Operation Pink Herring

Rat-a-tat-toille

I've recently started watching Ace of Cakes, and I love everything about the show.  I love Duff, I love everyone on his staff, and I love every shot of the outside of their studio because OMG I KNOW WHERE THAT IS!  Most of all, I love their cakes.  Dude, these guys are amazing.  Do you watch the show?  Even if you're not into cooking, you can appreciate how awesome these guys are at their jobs... and some of the cake requests they get are hilarious.

One of my personal favorites was the rat cake they did for a local wedding, and I have been wondering if viewers not intimately acquainted with Baltimore truly appreciated how fitting that cake was.   I am sure that every large city has its fair share of rodents, but in Charm City... well, you just have to live here to understand.  It's not just that the rats here are common (which they are), or that they're extremely large (also true) -- it's more their audacity.  Baltimore rats aren't menacing, but they're also not afraid to show themselves.  They'll saunter right out in the middle of your path, look you in the eye, and then continue on their way, unconcerned by your human presence.  I remember one time in college, I was walking home from the library when a rat scurried across my path.  I jumped, startled, and then continued walking.  The rat continued scurrying right along side me.  FOR TWO WHOLE BLOCKS.  I remember calling my housemate, Liz, and leaving her a panicked voicemail that there was a huge rat following me, and that if I didn't make it home she should look for my body somewhere along Calvert Street.  And bring a baseball bat.   And maybe a stun gun.

On Tuesday night Joel and I were watching TV downstairs, enjoying the cool weather with the windows open.  Of course, this means that we can hear everything going on out on the sidewalk, including a group of people exclaiming over something they'd apparently run over.  "It's so huge!", they exclaimed, "I don't think I've ever seen one that big!"  We wondered what they were talking about, and I crossed my fingers that it wasn't Mr. or Mrs. Duck. 

The next day, Joel asked if I'd seen the rat when I left for work.  I hadn't.  "It's huge," he told me.  "Those people weren't kidding.  I saw it." 

When I got home he showed it to me, and I immediately got out the camera.  Of course I did.  People, this rat is material for the Guinness Book of World Records.  It was simply too big not to photograph. 

(If you are afraid of rats, I strongly encourage you to NOT look at the picture below)

(In fact, even if you aren't afraid of rats, you might not want to look if you are eating breakfast.  Or lunch.  Or if you just don't like pictures of dead rodents.)

I didn't really feel that Joel's foot provided an accurate frame of reference. So, I recruited Madison for the job.

 

(Do you like how Madison is less interested in the giant dead rodent at his feet, and more entranced by the sweet, sweet freedom all around him?)

Madison is an average sized, approximately 10-lb cat.  I am pretty sure this rat is the biggest one ever. 

You're all very welcome.  You may now carry on with your day.

Venue searching, new beds and assorted other goodness

Although we've still not set a date yet (SO STOP ASKING EVERY DAY, FRONT DESK LADY, SHEESH!), my thoughts have been preoccupied lately with all things wedding.   Every morning when I look in the mirror, I contemplate whether my hair has grown any longer, whether I should get a trim this week or push it off a little longer, whether I should go for a casual, flowy down-do for The Big Day or perhaps a simple, low bun instead?   I wonder whether I should look for a makeup artist and risk having a panic attack when she tries to put foundation on my face, or if I should just go to the Clinique counter a few weeks before, stock up on some new mascara and lip gloss and call it a day.  Ooh, maybe I should ask Sister-Wife Jenny to do my wedding makeup!  She's good at makeup, and she won't try to sneakily put foundation on me.  That's a great idea!

And this is all before I've finished brushing my teeth in the morning.

I've also been suffering a compulsion to buy things, especially things that are on sale, "for the wedding".  Like that three-strand pearl necklace I saw in the Macy's One Day Sale circular, marked down from $400 to $99: I was thiscloseto buying it.   What if I never see such a great deal again?   What if I can't find this exact necklace next month?  And wouldn't it be nice to have another thing checked off the list, one less item to worry about down the line?   I tell you, I almost had myself talked into that necklace.  And the matching earrings.  And a pair of shoes I saw on Piperlime.  All these things, for a wedding whose date has not even been set yet.  Is this what "nesting" is like?  Because I think maybe I should have bought that necklace.  Damnit.

Although we still haven't set a date, we have been making excellent progress in Operation Wedding.  Over the past few weekends, Joel and I have visited no less than eleven potential weddings venues.  I have almost finished entering these all into an exel spreadsheet that tracks the date we visited, their prices on everything from ceremony fee to chivari chair rentals, the cost difference between Saturday and Sunday, and everything in between.  So far, we have four real contenders.  And a dozen more places to look at.  (What can I say, I like to be thorough!)   While time consuming, I'm really quite enjoying the great venue search.  I didn't think that driving around all around Maryland every Saturday would be enjoyable at all. In fact, I kind of thought it was going to suck.   But it doesn't suck!  It's actually been a fun way to spend time together.  The set appointments force us out of bed at a reasonable hour, and with coffee in hand, we set of to conquer another corner of the state.  Driving through the beautiful scenery in Western Maryland on Saturday was downright idyllic.   I can't wait to see which place we end up going with.

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After spending Saturday looking at four different venues, the only task I wanted to get accomplished on Sunday was getting the new bed upstairs, by hook or by crook.  Joel and I managed to get the boxspring upstairs by ourselves on Thursday, which involved some tricky engineering and a bit of walking on our neighbor's roof, but I had this sinking feeling that the extra-thick, extra-foamy mattress was just not going to make it up the stairs.  I'm a worrier, that's what I do -- and let me tell you, I was worrying plenty when three kids from Joel's team arrived on Sunday to help move it.  Luckily, we needed neither hooks nor crooks, and it only took the four of them less than 20 minutes to get the entire job done.  One of them actually said "That's it?", when I showed them the mattress.  "Dude, when people say they need help moving furniture, they usually mean, like, the whole house," he explained.  God, I love the college mentality. 

You know what else I love?  Our new mattress.

And as you can see, I'm not the only one enjoying all the magical little Swiss masseurs.   Madison plopped himself in the middle of it within minutes after it was set down, and I thought he was going to die a happy cat right then and there. 

I've slept very well both nights so far, and I haven't even been doing what Joel calls my Alligator Death Roll during the night -- turning over and over until I have managed to wrap all the sheets and blankets around myself.  I consider that a very auspicious start.  With all the money I'll be saving on Tylenol PM and coffee, this mattress is practically going to pay for itself... after about 35 years.   But you know what, you can't put a price on a good night's rest.  That's what Madison says, at least.

Thanks to the wonder of Craigslist, our old bed was sold and gone by Sunday evening.  During the 48 hours it was listed, twelve people responded to my ad.  When I informed interested parties that it had already been promised to a buyer, two people tried to offer me more than the asking price, and another wanted to come over right then to whisk the bed away first.  I turned them both down, of course, but I still made out with $40 for a 5+-year-old mattress and a slightly warped wooden frame (which was fully disclaimed in the ad).  The best part is, I only paid $20 for the set five years ago.  I think I've stumbled upon my life's calling: stalking craigslist (already do that), snapping up underpriced items, and selling them for a profit.  All I need is a partner who has someplace to store all my finds.  Any applicants?

