I happened upon a seriously hairy mountain man last weekend at a show, and it started a drunken conversation with the hubb about first impressions and perceptions of a person's social and financial status based on their appearance, and the alterations thereof. It's interesting to reflect on the stereotype we associate with unshaved men and women with low class. The more natural a person's appearance, the less money and education we assume they have. Stereotypically, the more financially blessed a person is, the more they alter their appearance with clothes, makeup, hair, surgery, etc. You know, this idea sounded like a fantastic sociology thesis when I'd had a few drinks in me, and now I can't seem to find the right wording. Ah well.

It's a gorgeous day today, all cool and fall-like and I couldn't be happier. I'm thrilled to be able to begin wearing my sweaters and knee high socks again, and my new jacket and scarf. I went on a turtle neck shopping spree last night, and then came home and reorganized my closet to include my new winter wardrobe. I could never live somewhere there were no seasons. I get bored too easily to wear the same clothes year round.

What I'm looking forward to this week:

1. Today - third farmer's market in four days.
2. Tomorrow - finishing up a second round of overtime pay.
3. Friday - payday and the in-laws arriving to see our new place.
4. Saturday - college football. It's odd for me to be excited about sports, but I'm going with it.
5. Sunday - Frank Lloyd Wright home and studio tour. (This will be our second visit, but I'm still super excited.)

It's Footwear Friday!

I've never had so many compliments on such an inexpensive pair of shoes. I swear, the more money I save, the more compliments I get. Maybe they're just humoring me.

An early lunch and a sunny sky brought me to the lake front today, armed with a sandwich, some Vitamin Water, a good book and my camera. It was a nice end to a hectic week, and made me long for a weekend with nothing to do. Oh well. At least my feet are comfortable today.

In need of a little exercise, and a break from doing the same thing over and over for 195 different files, I decided to clean out my "personal" drawer. Here I have been at my new job for two and a half months, and I've already collected an obscene amount of stuff. Lotions and lipsticks and food and gum and band-aids. Lordy, how many band-aids I collected. I was never a girl scout, but I grew up with the idea that one must always be prepared. That is why I can't leave the house without a bag of some sort, of any size, stuffed with: bobby pins (you never know when you might need those, MacGyver), hair bands, gum/mints, ibuprofin, Pepto-Bismol, lotion, a pen, lipstick/gloss, a mirror, plenty of spare change, and on some occasions: a nail file, hand sanitizer, kleenex, a band-aid, and of course tampons. A girl has GOT to be prepared, for herself and for any random girl she might meet in a restroom.

I feel comfortable here at work, fully prepared and relaxed. My desk is my home away from home, fully equipped and stocked for any occasion that may arise. I guess that's a good thing, that I've settled into this office and have made it my own with my graham crackers and V8 cans, my Tums and Virginia is for Lovers mug, my travel-sized perfume, salt shaker, deodorant and matches. You never know when these things may come in handy.

I guess I have this subconscious fear that one day I will be stuck, caught without some vital item necessary for my survival. But what, exactly, might this item be? I don't know, and that's the mystery and the stress of it. You never know when you might desperately need nail clippers. Or foot deodorizer. Or chicken bullion. You just don't know. But you bet I'll be ready.

I don't use many of these items in my drawer on a regular basis, if at all, but it comforts me to know that they're there, just in case. If I happen to need an extra umbrella, it's here. Lint roller? Gotcha covered. Peanut butter? You betcha. Matches? I'm not sure why, but I got 'em and I'll use 'em if need be.

"Better safe than sorry" is my mantra, and I live strictly by it in all aspects of my life. I hoard canned goods in my cupboards at home. My glovebox is fully stocked with some crackers, tampons, band-aids, napkins and Advil. And I promise you do not want to know what goes on in my head when I pack for a trip. I guess this personality trait of mine would be better described as anal, but I prefer to call myself simply prepared. I just hope I don't have to leave this job any time soon. I will need a moving company to help me get all of this crap out of here.

The cold is clearing, just in time for Hubb to start coming down with it before another busy weekend. Now that we've relocated from the suburbs (sort of) to the city, we can't stop finding fun and convenient things to do. Laundry sits unwashed, dishes pile up in the sink, the cats miss us terribly, and we're out out out. Even being sick last weekend didn't stop me from parading around town (and the lake)!

I love to shop. (duh) And I love to shop even more when my dollars are supporting causes that I agree with, artists and craftspeople that I like, and independent stores that I couldn't live without. That is why I left the house on Sunday with an empty tote bag (except for a bottle of water and about eight thousand tissues) to the Renegade Craft Fair in Wicker Park. I meant to give a shot out before the weekend, but my illness prevented my mind from proper blog planning. Anyway, Hubb and I had a great time perusing the tents, gaining inspiration and leaving a trail of money along the way. Seeing so many talented people presenting their creativity really inspired us to do something. We're not sure what that something is quite yet, and I can't speak for Hubb, but a part of my mind woke up from a deep slumber last weekend, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't due to the cold medicine. I have an empty canvas at home, a sewing machine, some unused clay, beads, string, paper, paint, and a camera, all screaming for my attention. I'm almost overloaded with all of the possibilities available to me and my supplies. That is what has stopped me in the past, my indecisive nature matched with the endless solutions to my art supply puzzle. Time to start a new sketchbook, I guess.

