Operation Pink Herring

I before E, except after C

Here I am, innocently watching my Yahoo!LAUNCHcastTM video player, wondering why my "personalized" video station insists on airing videos by Akon.  You don't know me at all, Yahoo.  You just don't love me like Tivo does.

This new song, which is eloquently titled "Sorry, Blame it on Me" begins innocently enough, at least he's not crooning about all the Beeyootiful Girls who will break his heart.  Oh, look, it's a nice letter he wrote to his momma telling her he loves her.  That's sweet.

And it's signed "You're son, Akon"

**SPLAT**

Oh, sorry, that was just my head exploding all over your screen.  Blame it all on me.  The  mess, I mean.  I take no responsibility for the fact that Akon, his agent, his producer, his mother, and his video girlfriend with the cute Vera Bradley bag all failed fourth grade English.

And I just watched the beginning three more time just to make sure.  It says "you're".

Someone please kill me.  Preferably not by this method, though.   (See THAT'S why I have a mortal fear of Arizona.  If the producers of Mrs. America had only thought to consult  me, I would have told them that this was an accident waiting to happen.  I hope they're shaking out the sheets for scorpions.

I mean, I hope there shaking out they're sheets.  Sorry, blame it all on me.)

Happy Labor Day, internet.  Here's to hoping you're not assaulted by any offensive grammar.

I CAN HAS AMNESTY?

So, there's this gym I go to.  There are some things that suck about this gym: there is a 30-minute limit on all machines, the signup sheet is completely filled for the afternoon by 10am, and there is a very weird old man who likes to do pelvic gyration exercises in public view. There are also some great things about this gym: it's close to my office (and by close, I mean on the same block), the cardio machines all have their own personal flat screen TV with cable, and possibly best of all, during the two years I've been watching Gilmore Girls reruns from 5-6pm while simultaneously getting my ass in shape, I have not paid a dime.  At first, my department paid for my membership.  Then that perk was axed, a few months later my membership officially expired, and I have been gyming it up illegally since then.  They never checked my ID even when I had a paid membership, so I figured NOT having a paid membership would really make no difference.  And for about a year I was right, and I happily waltzed past the card reader every afternoon (oh, who am I kidding, SOME AFTERNOONS) and worked out for free.   The bored, young desk attendants were much too engrossed in IMing their friends and watching full episodes of Heroes on the internet to care if people were swiping in or not.

And then the sign appeared.  PLEASE SWIPE IN BEFORE ENTERING GYM.   I politely declined this polite suggestion.  Instead I just sped up as I walked by the swiper-thing, making sure I was too thoroughly engrossed in drinking my water/listening to my imaginary iPod/searching through my gym bag to make eye contact with the desk attendant.

And then, yesterday, I saw someone being gently reminded to swipe their ID card.  Which, you know, I don't have.

BUSTED.

I decided that since I've been freeloading all this time, I really can't complain about paying (it's $30 a month, BTW, which is not really bad, right?) now.  And so, this afternoon, I moseyed over to the main office to sign up for a real, valid membership.  I went to the main office on purpose, because it's two blocks away from "my" gym, and I was hoping that whoever was working there wouldn't recognize me.  Since I'm so unforgettable and all.

I walked in and was relieved to see a guy that I vaguely recognized working the desk -- PHEW, I was afraid it would be one of the dudes that I see every day (again, who am I kidding, a few times a week) and then I'd have to run away and come back another day.  Or send my coworker to sign up for me.  Or just never go to the gym again.  Have I mentioned that I have a paralyzing fear of being caught doing something wrong?   It doesn't stop me from speeding, jaywalking, or using the express checkout when I have 16 items in my cart... but it does make me start to cry whenever I think I'm "in trouble".  This has worked to my advantage in certain situations -- say, every time I've ever been pulled over for speeding.  It's true, cops CANNOT give a ticket to a crying woman, try it yourself the next time you've been pulled over (it also helps if you undo a button on your shirt and mention that you just got your period so you're really emotional right now) (not that I've ever done those things personally).  It's not so helpful in professional situations, or, apparently, when you're trying to sign up for a gym membership.

Me: (with a big confident smile) Hi, I'd like to sign up for a membership.

Gym guy: (looks at me) Don't you already have a membership?

Me: (shitting my pants) Uh, no.

Gym guy: But I see you at the gym all the time.

Me: Um...uh... funny thing....

Gym guy: Weren't you just up there yesterday? 

