VD came, and VD went (with a little buyer's remorse)

It's that time of year again.

I have friends who love love LOVE February 14th, and get flowers and jewelry - the whole nine yards. I celebrate with them. If that makes them happy, then it makes me happy as well. I'm still a girl - I love a good romantic story as much as the next girl. Tell me all about what your husband/boyfriend/significant other did for you. Yay love!

Me? I don't want that. Save your money. Don't buy me flowers - my cat might eat them and they might be poisonous. Do you want to be responsible for killing my cat? Let's buy tickets to go see the Colts play next season. Infinitely more romantic from my perspective. Better yet? Spend Thursdays with me and don't complain when I watch Survivor and root for Colby. Commiserate with me when he's voted off, or celebrate with me when he wins. Even if you don't care. THAT'S what I want.

That doesn't make me bitter or angry or a VD hater. It's just a different perspective. I don't try to get other women to do as I do, I just don't choose to participate in this particular tradition. And that's okay. Personally, after the way I spent this February 14th, I don't think my life is lacking any in people that I love who also love me. There are multiple points of view in the world. Sometimes I have to remind myself that it's good to remember that.

So I say enjoy VD whatever way you do or can. Or not. Whatever. But tell me all about it whether there were flowers, diamonds, or pizza in front of the TV involved. Me? I wore red, ate waffles with two of my favorite people, fruitlessly studied organic chemistry and then squeezed in some quality time with my favorite boy and my favorite dog. No commercialization involved. Just another Sunday.

On a more important topic, I purchased a dress today and am feeling a bit of buyer's remorse. I drove past the dress for over a week before I absolutely had to purchase it lest someone else get to it first. (In case you hadn't noticed, I don't generally react this way to clothing.) The problem is that it was full price. Not too expensive, but still. Emily doesn't like paying full price. So I'm torn. Keep it or return it. So I decided to handle this decision the way I would handle any big decision... I'll let the internets decide.

So, internets... To keep the dress, or not to keep the dress? That is the question. (But don't forget to tell me about your VD too!!)

Never Fear, Casey is here

For some reason, I've never been scared of coyotes. Wolves, yes. Coyotes? No. I mean, it's not like I would want to come across a rabid coyote while all alone on a pleasant evening walk... and it's not like I've forgotten my first experience with nightswimming where there was very little swimming by Emily and very much twining myself tightly around my companion when random howls began from the nearby vacant country field... but ever since becoming more familiar with dogs, learning their body language and reading about coyotes, I would say I'm more respectful of them than I am scared.

Which is why I didn't have a total panic meltdown last Friday when Casey and I were playing fetch in the woodsy area of Crown Hill near my home and Casey suddenly went tearing off towards the woods. Vaguely confused, I looked at the ball in my hand which had not yet been thrown, then back at the rear end of my rapidly retreating dog. Suddenly my gaze was caught by a flash of movement slightly ahead of Casey. Another couple of seconds identified it as a coyote. A coyote on which Casey was rapidly gaining as she chased it into the woods.

Initially I freaked out and called her name repeatedly. Each time I said her name it was more high pitched and frantic. Casey paid me about as much attention as the boy does when playing Peggle. So I took off in a dead sprint in the direction she was running. Reason (and the fact that I'm out of shape) reasserted itself in about 20 steps, and I stopped and realized that there was absolutely nothing I could do. So I waited and listened for any noise coming from the woods in which Casey had disappeared.

Three minutes later, Casey came bounding out of the woods towards me with a big silly grin on her face and immediately demanded that I throw the ball for her. I checked her over while she wiggled impatiently and tried to snatch the ball out of my pocket (bad dog!) She was fine. Not a scratch on her.

So I was somewhat amused yesterday as Casey and I headed home after another round of fetch and the neighbor across the street came out to warn me away from that particular grassy field.

"You'll wanna be careful, young lady. We've seen a coyote in that field almost every night."

I want to know what went through his mind when I said, "Thanks for telling me. We saw the coyote last week and my dog chased it off, but we'll be careful."

He cast a glance at Casey panting happily beside me and didn't say anything else as he headed back inside.

And I wonder where Casey gets her reputation...

Unique Commodity

The boy came over one day last week when I was feeling particularly....amorous. I kissed him as he came in the door before he said hello, and he didn't even have a chance to take off his jacket before the kissing turned from playful to serious.

(Don't worry. There's a clear line of things I'll talk about and things I won't. This blog post won't cross it.)

When we finally paused for a moment, the boy took off his jacket (purchased at the outdoor store where he works and probably wishes he could spend all of his time) and tossed it on the chair. My brain to mouth filter was obviously otherwise occupied because I observed and immediately said, "What's that mark on the shoulder of your jacket?"

I immediately cursed myself. Stupid over observant tendency. Stupid off-topic comment. Stupid inability to stop thoughts from becoming words. That totally could have waited.

The boy was immediately distracted from me.

"There's a mark on my jacket? What mark? Where?"

I would have been disappointed at the ease in which he was distracted from me if I hadn't already seen it coming and was prepared. (This whole knowing each other well? It goes both ways.)

"Ahem. Girlfriend trumps jacket?"

"Right, right," The boy turned back to me with a smile and a kiss. "Girlfriend trumps jacket. Jacket is easier to replace."

This time I drew back. "I'm sorry, what was that again? Easier to replace?!"

The boy immediately realized his mistake. "Well... I just mean that you're one of a kind, baby."

"Nice try." (But I won't lie. I was won over.)

The boy sighed. "This is going to be a blog post, isn't it?"

"You betcha."

"Fine. Just be sure to tell them that I said you're one of a kind."

"Sure I will. AFTER you said I was replaceable."

"But you're more difficult to replace than a very expensive North Face jacket!" The boy pointed out helpfully.

"Man. This just keeps getting better and better..."

Can't....Stop....Laughing...

I apologize in advance if you have a fear of clowns. Or are easily offended. Or have no sense of humor. This won't appeal to you. My sense of humor must not be as refined, because I literally can't stop laughing at this commercial.

Unfortunately, it's an ad for a store I hate. But I literally laugh every time I think about it. The first time I saw it, it literally almost made me pee my pants. Lucky for z, since I was sitting on his drum stool at the time, I was able to control myself.



Still not shopping there. Nope. But I'll sure use this to lift my spirits next time I'm down. Thanks Wal-Mart!!

For Shame! (a roundabout book review)

I can't handle suspense.

Is this a character flaw? I'm not sure. I just know that I get all stressed and freaked out with suspense and omigod if you've ever watched a movie with me that I have NOT previously seen but you HAVE previously seen? I apologize in advance. In fact, some friends have banned this practice because of my incessant questions. "Does he die?" "What happens next?" "Does she die?" Here's a tip - just answer my questions and I'll shut the hell up.

Although usually? I'll ask the questions even if you haven't seen it either. The boy has resignedly chalked this up to a "cute quirk." The latter usually said between clenched teeth.

