Arthur! It's a YULETIDE!*

*If anyone knows that reference, I will certainly die of happiness. Indeed, I will.



GUYS! CHRISTMAS IS COMING! IT'S PRACTICALLY HERE!

Do you know that I love Christmas? Do you know that I love decking the halls and baking and singing and ho,ho,ho-ing? Do you know that I love Christmas sweaters? Did you happen to know I love mistletoe and poinsettias and White Christmas? Have you heard how much I love blasting Elvis's Christmas album in my car? Did you see the wreath on my door? And on my car? Did you see my three Christmas trees? Do you know how I delight in the Christmas movies? Especially the ridiculous ones? Do you know how I love the ribbons? The wrappings? The tags and the tinsel? The trimmings? The trappings?


But guess what is my very favorite of it all.


I desperately love giving presents. I love buying them. I really love wrapping them. And, most of all, I love not being able to sit still for days and days because I'm so excited to give them. Every year I tell myself that I'm going to keep everything a secret until Christmas so people are surprised but then, two weeks before Christmas, I find myself sending texts reading yelling "I JUST GOT YOUR CHRISTMAS PRESENT AND IT IS SO AWESOME AND I CAN'T WAIT TO GIVE IT TO YOU AND CAN I COME OVER NOW PLEASE?"


(Have you heard that I am sometimes a little dramatic?)



This year, because I like to torture myself and because I am a perennial over-achiever on things that don't matter and under-achiever on everything else, I've decided to do 100% homemade presents (well, 98% homemade because I don't know how to make nail polish and that gift simply needed it).

It was so much fun because I got to be off-the-walls excited three times: when I decided what to make, when I made it and then when I had to wait impatiently to give them away. It. was. awesome.

Here are a few that I've been super-excited about:

Lavender and gardenia soaps for the ladies at church.

Bath salts for friends.

Peppermint fudge for the neighbors.

Energizing sugar scrubs for the roommies.

A fleece Dodgers blanket for a friend.

Cake pops for my Visiting Teachers.

Treat bags for the staff at work.

What's this? A book?

Not so! It's a totally awesome secret hiding place for stuff and also bonus gifts inside!

Recipe books for the ladies at work.

A set of totally kick-a playlists* for Dad.

I'm having way too much fun**. Who else is insane this holiday season? Anyone?

---

*Benji Hughes, Bright Eyes, Pavement, Menomena, the Old 97s, The Head and the Heart, God Help the Girl, The Cure, Coconut Records, Bob Dylan, The Explorers Club and Wilco? And the award for Daughter of the Year goes to . . . 



**Interesting conversation with roommate this week:
Me: Aww! This is so cute! Come look!
Her: Geez! Every time you make anything you're like 'Come look at this! It's cute!' Are you really that starved for attention?
Me: Oh. I'm sorry. I'm just really excited.
Literally 30 seconds later . . .
Me: THIS IS SO CUTE! YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!!

An embarrassing thing

One time I was in a business meeting and I was eating raspberry yogurt.

Why? I don't know. But, anyway, I was.

So we were sitting around talking about business-y things and I was just sitting there slurping away at that Dannon Light & Fit when a medium-sized blob of raspberry yogurt dropped off my spoon and onto my forearm. It quivered there for a bit, that delightfully tangy spot of purple, and when I saw it I knew what must be done.

So what do you think I did with that rogue raspberry blob?


a) wiped it away with a napkin

b) wiped it away with a napkin

c) raised my arm to my mouth and licked it off, momentarily forgetting that I was in a Professional Business Setting and also that I am not an animal and am not allowed to lick myself in public and when I looked up I found every eye in the room trained on me and every face expressing the same thought and that thought was, "Is that chick licking her arm?" and now whenever I see these people I wonder if they're thinking about that one time that I licked my arm in a meeting even though it happened like two years ago but, come on, that's kind of a hard thing to forget and so I bet they still think about it.

Lessons from Madeline

I kicked it with my three-year-old niece, Maddie, over Thanksgiving and learned a lot about life from her.

Lesson #1: If you feel like a princess, well you go right ahead and tell everyone so. And there's no shame in wearing a crown out to dinner if that's what you like. Just go be you, princess.

Lesson #2: Sometimes you have big mountains to climb and it's always a little easier when you've got a hand to hold.

Lesson #3: Bedtimes are for sissies. (If they can't find you, they can't put you to bed.)

Lesson #4: There's always time for dancing. (And Oreos.)

By way of explaination . . .

My office is kept at an approximate 40 degrees most days which means the long hours I spend in my stupid ice cave at my stupid ice desk are some of the most miserable hours ever spent in the history of spent hours.  

