

It really made me happy. I took note of the happiness.

The final positive actually happened at the beginning of the day, and it came in three parts. And each part came with a negative element.

What? This is day one out of the Dumps, I NEVER

I repeat, NEVER

said I was an overachiever.

(In case you don't know, I hate it when people call me an overachiever. I would be flattered, but it's such an incorrect label that it actually somehow makes me loathe myself as a twisted, backward result of being labeled as such. I guess it's like that famous story line where someone is misunderstood to be someone he's not, receives praise for it, lets the praise go on for a while, then hates himself for not only being a liar but then somehow doubly hates himself for re-realizing he didn't do whatever it was that would have earned him praise. E.g., in this situation, when someone calls me an overachiever, I feel the need to correct her, but then in correcting her I'm saying "Oh, I'm a total lazy ass," and then realizing, "Oh wait, that doesn't make me feel good about myself..."

I don't know if you followed any of that, but I digress.)

Ahem. So I agreed to go to this accreditation committee thing this morning, to give our program some feedback and, well, get them re-accredited. Now I agreed because I received an email saying I was chosen to help with this meeting and so a)I thought I was special and I was flattered and b)I pictured a room with maybe six students helping out, so I thought they needed more help than it seemed today they actually did.

So, after grumbling in the shower, in the car, in the cold, surpassing a coffee stop due to lack of time, the grumbling continued as I realized the room had plenty of people who had agreed to help.

But.

There was coffee for us. It was warm, and it was free.

(It wasn't very good.)

But!

It was there.

And there were muffins.

(They were better than the coffee.)

Part two:

During the meeting, people were going on and on about their great experiences in our program.

Now. I can see that we have a tremendous faculty here, and tremendous resources, and a tremendous number of classes, etc. etc. There are some faculty in particular whom I greatly enjoy.

But.

I feel more than a little rushed, overwhelmed, and lost amidst

SO MANY OPTIONS!

of course work, professors, things to put on my resume, and

SO LITTLE TIME!

to get what I believe to be an adequate amount of it done.

For example, I would love to take a class this summer, which I can do for free, because I'll have paid my dues by working for the university for two semesters and that is how it works. Which is awesome. But if I take a class, then that will mean I'm not at an internship, and just about everyone else in the program will be. So when I graduate, who's gonna get a job? I'm guessing them first. But taking a class is a good thing, I thought. You know, furthering your education. So why should I feel like educating myself is going to bite me in my underachieving* ass, come graduation? You see my pickle.

So, after hearing people who are getting their undergrad degree here, or already have, talk about all their ample time to make relationships, work internships, take courses, I couldn't take it anymore.

So I raised my hand and offered up my negativity.

Sure, people didn't like me for it, I bet. Perhaps my answer would have been a little more forgiving if I was drinking Starbucks, or Caribou. But this is certainly not the first time this has happened. Let's not bring up the time I bashed on Winnie the Pooh in my children's literature class in 2006. Yeah. Let's just...not.

Well after our dismissal, I refilled my coffee (hey, it was free) and my delightful friend Mary came up to me and said, "I'm glad you complained because I was wondering if anyone was going to."

"Negative Nancy, at your service," I replied, adding cream to my java in an attempt to take out the bite (it didn't work).

Mary and Nancy bitched a little bit more on our way down the hall, helping me sweat out some of the gobs of negativity in my veins, but then!

(Part three)

Something even more releasing happened (this doesn't underscore your assistance, Mary. You were a great help).

I settled in the lounge to work on my take-home quiz, and there were some other people in there from my next class. They were chatting.

And all of a sudden.

I heard Erika say how she went to a different accreditation session. And then.

It happened.

She said that she complained too.

I spun around in my chair.

"All of these people were so happy," she said. "Why are you all so happy?, I thought."

I found a fellow Negative Nancy.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Huge, cynically satisfied sigh of relief.

*I don't think that taking a class is underachieving. I just wanted to reiterate that overall I think I'm perhaps a normal, possibly underachieving person. But not over. Trust me, if you want an overachiever, I can show you some. I can recognize them because they don't act like me. They're too positive.

Busted by the fashion police

I saw my friends Deniz and Tony today.

Deniz promptly asked me if I got my jacket in the third grade.

"No, I got it over break. At Macy's."

Shortly following, as I was showing them how my favorite jeans had finally ripped in the knee, Tony asked if I had patched it.

"No."
"Well then what's underneath it?"
"My long johns with spaceships on them!!" [Raises pant leg to reveal them.]
"Those are awesome, but it's not that cold out! And you tucked them into your socks?! It's really not that cold out!"