When I read a suspenseful book? I read the last page of the book when the suspense gets to be too much to bear. Seriously. Not the entire last chapter, but the last page. I wish I could say it's because I have a dark side like Harry, but really I just want to know if the main character dies.

And while most people judge me for this (You're ruining the story!) in fact, it does not ruin the story for me. It relaxes me so that I can read the story in peace and focus on the details leading up to the ending.

Because, as I recently realized, when I read a suspenseful novel and I get to a suspenseful part, I tend to skim until I get to the resolution. And while most times I'll go back to re-read in detail what I skimmed, sometimes there's something else suspenseful that I just found out about and then....well.... then the book is over too quickly. And I do like to savor my books. Even the suspenseful ones.

With all this stress, one would wonder why Stephen King is my favorite author.

But all of that leads to an explanation for why I got up out of my warm bed last night in the wee hours of morning. I was listening to 'Under the Dome' and since the option of skipping ahead in the book is removed when listening to an audiobook, I was literally to the point where I was going to:
A) Call my cousin and beg her to give me her best friend's (who had already finished the book) phone number so that I could get all my answers
B) drive to the closest store to purchase the hard copy so that I could read the answers for myself or
C) be reduced to begging my dog for answers

Did I mention this happened at one o'clock in the morning?

I was so tired. And I knew that the responsible thing would be to go to sleep, but omigod, is Rusty going to die?! So I got out of my nice warm bed and into my 50 degree house to pull out my laptop and google the book. Casey, who remained under the nice warm covers, thought I was insane. Laney thought I was insane. Heck, I thought I was insane. And yet, there I was. Berating myself while I typed the words into the google toolbar.

For shame. I know. I felt like I was doing something dirty and sneaky. So much so that I left the lights off in my house while I was googling. But what was I going to do?! I had no choice! Seriously! (I knew there was no way my cousin was going to give up D's number once she knew what I wanted it for. And if she did? I had already warned D to stay strong and not give into my begging. I didn't really mean it, D. Always answer my questions. It's for my sanity. Consider it a charitable donation.)

Luckily Wikipedia came through with enough answers so that I could sleep and not enough to ruin the rest of the story arc. And so I was able to sleep. Blessed blessed sleep.

I know. I feel so ashamed. I feel like I should write a letter of apology to Mr. King. But does it count as redemption if I've badgered at least three other people into reading this book just so I have someone (anyone!) to discuss it with? I can't go through this alone anymore.

And so, it was with a heavy heart that this morning I turned off my desktop. And am giving my laptop to the boy. (He's thrilled! All Peggle all the time! Woo Hoo!!!) At least until I'm through this book. Because I obviously can't be trusted. And the desktop is a dinosaur that takes 20 minutes to start up. Twenty minutes in which I will hopefully regain my sanity and step away from the internet.

But seriously. You should SO read this book. Right now. And tell me what happens to Chester's Mill. Because if this is another Needful Things? I need to know now in order to prepare myself.

Random Stuff

-I think I'm going to love my biochem class this semester.

-I missed work because of illness on Friday. Then I did nothing on Saturday and felt better. Then, when I felt worse on Sunday, the boy suggested that I do nothing again. I literally could not sit still for another 24 hours. Of course, I've felt progressively worse since. Apparently the boy was correct. Just don't tell him.

-In a related note, the little muscle underneath my left eye has been involuntarily twitching for about three days now. You know the one? I'm sure everyone has been through this. You can't do a thing about it. I'm sure it's tied to being sick somehow. I looked in the mirror today and felt sort of sorry for that poor little muscle. Think about how tired it must be! And then I have to stop and wonder if it's burning calories while it's twitching away. 'Cause that would be okay.

-I didn't go to a large public school for my undergrad, and for the first time ever, I was grateful for that fact yesterday. Because if I had to deal with the parking situation I had to deal with yesterday for the entirety of my four years of undergrad study? I would be certifiably insane. In-sane.

-I love my dog. She's awesome.

-I am succeeding in my drinking water goals....just not in my avoiding other forms of liquid part. I'll still drink my eight glasses of water, but I would be lying if I didn't say that more often than not there's also a glass of Coke somewhere during the day. Ugh.

-If I could quit my job, I would. Today. With no notice.

-I paid all my bills the other day, and still had money left over. I was ecstatic until I realized that I hadn't yet paid tuition for the month. Back to reality.

-I messed up and scheduled myself in an organic chem lab where I know no one. Luckily, after I introduced myself as a returning student with a degree taking pre-vet courses (during group intros,) I was approached by another returning student to be their lab partner. Apparently no one over the age of 25 wants to be paired with someone under 21 when a grade is involved. I thought it was just me.

-I hurt for about three days after shoveling my walkway, the sidewalk in front of my house, and my neighbor's walkway free of snow. About halfway through, I knew I would hurt afterwards, but thought that the sense of accomplishment would be worth it. It wasn't.

-I took my dog to play fetch in the snow with two brightly colored tennis balls. I came home with no tennis balls. Apparently I have a dog with a defective nose.

-My cousin gave me Peggle as a gift. Or, more appropriately, she gave the boy Peggle as a gift. Because she's awesome. (Don't know what Peggle is? Go here. You're welcome in advance for the massive amounts of time you will now lose to this game.) Last night I left for my lab at 7:00pm after having dinner with the boy. He said he was going to leave after "a couple more games." When I got home at 8:40pm, he hadn't moved....but he had beaten three more grand master challenges! He ended up going home at 10:15pm. And it wasn't because of me. I could have gotten naked and done a little dance and it still wouldn't have made him put down my laptop.

-I made waffles on Sunday for myself and some friends. And they rocked. I want to make them again, but my recipe makes five and I can only eat one. Anyone want to come over for waffles?

-I have discovered audiobooks and love them. I'm currently in the middle of Stephen King's 'Under the Dome.' But what I've found is that the audiobook stresses me out more than actually reading the book. Apparently (since I can't handle suspense) I tend to skim through the stressful parts of a book when I'm reading to get to the resolution more quickly. With audiobooks this is not possible. My stomach is in knots constantly with this book. I'm not sure it's good for my blood pressure.

-My organic lab this semester meets from 7:30pm to 10:20pm twice a week. But it's only a 2 credit hour course. Can someone explain that to me?

-I turn 2^5 this weekend. I would normally have trumpeted this news long before now, but I feel more mellow about this upcoming anniversary of my birth. Could it be I'm mellowing in my old age?

-The boy, who has been reminded repeatedly of what is coming up this weekend does not think I'm mellowing at all.

Who I Am

This has got to be the most unprepared that I've ever been for a semester of school since I re-started. I mean, I was heading to campus at 5:15pm for a class at 6:00pm and suddenly realized that I had not purchased an updated parking permit.

Needless to say, I was a bit late getting to class.