Max was the only one sad to see the old mattress go.  I came downstairs on Sunday afternoon, after we'd carefully laid it across the couch, to find him sleeping right in the middle of it.  When the buyer came to pick it up, I swear I saw Max shed a single tear.  I promised him that the mattress went a good home, where it would receive lots of attention and plenty of Fancy Feast, but he still wouldn't speak to me the rest of the evening.

 

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An adorable duck couple was hanging around on our block yesterday.  I saw the male sitting on the sidewalk in the morning when I left for work, and I thought he must have been sick.  I mean, ducks don't hang out on city sidewalks, right?  There are plenty of ducks in the harbor and plenty more in the nearby park, but I've never seen any just wandering around the 'hood.  I thought this poor dude would surely fall victim to the stray cats that prowl our block, but when I arrived home that night he'd been joined by his wife and they were marching around together, quietly quacking to themselves.  I found it so adorable that I grabbed the camera and took a few pictures of them.  I wasn't the only one interested in them; the orange cat that lives a few houses down looked like he would have killed to be able to jump through that screen. 

>

I assume that the Mr. and Mrs. Duck were visiting because one of the crazy ladies on our block (the owner of Orange Cat) likes to feed the pigeons, and our sidewalk is constantly littered with birdseed (and pigeon crap, but we won't get into that).  I didn't see them this morning, so I'm telling myself that they were just out on a daytrip and they've now safely returned to the park or the harbor or wherever they came from.  They were NOT hit by a car or eaten by a stray cat, so don't you even THINK that.  No, I can't keep them as pets, and, yes, that makes me sad. 

Baby, we got it

All the pretty things I WANTED:

(1. Scooter, 2. Kitchen table, 3. Kitchen cabinetry, 4. Crown molding, 5. New front door, 6. New non-back-breaking bed, 7. Fancy camera, 8. A pretty wedding)

Aaaaand...what we GOT:

(1. New bed, Sick Cat #1, Sick Cat #2)

First of all, I'd like you all to say hello to the new love of my life, our ridiculously expensive (even though we got it for half price on Craigslist) Tempurpedic bed.   I am in love with this bed already.  I want to call in sick for an entire week so I can do nothing but lie on it all day long while the million tiny little swiss citizens inside it massage my back. 

The only problem with that plan is that it's still propped up against the couch in our first-floor living room, as we need about four people with superhuman strength to come and carry it up two very narrow flights of stairs for us.   Ability to bend the laws of physical space would be a plus, as we thinkit's going to bend up around the corners, but we can't be sure.  It's a whole lot thicker than our other mattress.  You know, because of the millions of tiny little swiss masseurs inside it.  If it turns out to not bend around the corners, would anyone be willing to lend us their helicopter for the weekend so we can airlift this thing into the third-floor bedroom?

And in cat news, Maxwell isn't doing so, um, well.  We begin kitty chemo this week.  Don't worry, it's not as bad as it sounds.  He just gets one extra pill every other day, his hair won't even fall out or anything.  Kitty chemo is just aimed at relieving pain and slowing down cancer growth, so it's only about 1/10 as aggressive as human chemo. 

Sadly, Madison, never one to be left out, appears to have kitty cancer as well.   It wasn't nothing, after all.  I'm still hoping it's actually his thyroid (which could be fixed), but something is definitely wrong with him.  I'm really, really sad, of course, but I'm taking this all pretty well (if I do say so myself).  Maybe it's because I'm in denial; both Max and Mads are still acting like their normal, happy selves... knocking over unattended glasses of water, licking Joel's morning cereal bowl when he's not looking and staring menacingly at the stray cats outside the window.   Or maybe it's the millions of tiny Swiss citizens in my living room.   Either way, things are good at the moment, and I'm just sitting here, trying to move that mattress up two stories with the power of my mind, and simultaneously hoping like heck that the thirteen bucks a month I've been paying for Madison's fancy health insurance isn't going to call whatever he has a pre-existing condition.

WANT

I feel like I say this all the time, but I really need to win the lottery.   Lately, I have been making a mental list of all the things I WANWANTWANT, and the reality is that we just can’t afford all of them.  Or maybe even any of them. 

We’ve been toying with the idea of putting in some new cabinetry in the kitchen for a while, and it just seems like this would be a perfect time to do it.  Next summer, if all goes to plan, we’ll be in full wedding-planning-OMG mode, and I’m thinking that probably won’t be the best time to be taking on any major home improvement projects.  Also, if the current plants don’t change, next summer will be the first time Joel’s family sees our house.  So, naturally, I want it to look ass-kickingly awesome.   Plus, new cabinetry will certainly help our resale value.  Our kitchen isn’t tiny, but it’s not big either, and it could really (REALLY) use some extra storage space.  Currently, we are using a white Ikea bookshelf that belonged to my freshman year roommate to house our cereals and other boxed goods, and that poor bookshelf is approximately 468 years old in Ikea-years.   Also?  It’s ugly.  So, if we’re using the logic that the new cabinets will increase the resale value, why shouldn’t we just go ahead and install them now, so that we can enjoy them for a bit first?  Right?  Yeah, that’s what I think, too. 

I am also dreaming that this new cabinetry will free up enough floor space for a small (very small) kitchen table.  Like this one, perhaps?

Why, hello lover.

And while we’re on the topic of home improvements, I also want to put up crown molding throughout the house.  The imperfect paint jobs (which I did myself, but it’s really the house’s fault for being so damn old and historic and UNEVEN) are driving me crazy, and I think some nice, simple molding would go a long way in improving the house’s overall appearance.  Again, why should we race around trying to raise the resale value when we’re ready to sell, when instead we could have it installed now and enjoy it for a few years?

While we’re at it, we also need to have our front door frame (which is an energy conservation nightmare) replaced, get the upstairs tub re-grouted, and find someone to fix the kitchen window that is constantly fogged up inside.

I’m also dreaming about getting a new bed (no pun intended).  Our current bed is another item of Swedish design (not that there’s anything wrong with that!  I loves you, Ikea!), and it makes me want to cry.  We purchased the mattress secondhand five years ago, which means that it’s served at least a seven-year tour of duty.  While that may be completely reasonable for some mattresses, this one has GOT to go.  I wake up every morning feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck, sore and stiff all over.  I’ve been considering just buying a nice pillowtop thingie, but really, this mattress is a piece of junk. An uncomfortable, kinda small piece of junk

Instead, I’d like this one.

And you know what else I want?  A scooter.

I have truly come to hate driving in the city (PARKING PARKING ARGH *SMACKS HEAD AGAINST BRICK WALL*), and I just think I cute little scooter would be a great, fuel-efficient way to get around.  I can just picture myself zipping to the Farmer’s Market on Saturday morning, or riding it to work on mega-hot days, or making an evening run to the grocery store without having to go through the soul-killing experience of searching for a quasi-legal parking spot when I returned.  I’d just park my scooter right in our very own alley!  As soon as our new neighbor figures out that our shared alley does not equal her own private dog run and stops propping a hunk of plywood in front of the gate, I guess.  Details, details.

Also, I want a new camera.  A nice, expensive one.  Mmm, I can almost taste all those deliciously blurry backgrounds. 

The sad reality is that (in case I haven’t mentioned this enough lately) we’re trying to save for a wedding, and as it turns out, weddings are expensive.  Even cheap weddings are expensive.  I think my scooter and my fancy camera and my cute little kitchen table will just have to wait, unless Santa is looking for something to keep him busy during the summer months.  We’ve got a chimney and everything, St. Nick!   And I will even put out cookies!