Yes, it really is that cold out. High tomorrow of 17. Just saying.

As I was re-covering my long johns with my jeans--you know, to keep the heat in--Deniz said, "Wait, wait. Put your leg back up here."

He then proceeded to examine and point out each element of the sock and pant portions of my outfit.

Like an HGTV salesman, he said things like,

"First, we have a short, pink sock," while lifting the sock for viewers like Tony to get a better glimpse.

"Underneath that we have a pale blue sock, with cats on it.
Tucked into the socks are pants with spaceships on them.
And then we have jeans."

Audience member Tony then had a question for the model.

"So what you're saying is, your clothes aren't from third grade, but you dress like you're in the third grade."

Precisely.

Belly time

Let me preface this next thing that I'm about to say by mentioning that "Knocked Up" is on TV right now, and as I was channel surfing I came across one of those reality wedding shows where they showed a woman who was pregnant trying on a bridesmaid dress.

Okay, so now you've had the preface, and now I will ask my question/make my confession.

Haha, that made it sound like I'm going to confess that I'm pregnant.

I'm not pregnant!!

Okay, so.

Is it weird that I think it would be really fun to be a pregnant bridesmaid?

I guess I say that because as I saw that snippet while channel surfing, it occurred to me that probably a lot of women, if presented with the task/honor (depending on how you look at it) of being a bridesmaid and given their choice whether or not to be pregnant while standing in a wedding, they'd probably choose not to be pregnant. I mean, sure, some might just further embrace the fact that they're preggers if they just so happen to be at the time of a wedding, but I would guess a lot of them would want to be in their "normal" skin for a wedding, preggers skin for another time.

I, on the other hand, just think it would be downright fun. Is that weird? I mean, I guess I've always had kind of a freakish degree of good body image, so maybe it shouldn't be a surprise that I'm already excited about someday sporting bridesmaid dresses with a tummy.

Hahaha, who are we kidding? Clearly I'll be the last of my friends to get married, so I probably won't even have the opportunity. I'll likely have retired my bright colored dresses by the time I zip into a white one.

...Just FYI, I'm not like, looking into sperm banks or anything...Promise. Dad. :)

Smarty Paws ///

As I was sitting here thinking of a blog topic, Dibby took the honors upon himself. Here is your post from guest writer, Dibbs the cat:

;l.///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////"


""""//////

Impressive, eh? He also jumped in the fridge this evening (but exited when I called him--good boy). Such a smarty pie. I've got big dreams for that one.

:(

Attitude check!

Mehhh....

Okay, so I really need to turn the frown upside down. I think I was bringin' people down at the bar tonight. So...less TV, less solitaire. More homework, cleaning. I know, that sounds so dry, but I need some structure.

The good news is Dibbs has developed a new habit of laying in my lap. Sweetart.

I would (seriously) appreciate goofy cheer-me-up phone calls in the next few days. Four days of blizzard/being sick has left me worse for the wear.

West Pointe

Just try and watch this without being completely transfixed. Ahh, ballet!! I LOVE it!!! Their arms!

Sista

So today I looked up Tia and Tamera Mowry on Wikipedia, because it's a freaking blizzard here and you start to wonder about obscure celebrities' personal lives when you're cooped up for days.

Well after looking at one profile, I looked at the next and discovered that Wikipedia has supplied

the same picture for each woman's page!!!!

Really, Wikipedia? Are we that lazy? Or do we really think that identical twins don't have separate personalities?

Ridiculous.

Now if you'll excuse me I need to get back to my snowed-in life of TV watching. Christine's on in 2 minutes.

Phil Connors?!

Well even though this is going to register as a Feb. 1st post, from where I sit it is in fact past midnight, which means...

HAPPY GROUNDHOG DAY!!!!

For those of you who are not aware, Groundhog Day is in fact my favorite holiday.

Why, you ask?

Because there is a fantastic movie based on it, for starters.

Also, it's just downright weird. A groundhog? "Predicting" weather? I mean, if you're gonna make up a random tradition that holds really no actual value, yet it's popular enough that it shows up on several national calendars, then good work. I mean, think about it. People joke about Festivus, but it's not actually on a calendar anywhere. And I'm pretty sure elementary school students don't learn about it in the classroom the way they learn about Groundhog Day.

And finally. Well someday this will change, but for now on each Feb. 2 I look forward to the future Feb. 2 when I will realize my dream of spending the holiday in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, where Punxsutawney Phil the groundhog resides.

Seriously. I want to do this so badly. Whoever's reading this and wants to join me on next year's road trip, call me. Let's make this happen.