Me: (now sweating profusely, face bright red) Um, so anyway, I'd like to sign up for a membership...

Gym guy: OMG! You've been sneaking in all this time?

Me: Well, no... see, I used to have a membership, but then it, uh, expired, and, um, Hi!  I'd like to sign up for a membership!

He continued to rib me while I filled out the application, at one point calling over the security guard and requesting that I be handcuffed and taken to jail.  He was very nice about it.  And the whole time I'm trying not to cry and thinking OMG OMG WHY DIDN'T I SEND MY COWORKER OVER HERE TO SIGN UP FOR ME DON'T CRY DON'T CRY WHO CARES IF SHE'S JAPANESE, MY LICENSE PICTURE IS SO BAD THAT NO ONE COULD TELL ANYWAY OMG AM SUCH AN IDIOT DON'T CRY I SHOULD JUST RUN AWAY NOW AND NEVER COME BACK DON'T CRY.

And apparently that internal monologue interfered with my usually stellar form filling-out skillz, because after I handed him the completed application and RAN out of there, I heard a voice calling out after me.

"Jennifer!  Jennifer!  Come back!"

OMG HE KNOWS MY NAME I'M GOING TO JAIL HOW DOES HE KNOW MY NAME?

Right, because I just filled out a form with, among other things, MY NAME.  I filled out the 3 sections I'd somehow skipped, resisted the urge to cry, and ran back to work.

All this before noon, peoples. 

And guess who's too chicken to go to the gym today?  I mean, it's way too nice to run inside today, I'm going to take advantage of the lovely sun and run outside and enjoy nature.  Yes, nature, that's it.

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Also, I ordered about 150 prints of vacation pictures last week, even though I knew in my heart that Kodak would announce a sale the minute I hit "complete order".  I was too impatient to start my scrapbook totally non-dorky photo album to wait.   Guess what came today.  GUESS.  If you guessed the Labor Day Kodak Print Sale, you're right!  You win... a free gym pass, valid today only.  Disguise required.

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Also, did you know that it's not Friday today?  What is up with that?  I think it should be Friday.   I NEED it to be Friday.

Hi honey, how was YOUR day?

I had the day off today. Technically it was a "sick" day because I had a dentist appointment.  In reality, it was to be a mental health day, which is even more important to my overall health than regular dental checkups.  If I don't take a day every once in awhile to run errands, do the laundry, and just get some stuff done, I go insane.  And I don't feel bad about this questionable use of sick time because I'm never, ever sick.  I have only called in sick to my current job one time over the past three years, and even then I wasn't sick.  I had just been awake for three days and wasn't sure I could walk down the street without walking in front of a garbage truck, so I figured I'd do my office a favor and stay the hell home.

I had a typically full agenda for today: 10am yoga class, shower, eat some lunch, 1pm dentist appointment, hit up the library, do the grocery shopping, drop off our dry cleaning, get an oil change, do the laundry, make dinner, work on grouting the wall, clean the house.  As mundane as it all sounds, I LOVE these days.  I feel like I've gotten something accomplished when I can cross various tasks off my list, and I honestly don't mind running errands.  In fact, I adore running errands.

It all started out well enough.  I stayed up late last night finishing Lonesome Dove (and yes, Laurel, I did cry before it was over) and enjoyed sleeping in before heading to my yoga class.  The class was great and my knee (which I managed to hurt while walking up the steps in our house yesterday) didn't bother me at all.  I had a delicious lunch consisting of a chocolate chip cookie and a granola bar, took a shower, put in a load of laundry, brushed my teeth, and headed for the door twenty minutes before my appointment.  Just as I was about to walk out, I remembered I'd left the one and only shirt that really needed to go to the dry cleaner upstairs in the bedroom and I ran back up to get it, delighted that the stairs weren't bothering my knee even after getting my ass kicked by the yoga instructor.  I ran back downstairs, still with enough time to make it to my appointment early.  As I shut the door behind me, I had one of those slow motion NOOOOOOOOOO moments.   My keys were on the table inside.  I had my purse and the stupid shirt but NO KEYS.  And yes, I locked the door on my way out.  It's habit.

Ways to ruin a perfectly good day off: Get into a car accident, lose your wallet, fall flat on your face in the sidewalk, LOCK YOURSELF OUT OF THE HOUSE WITH 15 MINUTES TO MAKE IT TO THE ONE AND ONLY THING YOU RELALY HAD TO DO TODAY.