Once in class, I was pleasantly surprised by the charisma and outlook of my professor for Organic Chemistry II. If I manage to pull an A in this class, as opposed to the C+ last semester, we'll all know it's completely based on the teacher. (Of course, if I pull another C+ then we'll just forget we ever had this conversation...)

One of the first things my professor handed out was a list of questions and a request that we write a paragraph or two about ourselves. He wants to get to know us. I was thrilled! And completely uncomprehending when I heard the scattered groans from other students around the room.

Let me backtrack a little. Last summer when I started getting together materials for my application to vet school (before I delayed it by a year) I realized that I needed academic letters of recommendation. I knew I would need letters of recommendation from someone I work with (check!) a veterinarian (check!) but I did not realize I would need one from an academic source as well. Bummer. One of the reasons why I chose the smaller school where I completed my undergrad studies was the smaller class size. I knew all of my professors. Of course that was....ahem....over ten years ago. As my mother delicately put it, "You're not even sure if any of them are still alive." This time around, the class sizes are much larger, my schedule doesn't generally allow for me to visit professors during office hours, and I'm pretty self sufficient with any questions I might have anyway (read: I send emails.) So relationships with my professors are scarce. No matter, I just had to make friends with a professor, right?

Here's where the roadblock popped up. Um, I can't. I get ridiculously anxious and freaked out when I have to speak to a professor and either come across as a bumbling idiot, or a complete flake who has to cut the conversation short lest she burst into tears from the stress. Yes, it really is that bad. No melodrama. Ask z who has had to talk me down off of ledges after several such disasters. On second thought, don't. It's incredibly embarrassing.

For the longest time, I couldn't figure out what the problem was. I mean, I'm personable. I'm friendly. People tend to like me. Being a pretty strong extrovert, I have an overflow of personality on most occasions. I can make friends (or at least conversation) with almost anyone. If I like you, I can have a pretty endearing charisma. (If I don't, well, it's...different.) But after thinking about it for a while, I came to two determinations. 1) It's really difficult for me to ask for something (especially something I can't do on my own.) 2) It's really REALLY difficult for me to ask for something that means a lot to me. Therein lies the problem. Becoming a vet means a lot to me.

There's my soul bared for everyone to see.

Still, I'm stubborn persistent. Even though I had a mild massive heart attack every time I did it, I continued to visit my physics professor (by far my favorite professor I've had) over and over until at one point I got enough of my personality through to make him laugh. (During the first visits, I'm pretty sure he thought I was mildly mentally handicapped. But I made a strong finish at the end when I made a quantum physics joke. Sweet.) So all I had to do was ask for the letter.

Yeah, the semester is over and I still haven't asked. Sigh.

So when my ochem II professor asked us to write about ourselves? For a narcissistic blogger like myself? A way to make myself stand out without having to leave my comfort zone?! DONE! Are you sure you want only two paragraphs? Because I can write pages if you want! Pages that will make you laugh, cry, and want to give me an A immediately. After all, answering questions like:

Are you from Indiana?
What are you studying?
What has been your experience with chemistry classes at IUPUI so far?
What are your goals once you complete your degree?

Easy peasy! So why the groans? Especially since the professor seemed pretty easygoing. He said two paragraphs, but he also said that we could just answer the questions with one word if we wanted to (as if!) Or write more if we felt like it. I was so confused. Until I looked over at my neighbor and saw that he was already working on the assignment. Next to the first question, in tiny precise lettering, he had written "yes." And next to the second question, in the same perfect letters, he had written "pre-med."

And it was then that I realized that this personality thing? It might be a rarer commodity than I originally thought. And maybe, just maybe, it will be my saving grace in this quest. At the very least, maybe it will get me the coveted letter of recommendation? Let's all cross our fingers.

My (diabolical) Plan

I awoke on Sunday morning with aspirations of making breakfast for the boy. Just because. To be nice. 'Cause that's how I roll. Apparently I had forgotten that I don't cook.

I left the boy sleeping peacefully and got into the shower to wake myself up. Once showered and dry I checked back into the bedroom to see the boy still sleeping with Casey curled up next to him. Sweet! My plan was proceeding perfectly.

I went to the kitchen and thought about how to proceed. Normally when we cook together, the boy handles the potatoes and I handle the bacon and eggs. (The eggs are just for me as the boy does not partake.) Since I wasn't feeling particularly hungry, and since I wasn't foolish enough to think I could handle cooking three different things at once, I decided to forgo the eggs. Then, in thinking back to the cooking-together times, I remembered that I am almost always done with the bacon before the boy is done with the potatoes... so I deduced that I should start the potatoes first. Pleased with my logical thinking, I extracted the potatoes from the freezer only to find that they had frozen into one big iceberg of potato in a bag.

No problem. I had faced this issue previously and just went ahead with what one should always do in this situation....which is pound the iceberg of potato on the counter top until it breaks into pieces of potato suitable for frying.

It wasn't until Casey entered the kitchen to see what all the racket was about that I realized that perhaps pounding things on counter tops was not conducive to making someone a surprise breakfast.

I peeked into the bedroom and saw that the boy had rolled over. I couldn't see his face, but he still appeared to be snoozing soundly, so I counted my lucky stars and tiptoed back into the kitchen.

Since I was not as familiar with the cooking of the potatoes, I checked the instructions on the side of the bag to be certain that I didn't screw anything up. The instructions stated that once the oil was heated, the potatoes should be cooked between 4-7 minutes on one side, before flipping the potatoes and cooking another 4-7 minutes on the other side. I split the difference and decided on 5 and a half minutes on each side.

Once the potatoes were safely started and the timer set, I began on the bacon. I figured I had about 10 minutes for six pieces of thick sliced bacon, so I felt pretty confident. Still, I turned the heat up a little higher than usual to ensure that I could cook three strips at a time and still be done within the allotted timeframe.

A little past the halfway point when things were proceeding smoothly, I checked in on the boy (hadn't moved) and decided to check my email. On my way to the living room, I realized that the air was a little hazy and had just enough time to think, "Gee, it's a wonder the smoke alarm hasn't gone off," before the smoke alarm began it's jarring beep.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!!!

Casey cowered next to my leg while I froze for a moment before dashing down to the basement to get the step ladder necessary for me to reach the beeping alarm.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!!!

I had no sooner grabbed the step ladder than the smoke alarm stopped. I sheepishly climbed the stairs and was greeted with the sight of the boy standing in the hallway between the kitchen and the bedroom with a thunderous look on his face.

"Morning Honey! I made you breakfast!" I said brightly.

There was incoherent mumbling from the messy haired figure in the hallway. He did not look pleased. It was at this precise moment that the timer beeped signaling that the potatoes were done.

"Here, sit down on the couch and I'll bring you breakfast. Do you want juice?"

The boy shuffled past and tossed the now quiet smoke alarm on the microwave as he passed. I took that to mean that he did, in fact, want juice.

I went to turn the heat off of the potatoes and noticed a familiar smell. The smell of....burning?