Anyway, I left the fair with a few extra items, including a fabulous orange knitted scarf, compliments of some crafty ladies; a wonderful screened tee from Maggie; and a super cute clutch from Gauchita. I now have almost two months now to save up for the DIY Trunkshow in November. Good thing I'll be working overtime for the next 5 weeks.

A cold + cold medication + a choppy lake + an empty stomach did not a Footwear Friday photo make. Instead, I leave you with a selective pictorial essay of my weekend.

Seasickness be damned, a clear sky and an open lake made for a beautiful week ending.

Wildlife at Belmont Harbor.

Footwear Friday stepped aside for Flip-Flop Sunday this week, as Hubb and I celebrated the sun and warmth while visiting the impressive Rem Koolhaas designed McCormick Tribune Campus Center at IIT.

The IIT campus had very lush grass.

My brain is slowly being forced out of my nose by way of my sinus cavities. I'm slow and sneezy and sniffly and snotty and sore and sick, sick, sick. I sort of wish I had stayed home, but then I would have missed an office breakfast, the boat trip later today, and would have just been sitting on the couch watching dish-recorded episodes of Good Eats all day long, which would have tempted me to run to the grocery store and then spend hours in the kitchen. I'm better off at work, where I can at least have other people to talk to and feel sorry for me while I blow my nose and sneeze all over everything. I think I'll take a walk to Walgreen's and get some better drugs. Some fresh air would probably do me some good anyway, and my coworkers can sanitize the office while I'm gone.

In other news, It's Footwear Friday once again, and unfortunately it's going to be late. I have a date with Lake Michigan later today, and I think some interesting footwear situations might come of it. Stay tuned, my friends. To be continued...

I'm sick. It has hit me like a Mack truck and I feel like I'm spread across a busy highway, dirt and pollution and pieces of glass being rapidly pressed into my face as cars and busses and 16-wheelers wizz over me. I had this illness once before, it came and went over a weekend, so I know I'll feel better soon. I stayed in bed for 12 hours last night and my muscles are royally pissed off from the lack of movement and the twisted convoluted way I like to put my arms under my head. And then there's the screaming pain originating from my shoulder which I can only assume I pulled while carrying my fat-ass cat in her carrier yesterday. She's less than 12 pounds and still I complain. God I'm a lightweight pussy. And my stomach does not like the medicine I've been pumping into it, and all I can think about is Thai food, which I know my stomach would be even unhappier about right now. I want to go home and sleep.

End bitch fest.

On the other hand, work has gotten more difficult. It's not that I'm super busy anymore, it's just that nobody ever sat down with me and explained the processes I am responsible for, and deadlines are coming up and I have no clue what I need to do. People are asking me questions about things I am slowly learning about, but I don't have their answers, and if I make them up I just might ruin their entire lives. Seriously. I'm playing with people's futures and I don't know what I'm doing. I just hope I'm not found out as a complete fraud before I can figure this shit out. I'm nervous and scared and I have nobody to ask if I'm doing ok. But I really really love my job.

Lowlight of the day: So I slacked and forgot and was recently reminded to purchase tickets for Monty Python's Spamalot (a Python musical from Eric Idle) and it's already sold out. Tickets are available via scalpers, however, for $210 each. Goddamit.

Highlight of the day: The cute farmer's market boy who is normally rude and condescending gave me my shallots and yellow tomatoes for half price today. Rock on.

Random bus riding experiences:

1. A young black man discussing his pressing need to urinate at 7:30am, vocalizing his deep desire to pull out his "man sprout". It made me nervous, not because he was black but because I am normally not ready to see a stranger's weenie that early in the morning. It would have been waay more appropriate on the way home from work. Or at least after my coffee had kicked in.

2. Sleeping hooker (I can only assume...who wears a gold lame tank top with no bra and a leather mini skirt with white thigh high boots these days?) nodding off on yuppie married business man's shoulder, who sat pretending to read his paper while staring down her shirt (what little of it there was), pausing only occasionally to glance guiltily around the bus to see if anyone is noticing. I notice, dude. And I don't think your wife would be pleased.

3. Short hispanic man with a HUGE BONER standing in front of me as I sit and try to read Milan Kundera. Being afflicted with the same vertical challenge, I usually hold on to the vertical bars while standing on the bus, but BONER man insisted on stretching his short little body out to grab the horizontal bar waaaaay above his head, lifting his shirt up enough to let me notice his hard crotch directly in front of my book.

4. A huge mother with seven children, each with his or her own seat during rush hour from Michigan Avenue all the freaking way to Damen and Chicago. My god, woman...a two year old does not need his own seat. You could easily fit 4 or 5 toddlers on one bench. Sheesh.

5. A man eating some Popeye's red bean's and rice, standing up, pushing on the back door to make that terrible buzzing noize to notify the driver that someone is trying to get off, the click of the door, the green light, the man opening the door, tossing his empty styrofoam container out, returning to his seat. Chicago's streets: terribly convenient trash receptacles.