It's not as bad as the time I locked myself out of the house the day before Christmas Eve, right as I was supposed to be leaving for an emergency vet appointment and a drive to New Jersey during holiday traffic , when Max was barfing all over the house and Joel was approximately 250 miles away, and it was pouring rain.  Have I ever told that story, the story of The Worst Day Of My Life, here?  If not, remind me to do that sometime.  But still, this wasn't cool.  I really need to find a place to hide a key in front of our house, since this is, oh, I don't know, maybe the 6th time I've locked myself out of the house during the 4 years we've lived here.  And since I myself made sure that we has aFort Knox burglar alarm system installed (and there is an iron gate on the alley) (and a giant window box that does double duty holding dying plants and making it IMPOSSIBLE to get through the front window), there is no way in hell to get into our house without a key.  Jack Bauer could not get into our house, which is unfortunate because 1. I wouldn't mind if Jack Bauer broke into my house, and 2. I can't get in without a key either.

I called Joel, and luckily he works nearby and could get away to come home and let me in.  In the meantime, I tried to call my dentist to tell them I was running late.  Apparently, I'd programmed their number into my phone wrong, and the doctor's office 20 miles away, whose number I apparently thought fit to save in my phone under "dentist" didn't seem to care that I was "having car trouble".  What, not having a key to get into your car qualifies as car trouble.  YES IT DOES.  SHUT UP.

Then, just to top things off, a gang of nice gentlemen stopped to harrass me while I was sitting on our front steps sweating my ass off, which is always a sure way to make my day.  They were speaking to me in Spanish and I didn't understand what they were saying  because I don't really understand Spanish anymore, but I'm pretty sure I didn't appreciate it.   Finally I just looked one of them in the eye and said "Adios!" and pointed down the street, using the same tone I tell Madison to get back in the house when he sneaks out.  It works better on sleazy guys, because they left JUST as Joel pulled up in his big manly truck. 

I made it to the dentist, and I am still cavity-free, so at least there's that. 

On my way out, I found out that my dentist is no longer going to accept my insurance starting next month. 

But, hey.  At least I wasn't stuck in the office today.

Reader's Choice Awards

I am suffering from a bout of blogger's indecision.  What to ramble about today?  How I had to work this weekend and it BLEW harder than working on the weekend normally does (probably not the wisest topic, HMMM)?  How I sat in my no-airconditioning car for five and a half hours on Saturday afternoon trying to get to my friend's parents' house at the Jersey shore?  How much fun my friends and I had at the totally cheesy Jershey shore bars?  How I had to take the clock off the wall at my friends' parents house and bury it under a pile of beach towels because its ticking was driving me BATSHIT INSANE during the night, thus revealing to all my friends (and one friends' PARENTS) that I am completely crazy?

Or how about my next artistic endeavor, a mural that Joel has commissioned me to do in his team's practice room.  We apparently  have different artistic visions of what "mural" means.  I think I should take this picture and paint it on the wall. 

Joel thinks I should start out a bit simpler (since I haven't painted since, um, HIGH SCHOOL) and perhaps paint a nice Blue Jay, sort of like this:

Boring, right? 

So, seriously, what would you like to hear about?  If you don't care, perhaps I'll discuss my latest dream (it involved dolphins) or Henry's upcoming half-birthday.

What I did on my summer vacation

I don't know what has happened to me lately.  I've been meaning to write the vacation recap post since, oh, the day we came back from vacation, and here it is, fourteen years later (at least that's what it feels like), and I still haven't put the pictures on a memory stick to upload to the home computer.  Clearly the obsessive compulsive part of my brain fell out when I was jumping up and down trying to get the Lake Tahoe water out of my ear.

That's right folks, water was in my ear.  Because I went swimming.  In water.   I hate water, I hate swimming, I am not even fond of taking showers.  But the water in Lake Tahoe was just so unbelievably clear and cool (OK, it was COLD) and refreshing that I actually allowed it to touch my body... AND I ENJOYED IT. 

Oh, and I baked more of the now-famous cookies last night.   Clearly, I have been bodysnatched by aliens.  So let's just get on with this before I lose my mind completely.

I might have had a little bit of coffee this morning, BTW.  Could you tell?

(BTW, "BTW" is one of my favorite sayings recently.   Joel and I use it multiple times a day and I still find it mildly hysterical.  I'm don't mean we say the phrase "by the way".  We say the letters.   It's much funnier that way.  "BTW, you left the window open in my car last night.  Shockingly, no one stole it (not really shocking, if you've ever seen my car, especially lately since it's become the local pigeon's favorite poop-target)"  Or, "I have a meeting tonight so I'll be home late, BTW".  It makes mundane talk funny!  Try it!  Really!)