I snatched the cover off the skillet to see that the second side of the potatoes were now colored a very dark brown that some might describe as black. Drats. What to do now? In a flash of brilliance, I got some shredded cheese from the fridge and smothered the potatoes. I didn't have enough of any one cheese to do the trick, so what covered the potatoes was an interesting mix of mozzarella, co-jack, and cheddar. I turned off the heat and re-covered the potatoes to let the cheese melt while I poured the juice.

It was at this point that I rescued the bacon that had triggered the smoke alarm. Thankfully, it looked fine.

When I took the boy his breakfast (uncovered with a flourish) I said, "I'm so sorry for the rude awakening. I know that the smoke alarm isn't um, a fun way to wake up. But maybe this breakfast will make up for it? It comes from the heart!" I was hopeful that I would be forgiven. After all, breakfast > rude awakening by smoke alarm, right?

The boy's response was, "Next time you're cooking as a surprise, I suggest breaking the potatoes apart on the front porch." (busted!) And then, "Are the potatoes black?!"

"Only on one side! And I'm not sure why. The bag said 4-7 minutes on each side, and that's what I did."

It was at this point that what was left of the boy's bad mood gave way completely and he said in a bemused tone, "Sweetie, that's only a guideline. You still have to watch them."

"How am I supposed to know that? You always do the potatoes!!" I said a silent prayer of thanks that he doesn't expect much from me in the way of cooking and watched as he ate his "surprise" breakfast. "So? How did I do? I mean, forgetting the pounding and the smoke alarm. Er...on a grading scale? B-? C+??"

Chewing thoughtfully the boy asked for the salt and then said, "I think this is more of a pass/fail. You passed."

"Um, what if we add in the pounding and smoke alarm?"

"Let's not press our luck, shall we?"

It was all eaten and I'm pretty sure I'm forgiven. The next "surprise" breakfast will be waffles which are much quieter. Of course, I'll be sure to take the smoke alarm down first. Just in case.

Gearing up for the year

I know, I know. I was chastised by JennyG for letting too much time pass between blogs and here I am doing it again. It's not that I haven't had time, I'm just enjoying my between-semester-break too much to actually do anything productive.

Is blogging productive?

What I've learned from this is that I function much better with a schedule. Though mine is admittedly hectic and exhausting, at least things get done. When I have a lot of time on my hands, it's too easy to say, "I'll just do [insert detested chore here] later" instead of having a two hour window when the chore must be done lest I not have time again for a week. Still, I'm not gonna lie... there is some appeal to starting on the dishes, doing about half, and then having the time to finish them up later in the evening or even the next day. (But since I haven't yet tackled the whole 'sweeping of the floor' thing, I still think that Emily-on-a-schedule is the better option.)

This new year's eve passed with less pomp and circumstance than previous years, but it was still a fun time. Looking ahead to everything that's going to happen this year is a bit daunting what with applying to vet school, but when 2011 rolls around I'll know more about my future, for better (Philadelphia) or for worse (Lafayette.)*

Also, since I'm so stupidly stubborn (and apparently I like alliteration) I don't usually like to commit to something unless I'm 100% certain that I will follow through. I have this inability to say "can't" and as such have learned to think long and hard about what I commit myself to. So I don't generally like New Year's Resolutions. A whole year? To do something I'm not already doing? Tell me THAT'S not setting myself up for failure/misery.

So I didn't make any resolutions, per se. I just decided to take action on some areas in my life that I noticed needed some help.

Like getting up in the mornings.

Luckily, the weather cooperated with that. Internets, I have found my threshold for getting up earlier in the mornings, and that threshold is somewhere in the neighborhood of 17 degrees Fahrenheit. Brrrrrr. I can't imagine leaving the house with wet hair in this cold so I have to put some effort into my appearance (i.e. blow dry my hair) as well as get up earlier to do it. I haven't been late to work yet this year....until the snowpocalypse this morning. (On a related note, cuz, if your vehicle currently doesn't have 4WD, or at the least good front wheel drive, I would look into doing something about that before your upcoming move. People are dumb in the snow.)

Another area that needs help? Drinking more water.

I know that I don't drink enough water. And I know that the body could actually use a whole lot more water than most people give it. And this is an easy fix to a lot of problems....so drinking more water it is. I'm not trying to change everything at once, but I am trying to only have one non-water drink every other day while drinking as much water as I can daily. So far so good, and I expect this to hold up until....oh.....finals week. When Coca-Cola is the only thing that gets me through and all bets are off.

So no resolutions, but some minor changes that I'm trying out to see if they stick.

What about you guys? New resolutions/changes? Does 2010 hold anything fun in store for you?

*I'm not even THINKING about the worst worse. I'll cross that bridge (weeping) if I have to.

A Good Guesser

Due to the tight budget here in my world, the boy's Christmas present was delayed until after Christmas so that I had a bit more time to save up. I did use the extra time wisely, however, and made sure to confirm that what he wanted could be purchased from amazon.com with the gift cards that I have accumulated from the use of my amazon.com visa I was thinking as a gift was something he would need and use.

(We also did the letters that we exchanged last year. Seriously. Love the letters. You should make them part of your Christmas tradition as well.)

A little background info that I haven't mentioned it here because I was originally joking about it and then realized that my jokes were actually hitting home. The boy? He is having a minor crisis about turning 30 in 2010. I'm treading carefully because this is completely unfamiliar territory for me. I celebrated turning 30. The boy? He seems to be having a mild freak-out that is manifesting itself in several ways. So the jokes have stopped, and I'm just watching to see what happens and offering support wherever I can.

The first major change was a workout regimen that started about three weeks ago and is still going strong. So when I heard about the regular running, I suggested an iPod nano to keep him from constantly borrowing mine so he could listen to music to keep him motivated. He seemed excited about this idea, so I hatched a plot to purchase the gift as soon as possible after Christmas.

Yesterday I purchased the nano and at the last minute decided to save my giftcards and just purchase directly from the apple store. The price wasn't different and I can use the giftcards for textbooks. Also (ALSO!) if you order from the apple store, you can get engraving.

So I placed my order, chose an appropriately disgustingly sappy sweet message to engrave, and threw in an armband impulsively at the last minute. I was pretty pleased with myself.

Which means, of course, that I was itching to tell the boy about it. I mean, I'm the person who gives gifts WAAAAAAAY ahead of time if I have them. I can't keep secrets to save my life. (Except your secret. I can totally keep yours.) Luckily, the boy is the same way and humors me when I get excited. Like last night on our way to get pizza.

"I bought your gift today."

"A nano, right? We discussed this. I can't wait. Woo Hoo!"

"Yeah, but there are four surprises about it that you DON'T know. So take that! Ha!!"

"I'll bet I can guess them."

"Whatever. Take your best shot!" I said confidently. "You can even have one extra guess. Five guesses."