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In completely unrelated news, we watched the Tivo-ed MTV movie awards last night and I almost died laughing during the Ben Stiller/Robert Downey Jr/Jack Black viral video skit.  If you missed it, do yourself a favor and watch it here. 

I made you a cookie. But I eated it.

In honor of my dear internet friend, Lindsey's, upcoming nuptuals, I thought I'd share with you all my most recent adventures in domesticity.  I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but I have the honored position of Bridesmaid Extraoridnaire for not one, but TWO, friends who are getting married this year.  Both of their showers are coming up (like, SOON), and for shower #1, I'm a co-host.  My co-hosting duties involve cooking for a fancy-pants shower.

(GULP.)

I am determined to wow everyone at this fancy-pants shower with my three delicious side dishes.  It's not going to be at all like last month, when I showed up to the joint Mother's Day/Future SIL's birthday BBQ with the cookies I'd promised to bake for the occasion.  I was psyched about these cookies, let me tell you.  I sorted out green (my mom's favorite color) M&Ms for my mother's day batch and kept them in a bowl right next to the blue and brown (Future SIL's possible wedding colors) M&M's I'd sorted out for the birthday cookies.  Cute idea, right?  I sure thought so.  

I carefully measured all the ingredients, and put them in little containers next to the sorted M&Ms, I even remembered to take the butter out of the fridge to soften!  I did everything right.  And yet, the cookies turned out like cow patties.  Melted, crumbly cow patties. I guess I should have just stuck to the boring old chocolate chips that the recipe called for. 

(But all those leftover M&Ms sure were delicious.)

So, yeah.  This shower is going to be NOTHING LIKE THAT.  You see, I've gone and recruited myself a coach.  And like any good student, I've been practicing.  

The first recipe my coach suggested was this Spinach and Artichoke Salad from the Food Network.  I printed it out dutifully and made it that weekend.  I learned quite a bit.  For instance, did you know that you can buy roasted red peppers in a jar?  And sun-dried tomatoes?  And baby artichoke hearts?  I did not know these things.  But now I do!  This is what I like to call progress.

Also, did you know that Rachel Ray is a damned dirty liar? 

EIGHT MINUTES, MY ASS.  It took me more than eight minutes just to peel and chop the garlic.  (Of course, it turned out that it took so long partially because I didn't realize there was a difference between a head and a clove of garlic.  But, whatever.  There is no such thing as too much garlic.)

Also, note to other aspiring chefs with no natural cooking instincts:  When a recipe calls for fresh thyme, you're supposed to pick the leaves off of the stem.  Ahhhhh.  That makes sense.  Oops!

The first batch still came out surprisingly well, despite the thyme stems and the entire head of garlic.  It was a little spicy, sure.  But still, very good.  And I learned several things. Like, when it says you can use dried thyme?  Use the dried thyme.  Don't get fancy.  Also, when Rachel Ray says a recipe should take 15 minutes from start to finish, you'd better go ahead and budget an hour.

I made this recipe a second time when Jenny came over a few weeks ago, and I got the amount of garlic right AND I picked the thyme leaves off of the stem before tossing them in.  I forgot to buy the artichoke hearts.  And the red peppers.  But still!  It was very good.  Lessons learned from trial numero dos: make a damned shopping list, woman.

Next, I plan to perfect RA's Pasta Primavera Salad.  Um, before I start, can someone tell me what the difference between a coarse julienne and a fine julienne is?  Actually, I can figure out the difference myself if you can just tell me what the hell "julienne" means.  And also... prosciutto: it's ham, right?

So, dear Lindsey, my gift to you for this Virtual Bridal Shower is this did NOT cook you anything.  You're welcome.  

April showers bring May outfits

1. even though M:PT is over..., 2. DSCN1161, 3. Shoes, 4. RA, put together, 5. casual day outfit, 6. Random Dress1, 7. My favorite shoes, 8. dress, 9. Monday, just before I got majorly rained on, 10. M:PT - May 11, 11. M: PT (Tuesday, May 13), 12. M:PT 5.13.08, 13. what better place to take a picture than my cube?, 14. M: PT (Wednesday, May 14), 15. Wednesday outfit, 16. M:PT - May 15, 17. copying sassy laurel with the faux sweater vest, 18. M:PT - May 15 (Zeister), 19. M: PT (Tuesday, May 20), 20. M: PT (Sunday, May 18)

With the end of May this weekend came the official end to Mission: Put Together.  RA has a fabulous postup with all kind of crazy statistics.  Like, M:PT received over 34,000 page views and over 2,800 comments during the month of May.  That sort of blows my mind.  Uno, dos, tres, triente-quatro mil?  I can't count to 34,000 in spanish, but I know that's a whole lot of frackin' page views.  So I guess you guys had as much fun with this as we did, huh?

(Yeah, I said "frackin'".  Deal with it.)

(LEE ADAMA FOR PRESIDENT!)

I had so much fun with this little self-assigned Mission, and I'm just going to come out and say it: Mission: Put Together made my life better.  I loved seeing the outfits that other people put together, and knowing that I'd have the photo pool to show off my creations made me more motivated to put thought into my own wardrobe choices.  M:PT actually made getting ready for work sort of... fun. 

I loved how everyone got into it, and I loved that everyone in the pool was so nice to each other.  

I also loved how we were able to identify trends that made us feel more put together, and then I actually took some of those trends (wear red shoes to spice up a "blah" outfit, don't fear the color yellow, mixing bright colors looks great, as long as you don't overdo it) and actually used them with my existing wardrobe, and ya'll: it felt like a new outfit.   Except it was free. 

The mosaic above represents some of my favorite outfits from the month-long pool.  If you notice that most of the pictures are of Ms. NPW, that's because I think all of her outfits are absolutely adorable.  I even tried to imitate her cute t-shirt/jean jacket/corduroy skirtcombo this weekend, but I was foiled by the mega-heat (and lack of car air conditioning, don't forget that I live in the stone age and my car doesn't have AC.  Or power windows.) and had to leave my jean jacket at home. 

Overall, this whole experiment in fashion has left me amazed.  I'm blown away by how awesome ya'll look (did I just say "ya'll" twice in the same entry?  FRACK!), and by how many of you initially doubted your own fashion sense.   I was also amazed to see that people trying new things as a result of M:PT - many of you went out and bought red necklaces (myself included), some of you went out and found yellow shirts, some of you ventured into pairing orange and turquoise together, and some of you added color to your mostly-black wardrobes.  And you all looked awesome, if I do say so myself.  I was more than willing to hop on the Try Something New bandwagon.  In fact, I'm wearing red shoes with an all-gray outfit right now.

My favorite outfit of my own was my shell-turned-sweater vest.  I can absolutely say that I never would have imagined this outfit, much less actually worn it out of the house without seeing some of the sassy and put-together photos in the M:PT group, but I LOVED the way it looked.  I felt so confident that day that i dared to wear my trouser jeans to the office on a non-Casual Day.  On a Wednesday, even!  

And best of all - these were all items that I already owned.  I hadn't worn that shell in over a year, and I hardly ever find an occasion to wear that pink necklace. 

And that's what Mission: Put Together was really all about. 