It's Footwear Friday! To be totally honest, today's been such a whirlwind I almost totally forgot!

It's a beautiful day, sunny and grassy and warm. I thought it fitting to present my flowered footwear in the grass.

I had the most amazing sandwich for lunch today. Chicken pesto from Flat Sammies at Waterworks. I think I am in biiiig trouble.

That said, I'm working my way towards creating an exercise routine. I purchased running shoes, pants and a jacket and a couple of headbands before my sinful sammie today, and I plan to begin running. I swear. I promise. Really, I'm not kidding. It's sad that I don't own any work-out clothes that I would dare be seen in outside my own home...maybe that says something about my current physical shape. But now that I'm all accessorized, I'm ready to hit the pavement and shed 5 to 10 pounds.

Work is exhausting; this week has felt like an eternity, and I totally forgot that I've only been in the office for four days. When turning in my timesheet yesterday someone reminded me to mark the holiday, and I sat there confused for a couple of minutes thinking to myself, "Holiday? What holiday?" Needless to say, I'm ready for the weekend.

I made me a title bar! Pretty good for a first try, I say. Now to experiment. Maybe I'll have a new one each week! How fun!

5 items of interest to me this wednesday:

1. Aquariass. no comment.
2. instruments for forcing religion on those who are unable to fight back.
3. small things.
4. baby and sushi.
5. i am doomed now that i know about this recipe.

not too busy at work today, apparently.

Best...weekend...EVER! For once, the weekend actually seemed LONG! Hubb and I bonded over shopping on Saturday, ate a lot, drank even more, saw some gypsy jazz, went to a pig roast Sunday, (I was going to post a photo of the end-of-party pig, but eventually thought better of it) sat on our deck with friends and drank a bunch, finally bought a ficus tree Monday, and ate a bunch more. I swear I'm trying to revert back to "college emily" both in alcohol and calorie consumption. It was a happy weekend. Yesterday I got to sleep in until almost 10am, and decided not to shower all day long. It was a grand three days, and I didn't even purchase a new pair of shoes.

It's the first ever Footwear Friday here at work in progress.

And here it is...my red-pedal self portrait. Love the industrial carpet. It compliments the shoes quite nicely, I think.

I don't know how long this little tradition will last...it seemed like such a fantastic idea when I was exhausted yesterday afternoon. I'm just not feeling very clever or creative this morning. Maybe it's malnourishment. I should probably hit up the Indian buffet for lunch today.

Tonight: Vodka, The Cure and meat...revisited. Not that I've been boycotting any of these three...it's just that they've all been a long time gone. Vodka had been replaced by the wine in months past, and I had regrettably forgotten the pleasure of a vodka tonic after a hard day at work. The Cure had been left behind in my teens, and I am now listening and reminiscing and amazing myself at all of the words I remember. Meat hasn't been entirely missing...though I did vacation from beef after reading Fast Food Nation. I went through a terrible withdrawal, as I am fairly addicted to the red meat, and plunged back into the world of beef after a two week hiatus with a slab of rare roast beef. It was magnificent. Tonight was a gluttonous event full of not finger-food but full fledged hand-food in turkey legs renaissance-fair-style, corn on the cob and bread, all grilled. Then some vodka and The Cure and I'm sorry if this is rambling but I'm on v&t #3. Friday in two hours and I'm terribly glad. Three day weekend ahead, sure to be full of more vodka and meat, I'm sure. I deserve a little drunken holiday, dammit. So for now goodnight, dear reader. Sleep tight. The bed bugs wouldn't dare bite tonight, for fear of protein and liquor overload. Tomorrow: shoes.

Today, in between a very sad crisis, a very pleasing co-worker interaction and a thrilling lightbulb moment of software clarity, I slacked. I slacked and took a long lunch. I slacked and stared at the computer blankly trying to remember where I used to go to waste time. Then it hit me. As I searched my favorite shoe vendor web-sites, (Zappos, Shoebuy, Shoedini, etc.) I thought, why not add some fun and depth to my blog, with a Footware Friday post? I have a great camera, a good amount of webspace, and some fabulous shoes...why the hell not?! I'm simply thrilled, and can't wait to start tomorrow. This is a wonderful excuse to feed my addiction. I'm sure hubb will agree...

so i get to work today and someone in my office is wearing the same shoes as me. nothing makes me want to go shopping at lunch more.

at least the wave is still holding out.

on the way home yesterday i banged up the peaches i bought at the farmer's market. they are all bruised and mushy now. screw it.

my little brother is at college. my alma mater. i worry about him and his i'm-too-busy-to-return-emails-from-my-family attitude. i imagine him lost and lonely and scared at a huge school, even though i know he's having the time of his life and probably already has a girlfriend. i want to send him calling cards and stamps and chocolate and a huge photo of me to make him feel better...in my head. i need therapy.

my grandmother had surgery last week and i feel like a huge ass for not calling her yet. i sent her flowers so she would know we are thinking of her, but for some odd reason i keep putting off calling her. i'm such an ass with that. i'm sorry.

today is incredibly ho hum and blah. two and a half more days until my long awaited three day weekend! i've never wanted anything more. (except maybe this pair of shoes that i've ordered on three separate occasions in the WRONG SIZE.)