This is my first 5-day work week in SIX WEEKS, BTW.  And I might be going slightly insane, BTW.

BACK TO THE POINT.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by Operation Pink Herring

On my summer vacation I had a really great time.  My boyfriend and me went to lots of cool places and saw lots of cool stuff. 

We rode on a plane that flew all the way from Baltimore to Phoenix.  Phoenix is in Arizona.  One time I went to Arizona before, and I really didn't like it because someone told me there were going to be scorpions in my sheets and snakes in my shoes and I am scared of scorpions and snakes.  I got really scared when we thought we were going to miss our connection because our plane was really late.  I really didn't want to stay in Phoenix with all the snakes and scorpions.  But luckily we made our flight and it was all OK.  We made it to Reno which is in Nevada.  There were slot machines in the airport in Reno.   We got our rented car and it was a really cool car and Joel drove it to our hotel.  We went to sleep and woke up and ate breakfast the next day.  Joel found out that there was a Sierra Trading Post Outlet in Reno and he got really excited because that is like his favorite store.  We went there and bought some stuff.

I bought some socks.  They're comfy.  After that, we went to Virgina City.  Virginia City was fun and cheesy and depressing all at the same time. There were fake cowboys and some guy had a panther on a leash that you could pay to take pictures with.  I wanted to take a picture with it, but I didn't because the panther didn't look happy and it made me sad.

We rode on an old train and took some tours of old mines.

The tour guides were not very nice and talked really really fast.

I didn't find any silver which was sad.  My face got really shiny, almost as shiny as silver though.

After that, we drove to Lake Tahoe and it was really, really pretty.

We did a lot of hiking and it was really pretty.  And we did a lot of driving and it was also really pretty.

Did you know that Lake Tahoe is the second deepest lake in the United States and it holds 39 trillion gallons of water?  It's true. 

Here's another lake we hiked to.  It was pretty too.

I really wanted to see a bear, but we didn't see any.  The only animals we saw were chipmunks and this lizard who ran really fast.

We also went to see Squaw Valley where the Olympics were once and to Donner Lake where people had to eat each other once. 

We mostly just ate at restaurants, though.

One day we went to the beach and it was really, really pretty.

I really, really had a lot of fun and I hope I can go back some day.

The END.

Edited to add: No offense intended toward the fine citizens of Delaware

As we were driving to New Jersey on Saturday morning to attend an engagement party, I had the occasion to take special notice of the road signs along the way.  I'd like to thank the massive traffic on Route 95 for this rare opportunity.  Really, 95 went out of its way to make this trip memorable by first planting a massive traffic jam just south of the Maryland border and then following up with the requisite senseless Delaware backups.  When we finally got to the party, after FIVE AND A HALF hours of driving, we learned that someone else coming from Baltimore had just turned around and gone home after two hours.  That at least made Joel feel less bad for asking if it was possible to un-RSVP to a party.

On the way up, I surprised at how nice some of the signage was.  I'd never noticed this before, but is there a new school of thought relating to the psychology of road signs?  There was a sign that said "Please do not discard litter", and another saying "Buckle up!  We CARE!"  When we exited the NJ Turnpike, there was a sign asking us very politely to obey posted local speed limits.

Um, hello?  Isn't that sort of common sense?  I think the sign makers are thinking way too much about this.  I have designed a new sign that could replace all of these.  Enough with the "Please don't speed," "Keep a safe following distance", and "Don't throw your crap on the road".  Let's just get right down to it:

And while I'm doing the sign-makers' jobs for them, I'd like to suggest a few revisions to the iconic Delaware sign, too.  I mean, this does not really capture the true spirit of The First State:

This would be much more useful to travelers:

   

*Edited to add:  I mean no offense to the state of Delaware, its residents, or their pets.  Seriously.  I know that when people say "no offense," it usually just means "I'm about to say something really offensive", but I have no hard feelings for anyone or anything in Delaware, except for that particular 15-mile stretch of 95. 

**In fact, I've almost become fond of the Delaware traffic: it's dependable and reliable, and those are good qualities to have.  And by calling it "Delaware traffic", I just meant the traffic in Delaware, not the traffic caused by Delawarians. 