RA and I had so much fun with this, and many of you have requested that we extend M:PT past May... so, the photo pool will remain open for the summer.  May it continue to make the world a better place!  I know that I personally will not be posting to it as often (it's hot, peoples.  I cannot wear matching clothes when it's this hot) (I realize that doesn't actually make any sense). We're cooking up a second full-on round of M:PT sometime in the fall, so stay tuned!  Same bat time, same bat channel.

How I went out on my lunch break for zit cream and came back with a wedding dress

So! This morning I was dragging myself upstairs for coffee when my coworker stopped me to tell me she’d seen a sign for a “Wedding Extravaganza” going on in the thrift store up the street.Huh, I thought. No thanks. I think I’ll just have some coffee instead. Besides, am I really going to buy a wedding dress at the same place I bought Tiny Grim? I think not. My coffee buddy and I went upstairs, got our delicious caffeine juice, and went back to work.

At noon, I told my boss I was running out to the pharmacy. After I picked up my prescription zit cream, I figured I might as well go over and sign up for a slot at the gym while I was out. On my way to the gym, I passed the thrift store and saw the “Wedding Extravaganza” signs my coworker had mentioned. Huh, I thought. It looks like they actually have a lot of dresses in there. That’s weird. And then I walked by, went to the gym and signed myself up for a date with elliptical machine #2.

On the way back, I passed the thrift store again. Huh, I thought. There sure are a lot of people in there. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stop in and look.

It turns out that by “Wedding Extravaganza”, they actually meant “Big Charity Event,” (I should mention that this thrift store is affiliated with a major hospital, and that all proceeds go to the hospital) which in turn meant, “An upscale bridal boutique donated a whole bunch of brand new designer dresses and we’re selling them for $250 each. Oh, and half of them are from the line you’ve been drooling over since you went wedding dress shopping with your mom back in March. Take a look!”

And so, I looked. I found. I tried on. I purchased. I love.

(Pictures after the jump)

And now, back to our show!

Welcome to this installment of OPH's Next Top Shoe!^tm! 

It's been approximately seventeen weeks since our last episode because our Panel of Expert Judges have been very busy doing important things.  Things like watching an unholy amount of television, including every episode of LOST that's aired since March 21st, when our Panel of Expert Judges forgot to Tivo the episode "Meet Kevin Johnson".  Also, maybe you noticed that there were several Law and Order marathons on this weekend?  That shit does't watch itself, people.

On our last episode, twelve hopefuls competed for the position of OPH's Next Top Shoe!^tm

Four pairs of pumps were sent home when they failed to complete the week's challenge...

Three pairs were granted immunity for their combination of performance, value, and comfort....

And four pairs' fates were left hanging in the balance....

 

Will the beautiful red slingbacks make the cut, solely based on their aesthetic value?  Which pair of black pumps will make it to the next round, and which will be returned?  Do the blue shoes go with the new  blue dress?  FIND OUT, ON TONIGHT'S EPISODE OF OPH's Next Top Shoe!^tm, brought to you by our sponsor, Mission: Put Together - the fastest growing, most popular photo pool on the internet! 

As you surely remember, we had three pairs of similar black pumps to choose between: One pair of pointy-toed Nine Wests, one pair of pointy-toed Bandolinos, and one pair of round-toed Chinese Laundrys.  Our audience voted; 12% voted to keep the Nine Wests, 24% voted in favor of the Bandolinos, 28% voted to return them all, and a plurality of 36% voted to keep the Chinese Laundry pumps. 

Nine Wests and Bandolinos, please step forward.  You are both lovely and graceful pairs of shoes, and I know that you will have a stellar career in front of you.  However, our Panel of Expert Judges agrees with the audience: you just don't have what it takes to be OPH's Next Top Shoe!^tm Please pack your things and leave the house immediately.  

Chinese Laundry pumps, please step forward.  The audience voted that you should be kept, and our Panel of Expert Judges agreed.  However, you were a half size too large, and when we went online to order the correct size, you weren't available.  There is no room for such diva-like behavior in the world of OPH's Next Top Shoe!^tm  I'm sorry, but you will have to be returned.  I hope you've learned a lesson from this experience and that you've grown as a person from being a part of this competition.

Let's move on to the next category: The beautiful red slingbacks. 

The audience was torn: 50% thought you should be kept, and that you'd surely find a way to work through any discomfort.  10% voted to keep you, even if you'd just sit in the closet.  40% voted to send your less than practical heels packing, and in a fit of unrelated back pain that made our Panel of Expert Judges feel like an 80 year old lady, our Panel of Expert Judges agreed with that 40%.  You need more than looks to make it in this world, sweetheart.   I hope you find a happy home somewhere, but you will not be OPH's Next Top Shoe!^tm

 

And lastly, we have the pair of blue flats.  These were purchased with the express purpose of going with a new dress, but upon further inspection, our Panel of Expert Judges weren't sure if you could do the job.   50% of the audience voted that you should be returned, and another 10% felt that you didn't go with the dress at all, but that you should be kept anyway.  40% of our audience said that you did, indeed live up to the challenge of complementing the new dress.

Our Panel of Expert Judges decided to ignore the whopping 60% of voters who agreed that the shoes did not go with the dress.  If any of you happen to come across our Panel of Expert Judges wearing this dress-shoe combo together, we ask that you keep your opinion to yourself and just pretend that our Panel of Expert Judges look awesome.   The blue shoes are staying . In fact, our Panel of Expert Judges may just be wearing them right now.  And they are adorable.  So there.  

And so, we have taken the twelve bestest Top Shoes in the nation and narrowed them down to four lucky winners who will now share the title of OPH's Next Top Shoe!^tm

You will all win a spot in OPH's closet, and a dubious modeling contract endorsed by Miz Tyra Banks!  Congratulations!   Our Panel of Expert Judges are so proud of how you've all grown as individuals and stepped up to meet each challenge, even when you didn't k now you had the strength inside of you.  You are all amazing, talented, gorgeous, FIERCE ladies.  Mwah! 

*******************************************************************************

Just in case any of you were concerned for my mental health after seeing that I did, indeed, purchase TWELVE PAIRS OF SHOES in the space of a week, let me assure you that I don't have a shoe problem. 

I present to you, my freezer:

Oh, there's more:

So, rest assured: it's not a shoe problem, it's more of an inability to pass up anything that is on sale. 

You won't be laughing so hard when there is a bird flu quarantine.  We are SO ready, bitches.

Friday, Friday

Email I received this afternoon from my BFF Bethy:

To: Jenny, OPH

Subject: In desperate need of sister-wifery

I just realized that I don't think I saw either of you since clippy's wedding? is this possible?  I don't think I saw either of you at Christmas or thanksgiving. this is disastrous.

Anyways, besides that revelation, just wanted to say hi and congratulations on reaching memorial day weekend without dying.

It's been a rough couple of weeks, hasn't it?  It's not even a case of some Major Project taking over my life; things just seem busier than usual lately and I don't particularly like it.   Good thing it's time for a three-day weekend dedicated to working through the Tivo cache. 

Congratulations, Internet.  You made it to Memorial Day weekend without dying!  Have a great weekend.  You deserve it.

My compulsive shoe buying habits. Let me show you them.

How many shoes can you buy in one weekend before you officially have to check yourself into some sort of retail rehab?

 

Um... yeah.  Less than this, I assume?