So I decided to stop fighting The Hair, and let The Wave flow. My weekend was a drizzly frizzy suburb shopping Saturday, big hair sushi dinner, 6 hour pinned back fly-away bike ride/arts fest, laundry lazy Sunday...and I was all about rocking the natural hairstyle. So Monday comes and I decide to wow my office with The Wave, and lo and behold, a construction worker specifically stopped me in the hallway just to say, "If you don't mind me saying," (I don't, believe me, I don't!) "I think you are incredibly beautiful." Teehee. Giggled thank you and my day has been considerably brightened. Flirts on the bus, at the bagel shop, in the hallway, the office, the farmer's market...I'm never picking up a hairbrush again if it's going to get me this kind of attention.

I also finally purchased a pair of adorable red, pointy, buckled, adorable, punk-rock (sort of) shoes that I've been lusting after for some time. Hubb approved the purchase, much to my delight, and I wore them to dinner Saturday and again to work on Monday. Maybe it was a combination of the hair and the shoes that made me glow and drove the construction worker wild yesterday. I should do a study of hairstyle and shoe combinations and the number of smiles and flirtatious exchanges I engage in throughout the day. What with my growing collection of footwear slowly taking over my closet, this could take some time. God I love shoes.

In other news: Hubb and I have initiated Thanksgiving vacation plans to visit our friend in Boston. Along the way we will hopefully be able to stop through Maryland and New Jersey to visit my two girlfriends from college, the latter who just bought a house and got engaged (I'm a bridesmaid again, yay!) and the former who is about to buy a home. I feel so uncool and behind the curve, content to rent for another couple of years to save money and pay off our debts. (Weddings are expensive.) While hubb and I feel that we are mature enough to handle all kinds of other life decisions and obstacles, we don't feel quite ready to purchase something so big and grand that we don't know the first thing about caring for. (How to fix a leaky roof? Beats me! Toilet needs to be taken apart? Don't even ask.) It's just hard for me to see my younger friends taking bigger steps than I am ready for. I guess it's just jealousy of their courage and maybe a touch of anxiety thinking about the responsibility and demands (physical and emotional, not to mention monetary) of home-ownership, which I am too selfish to deal with. Either way...I'm excited to see my close friends grow and thrive and take fearless steps towards being a grown up, and I respect them for it. I'm not quite there yet. The Wave and I don't want to grow up, we just want to have fun. And buy shoes.

The twenty spot I thought I found in my pocket was actually money I completely forgot my boss gave me to run an errand for her. So it wasn't mine. Man I'm tired.

I went to bed at 9:30 this morning and still had trouble getting up when my alarm went off this morning. Coffee is only managing to make my stomach ache. Nap at lunch.

Checklist for the weekend:

Sleep. Eat healthy. Sleep. Exercise (ride bike?). Sleep. Bucktown Art's Fest. Sleep. Clean the house. Do some artwork. Sleep.

Now: back to work.

Wednesday Haikus

today has been hard
i found twenty-two dollars
i feel better now

somehow i will live
to see the end of the week
with help from caffeine

my grey pants pocket
what secrets it holds within
image of jackson

the cheeseburger calls
i fucking hate mcdonald's
mouth ignores brain

and now back to work
i am better at my job
than haiku poems

It's been a day, I tell ya. A DAY!
1. I've finally fessed up about my uncomfort about a few of the tasks I've been assigned at work, and am sweating while I wait to hear the outcome of my bitch session.
2. I spilled coffee on my white sweater at 7:45am, exactly 15 minutes after arriving at work.
3. I discovered the first big mistake I've made at my new job.
4. I cried in the bathroom at 2:15.
5. I ate Doritos.
6. I feel fat.

It's been a great day.
1. I got a free latte with my frequent buyer's card.
2. My boss expressed her never-ending appreciation for me in front of 250 people.
3. I listened to a relationship specialist spew out heart-breaking divorce statistics and research findings, and left feeling confident that my relationship is in perfect health.
4. I have finally broken in my two favorite pairs of new shoes; no more blisters for me.
5. My coworker bought me a Diet Coke with Lime.
6. I found out I get to work normal hours tomorrow and Thursday.

The universe is in perfect alignment.

I'm obviously terribly tired as I've been trying to figure out why I have an awful headache, and suddenly realize I've been up since 5am and haven't had any caffeine today. Yessir, I'm an addict.

And I'm feeling incredibly uninspired today, so I'll just leave you with this:

I can't say I was angry. And I can't say I wasn't jealous. But if the man sitting next to me on the bus tonight fell asleep on my shoulder one more time I can say I would have shoved as hard as I could to push him off the seat...if it weren't for The Unbearable Lightness of Being engrossing and shocking me with words of voiding bowels and sexing someone up with the crown of another someone's head. (I'm still trying to figure that out.) Completely against my character, I am thoroughly enjoying this book. It may be my favorite book ever. As long as the bowel-voiding talk ends soon. I may have had enough of that.