***You know who I am not fond of?  The guy in front of me who got in the EZPASS lane but did not have an EZPASS.  And instead of just running the damn toll like a normal person, he GOT OUT OF HIS CAR, crossed two lanes of traffic, and tried to pay the attendant at another booth.  He was an idiot, but I think he had Kentucky plates. 

****Nothing against Kentucky, either!  I've never even been there!  I'm sure it's very nice!  I hear they make great fried chicken!

*****Please don't kill me.

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For those of you who inquired about the cookie recipe, it's right here.

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I really do plan on posting about our vacation soon.  Seriously.   Right after I get back from spray painting that Delaware sign.

New to Me

Pardon me while I just plagiarize from the lovely New To Us blog, because I have a new thing that I simply must tell you about.

I baked cookies.  From scratch.  And they were edible!

This is big news.  I've come a long way in my quest to be a better chef, but baking is still my downfall.  It's just so precise.  It's so easy to ruin things.  And I still don't know what a jelly roll pan is.  However, since one of the simple pleasures in my neurotic life is using things up to make more space for new things (to be subsequently used up), I declared that I was going to bake some cookies.  We have a whole cabinet filled up with vanilla extract and sugar and spices that were bequeathed to us when all of our friends made the exodus out of Baltimore.  I've been using the sugar in my coffee on weekends (in lieu of Splenda packets covertly lifted from Starbucks), but that was just taking too long.   So I decided to bake. 

I found a pretty simple-looking recipe on the internet, and I made my first attempt a few weeks ago.   

(I actually had to go out and purchase flour because it turned out what I thought was flour was actually corn starch, and luckily I noticed this slight difference before I made Joel eat two dozen corn starch chocolate chip cookies.  I suppose that purchasing a bag of flour to use up a bag of sugar is really quite counterproductive, but you try telling that to the voices in my head.)

I burnt the bottoms of the first batch horribly (note to self: put on a damn oven mitt and move the rack up.  It's not that hard, really), but the second and third batch came out OK.  Not great, but not awful either.  I tried to get all fancy by purchasing a bag of chocolate AND peanut butter chips, and that just made the cookies taste salty.  Also, I thought it would be OK to use the Country Crock margarine stuff that we buy by the tub, but that made the cookies strangely fluffy.   Joel still ate every last one (or else he took them to work and threw them away, I'll never know), but I was not satisfied.  I went out to the store and bought a bag of plain chocolate chips and some real  butter. I even spent the extra $60 cents for brand name butter.  That's determination.

(And just in case you're keeping track, I've now purchased two bags of chocolate/peanut butter chips, one bag of flour, and butter in the interest of using up some sugar.  I realize this.  The voices, they're so stubborn sometimes.)

(I also had to buy more eggs.)

Behold the result:

Deliciously golden brown, perfectly sweet and not at all salty, chocolate chip cookies.

Maybe there is hope for me after all.  Let's all just cross our fingers that I can replicate this success in the future, because I now I have all this flour and butter sitting around, just begging to be used up.  But at least I've made a good dent in the sugar. 

Email is good because it doesn't require talking to people

You know what I love?  I love it when the phone rings, and unable to muster up the energy to actually talk to someone, I let it go to voicemail -- and then when I check the message immediately afterwards, there's nothing but a click. 

No, really.  I love it when someone calls me, and then hangs up on my voicemail.  It makes me feel like I've won.  Ha ha, caller person whose number I didn't recognize! (Or maybe I did recognize it, and I just really, really didn't want to talk to you, specifically!  You'll never know.) You wanted to talk to me, but I evaded you.  And instead of putting "Call Person Back" on my To Do List, I now am freed from the responsibility of taking any action at all.  I win.

Thank you, mystery caller with the 205 area code who just called me TWICE and hung up on my voicemail.  You just made my day.  Guess it wasn't all that important, huh?

Back, officially

Well, we're back.  Technically we were back at 12:30am on Sunday morning, but today we are back to real life: the grind, if you will.  Our Sunday-Monday Vacation Recovery Pseudo Weekend was spent staying up all night with jet-lag insomnia, plundering the Tivo cache, doing 179 loads of laundry, and trying to win back the affection of the cats, who took a vote and decided unanimously that they like the petsitter, who played with them every day, fed them treats, and sent me cute email updates (with photos!), better than us.  I can't really say that I blame them, but it would be nice if Max would stop sleeping with her picture under his pillow.