"Hmmmm. Okay. You can't buy them pre-loaded with music, right? Soooo.... you got a green one."

(Damn. But that was easy. Green is his favorite color.) "Yes."

"Oh! And you got it engraved."

(Okay, whatever. The only reason he knew that was a possibility is because mine is engraved.) "Yes. And it's incredibly embarrassing. I hope all of your friends see it and make fun of you."

"Whatever. They all know you. And.... you got me an arm band so that I can start using it right away?"

(Double damn!) "Yes," I said grudgingly.

"And new ear buds so that I don't have to use my old headphones?"

"NO! That is incorrect! Ha! You didn't get all of them!!!"

"I have one more guess."

"Oh....right." (Drat that extra guess. Stupid overconfidence generosity.)

"Hmmmm...." The boy considered for a while, then brightened, "I know! You got me the 8GB instead of the 5GB."

I sat in disbelief. I'm not sure why. We've already established that there aren't many secrets surrounding Emily. I am not the enigma I imagine myself to be. The boy cabbage patched in the seat next to me. I sputtered in frustration. If there's a list titled "Things Emily Does Not Like" losing would be in the top five.

If not second.

Or tied with first.

The boy quickly grew serious and said, "I'm already excited. I can't wait. Especially if it has an embarrassing message because it will always make me think of you."

And that made it all better. Because it really is better to give than to receive., and his happiness was the aim all along. But, you know...I couldn't let HIM know that.

"Yeah, and it will remind all of your OTHER girlfriends that I'm still the queen."

Tannenbaum

Ridiculously enough, I've never had my own Christmas tree before. Never ever. Not because I never thought to purchase one (hello after-Christmas sales. you are my friends.) but because I never found one that called to me. I knew it couldn't be full sized, because Lord knows where I'll be in the upcoming years, and most 4' trees were just...meh. But I also wanted one that required minimal ornamentation because I have a cat, and she likes to play with shiny things.

That all changed at the Lazarus after Christmas sale 2008 where Emily found this awesomeness as the display tree of the Christmas tree area that was the only one left of its kind. If you're wondering whether or not I carried this baby around without a box for 45 minutes while my mother tried to decide whether or not she wanted to purchase any Christmas ornaments and had to fend off questions from three different people who wanted to know where I found it, the answer would be, "You bet your tushie I did!"

I also spent two whole dollars on my four cardinals, and I leave the lights on the tree on in the evenings so that it can be seen through the window while simultaneously running up my electric bill. Funny thing is, I don't regret either action for a second.

'Tis the season!

This Post is About Writing Utensils

Finals week messes with your head, man. Any, um, peculiarities? Magnified. And I am not without my peculiarities.

I mean, I know I have quirks. But I like to think that I'm a (somewhat) normal person. With a (mostly) logical head on her shoulders. It's not like I believe that there is a huge CIA conspiracy to use mind control on the entire population of America. Or that I believe that if a black cat crosses my path while I'm walking under a ladder I'm screwed. Or that if I break a mirror it's seven years of bad luck. I shrug that stuff off.

Now, SOME people will hasten to mention here that I seem superstitious about things that matter to me. And a bit....obsessive...about the way things are "supposed to be." For example, I really don't like to talk about possible admission into vet school next year for fear I may accidentally jinx myself. And I don't think I'm obsessive (I prefer particular) but I will admit that before going to sleep at night, my bed has to be made "just so." (Seriously, how DOES the boy sleep when there is absolutely no order to the sheets and blankets? I mean, how do his feet not end up hanging out the other end?! And the lumps? I mean, does he just sleep on them without noticing?!)

Okay, so mostly normal. I may have my quirks, but really, who doesn't? But during finals week...man. Finals week does something to your brain. It really really does.

For example. This is my pencil. It wasn't always my pencil. In fact, it wasn't the first pencil that I bought. But since the first pencil that I bought sucked horribly, ever since this pencil swooped in to save the day, it has been my pencil. And since it lives in my backpack, and I always take my backpack to class, I am never without my pencil in class.

My pencil is very important. In fact, since many of the science classes I've taken have been math based, one might say that my pencil is essential. I erase a lot. You might be able to tell this given the lack of eraser on my pencil. Which is why I purchased this eraser to go with my pencil. Only that eraser? Well, considering I've been in school for over two years now, and I've taken 35 hours of classes (all sciences) that eraser was used. It was used a lot. And this year it got used to the point where I had to remove the pretty protective cardboard wrapper that was keeping the eraser all pretty and white (on the parts that weren't being used of course. And let me tell you, this one time I loaned my eraser to this guy and he used the wrong end!! I mean there was very clearly a used end, and a not used end. Why on earth would you mess up the not used end? I lost sleep over this question. If you know the answer, please email me.)

Anyhow. Now that pretty eraser? Well, it looks like this. And though it may look white in the picture, I assure you, it is turning into a dingy grey. And to be quite honest, the dingy grey, no longer sharp angles at the edges thing? It's starting to bug me. It's starting to bug me a lot.

Quirks people! I have quirks!

Besides, having to keep track of both a pencil AND an eraser? Cumbersome. So I decided to get a new pencil. One new pencil. One new very cool pencil that you can not only use by clicking the top, but also by clicking the cool little buttons on the grip portion of the pencil. And it has a new eraser included. Brand new eraser with sharp edges. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Ta Da! Problem solved.

And so I go to my second final last night. And I get out my brand new pencil and begin to fill in the bubbles that spell out my name on the scantron sheet. And something felt... off. It felt... wrong. Like, perhaps I wouldn't pass the final if I didn't stop using that alien pencil immediately.

Seriously folks. I know this blog may not exactly support this claim, but I am logical. I am black and white. There is no grey. I know that my choice of pencil will not affect my mental capabilities enough to cause me to fail my final.

Except... what if it does?

And damned if I didn't open up my backpack, pull out my old eraser-less pencil and dingy eraser and immediately feel much better. One might say I felt like all was right with the world again.

NOTE:
Originally the post ended with that sentence. But I just let the boy pre-read this before posting and he said, "Did you erase what you had already written with the new pencil?"

Immediately worried, I said, "Nooooooo." Internally I was thinking, "SHIT! I hadn't even thought of that!"

The boy responded with a regretful shake of his head and said with complete certainty, "Well then you're fucked."

Is it any wonder I have quirks?

Methinks it may be a tad cold in the mornings...

Please excuse the terrible picture quality (taken with cell phone) but I could not resist the cuteness that greeted me this morning after I forced myself out of bed and into my cold house to turn up the heat. Apparently Casey saw no pressing reason to get up. She's avoiding eye contact because she thinks that will make it so that I don't get her up, outside into the cold, and ultimately into her kennel for the day. It is Friday, and she looks about how I felt this morning, so I had pity on her and left her alone while I showered. She hadn't moved when I returned. I'm pretty sure that if I could have read her thoughts, they would have been something along the lines of "Nothing to see here. Please move along. Only sheets and bedspread. No dog here. Nope. No dog here."