It all started when Anna posted a picture of these shoes as part of Mission: Put Together.  I saw those shoes, and I fell in love.  I wanted them.  I had to have them.  Nevermind the fact that I can't walk in heels, heels hurt my back, heels are not my friend.  None of that mattered.  I had to have those shoes.  I spent several hours scouring the internet for that exact model (with quite a bit of help from my proxy shopper, RA) and we finally found them.  And wow, that sure was some heel.  Three and three quarters inches, to be exact.   Several more hours were spent searching the web for an identical pair with a slightly lower heel, to no avail.  I resolved to think about it over the weekend before clicking the "submit order" button that would send them straight to my door.

Then I went shopping with my mom over the weekend and I found these in Ann Taylor Loft.  Last pair.  My size.  Twenty bucks.  I took it as a sign.  I mean, what's not to love:

 

At our next shopping stop, I found a killer pair of red peeptoe pumps on sale at Ann Taylor, but they didn't have my size in New Jersey.  Instead, the lovely sales associates put a pair on hold for me in Maryland and I picked them up when I got home.  Along with a cute pair of brown pumps I found on sale at the MD store.  That's three pairs of pumps, for those of you keeping track.  And I also bought a pair of flip flops.  That brings our total to four.

I wore my new black pumps on Monday.  It was a disaster.  The heel!  What was I thinking?  Also, I cannot walk in pumps without stepping out of them and subsequently tripping.  A lot.  I had sort of forgotten about that. 

After a full day of tripping around the office I'd had a major dose of reality.  As  much as I would love to be one of those girls who wears fantastically high heels around the office, I am not.  My back is still reminding me of that fact today, three days later.  Sigh.  And they were such a bargain.

And so, after this little Monday reality check, Tuesday became one long search for The Perfect Black Pump.  Together, RA and I searched Zappos, Piper Lime and Endless, as well as the brand websites for Nine West and Bandolino, two of our favorite go-to shoe manufactures.  We found several options.  And because Endless offers free overnight shipping, I ordered them all.  Plus a few non-black pumps too. 

So that was another five pairs + my four pairs from the weekend = Nine new pairs of shoes.

Oh, and I also ordered two pairs of flats last week, too.  So that makes, what?  Eleven?  Oh wait, I also ordered my beloved red pumps in black the minute they went on sale at AnnTaylor.com, just to keep all my options open.  Since they hadn't yet arrived at the time of this photo-shoot, my trusty Teva flip-flops agreed to serve as a placeholder.

That's nine pairs of pumps, two pairs of flats, one pair of flip flops and a partridge in a fucking pear tree. Annotated version is on flickr, and I suggest you take a look, study it, and maybe make some flashcards because this shit is about to get complicated.

After much thought (too much thought for a topic not involving world peace or hungry orphans, but too late now!), I have determined the that the following contestants will not be moving forward to the next round of OPH's Next Top Shoe:

Ridiculously, fantastically high-heeled Ann Taylor Loft pumps. You are a really beautiful pair of shoes, and I love that you only cost $20.  But in this harsh world, being pretty isn't enough.  You also have to not cause bodily harm to the wearer.  I'm sorry, but you will not be OPH's Next Top Shoe. Please take your receipt, get into your box, and wait to be returned this weekend.

Brown Ann Taylor pumps.  You have so much going for you.  You've got a great look, your heel is a much more sensible height, and you were a veritable bargain, marked down from $128 to $49.99, with an extra 20% discount thrown in.  But you're a half size too big, and there were no more pairs left at the store to even think about exchanging you for.  And I already have a pair of slightly too-big brown heels that work really well.  I'm sorry, but you just don't have what it takes to be OPH's Next Top Shoe.   Please take your receipt, get into your box, and wait to be returned this weekend.

Red and silver Chinese Laundry pumps. You are both cute, but you just don't have that look that makes a shoe rise above all the other cute shoes in the world.  You both photograph well, but in person you just don't live up to your image.  I'm sorry, but you will not be OPH's Next Top Shoe.  Please take this return shipping label and prepare to be sent back to Endless.com headquarters.

The following contestants now remain in the running for OPH's Next Top Shoe:

Teva flip flops, please step to the side.  The black Ann Taylor peeptoe slingbacks that you graciously agreed to stand in for are something I desperately need.  Even though your heel is a bit high, you are most definitely walkable on top of being downright gorgeous.  Congratulations, you will be joining the other shoes in the closet.  You will NOT be returned. 

Red Ann Taylor flats, please step to the side.  You are adorable, you were on sale, you are comfortable, and you will be an excellent replacement for those horrid Steve Madden flats that have been destroying my feet for the past eight months. You're everything a shoe should be. Congratulations, you will NOT be returned.

And lastly, blue Ann Taylor flip flops, please step to the side.  A good pair of flip-flops are a no-brainer, and you were on sale for $12 and go perfectly with a new dress I just bought (more on that in a minute!).  Congratulations, you will NOT be returned. 

I now have five pairs of beautiful shoes before me.  Unfortunately, I am not sure that you all have what it takes to become a permanent fixture in my closet.   Let's start with the middle row.

Red Ann Taylor peeptoe slingbacks:  You are a work of art.  You're actually walkable (the slingback seems to be better for me than the pump), but you still have a three inch heel.  I'm just not sure that there's room for two pairs of patent leather peeptoe slingbacks in my closet, and we have to face the fact that your beauty can work against you - red doesn't go with everything.  But you really do have a great look, and you are still in the running for OPH's Next Top Shoe.  The audience will decide if you have what it takes to be one of OPH's Next Top Shoes.

Dear audience, please vote now using the poll box below.  Should these beautiful shoes remain in my collection, or are they a ridiculous indulgence?  They set me back $52 (originally priced $118).

Opinion Polls & Market Research

On to the blue flats.  You're a nice pair of shoes, for sure.  But you were purchased with a specific purpose: to go with a new blue dress.  I'll be honest with you, I'm just not sure you go with the dress at all. 

The audience will decide your future. These shoes were originally priced at $98 (I think), I paid $40.

Opinion Polls & Market Research

(I won't ask you to vote on whether or not I should keep Madison because he ate his receipt long ago.  And then threw it up in a basket of clean laundry.)

Let's move on to the third row of contestants. 

I have before me three pairs of black pumps.  I was convinced that I desperately needed a pair of black pumps, but now I'm just not sure. 

Nine West pumps: Your heel is 1/4 higher than the Bandolinos, and you cost $79. 

Bandolino pumps: You cost $69 and have a lower heel, but you're slightly pointier -- and I don't think I like that about you.  To tell you the truth, I don't love either of you.  You just haven't shown me that you have what it takes to be OPH's Next Top Shoe.  I just don't think that you want this badly enough.  Do you?  Do you really WANT THIS? I'll be straight with you, honey:  I'm afraid you're just not "me". 

Chinese Laundry black pumps:  You guys have it going on.  You're much more my style, and I love that you were on sale for $48.  The one problem I have with you is the wooden heel.  It looks cute -- but I'm afraid that it makes you unfancy enough to void the whole purpose of having a pair of black pumps.  You'd be fun under jeans, but I'm not sure if you'd ever beat out my beloved Privos.  I just don't know if you want this badly enough.  I don't think you really, really WANT to be OPH's Next Top Shoe. Do you?

All three pairs of pumps have some great qualities, but only one of you (at most) can become OPH's Next Top Shoe: Black Pump Edition.