(Would you like a little cheese with your whine?)

And that's why I keep these little numbers (given to me by my dearest aunt) in my desk for those chilly days.

And also why I was hugging the copier this morning as it was warming up.








Just . . . . wanted to explain.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Let us rise up and be thankful,

for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little,

and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick,
and if we got sick, at least we didn't die;

so, let us all be thankful.

~Buddha

My cup runneth over.

For food in a world where many walk in hunger,

For friends in a world where many walk alone,

I am ever, ever thankful.





(Also for pie.)

The first time I watched this, all I could squeak out was, "The eyebrows! Oh, the eyebrows!"

I can't figure out if this really is as funny as I think it is or if I'm just laughing because I'm pretty sure this is exactly how I look when I listen to hip-hop.

Gretchen + Kim + enclosed space + 3 hours + paint fumes = FUN!

I have lived in my current house for two-and-a-half years.

I have hated the color of the bathroom for two-and-a-half years.

I have talked about painting the bathroom for two-and-a-half years.

Last weekend, we painted the bathroom.

It's pretty awesome.

Please excuse the makeshift window treatment. I haven't gotten around to actually sewing the curtain so it's just the material draped over the rod. This is how we keep things classy.

Oh, except is it driving you crazy that the shade of the wall is slightly off from the color of the shower curtain? Yeah, I know. This weekend I learned an important lesson called Don't Try to Pick Out Paint Colors From Memory and also Learn How to Live With Things That Aren't a Big Deal and maybe The Value of a Dollar Because You Aren't Buying a New Shower Curtain 'Cause This One is Perfectly Fine.


I also learned Don't Step Backward When You're Standing On The Counter Right in Front of the Can of Paint and When You Have Paint on Your Foot Don't Continue Walking Around the Counter.

 

P.S. This weekend we also watched An Affair to Remember and Gretchen mocked me for crying at the end! She claims she's never cried over that movie. I think it's now clear that I live with a cyborg with a COLD, BLACK HEART OF STONE. And now the question is, what should I do about that?

This ol' brain o' mine . . .

So do you remember how I keep a notebook and pen by my bed so I can write down all the fabulous ideas I have during the night? Yeah? Well, this is what I woke to this morning:

If you can't read my half-asleep scrawl, this reads "The great ABOMINABLE graham cracker man!!"

I stared at this page for about ten minutes this morning wondering what the crap I thought was so funny about this at 2 am. Also, who else is impressed that I spelled "abominable" correctly in the middle of the night in the dark? 

How to make chili: a step-by-step guide.

Step one: gather ingredients.

You will need chiles . . . 

 

(lots of chiles)

meat . . .

 

 (lots of meat)

bacon . . .

  

(lots of bacon)

onions . . . 

(lots of onions)

garlic . . .

(lots of garlic) 

and some other stuff.

Step two: cook it all.

Ta-dah! You now have chili!

ELECTION DAY!

Make sure to vote today, everyone!

As usual, I will not be voting along partisan lines. I will cast my vote for the bearer of the most excellent mustache.



This year, my money's on this guy:

Happy voting!

Celebrity Endorsement

How I Came to (Finally) Watch Star Wars and Why I Might Be a Little Annoying Sometimes

I have some gentlemen in my life who were dismayed to discover that I had never actually seen any of the original Star Wars movies.

(Did you know that Star Wars is very important to males born in the 1970s? It is, apparently.)

Clearly, our friendship could not continue until I had been thoroughly exposed to the series. And so, for a few weekends, I was forced invited to watch the movies with them. And I just had to put together a fine spread complete with Darth Vader cookies and Han-burgers with Yoda cheese. (Hello? Center for the Most Adorable Person of the Year Award? I'd like to make a nomination.)

Okay, but can I say one thing? It's rather difficult to watch a movie for the first time with someone who really, really loves that movie, did you know that? They'll be watching you the whole time to make sure you are engaged and understanding what's going on and then, during their favorite parts, they'll watch you ever so much more closely to make sure you are having the correct response and if, heaven forbid, you do not have the appropriate response, well they're just going to have to pause the movie and explain why that part is funny/sad/scary/important, and hey, as long as you're paused, you'd better rewind it and watch it again oh and then you'll watch it a third time so they can tell you what is different in the remake and why that is stupid and how the original is so much better and did you know there is a deleted scene here and we'd better watch that too and do you really get what's going on?


It's a lot of pressure for a girl, is all I'm saying.

Oh, and also they will not appreciate your suggestion that Yoda is man-crushing hard on Luke, I've found.