The Death of Me

Have I mentioned my brilliant idea for parental holiday gift giving this year? No? Pity. Because now it can't happen, and the universe hates me and organic chemistry is the root of all evil in existence.

Okay, not really.

But sorta.

Finals week is December 14-19. Since I take night classes, my finals fell on the evening of December 15th and the evening of December 16th. On the one hand - suck! Because I have less than two weeks to prepare. On the other hand - wheeeee! I'll be done early and have more time to enjoy the Christmas holiday.

When I was last in my hometown, not visiting my old band instructor, I was discussing the boy and the paradox that is his incredible ability to clean things meticulously coupled with the complete lack of any cleaning in his own apartment. When I was telling my story, my dad laughed and said, "Well, he can come and clean here anytime."

Which got me to thinking...

The boy hasn't seen my parents in a really long time. To be fair, I generally don't insist that he accompany me on trips to my hometown. This is for several reasons. A) His sanity. B) My sanity. C) My hometown isn't all that exciting and there isn't much to do. D) If I'm planning on hanging out with single girlfriends, the boy would be unhappy if I mandated his attendance. E) He uses those weekends to go camping and I'm happy that he doesn't insist that I go with him and F) If he doesn't go, he always has dinner for me when I get back to Indy. But still. I know he likes my parents. I like my parents. I like the boy. The boy likes me. My parents like me. They like the boy. Seems as though we should all get together soon.

Since I skipped out on Thanksgiving, there was no opportunity for the boy to see my family then. And since he has his own family to see, going to my parent's house for Christmas is out of the question as well.

And so I cooked up this plan. Emily + the boy + short on cash = cleaning my parent's house for Christmas as their Christmas gift from "us."

My mother was elated with this plan. She couldn't stop talking about it and asking what, exactly, we would do for her (just leave us a list, mom) and asking if we do woodwork (?!). The boy? For his part, he thought it was a great idea also. We visit for a weekend, spend Saturday cleaning, hang with the parents, eat real stove-cooked food (for a change,) and spread Christmas cheer. Everybody wins. (Plus, I totally downloaded the newest Stephen King book in audio form so even the DRIVE DOWN will be fantastic.)

So we made plans to drive to my hometown the weekend before Christmas. Done and done.

But then I got this email:
__________________________
The exam key has been posted in the Resources folder.
---- The best answer for the box problem reacting 2 equivalents of HBr+peroxide+heat with the cyclohexylacetylene is NOT drawn. The two bromines should be both on the primary carbon (anti-Markovnikov). We have decided to accept both the drawn answer and the best answer. If your paper has an orange correction reducing your score from 3 to 1 for this problem, bring it to me in class or at office hours and I will give you back 2 points.

The final two electronic problem sets were posted yesterday. The first is due Monday (12/7) and the second a week from Monday (12/14).

Finally, and most importantly, the registrar has begun combining both sections to a common C341 Final Exam time this semester. As the registrar has set the time, we must use it. So, the C341 Final will occur in the Lecture Hall on December 19 at 8 am. This time is different than the time for single section classes that was used on the syllabus.

To repeat: the C341 Final Exam will occur in the Lecture Hall on December 19 at 8 am. Please pass the word.
__________________________

I'm sure it's no surprise if I tell you that the email above was sent by my organic chemistry professor.

I'm also sure it will come as no surprise that I was irate. IRATE. And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Seriously, do the powers that be WANT me to drop this class? Is this a sign that ochem really is a "weeding out" class and I'm just a weed? Because the urge to go into my professor's office, loudly explain my anger, and then drop the class is almost overwhelming. Is there no end to the misery that this class can bring into my life? Maybe it really will be the death of me?

I knew I had to tell my parents about this immediately as it definitely changes our plans for visiting. However, in order to not shock them out of thinking I am the delicate flower I'm sure they think I am, I called the boy first. And let loose a string of profanity that melted the phone and left the boy frightened for my professor's very soul.

Only then did I call my parents. When my father answered, I told him, "Dad! It's your lucky day!! This is angry-Emily calling and she's a joy to be around. However, I already called the boy and got out all the profanity, so all you get are the tears."

The last phrase trailed off into a wail.

My dad replied calmly, "What's the matter?"

"Myprofessormovedtheorganicchemistryfinalandnowit'sDecember19thateightamwhichmeansIcan'tcomeandclean"

That was said at a decibel that made Casey's ears perk up. My father then did what any loving and supporting father would do.

He started laughing.

I was indignant. "DAD! This is terrible! It isn't funny!!"

He stifled his laughter. "I understand. But if it isn't funny, it's something pretty close to it."

After a day to consider, I have to disagree with him. Still not funny. But at least I gained a tiny bit of perspective. I now have three more days to study so that when I DO take the final (that's worth 38% of my grade) I can kill it. Kill it dead. And then go clean my parents' house like it's never been cleaned before.

Pray for me.

Why I'm not posting today

I'm not writing a blog post today because it would be all angsty and whiny. All full of things like "organic chemistry sucks" and "My God WHY?!" And when I get angsty and whiny I tend to get all melodramatic and say things like, "You think childbirth is difficult? Try organic chemistry." And, you know, people who have actually HAD children tend to get upset with me.* Even though they probably already know me and know that I don't actually BELIEVE what I said.... I'm just full of "woe is me" and "life, as I know it, is about to end" and "OMG HOW STUPID CAN I BE?!"

This is the stuff that the boy tends to tune out. All the melodrama. You have to sort through all of that to find the root cause of why I'm upset and whether or not it's enough to set off real alarm bells. And if you don't have experience maneuvering this minefield, you might become disoriented by the lamenting and wailing. And the whining and the complaining.

This would be why I'm not posting today.

Because if I WERE posting, I would say things like, "Test scores should not be numbers that can be found on the face of a clock." And things like, "I just don't GET why I'm having so much difficulty with this stupid class [ochem] when I can learn new things about QUANTUM PHYSICS and have no problem comprehending them," or "Perhaps people would have an easier time with this class if it wasn't taught by Satan himself," or "You know, I totally SHOULD take advantage of your office hours, Mr. Professor. Why didn't I think of that myself? What a great suggestion! Tell me, what hours do you have between 5:00 and 9:00pm during the week?? On weekends?"

But I would also offer evidence to the depth of my pain. Like how the boy sent me a text last night that simply said "I love you" and called me this morning at 8:30am. This may not be a big deal to you, but please note that communication initiated by him is generally limited to 1:45pm on Fridays and only because I have programmed a reminder in his cell phone that pops up with "Tell Emily that you love her" each week at that time.**

And since both of those kind gestures from the boy occurred after the sad, sobbing phone call that we had last night wherein I shared my latest o-chem test grade (that actually can be found on the face of a digital clock...and not a number near the turn of the hour, either) they pretty much mean that I'm on the boy's radar under "suicide watch."