Tune in next week to find out who got returned and who made the final cut to become OPH's Next Top Shoe! 

**********************************************************************

Edited to add: Today marks the halfway point of Mission: Put Together!  RA has crunched some fantastic numbers in honor of this midpoint - go over and check her post out.  I meant to do a mid-month M:PT recap, but I didn't get around to it.  As you can see, I've been a little busy.

What I've been up to

(Format liberally borrowed from Janet, who borrowed it from Not Martha)

Reading

The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan.  Although it took me a good month (or three) to get past the first fifty pages about corncorncorn, I am now simultaneously enthralled and horrified.  Did you know cows aren't naturally adapted to eat corn?  Did you know that many organic free-range chickens only have access to a tiny yard outside their shed during the last two weeks of their lives, and by that time they're so used to being indoors that they're too scared to venture out of their shed?  DID YOU?   DID YOU KNOW THAT?  Because I sure didn't.  But if you've been anywhere near me during the past couple of days, I probably told you all about it.  And yes, I do realize I am about two years late on the bandwagon here, what's your point?

Eating

I need to bring three side dishes to a fancy bridal shower in June, and RA helpfully shared two of her tried-and-true recipes for me to practice with.  I had a moment of panic when I realized I wasn't sure exactly what a clove of garlic was (Hey Joel?  How much is a clove of garlic?  Is it the whole thing?  I think it's the whole thing because the directions said to peel it, but that sure seems like a lot of garlic.  But I already put it all in, so I hope that a clove means the whole thing.), and Rachel Ray is smoking some serious crack if she really thinks this recipe can be done from start to finish in 15 minutes (it took me 15 minutes just to peel the clove of garlic), but the salad was delicious.  Bonus points: I made it with spinach I picked up at the local farmer's market!

Watching

The first two installments of the Indiana Jones Trilogy.   Can you believe I've never seen them?   Neither can I.   We're working hard to rectify that before the new one comes out in theaters. 

Oh, and I am also still watching Moonlight, and I'd like you all to know that I actually think that this show is getting better.  Seriously!  It's not like it could have gotten any worse, but hey: progress is progress.

Meeting

Laurel, from Sass Attack!  I had to attend a meeting in NYC for work, and I asked Laurel if she'd like to meet up for drinks before my meeting on Thursday night.  And she said yes!  And I actually found the bar she suggested!  That deserves many, many exclamation points!!!  We had a fabulous time, if I do say so myself.  Can we do it again soon?  Like, tomorrow?  Or how about right now? 

Shopping

With my momma.  After my meeting in NYC, I spent the rest of the weekend in NJ.  Since it was pouring rain on Friday, we went shopping.  I'm proud to report that we came away with an outfit for my mom to wear to an upcoming party AND two pairs of great, non-low rise, jeans.  I also introduced my mom both Ann Taylor franchises, and while she didn't buy anything there, I ended up taking home more than enough for both of us.   Hello, new shoes!

Listening

To that Jordin Sparks "No Air" song.  I have never watched American Idol, but I do love me some Jordin Sparks.  Almost as much as Kelly Clarkson.   

Loving

How much my kitties missed us while we were away for the weekend.  Having a snuggly cat nestled uncomfortably in your armpit all night is almost as nice as sleeping in blissful silence for two nights in a row at your mom's house.  Almost.  Apparently the key to raising loving and obedient pets is to abandon them for the weekend on a regular basis.

Wondering

If I should make plans for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend, or if it would be more fun to hole up at home for the entire three-day break.  Thoughts?

The secret to living a happy and productive life, let me tell you it.

My normal weekend routine includes sleeping until at 10 or 11am, putzing around the house, watching some TV, eating breakfast, eating lunch, organizing, cleaning, possibly changing out of my pajamas to go to yoga, maybe taking a shower, maybe doing some laundry, and eating some more.   

Now, I love this routine.  I get all antsy whenever we have actual plans that keep me from getting in my cleaning/organizing/sleeping/watching TV in pajamas time.  I need my time at home to keep me sane.    But all too often, I find myself feeling depressed on Saturday nights because the weekend is suddenly half over and I've accomplished nothing.  In theory, I strongly believe that rest and relaxation are noble and valid activities for a Saturday.  In practice, OMG NOTHING GOT CROSSED OFF MY TO-DO LISTWAAAAAAAAH I SUCK.

Well, friends: after twenty-seven years on this planet, I have solved my perpetual conundrum.  I have discovered how someone who is NOT A MORNING PERSON can still get the most out of a weekend day, without sacrificing sleep! 

The secret is... go to sleep at 9:30pm on Saturday night.  That's right, you heard me!  Just go to bed at 9:30pm, and you'll be able to wake up feeling refreshed from a hefty eleven hour rest, make yourself a nice breakfast of waffles and Morningstar Farms Sausage Patties (I am convinced that these patties are not at all vegetarian.  They are way too delicious to be made out of soybeans and vegetables), and freshly brewed coffee -- which you made yourself -- and still leave the house by 9am!   I even managed to put in a load of laundry before I headed out to the Farmer's Market!  And it was still before 9am!  I think this deserves at least seven more exclamation points!!!!!!! (!!!)

PS: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After hitting up the Farmer's Market to support my local agronomists (The Omnivore's Dilemma is guilting me into becoming a better person), I also

• Went to Target
• Stopped by Ann Taylor Loft
• Went to Safeway
• Cleaned up the entire back patio, including sweeping, planting flowers, and dragging the hose out of the basement to water the new flowers
• Took down the Christmas lights from the front windowbox, watered the plants, weeded our sidewalk planter box
• Vacuumed the entire house

That, right there, is about two month's worth of stuff.  And I got it all done before Joel came home from his race at 7pm.  Seriously, if I had known this was all it takes to feel so productive, I would have adopted a six-year-old's bedtime ages ago! 

(OK, not really.  I am still a night owl at heart, and I really didn't intend to fall asleep at 9:30.  It just kind of happened.)

In other news: This weekend Joel was informed that he won a Bigtime Coaching Award That I Probably Shouldn't Name On My Personal Internet Site, Now That I Think About It.   So, howza bout a round  of applause for mah man?

In other news (part two): I am absolutely loving everyone's submissions and comments on Mission: Put Together.  Keep em' coming!  You guys are almost making Business Casual fun.  Almost.   

Casual Day, my one true love (sorry, Joel!)

From time to time, my office has Casual Day.  Casual Day used to be every Friday between Memorial Day and Labor Day.  Then it changed to being on random Fridays throughout the year.  Now it's no longer on Fridays exclusively.  Any day of the week can be Casual Day.  Today is Casual Day, for instance.  Last Monday was Casual Day.  Some months, there is a Casual Day every week.  Some months, there are no Casual Days.  If there is a method behind the Casual Day schedule, I have yet to discover it.  And trust me, I've spent a lot of time analyzing this. 

I LOVE Casual Day.  In fact, I don't think that ALL CAPS LOVE is a strong enough term.  I live for Casual Day?  Casual Day is the center of my life?  I want to marry Casual Day and have lots of Casual Babies with it?  Yes, I think that adequately sums up my feelings about Casual Day.  I just feel more comfortable in jeans than I do in biznass pants.  I honestly feel like I do my job better when it's Casual Day.  I am a better, happier person on Casual Day.