And this got me thinking about the movies that might be hard for other people to watch with me, which led to:

Movies You Should Never, Ever Watch With Kim If You Want to Maintain Your Sanity

1. While You Were Sleeping, Benny & Joon, The Last of the Mohicans, The Princess Bride or any other movie I can (and do) quote word-for-word, line-by-line, using different voices for each character.

2. Back to the Future, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Bedknobs and Broomsticks, Big, Short Circuit or any movie that was really important to me when I was growing up. And that I can quote word-for-word, line-by-line, using different voices for each character.

3. The Core, Deep Impact, The Day After Tomorrow or any other factually-inaccurate science fiction movie, unless you want me pausing every 15 minutes to tell you exactly why that wouldn't happen in real life.

4. Newsies, The Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or any other musical with songs that I know all the words to and will probably sing along with, loudly and off-key.



And the mystery of why I am perpetually single has just been solved. (frowny face)

Things that make my life awesome, part 2

Do you know what everybody needs? Everybody needs someone who will dress up and climb into a photo booth and take silly pictures with them, that's what!

P.S. Which is your favorite? I can't stop giggling enough to pick!

You know what?

This world needs a return policy on iTunes purchases.

Because sometimes people make bad decisions in the iTunes store. Especially if they happen to be impulse buyers.

That's just what I've heard.

I don't really know what recycling is, but I do know what bicycling is.

I love to compost.

I don't actually have a home garden, though, so composting doesn't make a whole lotta sense for me. (But seriously, when I throw vegetable peelings and egg shells into the trash my soul is wracked with eternal torment.)

So I collect all my kitchen scraps in a bowl and then take it over to the neighbor's house in the middle of the night and dump it into their compost pile.


I have permission from the neighbors to do so.


So I could probably just bring it over during the day.


But I like to do it late at night.


Because I like being sneaky.


And sometimes I make my roommate Gretchen come with me.


Because I am a little bit afraid of the dark.



And monsters.





The end.

My apple has cancer.

Do you see it? 

I'm afraid to eat it.

It's slightly alarming how much I identify with certain John Cusack characters.

"We were frightened of being left alone for the rest of our lives. Only people of a certain disposition are frightened of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 26, and we were of that disposition."




Me too, Rob Gordon. Me too.




P.S. This is the song that has been stuck in my head for about a week and the reason I can't sleep right now. 

In other news, I have had plenty of caffeine today.

But HAPPY MONDAY, everyone! And how are you? And wasn't the weekend wonderful?

Did any of you watch Conference? Me too. There is now a permanent cavity in my couch in the exact shape of my tushie from sitting through all 8 hours (plus a little HGTV between sessions to cleanse the palate).

Wouldn't it be lovely if we had GC weekends more often? It's so full of wonderful things. 

Cinnamon rolls!

Spiritual edification!

Spiral notebooks!

PAJAMAS!

But also? I look simply dreadful today. When my alarm sounded this morning, I said "No thank you!" and spent the next 37 minutes of my life cuddling up to my pillows and watching reruns of The Office. Can you even get over that? So I rushed through my morning routine and many steps of my makeup procedure fell by the wayside. I am even relying on last night's eyeliner. Surely this is not the proper respect to give a Monday!

I am debating in my little head whether I should take a long lunch and hop over to the mall wherein you will find a Victoria's Secret, wherein you will find a makeup bar, and with which you can create beauty. (Please tell me I'm not the only one who takes full advantage of the VS makeup bar. Any other white trash ladies out there? Represent!)

But of course it is a drizzly, drippy day and my hair, which did not get its usual dosage of Anti-Frizz Smoothing Serum this morning, might stage a full-scale revolt under these conditions if I venture outside without my dear pink-and-purple-stripey umbrelly which is safe and warm and dry in the car.

So it is a fight over hair or face. Hair? Or face? Who can choose? I understand this sounds satirical but it is with full sincerity that I sit and ponder here.

And what a blessed life I live that this is the dilemma of the day?

Also, tell me, what is the best thing about your Monday? 

This is the story about how I am emotionally volatile and also I didn't get to punch anyone today.

"I don't know what is going on with my mood swings lately, " I told Gretchen last night. "I feel like I'm on the brink of a complete emotional breakdown and yet I have this overwhelming desire to punch someone really hard right in the face."

"That . . . is . . . awesome," she announced, while staying on the other side of the room lest I actually do begin punching things/people. This conversation took place just after I sobbed my way through this week's Project Runway. I don't know why. I don't even like that show.

(Yes I do.)



ANYWAY . . .  Today has been beautiful. I'm in my office all morning, happy as a lark. Just to give you an idea of what my mood has been like, I'll tell you that around eleven I was standing on my office chair belting out Kenny Rogers like there's no tomorrow. That is what is called Being Professional.