But it's not really that bad, right? Because I can see a glimmer of humor in studying for hours and creating your own study guide, only to come out of a test with a grade that's close to your waist size. At least it's the pre-ten pound weight-loss waist size, right?

I mean, really - if it's a choice between laughing and crying? I choose laughing. Like when people tell me motivational stories about how other people passed o-chem with grades that start with an "A" or "B" so I should never settle because it's definitely possible!!! That's motivating, right? Right?! Those stories are particularly uplifting when they come from your mother.

And so, since there are people out there who are actually going through difficult challenges in their life, and people who really do need the help and support of the internet, I'm not posting. Nope.

I'm just going to remind myself that 31-year-old women do not cry over test grades. We save our tears for important things. Like Hallmark movies with names like "A Dog Named Christmas."***

*In my defense, my friend Jess actually had a baby WHILE TAKING organic chemistry. She said it was the most difficult thing ever. That would be why she's in organic chemistry again with me this semester. So see, she succeeded with having the baby, and failed organic chemistry. That should tell you something.

**True story. It works too.

***Sadly, yet another true story.

Gratitude

Thank you, IUPUI, for taking the majority of my salary each month and forcing me to subsist on a diet of ramen noodles and parmesan cheese. I'll remember you when I'm making scads of money, um....running a low cost animal clinic. Yeah.

Thanks to the boy for putting up with me for over five years (!!!) and still making me laugh on a regular basis. (when he's not making me cry...or want to throttle him...) And thanks again for taking out my trash last night because you know I always forget, and there was no more room in my trash can for another week's worth of refuse. I love how you randomly notice and do things like that.

Thanks to you, Casey for FINALLY chilling out this year. I loved the puppy years, but something tells me that the dog years will be that much better.

Thanks to my mother for only being slightly frosty after I explained that I would not be heading to the homestead for Thanksgiving. I need to relax, mom. I haven't said much (because what's the use in complaining really) but what I'm doing is tough. And while I can handle it, it's only by the skin of my teeth. So I'm tired. I need to sleep and catch up on things at home. The thought of four! whole! days! with no school and no work makes me happier than anything else could right now. Thank you for giving me that gift. I am more grateful for you and dad than I could ever express, and I can't wait to see you at Christmastime.

Thanks to the friends that I won't get to see this holiday season. You guys crack me up on a regular basis. I love each and every one of you, and the worst part of being so busy lately is the lack of time I get to spend with you or talking to you.

Specific thanks to Candy for organizing a weight loss challenge that spurred me to lose 10lbs. I truly appreciate you giving me motivation when I had none but needed it badly. FYI, after the dinner we ate today I'm going to need you to go ahead and organize another one. kthxbai.

Thank you, cuz. You rock. We played Rock Band to celebrate turkey day and I totally thought of you guys.

Thanks, z. There really aren't words. (Seriously still can't believe that you know how to cook turkey. It was fantastic btw.)

I'm going to go ahead and give a tentative early thanks to my organic chem professor for passing me this semester. (ohpleasepleaseplease)

Thanks, Minnesota for beating Butler's basketball team today. Best we get any losses over with early in the season. Hopefully this will be our only one. (and then maybe my bracket picks won't be so ridiculous.)

Thank you for every blog comment that you leave. I love the interaction and that I can keep you entertained. Keep 'em coming and I promise to do my best to write regularly.

What are you thankful for? Leave me a comment. Real or facetious, I would love to know.

PS. It was Casey's birthday yesterday. She turned four. I think I'll keep her. Look at that picture again. She's so cute. In fact, I think I'll keep both of them.

Like LEGOs, only for nerds

There is no good place to study on Saturday nights.

Go figure, right? Had you told me that when I was an undergrad, I would have said something along the lines of "Like, duh! I mean, who studies on Saturday night??"

A non-traditional student who works full time while going to school - that's who studies on Saturday nights.

Apparently we're a rare breed.

Libraries close around 6:00pm on Saturdays. Even the ones on college campuses. Please see the "who studies on Saturday night" comment above. (But they're open until 1:00am on Sunday. Explain that to me. Do students not need to get up on Monday mornings? Because I certainly do.)

Study at home, you say? While that may work for some people, this option most definitely does NOT work for me. I can't focus on homework when there's laundry calling my name, and a dirty floor that needs to be swept, and dishes that need to be done, and a dog that would rather be walking than sitting on the couch next to mom and her laptop and, and, and... Yeah, Emily must go elsewhere to study.

So I head to Starbucks. It's got everything - tables big enough to spread out textbooks, wireless internet, (two hours free if you have a Starbucks card) other people on laptops... just bring your headphones and you're golden. Only the Starbucks near my house? Yeah, closes at 9:00pm. Apparently that's when people no longer need to go to Starbucks.

And you're probably thinking, "Who needs to study beyond 9:00pm?" Well, if I get to sleep in as long as I want on Sunday, and I've got the motivation....why not? It's not like the boy and I get to make weekend plans anymore. This girl has to conquer organic chemistry. (It's not going well. I'll be lucky to make a peace treaty with ochem at this point.)

And then I stumbled upon the Starbucks nearest the IUPUI campus. Apparently I AM a rare breed, and the rest of my breed gather at this Starbucks. To study on Saturday nights. We. Are. Awesome. And the Starbucks? It closes at midnight.

So a couple of weeks ago, I was parked at my Starbucks with my headphones, looking at the following problem. This is a representation of a molecule. 2-butanol if you really want to be specific. It was up to me to determine if the molecule was (+) or (-). (Trust me, you don't want to know. No really.) Basically, I had to take that 3D representation and match it to one of the 2D drawings below. Unfortunately, my brain was just refusing to work that way. I mean, I know that the black spheres are carbon, and the red sphere is oxygen, but for some reason I couldn't rotate that 3D picture in my head. Maybe my brain just doesn't work that way? I was just not getting the right answer.

And so I decided a 3D model might help.

Let's rewind a bit to when I enrolled in school. Back when I had money. Back when I didn't realize exactly how difficult this road was going to be. Back when I was bright eyed and bushy tailed and so! excited! to go! back to school!! Back in those days, when I had to purchase textbooks for the first time, it was "suggested" that we purchase a molecule modeling kit to help with chemistry. Since I was so excited (!!!) and the kit was only $12, I decided that I might as well just buy the kit. It might help someday and, let's face it, it looked like something really cool that I wanted to play with.

I haven't opened it since then. Until now. Until the hell that is organic chemistry. Which is a good thing. Because if I hadn't purchased it back then, and needed it now, I would think to myself, "Twelve Dollars?! For some glorified LEGOs?! Seriously? I could eat THREE TIMES for twelve dollars."

I really need to start playing the lottery.

So I'm at Starbucks (with my headphones) and I pull out my modeling kit. And I build a model. A pretty pretty model if I do say so myself. A 3D model that I could manipulate and determine that the 3D drawing matched the 2D drawing on the left.