I've been waiting all week for tonight, if only for the chance to say "Thank effing god the week is finally effing over!" I've had a hard week, to say the least. Hormonal, tired, over-worked, not filling expectations...it's been emotional. MORE guests arrive tomorrow from Big 'Ol Texas, to stay until Wednesday. It will be fun, but I have the busiest and most demanding week of my entire employment history waiting for me come Monday, so we'll see how I handle THAT. My boss has been on vacation for the past 5 days, and Monday begins a week-long busy-fest that preparing for has been a huge bear. I'll have to get used to showing up to work at 6:30 AM, so I apologize in advance for a lack of posts, and/or incoherent blabbering bitching and moaning about how tired I am. I have a strict prescription for dealing with days like those to come...espresso, chocolate, fatty food, more espresso, more chocolate, and and wine once I am in my pyjamas. I think I might need some bigger pants by the end of August.

I'm going out tonight. I'm going to look at art, eat sushi, drink loads of wine and liquor, mingle with friends until the wee hours, and sleep a soundless sleep before the fun begins tomorrow. Clean, entertain, entertain, entertain, work work work work work. As much as I bitch, I must admit that I've never had more fun in my life.

P.S. - I've had already started the wine-drinking portion of my evening, so please excuse my rambling. Thank you. And goodnight.

I want a doggie.



A small doggie that I can put in a tote bag and take to the park. A scruffy doggie that I don't have to take to the barber more often than I take myself. A quiet doggie that won't bark all day while I'm at work. A potty trained doggie that maybe hub or myself can take to work with us on occasion and one that we can trust at home while we are out. A friendly doggie that won't terrorize my precious kitties. A lovable doggie that will curl up with me on the sofa at night and watch the Food Network with me and fall asleep in my lap. A ferocious doggie when I need it to be, that will protect me when hubb is away. A calm doggie that I can take in the car on long road trips.

I also want a yard for my doggie to run around in and poop in and frolic in all day long.

I also want a million dollars.

After I calmed down, the weekend went by unexpectedly and pleasantly slow. Friday night was a strange and chilly night at Ravinia with the Hub's workmates. Cold weather and cold food do not a happy emily make...unless you add about 5 glasses of free wine. And pizza bites upon returning home. Gourmet sandwiches, salads, cheeses and cakes are no match for toaster oven snack foods.

Saturday we went to an early dinner to Las Palmas, a local mexican restaurant we had been meaning to try and finally had the chance to. Hub had tickets to an outdoor event that started at 5:30, so at 4:00 we left to eat. We arrived to an empty restaurant, which didn't surprise us as much as the waitstaff's casual motion for us to enter the back patio, into what we immediately decided was a private party but ended up being an opening for the murals recently painted on the side of the building. A nice mellow band was playing, and all kinds of artsy characters were mingling and drinking. We sat down and were greeted by a waitress who asked us to help ourselves to the free buffet and asked which flavor of free sangria we would like. Free is always my favorite price, so we imbibed and ate the most amazing appetizers in the spirit of art. We also ordered some dinner, but got away completely stuffed and a wee bit tipsy (ok, a wee bit drunk) for about $21. Now that's a fantastic introduction to a delicious restaurant! Yay art! And yay free sangria!

Sunday, with long overdue gorgeous weather, Hub and I headed out on a two wheeled tour of our neighborhood. We rode around looking at the apartments we didn't rent, feeling confident that we live on the best street in Wicker Park. It felt good to get on the bike I bought a year ago and have ridden twice. I'm slowly losing my fear of getting hit by a speeding bus or running into an old lady trying to cross the street. We came home after two hours with no injuries to report. We decided to make bike rides weekly dates. That is, until winter gets here...

Something finally caught up with me, maybe it's the work, the caffeine, the alcohol, but my stomach is not in a good place today, so I came home early to nap and relax. It's going well so far, and I'm enjoying the quiet and absence of a "to do" list. My god I need a vacation.

So I'm seriously wired because I have just finished my fourth caffeinated beverage for the day, and I still have two and a half hours of work left because I have a shitload to do that I just can't get done with other people around (maybe I'm just too social, easily distracted, nosy, etc.) and I work better and get more done in the two and half hours after everybody has left the office than I get done in an entire day. Wait, that's not entirely true, I got quite a bit done today, and none of it was personal, a fact which I am incredibly proud of. And drinking lattes gives me calcium because I hate to drink milk unless it is caffeinated, and they are like .09 cents at the cafe in my building (ok, I'm exaggerating, but they're seriously really cheap) and most of the time they taste pretty good unless the blonde girl who can't froth milk is working, which is most afternoons. And four more espresso-based drinks to go and I get a free one. I'll be there by Monday, my friends.

I was craving mexican food and a margarita today, but ate my rice and homemade spaghetti sauce casserole instead. I still want a burrito and some tequila, and since the Hub is away tonight at a work retreat, maybe I'll gorge on some tacos from Picante and a six-pack of Tequiza on my deck this fine August evening...oh wait, it's 58 degrees outside, what am I thinking??...or maybe on the carpeted bedroom floor with the cats. Then I can sleep and wake up early enough to be back at work at 7:30 fucking am in the goddamned morning tomorrow. I love my job I love my job I love my job. Ohmigod I have to pee.