(I was trying to get something off the top of my cabinets. It's not like I just climb up on my chair in the middle of my office and sing for no reason.)


(Yes I do.)


ANYWAY . . .  So we're gliding through the day just fine until someone informs me that one of our vendors, the one who has been giving me nothing but grief for six solid months, has dropped the ball yet again on something that I have talked to them about like nine million times. </exaggeration>

BLIND, SEETHING, OUT-OF-NOWHERE RAGE.


"Oh, don't you worry," I told my dear, slowly-backing-away-from-the-crazy-person coworker. "I'll call them right now and get this fixed." And then I laughed an evil, maniacal laugh. Oh, I was so happy. I was going to call the guy and tear. him. apart. He was going to tremble in his chair. He was going to regret the day he ever crossed me. I didn't even care if the problem was fixed. I just wanted to yell at someone. And I wanted to make him cry.

(I am an amazingly pleasant person. Look up "nicest person ever" on Wikipedia and you'll see a big picture of me. Caption: Sings Kenny Rogers and likes to cause permanent emotional damage to others.)

I hopped on the phone with the guy and laid out exactly what was wrong. I paused (for dramatic effect) and took a deep breath, readying myself for the wailing I was about to deliver.

But before I could start, he jumps in with, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! This is so awful! You must be so frustrated! You have been so patient with us over the past few months and I can't believe this happened! I am so going to take care of this right now!"

And, deflated, I mumbled, "that will be fine," and "thank you," and "that sounds good, sir."

Before we got off the phone he asked if there was anything else he could help me with and so I asked if perhaps next time he wouldn't be so polite and helpful. 

"Um, what?" he asked.

"Well, you were just really nice and it was annoying because I really just wanted to yell at someone but I can't yell at someone who's being so helpful."

"Oh. Well, you can yell at me now if you'd like," he offered.

"No, it's okay," I said. "Just maybe remember it for next time."

"I will make a note of it on your account right now."

"Thanks."




The end.

What I shouted to myself while walking down the street and listening to an audiobook on my iPod:

"Height! Height! 'Heighth' is not a word, Dan Rather! It's height!"


I don't understand why I get so many funny looks.

I'm really not this insensitive.

Instant messaging is a weird way to communicate because, unlike talking on the phone or in person, you don't know if the other person is saying something until it's right there in black-and-white. Sometimes both people will type at the same time causing an overlap in the conversation. This can lead to some awkward exchanges.

Take this one from a recent chat with my sister:

Sandy: [Our close friend] died yesterday in a horrible accident.

Me: I saw a goat today.

Sandy: He fell asleep at the wheel.

Me: Just running down the street.

Conversations with Mom, #38

Mom: Hello?

Me: Can we get Teddy (our very old and corpulent family dog) stuffed when he dies?

Mom: What!?

Me: You know, by a taxidermist?

Mom: Uh, if you want him you can do it.

Me: Okay.

Mom: Was that the only reason you called?

Me: Yup.

I can see into your soul with my glowing eyes.

I don't like vinyl-coated paper clips.

Things I Do Not Get

The whole peanut butter & chocolate thing.

This flavor combo is completely nauseating to me. Why is it in all the food these days? Of all the flavor combination this one seems to be the pushiest. It's all over everything!

It's like the chocolate people said to the peanut better people, "We are both delicious on our own. Perhaps we should join forces and become nigh unstoppable! We'll get in the cookies! And then we'll get in the ice-cream! And we'll get in some cupcakes! And we'll get all up in the candy aisle! AND THEN WE'RE GOING TO WASHINGTON, D.C. TO TAKE BACK THE WHITE HOUSE!"




Calm down, choco/peanut man.

And get your flavor out of my face.

Nutrition by Kim

It was pretty late when I got home the other night so my quick-fix dinner idea was a little something called Bowl of Chocolate Animal Crackers.

And I washed it all down with a glass of organic, fat-free, vitamin-enriched milk. That is what is called Making Healthy Choices.

Today's Word of the Day feels slightly more poignant than usual.

Sherrie-Baby

I am what you call "Super Classy".

I have mastered the art of the super-high messy bun paired with a headband. It's pretty much the only position in which my hair resides on weekends. And nights. And whenever I don't do my hair for work. And some afternoons when it's hot. Saturday mornings when I don't feel like, ahem, showering  I'll just tousle hair into said hairstyle and slap on a pair of dark glasses. There! Ready to run errands*!










*Going to 7-11 for a morning Gulp is considered an errand, right?