I was pretty proud of myself. So I sat back and stretched for a moment. Which is when I looked around. And I realized that I was in the middle of Starbucks. With what amounted to adult LEGOs. And that there were people looking at me.

Great. Just go ahead and tape the "Kick me" sign to my back.

And then I realized that the looks were looks of understanding. Which reminded me that IUPUI has a rather large medical school. And of COURSE med students would understand. They've been there. They probably have overpriced adult LEGOs of their own.

They just, you know, don't pull them out in public.

Why I was late for work today

I got up this morning to the fantastic sight of cat regurgitation on my spot on the couch.

This is certainly not the first time I've awoken to cat regurgitation. But it IS the first time my cat has decided to say "F you" by puking in my couch spot. It's not like that's the ONLY place on the couch that I sit, but it's the spot for optimal TV viewing and laptop using as opposed to optimal lighting for reading. And since I'm in school, let's face it, there's a lot more formal report writing (and mindless TV watching) when I'm at home than there is reading for pleasure. (Side note: Has anyone else noticed the HORRIBLE acting on SVU?)

So my spot. Cat puke. I curse Laney's name, make a mental note to clean it up once I've showered (and the heat has had a chance to make my house less like a refrigerator) and I head off to begin my morning routine.

Can I just mention one thing? The one advantage to living in my very old and tiny living space is the heat. The place is tiny, so once the heat is on it takes approximately 40 seconds to make the place comfortably warm. Fifty seconds to uncomfortably warm, but we don't think about that because in the mornings? There's no such thing. Also, there is a heating vent in my bathroom that takes up approximately 20% of the available floor space. You would think this is an inconvenient thing, but it's not. It's a fabulous thing. What I do is leave the heat very very low at night and snuggle under the covers with a warm puppy. When I wake up, I turn on the heat to about 75 first thing and then jump into the shower. Turning on the heat ensures two things, A) the hot water is SCALDING - just the way I like it and B) the bathroom is a veritable sauna when I step out of the shower. Bliss. In fact, even after you dry off, you can stand over the heating vent in the bathroom (that is fortuitously located immediately above the actual heating unit) and just be warm warm warm.*

Add this routine to the happiness that I already felt because it's Friday (and I don't have to be at work until EIGHT AM!! EIGHT!!! A whole HOUR later than normal!!!!) and I was a happy happy girl once I was dressed, clean and warm. I let Casey outside and decided to check the weather before I committed fully to my outfit for the day.

Another tangent to mention is that I HAZ INNERNETZ IN MY HOUZ!!!! My cheap ass, broke down and went with AT&T for their DSL that is $19.95/month.** (Shameless plug for AT&T! They are not paying me for this endorsement, I am just grateful to have teh innernetz in my house through an entirely painless process even though I don't have a home phone!!) So now? I can respond to emails in the evenings and on weekends! I can watch my tv shows online! I! Can! Check! The! Weather!!!

So I plopped myself down in front of my laptop to check out weather.com.

Right on top of cat puke.

The stream of words that came out of my mouth were NOT words that my mother taught me. Trust. I took off my khaki's, looked at the stain on the butt, looked at my couch, cursed some more and stalked off to find another suitable pair of pants to wear to work on "casual Friday."***

Miraculously, I found another pair of clean khakis. Miraculous because I pretty much LIVE in khakis these days, and laundry is reserved for time between study binges....so pretty much once every two months.

While I'm putting on my second pair of khakis for the day, I decide that the day is not shot. It's FRIDAY for Pete's sake. In fact, the miraculous clean khakis are a SIGN! FROM GOD! It will still be a good day. Sure I have an ochem test on Monday, but I feel reasonably prepared and will spend no less than 20 hours studying this weekend. Maybe I can even squeeze in a good long walk with Casey? In fact, I should go check the weather because I heard that it is going to be a pretty weekend.

So I head over to my laptop and plop myself in front of it to check weather.com.

Right on top of cat puke.

AGAIN!

It's at this point that I decide that I'm going to drink the emergency Coke Classic sitting in my fridge.**** For breakfast. Because really? Twice, Emily? In a span of five minutes?!

Welcome to my life folks. Let this be a warning to anyone else who thinks that taking ten hours of sciences while working full time is a good idea. You will end up sitting in cat puke multiple times as a result of your inability to keep a thought in your head for longer than two minutes.

*I just have to remember to turn the heat back down to "normal" before I leave for work. Total number of times that I've forgotten so far this year? Twice. Boo!!!

**Goodbye morning latte. I'll miss you.

***I'm omitting the part where I possibly briefly considered just wiping off the khakis and wearing them anyway. Because who would think that? Not this girl.

****This post may or not be a result of the high levels of caffeine and sugar running through my veins at this very moment. Please excuse me now, I have to go run laps around my office building for a while.

Since I'm apparently in the sharing mood...

...go check out this article. I don't think I could have said it any better. And if you feel you have enough time on your hands, read her previous article as well. In doing the research for her first article, the author gained the knowledge about pit bulls that she shared in her second article.

It's almost perfectly how I feel about owning Casey. And how I wish many pit bull advocates would think. Because the crazies? They're out there. And unfortunately some of them are pit bull "advocates." And they scare me.

Speaking of Casey, (we were, right?) she's having an attack of allergies that is making her miserable. It happens every spring, but this year it's worse and has lasted longer than usual. Cross your fingers with me, won't you, that the cortizone injection coming her way (the SECOND cortizone injection) works to make her feel better so that mom won't be hit with having to do blood work on her dog-ter and potentially spend money she doesn't have to cure some obscure skin condition...

Yes, happy times at our house these days. If someone could go ahead and make 36 hour days, that would be FANTASTIC. Anyone? Bueller?

While you're at it, if you want to go ahead and clean my house so that I'm not embarrassed when someone makes the perfectly normal request to use the restroom when they're over, that would be fabulous as well.

Oh, and while you're doing things for me, can you go ahead and suggest to the boy that after Emily mentions that she's been studying one particular topic all day long and just had a breakthrough that enables her to understand it, he should not say, after a long thoughtful pause, "My worry is that you're not being efficient in your studying." That might (MIGHT) set off a nuclear explosion the likes of which he's never before seen.

Time is NOT on my side...

...so there is no time to blog. But I did find one of the funnier sites on the internet today and I wanted to share.

You know Etsy? The latest rage for selling handmade objects? Well, internets, meet Regretsy. The tagline is "Handmade? It looks like you made it with your feet."

Was there any doubt that I would love this site?

I haven't had time to go through the entire thing, but my favorites so far are here, here (make sure to note the title on that one) and here. Make sure you don't skip over her commentary. Sometimes it can be pretty succinct. I had to struggle to contain my laughter when I stumbled upon this at work.* It was so bad that tears were welling up in my eyes. No lie.

So, enjoy! And make sure to leave your favorites in the comments.

*Shhhh! Don't tell my boss.