So That Happened...

"A mix tape! He made a mix tape!"

I left this comment on Three Words Back... when David asked about mix tape/CD stories. I was going to hold on writing about it until Valentine's Day because it seemed more appropriate, but it's been on my mind and so I wanted to share it with you now instead.

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I was a BIG Michael Jackson fan when I was young. Who wasn't? I went to school with a boy named Jon who teased me mercilessly. Of course, I didn't know at the time that that was Boy Code for him liking me; I just thought he was mean and that he didn't like me at ALL. Ah, youth.

One day in the third grade there was a knock on the door. When I opened it no one was there, and nothing was there but for a small package. I opened it, and inside was a love letter from Jon (on notebook paper!) tied around a cassette of Thriller. Not a purchased cassette, but rather a copy he had made from a record. Being a kid, I was embarrassed and got rid of both things in due time.

Even though Jon and I are no longer in touch, I would give *anything* to have his letter and that tape back - that little black cassette that Jon made just for me, because he knew how much I loved Michael Jackson. I really, really would.

Fin.

(Today's title is from the song "Mix Tape" from Avenue Q!)

OMG, I Can't Even Text My BFF Jill

I confess: I'm a texting addict. I never suspected this would happen to me. When I got my current phone in 1995 2005 (thank you, Laurie Ann, for unintentionally showing me that I erred in my writing), I didn't think I would use the texting feature: "What? Why text? Why not just call that person? I mean, if you're using your phone anyway. Pfft."

Fast forward to two years later (see, I really meant to write '2005'), and I am completely on board with texting. I soon learned that I can tell people what's going on without having to actually talk to them - woo! I am now so adept that I can do it with one hand and (gulp) drive with the other without ever taking my eyes off the road. Yes, I have totally become That Driver. (I KNOW. I can feel your scorn from here. It's not my best feature by far. The shame, the shame!)

The other thing with me is that, like my friend Linda (who I have never texted, by the way, but I know she does this because she blogged about it, and who I should text just because), I have to text in complete sentences. I cannot text in - what is it called? - Textese? Like with letters and numbers so every message looks like a Prince song title? Well, I can't do that. I feel texting in complete sentences makes the act feel more civilized. I'm sure Emily Post would approve.

So, you can imagine my dismay when last night before Laurie's book signing (which was GREAT - pictures to come soon) I discovered that my texting feature died on me. Like, dead in its tracks. The horror! And I was in the middle of a "conversation" and everything! Is the universe trying to tell something? Like, 'Hey, lady, quit texting and PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY.' It wouldn't be that mean, would it?

I'm getting a new phone as soon as I can today.

In other news, I added an RSS feed thingy to my blog. If you're interested in that sort of thing, you can find it at the bottom of the right-hand corner, right under my stats. Have at it.

(UPDATE: I took my phone to the store and one of the salespeople took all of five minutes to take out the battery, wait one minute, put it back in and turn my phone back on. Problem solved. I should have known. Most problems can always be fixed by either unplugging or taking out the battery!)

You Know It's Time For Vacation When...

...you get in the shower, wonder why your vision has gone suddenly blurry, panic for a millisecond about the aforementioned blurry vision, and then realize it's only because you have your glasses on and you totally forgot about them and they got all fogged up.

Sigh.

In other news, I will post about the concert shortly.  There's much to say!

Better Living Through TV

Here's the thing about me: I am kind of crazy about infomercials.  I love watching them (is there better mindless TV in the middle of the night when you can't sleep?), and I love ordering from them even more.  No, I don't have the Ronco Rotisserie Oven or Pasta Maker or Pocket Fisherman.  HOWEVER, I do have the Magic Bullet, which works if you're blending, like, two tablespoons of food at a time, and no, I haven't used it to blend dozens of margaritas for friends with each person getting a color-coded cup thing, YET.  I ordered this product years ago before Jessica or Vanessa or Diddy started pitching for it, but I had to return it as it totally stripped my face of everything good and holy and pure.  I even started using this product based on the infomercial, but I bought it in the store instead of ordering it online, and I have been using it regularly ever since, just so you know.

As much as I am a fan of the gadget, what I am apparently a bigger fan of are exercise programs.  I collect them the way I collect cookbooks in that I hoard them all and use them maybe once or twice.  Over the years I have kickboxed and worked my core group, both times on VHS, mind you.  I was even given the pilates set again last year but on DVD.  You'd think I'd be in Super Awesome Shape with the programs I have on hand, but no, not so much, only because I don't use them as much as I should.

But now, my friends, I think I have found the road to fitness, and it is paved with these: Hip Hop Abs.  OH YEAH.  I saw the infomercial a few weeks ago and was sold: hip hop dancing combined with moves to work my abs without having to do crunches?!  I'M IN! 

I broke down and finally ordered the DVDs this weekend.  I'll let you know how it goes.  No, there won't be any 'Before' photos of me looking tragic with bad posture and no makeup and under bad lighting and in a too-tight outfit.  You will just have to take my word that I have, indeed, awesome-looking Hip Hop Abs.

So there.

Holiday Blues: A Quick Update

Last week I was feeling quite blue. 

I am feeling better.  To be certain, I'm not 100% okay, but I am better.  For now.