(pee break)

Ok...much better. I'm not crossing my legs and shaking my foot like a two year old that has to go potty anymore. I have been drinking liquids (none of them spiked, unfortunately) like crazy all week at work, because it keeps me busy and keeps the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups out of my mouth, so I've been running to the bathroom like crazy to keep the fluid moving. Now, the bathrooms in my building are for some reason heated to 90 degrees, even in "real" summertime, (not like this October-in-August we've been having lately) so I've learned to pee, wash and primp in record time, even without the aid of caffeine. The water faucets are those state-of-the-art hands free type, and I still reach for the knob EVERY SINGLE TIME. Now, I usually pick up things pretty fast, but for some reason I cannot grasp this daily hands-free faucet use. The water comes out at roughly 110 degrees fahrenheit, and since it is hands free there is no control over this temperature. So I scald my hands, successfully sanitizing them I'm sure, and book it back into the hallway, which is underheated at a good 60 degrees on a good day. It's a miracle I'm not sick yet. On a daily basis I run into women in the sauna...I mean bathroom...just chit chatting away about the day and who's sleeping with who and where's a good place to eat, and I just can't imagine how they're not sweat soaked through their business casual attire. Then there are a few ladies who BRUSH THEIR TEETH WITH THE SCALDING WATER and I just want to puke up the nine Reese's cups I just ate because the heated scent of a ladies bathroom and warm water do NOT make me want to put ANYTHING in my mouth. Gag. By the way, the diet...going well thank you.

I am working so hard I want to nap at 10 am every day, and would give my favorite pair of shoes for a day off, but I can't do either because I have too much work to do. Friday August 27 is what I'm working towards, and after 5:00 on that day I can collapse into a comatose ball of emily on the filthy floor of the #66 bus. It's really sad that that's my light at the end of this working over-time tunnel.

I'm getting back to work now. I do believe a Chipotle burrito will be my reward for working so damned hard today. Mmmm.....1049 calories. (Has Fast Food Nation tought me nothing?? Apparently.) I've burned more than that by simply tapping my over-caffeinated foot today.

Side note: I've edited this post like 15 times since posting because I keep finding ill-flowing sentences, misspelled and misplaced words. I think I should go home and stop re-reading this over and over and over......

Reading Fast Food Nation has ironically, hypocritically, and disgustingly made me crave french fries. It has also made me stop eating beef temporarily. I may very well never eat ground beef again. But I feel no pity for the potato, and it cannot kill me with E. coli, so I've been craving McDonald's fries for weeks. I don't crave and eat fast food very often, but the two McDonald's I pass on my way to and from work every day were calling my name for a taste of deep fried spud. Despite my recent acknowledgement of an additional 5 pounds on my frame, and a vow to return to a healthier diet, I stopped by the McDonald's on Chicago and Damen on my way home from work yesterday. I've been working hard, and I deserve a french fry every now and then. I took a deep breath, told myself "This is a one-time treat. The diet starts tomorrow," and opened the door. An elderly woman in a wheelchair was ordering a hamburger, so I stood behind her and waited, marveling at her perfectly curled white hair. The 16 year old boy behind the counter handed her some change and her bag and then asked me for my order. My small fry totaled $1.04. I handed the boy my dollar and reached into my change purse for some pennies. He smiled and said "Don't worry about it," closed the cash drawer and turned to grab my bag. As he turned back around he looked at the wheelchair bound woman who was starting to wheel herself towards the door to leave. Without hesitation he ran over to her, opened the inner door, walked into the entry way and held open the outer door for her, smiling the whole way. He quickly realized he was holding my order and apologized while quickly running to the counter to hand it to me. The whole exchange took maybe two minutes, but it brightened up my whole day. Friendly and helpful employees are not what fast food restaurants are generally known for, and it made me smile. I ate my fries while walking home, savoring them one at a time and being happy for the unexpected kindness I experienced at McDonald's.

The diet started today.

I'm not away, just busy. Busy busy busy busy busy. I've never been so tired and busy. And tired. And irritable. And loving my job. And content. And happy. And hungry. I'm on a stress-filled roller coaster that is bringing my weight and my emotions along for an interesting ride.

We've had guest after guest after guest, with more on the way. I love seeing everyone, being the entertainer, going out, doing things...I'm just pooped. I know I'm not exerting myself to the point of not being able to handle it; I just need to get used to actually working for a living, being busy, doing things, and still living and enjoying life. Chocolate and coffee help.

My feet still hurt. I want to go to the beach. Anywhere. I miss my mom.

I'm definitely going to bed at 9 tonight.

Chicago is the land of street festivals. I don't know what it is about my city, but she sure loves her some fried food, cheap beer, jewelry and loud music in her neighborhood streets. And don't I always go, even though I know it will be the same thing time and time again? Sure. Because I love her and I trust she will entertain me with her crowded expanse of blocked off streets. Most recent festival experience: The Wicker Park Festival, sponsored by WXRT and the Subterranean Lounge.