RA and I have had many a GChat discussion about my love for Casual Day, and our sadness that jeans are so discriminated against in the workplace.  We both think that a nice pair of jeans paired with a cute top and decent shoes looks better than the polyester jogging suits that half of my office wears on a daily basis.  But polyester jogging suits fit within our dress code, just because they're not jeans.   And so, most days, I must suffer through the working hours in pants I bought at Target while my Seven for All Mankind Jeans sit at home in the drawer, wondering why I don't love them.  It's a cruel, cruel world.

But, such is life.  And refusing to brush my hair or wear matching clothes in protest on non-Casual Days really isn't hurting anyone but me.  I want to look like a responsible, attractive adult.  But I don't want to spend a lot of money on clothes that I'm only going to wear 9-5, Monday-Friday.  What to do?

Well, RA and I got to talking (cue Sex and the City theme song).  I always take note of people whose style I admire.  We've determined that it's not necessarily expensive or designer clothes that make a look work, but how all the pieces form a polished, cohesive unit.  The people I admire in the grocery store or in the elevator don't look like they rolled out of bed four minutes before they need to leave the house, threw on a shirt from the clean laundry basket their ferret-cat had been using as a bed, paired it with a pair of wrinkled khakis from the floor, and rushed out of the house.  Ahem.  They look like they spent a few minutes picking out a basic outfit, and then adding accessories and shoes that really pulled it all together.

I want to be more like these people.  I want to look half-decent, at least most of the time.  I'm not looking for a complete wardrobe overhaul or a visit from the What Not To Wear crew.  I just want to put a little bit more effort into my appearance.  And I want someone to give me credit for trying, damnit.

And that's where the Mission: Put Together photo pool that RA and I have created comes in(translation: RA did all the work, I provided encouragement via GChat).  For the month of May, we will be posting our efforts at creating put-together, cohesive looks for the world to see.

I know what you're thinking!  But what about me?  Can I play too?

Yes!  Please join our group and post your own photos! (Translation: DON'T LEAVE US HANGIN', INTERWEB FRIENDS)! 

But how do I know if my outfit is good enough to post?   

Mission: Put Together is for any outfit you are proud of.  It doesn't have to be a new outfit, an expensive outfit, or an outfit you've never worn before.  You just have to think you rocked it.

But what if I look put-together and fabulous every day?

Then I hate you.  That's great!  Post a picture every day and teach us all your secrets!

What if I can hardly muster the energy to change out of my pajamas most days?

Post a picture whenever you feel inspired.  I am going to aim for two post-worthy outfits a week during May. 

What if I wear the same three pairs of pants every week?  Are you all going to laugh at me?

Welcome to my world, my friend.   I will DEFINITELY  be repeating items.  I often wear the same pants two days in a row.  Or three days in a row.  I tell myself no notices.

But I work from home/my office has a casual dress code!  I wear jeans and flip flops every day!

Mission: Put Together is an equal opportunity Flickr Group.  We do not practice jeans discrimination.  In fact, we love jeans.  And also, I want your job.  Please send me an application.

What if I have a crappy camera?  Or I have a nice camera that I don't know how to operate?  WHAT THEN, I ASK?

Dude, we don't care.  I plan on taking pictures with my cell phone half the time.  And it's not even a fancy iPhone.

What if I don't have a Flickr account? 

Just email your picture to me or RA and we will post it for you.

But what if I don't even have my own blog?

That's fine!  Just email one of us your pictures and we'll post them in the group for you.

OK, I'll send that over as soon as I clean up the laundry piles in the background.  And paint the walls.  And buy new furniture.  And lose 10 pounds.

Don't stress about any of that stuff.  This is just for fun.  And I can promise you that my laundry pile is bigger than yours.

Oh, no!  I couldn't possibly let anyone see this horrific laundry pile.

OK, then I suggest that you just stand squarely in front of your giant laundry pile when you take the picture, thereby blocking it from the interwebs view. Like this, for example:

Um, why are you holding your shoes up like that?

Because I don't have a full-length, mirror.  I KNOW!  The horror!

OK.  This sounds like fun!  I can't wait to pick out my outfit for tomorrow and wow the whole office with my great look!

See, now that's the idea!

Can we stop pretending that this is an actual conversation between two people and just end this entry now?

Oh, fine.  Party pooper.

Or! It could be nothing.

Reason #7893 your fluffy ferret-cat might be wasting away (OR, Things Dr. Google, DVM won't tell you):

Hey, idiot.  Your cat might just be really, really stubborn.  Toss the fancy organic*, not-tested-on-animals, all-natural kibble in the closet next to the organic*, environmentally friendly, all-natural cat litter and buy some goddamn Fancy Feast already.

Madison: 53,897

Me: -6

*Neither the food or litter are actually organic.  Which is a real shame. 

I can has medicare?

Hey, guess what I bought this week?   PET INSURANCE.   Crazy Cat Lady bridge, officially crossed! 

Between Max, The Cat With A Thousand And One Problems (Food allergies?  Check!  Obesity?  Check! Sensitive stomach?  Check!  Crippling anxiety?  check!  Cancer?  DOUBLE CHECK!) and Henry, The Cat Who Ran Away And Then Came Back With Three Parasites And A Mangled Paw, I've wondered from time to time if I should have considered pet insurance.   But in general, I dislike insurance - surely a mindset I inherited from my mother, who describes insurance as "betting against yourself".   I've had terrible experiences with my own bastardly insurance company, and I just don't trust that paying for insurance will actually guarantee that I won't be slammed with bills because of some loophole or fine print. 

Plus, PET INSURANCE?  Do you want to know how much fun I made of my former coworker for having health insurance for her Teacup Yorkie?  A LOT.  But she also considered her dog "an investment", so she totally deserved it.  Also, her dog was seriously annoying. 

BUT.  Lately, Madison has been looking a bit thin.  We had sort of noticed it, but weren't at all concerned until the fourth or fifth person to visit our house in the past few weeks remarked on how gaunt he looked.  It's not like I hold him up in front of visitors and ask HEY TAKE A LOOK AT THIS CAT,   WHAT DO YOU THINK, TOO SKINNY?  It's more like our guests are a tad surprised that when they go to pet him and get stabbed by his protruding hip bones.  His fluffy fur hides his weight very well, but now that I've started paying attention... he's way too thin.  Our questionable bathroom scale says he's lost twenty percent of his body weight since he got weighed at the vet's office in January.   My bank account started to panic when Dr. Google, DVM considered this symptom and returned diagnoses like "object lodged in stomach: surgery required" and "hyperthyroidism: say hello to expensive bloodwork and lifetime medication". 

My first instinct is to ignore, ignore, ignore.  So he's lost a pound or four?   Whatever, he's getting older.   He seems fine.  He's still capable of pushing me off my pillow at night and chasing Henry around the house. 

My second instinct, which is growing stronger by the minute, is that something is really wrong.  Worry has been building up all week, until on Wednesday night I found myself on the computer at 1am signing him up for pet insurance.   The next morning, I decided I was crazy and called to cancel the policy.  By the time I hung up with the friendly customer service guy half an hour later, I'd bought a policy for Henry as well.   

I cringe at the thought of telling people that my freaking cats have health insurance, but I honestly feel SO MUCH BETTER now that I'm paying $13 per month for accident and illness coverage.  I do realize that whatever is wrong with Madison technically pre-dates his policy and is therefore not covered, but I'm hoping that I can find some sneaky way around that by holding off a few more weeks before taking him to the vet and pretending like whatever's going on is a brand new problem.  (Dear insurance company:  Just kidding!  This is all lies!  I would never commit insurance fraud!)  And hey, if it turns out that nothing is wrong with him and I really am just a crazy, over-protective worrywart, well... I'd be very happy with that.   