Baby steps, right?

Holiday Blues

It's funny how this time of the year, with all of its pomp and circumstance and gift-wrapped joy, can bring equally strong feelings of sadness.  I am quite sad right now, and for a variety of reasons, none of which I will go into detail about here.  I know - I should be grateful for what I do have - but at this time the sadness overshadows everything else.  I am dealing with everything as best as I can, even if it feels like my heart will break, and that is all I can do.

The fact that my birthday falls around the holidays isn't helping matters.  This may sound strange, but I always feel particularly lonely at that time.  I chalk that up to having grown up without all of the big childhood birthday parties just because all the other kids were off on vacation with their own families.  (You kids with your non-holiday birthdays are SO lucky, I can't tell you.)  Last year I threw myself a birthday party for the first time in I don't know how long, and it was great.  This year, however, I'm feeling so down that I just cannot get my act together to plan another event.  It is too bad, because I have the best birthday party theme EVER, but it would take much more planning and forethought, and I honestly don't have the time or energy to put into it.

(No, this isn't some backhanded attempt to cajole others into planning something for me, so please do not do anything like that.  Thanks.)

Maybe what I need is another solo birthday getaway, one where I can do anything I want, like sleep, or eat macaroni and cheese, or walk through a museum at a leisurely pace.  Or cry. 

Sigh.  Being in a funk stinks.

Perspective

I was set to write a post about the awful day I had and how I was feeling really overwhelmed due to a surplus of Bad Things Happening To Me - so much so that I have cried more than once just thinking about how I will manage, which isn't really a good thing when you are, you know, DRIVING - and woe is me cry me a river blaaaaaaaah.

And then I received an e-mail from a friend - the "we were close years ago but haven't kept up with regularly since and not because of a quarrel but because life happens but we still send Christmas cards and sporadic e-mails declaring how we simply MUST see each other!, and soon!, but never do" type of friend.  You know what I mean.

Her younger sister died this week of a heart attack.  She was 26 years old.

I decided not to write that post after all.

I will miss you, Lori. 

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Today is Thanksgiving, or as it is known in England, "Thursday."

I am very thankful.  Why?

I have a family I love even when they drive me crazy sometimes, which they do, but that's okay, because that's what family does, right?   

I now have two beautiful nieces who are my most favorite people in the entire world.  Look up "doting aunt" in the dictionary and you will see my picture.

I also have an embarrassment of friends who are kind, funny, giving, and altogether amazing.  Did I mention that they are also gorgeous, my friends?  Because THEY ARE.  You should see them.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.   Remember to pace yourselves when eating, and to save some for leftovers!

Knitting At Times Makes For Strange Bedfellows

I was in bed last night watching TV (and OH did I watch a lot of TV - my TiVo is so very happy to have some breathing room for once this week, but I think it is still holding a grudge because it deleted both Heroes and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip before I could watch them!  Bad TiVo!) and knitting.  I'm almost halfway done with the Clapotis from Knitty, guys!  I just added my fourth ball of Koigu KPPPM yarn to the piece and am using a #4 24-inch Addi Turbo circular.  Of course, this means nothing to anyone since I haven't posted any photos to back this up, which means I should get to taking some pictures of my work in progress.

But I digress.

I was knitting in bed and wearing my beloved Preservation Hall Jazz Band tank top (purchased while in New Orleans in 1999), underwear (nothing I'm going to go into any detail about) and, well, that's it.  (Trust me - this is relevant.)  I was chugging away on the Clapotis when all of a sudden one of the stitch markers (this pattern uses a lot of stitch markers, FYI) flew off the tip of my needle and landed...somewhere in my bed.  GREAT.  I couldn't continue knitting until I put a stitch marker in place, so I took a second one and put it on the needle.  And because I'm probably a little OCD, I couldn't continue knitting until I found the rogue stitch marker.  So, I put the Clapotis down and started to look around for it.

The stitch marker?  Was nowhere to be found.  It didn't land on me or anywhere in or on my sheets - it was as if it just vanished into thin air.  Poof!  Just like that.  Not on my comforter nor near my pillows - it just disappeared.  I know that a stitch marker is just a little piece of plastic, but I really couldn't rest until it was located.  If that makes me a cheap knitting bastard, so be it.

After more fruitless searching, I eventually got out of bed to see if the stitch marker landed anywhere else.  Maybe it got tangled up in the folds of my tank top?  Perhaps.  I stood up, shook down my bed a bit more, and came up with nothing.  Bah. 

I then patted myself down a bit (keep it clean, kids) and guess what?

I found the stitch marker.  ADHERED TO MY ASS.

Sigh.

(Pictures of the Clapotis-in-progress to follow.  Pictures of my ass, however, will not.  Sorry!)

Note To Self

Dear Self,

Don't worry.  I know it's hard to not do so, but still - don't.  I know things are murky and that your heart isn't in what you are doing AAAAND you're feeling demands from all sides, but things can and will get better, okay?  They must. 

You'll be fine, really.  Enough of the self-doubt!  You're far too talented and intelligent and valuable for you to think that way.

Courage.

What, Me Struggle?

I am happy and proud to report that I have not locked my keys in my car for an entire month.

Hey, it's the little things.