Lake Tahoe was fabulous.  Beyond fantastically gorgeous.  I knew it was going to be pretty, since I assumed all those hundreds of thousands of visitors they claim visit every year weren't coming just for the slots.  But I couldn't fathom just how beautiful it actually was.  Our first view of Lake Tahoe took my breath away (literally, hello elevation gain!), and I found myself saying "This is the most beautiful place I've ever been" pretty much every day.

As expected, I have a mountain of work to catch up on and a mile-long list of chores to do at home, but I'll post some pictures and a recap of our highlights during the week.  And after that I'll stop babbling about vaaaaycahsun and get back to being a bitter hag. 

Mish-mash and other fun stuff

Oh my.  We are leaving tomorrow.  I still need to:

• Pack
• Find my rain jacket (check)
• Go pick up my rain jacket from the yoga studio, where I apparently left it last week (oops)
• Pick up the dry cleaning, so I can pack my new dress
• Um, start packing.  Starting with my new dress.
• Go through my "shoe store" and decide what to bring home to pack
• Run the dishwasher
• Do the laundry
• Pack
• Clean the house (because I am really compulsive about cleaning before I go on trips)
• Give the cats Frontline
• Cut the cats' claws
• Try not to freak out about leaving the cats alone for nine days
• Congratulate myself on getting my petsitter note down to one page (single spaced, Times New Roman, font size twelve)
• Pay all my bills
• Balance my checkbook
• Take out cash
• Figure out how we're getting to the airport
• Oh, and I should probably pack at some point

I'm starting to get the pre-trip jitters.  I always do this.  The next step is to forget my sunglasses and/or the camera in the car when we get to the airport.  Then I'll relax.  It's a science, being this neurotic.

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Hey, remember the big hair controversy?   Well, I decided to dye it... my natural color.  I half chickened out/was half talked out of going black or darker than my natural shade.  I am a low maintenance gal, and I really did not want to get myself roped into a hair color that required regular maintenance to not look completely awful.  The last time I got my hair highlighted was -- are you ready for this? -- November, 2006.  Say hello to my leetle roots:

(Even Madison, who considers saliva to be sufficient as shampoo, cannot bear to be associated with someone so unfashionable.)

I figured anything too drastic would be a mistake, as I don't plan on becoming less lazy any time soon.  Also, I was really terrified that it would look awful and then I'd have to pay someone to professionally fix it, which is just not cool.   Oh, and my hairdresser told me that I "couldn't" go darker in the summer because "everyone goes lighter in the summer".  I don't really care what everyone else does, but whatever.  I'd pretty much already made up my mind.   So, viola!  I got my whole head dyed my natural color so that the fact that I haven't updated my highlights in a good 10 months would no longer be overtly obvious to everyone in the world.

So, that's that.  I now have dyed hair!  Hooray. 

On to more important things: how do you like the color we picked for the bathroom?  Personally, I think it is lovely.  But I may still be high on the paint fumes. 

While I'm tying up loose ends, I'm sure you'll be thrilled to learn that I finally finished The Wall last weekend.  I'll give you a few moments to let that sink in.  It honestly hasn't hit me yet.  Maybe it will once I figure out what to do with the millions of leftover tiles and plates I have sitting in our alley. 

Here's a picture from May:

And here is one from (almost) the same angle, taken July 22nd. 

I still have to grout and seal the entire thing, which I expect will take another full weekend, and photo document the finished product. 

And with that, I must be off to make lists that I will not look at while packing, because that is just how I roll, folks.   I'll have a computer with me on our trip, but that's only so that we can watch movies on the plane.  I don't know what the internet situation will be in the hotel, so, um, like, don't expect any posts for awhile, mmmkay?   

Have a good weekend/week/weekend... and don't have any fun without  me.

I like to have options

It was asserted yesterday that my office "looks like a shoe store".

I find this deeply troubling.

I mean, would you shop at a shoe store that looks like this?

I certainly hope not.  (And point taken.  I'm a slob.)

The very strange thing is that at home this would drive me completely insane.   In the office, it doesn't bother me at all.  Someone should really study this.  I fear we've unearthed a new sub-type of OCD. 

The other strange thing: I swear, I don't have that many pairs of shoes.  I've often pondered the gaping holes in my footwear collection (such as: I do not have anything to wear with a cute summer dress.  Nor do I have anything appropriate go to with a suit.) I don't know who owns all these shoes or why they keep putting them in my office, but I'd like to request that they stop.  Or at least that they start leaving me a little more variety.  Honestly, those beat up leather JCrew flip-flops are really not appropriate post-college.  Geez.