I haven't bought any insurance for Max because I sort of feel like that ship has sailed.   Really, who is going to insure his chronically allergic, neurotic, obese, cancer-filled ass?   He's a seinor citizen (66 and a half, if one human year = seven cat years), so shouldn't there at least be some crappy government-sponsored insurance to get him his kitty viagra?   Do I sense a future Michael Moore film?

Do any of you have pet insurance?  Have you used it?  Is it a total scam?   I would love to hear about any experiences or recommendations you have.  Except for advice to chill the fuck out.  Trust me, I've spend 27 years trying to do that.  No dice.

I'll keep you posted, don't you worry.  Keeping the interweb updated on my cat's health issues is priority numero uno here at OPH Headquarters.   Whether you like it or not.

Dear USPS

Dear United States Postal Service,

What did I ever do to you?

I'm pretty used to getting the neighbor's mail by now, and I don't even mind.  It's not too much trouble for me to shove it in between their glass door and real door, I just have to do so silently so that they don't think I'm leaving a bag of flaming poop on their doorstep.  It's a little bit difficult since their screen door squeaks like crazy, but really - it's no trouble.  Please don't worry about delivering the mail to the correct house.   I'm on it.  Plus, when you accidentally deliver their Netflix to us, and I accidentally rip them open and then accidentally watch the movie before turning it over... well, no one has to know about that.  Although, maybe you could have a word with them about their taste in film.  I mean, Elizabethtown?  Seriously? 

And the whole throwing packages in the alley/leaving them on the doorstep in the pouring rain/shoving them into our poor, mistreated shrubbery thing?  Whatever.  That time you stamped my mom's birthday package "return to sender" and shipped it back to NJ because I didn't pick it up the same day it was delivered?  No big deal.  The time you took 26 days to deliver a box of chocolates and then refused to put it through the mailslot?  I'm over it.

But when Janet told me that she got me a Crazy Cat Lady present during her thrift store extravaganza weekend, I was pretty excited to see what she'd found.   Even though she warned me that it was sort of weird and it only cost 5 cents, I was looking forward to to seeing what it was.  My life is pretty boring, I'm not going to lie.   Getting something in the mail is grounds for celebration in our household. 

That's why I'm so crushed that I'll never see this particular bit of vintage awesomeness, handpicked for me by one of the coolest bloggers on the internet.   

I do appreciate that you were thoughtful enough to put the mangled envelope in a plastic bag that said "We Care!" and deliver it, sans contents, to our house.  That does mean a lot.  And, hey, these things happen.  It's a whole 40 miles between Janet's house and mine, you can't be expected to deliver an envelope all that way without accidentally dropping it into a shredder.  No biggie.

But can I ask a favor?  The next time you're looking through my mail trying to find something for your rabid pet donkey to chew on, could you grab one of those Jury Duty notices instead?  Because, really, do I need to be called for Jury Duty FOUR TIMES?  I mean, I guess it's up to you.  You're the government agency, I'm just a lowly citizen who is apparently REALLY GOOD AT JURY DUTY. 

Hey, and could you maybe explain to my fiance that when I bought those cute superhero stamps for him, they were intended TO BE USED.  Not to be saved.  Maybe you could have a word with him about our Netflix queue while you're at it.    

Thanks a bunch! 

O. Pink Herring, bedraggled postal customer extraodinaire

PS - Those boring flag stamps are so 2006.  Maybe we could get a design with a cool eagle, or something? 

What, you didn't know that Max speaks with British accent?

Greetings, kind citizens of the internet.  Maxwell Maximillian Maximus here, wishing to extend my sincere thanks for your kind words regarding my recent diagnosis. 

I'll not make light of my condition -- things have been difficult this past week.  Oh, not because of the cancer!  No, my fine chaps, that's not yet bothering me much, I'm happy to report.  It was the full day at the health asylum that truly turned my mood black - and to tell you the truth, friends, I'm still not fully over the trauma.   Now, the veterinary doctor is a lovely lass, but when someone comes at me with a pair of clippers, I don't know about you, but I feel compelled to react.  How could a fellow know that she just intended to give me a haircut?  For all I know, they had me confused with a poodle who was due for an appendectomy, and I'll tell you - I was having none of that.  But once we all had a glass of bourbon and laughed about the whole mess, I started to feel a bit drowsy, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up with a headache and an orange tabby in the next cage over.  Lovely old gal, she was.  A bitty chatty for my tastes, though.

In any case, while I was - shall we say, sleeping it off - the doctor took the liberty of scanning my internal organs and showing the films to my human caretaker.  It seems everything is in tip-top shape, except for a spot of lymphosarcoma in the old digestive tract.  Certainly not the best news I've heard, but let us not dwell on the negatives; I'm told that a positive attitude is of paramount importance and I intend to keep my spirits high.  Apparently my only symptom is that I've lost two pounds since January, and I tell you, these doctors can never make up their minds.  All my life they've been telling me diet this, limited portions that, and now that I've finally dropped a few inches from the old waistline everyone's got their knickers in a knot about my health. 

There's been some talk of a surgery to get a biopsy of my intestines, but I must admit that I don't much like the sound of that.   I've discussed it with my family, although, to tell you the truth, I sort of stopped listening when they started in about dollars dollars, blah blah blah; I had appointments to get to later in the evening and I don't have time for their constant blathering.  In any case, we seem to have agreed that I will get a special diet and some medication for now, and if I haven't gained any weight back within a month's time we'll reconsider that dreadful biopsy.  I was sort of hoping that my therapy would call for the eviction of that pesky ferret and his kitten-friend, but I suppose I can continue ignoring their antics a bit longer. 

So that's all for now.  I am late for my 3:00 nap, and I really must be going.  Please do accept my deepest, heartfelt thanks for your kind thoughts and words.  Ta-ta, mates! 

Cheerio, 

Max

Weekend bullet points, Jersey shore wedding edition

Things I learned this weekend while attending my first wedding of the season:

• Just because I grew up in New Jersey does not mean my horrible sense of direction gets any better once we cross into the Garden State.
• Compared to the NJ Turnpike, the thirty-five cent tolls on the Parkway are so cheap they're cute. 
• The four-dollar Delaware toll is a tad pricey, yes.  But that's not reason to stop your cars in the middle of 95.  Move along, people.  And if you don't have EZPass, get out of the freaking EZPass lane. 
• Don't cut off a car that's worth far, far less than yours.  If I hit you because you weave in front of me to jump in the EZ Pass lane EVEN THOUGH YOU DON'T HAVE AN EZPASS, I promise, you'll be sorrier than I am.  My Jetta is going on 11 years old.  Your fancy SUV looks new.
• Who doesn't have EZPass?  Seriously?  I mean, I still don't have in iPod and I use dial-up internet at home.  Even I have an EZPass.
• The Parkway and the Turnpike do not, in fact, run parallel to each other.  They get farther apart the further south you drive.   Thus, you cannot just take the Parkway south for 35 miles and then hop over to the Turnpike. 
• If I had a dollar for every time I found myself hopelessly lost and wishing for a GPS system for the car, well