Highlights of the festival weekend:

- discovering dangly earrings...again!
- no-bra-hip-pack-girl and greasy-Corona-shirt-guy
- The French Kicks.
- being out late on a Sunday night with the hubb.

I'm completely drained today. After two weeks of working my ass off, working overtime, learning new things every minute, I am ready for a nice long nap. But that's what weekends are for. Despite being utterly exhausted, I'm going to down an alcoholic coffee beverage (caffeine plus alcohol equals party-ready emily) and head to the GB get together tonight. Maybe I'll bring the elph and be inspired to document something at some point.

My new shoes (fourth pair in three weeks...somebody put a stop on my credit card, please!) started giving me blisters even before I made it to the bus stop this morning. Goddam fashion. Why do you do this to me? I'm going to have two bloody blistered stumps before too much longer. But at least my shoes are damned cute. And I'm still wearing them out tonight. (Screw you, feet! Who needs you anyway?!)

A few of my favorite things this week:

- Basil. I've caught myself eating a leaf as I pass by my basil plant growing in my living room window a couple of times. If my husband wore basil cologne I'd never let him out of my sight. I love it that much.

- Risotto. I'm obsessed with making it. Lemon, tomato, sun-dried tomato, mushroom, basil, parmesan...it's so versatile, what's not to love?! Mmmmm...as a matter of fact I think I'll make some tonight. I once saw Jaime Oliver make chocolate risotto once. It's on my culinary to-do list.
- My Millennium Park photos. I'm feeling kind of cocky for feeling so proud, but my boss saw them and wants me to print some for the office! I'm such a star.

- Diet Coke with Lime. Keeping me awake from 8:30 to 5:30 every week day.

- Treasure Island. Fun lunch-time adventures. I like to look at food. I'm odd that way.

- Band-Aid Advanced Healing Blister Cushions.

Now that I've sort of figured out this photo thing, this bandwidth thing, and this journal thing, I think it's time to create some sort of a title block.  I'm getting thoroughly bored with plain text, but I'm not as advanced that I can create complicated eye candy just for the hell of it.  I have a few ideas in mind, but no means by which to execute them in my spare time at work, no energy to attempt them at home, and a serious shortage of time.

I've been having a major guilty complex over the fact that I haven't really created anything in a very long time.  I've been thinking creatively, cooking creatively, spending money creatively...but not acting creatively.  I feel the itch to do something, but I'm not quite sure what.  Sure, I have a large blank canvas at home, some fabric, some craft items, lots of paint, etc., but I can't figure out exactly what I need to be doing.  I've taken a few photos, but not with the enthusiasm I feel I should have.  I am always prepared with camera in tow, but rarely think to snap a few shots during my day. 

Maybe I'm tired and too busy at work, maybe I'm burning out.  The creative juices are there, but just sitting in a concentrated lump waiting for their chance to flow again.  I need some water to get things moving.

As promised...a hellova introduction to the photoblog...

Thank you and goodnight.

The weekend: pyrates, beer, pizza, the bean and bridesmaids.

1. Pyrates. Hilariously funny play, with a fantastic cast (including numerous shirtless actors). Fantastic.

2. Beer. Too much of it. But tons of fun, nonetheless. Drinking beers on our roof with new friends (Andrew, Cinnamon, Naz and Brandon) until 3am left me with a burning desire for greasy pizza in the morning.

3. Pizza. Metro. A bit overpriced for an entire pie, but delicious by the slice, and the perfect hangover cure.

4. The Bean, aka Cloud Gate, is much more impressive in person than any photo or news reel can portray it. In fact, the whole new Millennium Park is quite breathtaking. Imposing, sure. Over the top, absolutely. Progressive and beautiful...you bet. I got back on the train with a renewed love and respect for my park-centric city. I took photos, like every other Chicagoan, and will post at least one shortly. Promise.

5. Bridesmaids. I have been deemed bridesmaid-worthy by one of my former maids, Miss Linny. I honestly wasn't expecting the invitation to be a member of the wedding party, and it is truly an honor. I'm so giddy!

Now back to work. It's Monday and I haven't had enough sleep for the past two weeks. Eh.

5 things to be happy about this week:

1. My husband who treats me the way the princess in my wants to be treated, whether I deserve it or not.  And buys me nice digital cameras.  And tote bags.
2. My new boss who treats me to Thai food and lets me wear open-toed shoes even though it's against company policy.
3. My friend Miss J. who visits me and drinks too much wine with me and tells me she loves my cooking.
4. Home grown basil.
5. Overtime pay.

*And...photos on blogger.

An incredibly drunk homeless man proposed to me at the bus stop at 8am this morning.  Too bad I'm already spoken for.  The drunk homeless man was visibly upset and started yelling obscenities at his reflection in the bank window.  Ladies, watch out, there's an alcoholic homeless man oozing sex appeal loose on the streets, and he sure knew how to make a girl swoon. 

Blogger never ceases to amaze me.  I love the constant changes and additions they are making to improve my blogging experience.  Google done some good, I tell ya.
 
First week working in the "Big City" almost finished. What have I discovered thus far?

Pleasant discoveries:

- Tutto Pronto. The BEST Italian deli ever. Delicious selection of pastas and veggies, pizza, wine, authentic jarred and canned goods. One word = Yum. One concern = My weight. Couldn't find a website for them. Sun dried tomato tortellini salad, caprese salad, roasted portabellos, etc. [drool]

- Lots of places to sit outside.

- Sushi and an Indian buffet within walking distance!

- Shopping shopping shopping.

Unpleasant discoveries:

- Tons of construction workers. All the time. With fine-tuned whistling skills.  Super.

- Playboy headquarters. Super-er.

- Three McDonalds within walking distance. Super-est.

Welcome to the wonderful world of REAL WORK! I'm so busy I can only find a second to let my three faithful readers know I am still alive, that my new job hasn't killed me yet...that I love it, despite the fact that I've already been chastised for my attire. (Flip flops are still flip flops, no matter what they are made of. I assumed Italian leather flip flops would be appropriate, but apparently I was wrong. If you're one of the new girls, you are told "No open-toed shoes." I need to go shopping because the two pairs of closed-toed shoes I own are blister-rific.)

I'm having a blast, love my office, and can't wait to finally get settled. I've jumped head first into a department that is being reorganized from the ground up, and that creates a lot of work for a self-starting organizer such as myself.

Public transportation, downtown lunches, open air offices, working a full 8-hour day, NO SANDALS, no windows...there is a lot to get used to in my new professional life. But I'm happy to do it.

Tonight: Euro picnic with the Hubb at the Grant Park Chicago Outdoor Film Festival to blow off steam and then home to dream about new shoes.

By the way, have I ever mentioned that I have the BEST HUSBAND IN THE WORLD? The Elph is mine. Congratulations for acquiring a new job. I'm a happy happy wife. Pictures will come as soon as my life calms down. Or at least as soon as I install the photo software. Thank you, Hubby.

Craig and I, on a whim, flew hastily out of the house last night on our way to AT&T Wireless for a new phone plan and new toys. After two hours Craig finally had his long standing cell-phone lust satisfied with the Sony Ericsson T616, in all its camera able and polyphonic spendor. He'll be busy for days, as will I with my new Samsung X426, which I adore. We have our new toys, and are annoying our coworkers with our new ring tones and game noises, I'm sure. My cell phone now whinnies like a horse when someone is trying to reach me. Technology rules.

Randomness:

I love new toys. (or: I am easily amused with visual and audial stimulation.)
I'm a meat and potatoes kind of girl. (or: I should have had salad for lunch.)
I need new black capri pants. (or: Today's outfit is too big.)
Exit interview in 5 minutes. (or: Later Library.)

[giddy and smiling] One of my best friends/former roommate/bridesmaid, Miss J., is coming to visit next weekend with her boyfriend! I am super excited and can't wait to show off our new place and our lovely city. I just hope the weather cooperates. Miss J. is a vegetarian and her boy is vegan, so I'm trying to think of restaurants to take them to and foods with which to stock my kitchen. I'm always willing to try fake meats and dairies, so I'm looking forward to the culinary aspect of their visit as well.

Though we live in an awesome city, a lot of our friends are short on pennies and have not been able to visit us in the two years we've lived here. I can't wait to show a couple of Marylanders a good time.

Tip of the day: Do not eat a huge heavy lunch before attempting to actually accomplish anything at work. Take a nap instead.

Word of the day: lackadaisical. As in: Upon returning from lunch at the all-you-can-eat Indian buffet, emily was understandably yet unforgivably lackadaisical, as it was her second to last day at work and she had a lot to do.

Perfume of the day: Eau de Indian Buffet. I hate smelling like the food that's slowly being digested in my stomach.

Last night I dreamt about eating McDonald's. I can look at his in one of two ways: 1) As I preach good eating habits and condemn fast food junkies every chance I get, I'm guilty for not having seen Supersize Me yet. 2) I didn't eat enough dinner.

I just killed a huge spider in my office. It was huge and running up the wall, and I was all kinds of brave and picked up a tissue and said "Take this!" and smooshed it. As anyone close to me can attest, I am deathly afraid of spiders...but not today. Even the little crunch of his exoskeleton didn't phase me. I'm hard as steel.

My janitor, Ben, told me that I am one of the only two beautiful nice ladies in my building. That nobody else says "Hi, how are you?" or asks how his weekend was. He told me that I deserve a better job because I am so nice and beautiful. He says he'll miss me and he will help my boss through this somehow, the two of them together. *sniff*sniff* I'm jelly.

My lucky bamboo died over the weekend. I'm not sure how to take this.

Here I am, T-minus four days in Evanston and counting, not doing much work today as I recover from a fabulous 3-day weekend. Friday night Hubb got off work early and met me in Evanston for a little shopping and dinner. We attended an art opening at a gallery on Division where I fell in love with everything after a glass and half of wine. We then rented Spellbound, which made us laugh and laugh and laugh. Best...documentary...ever.

The rain on Saturday let up enough for a quick walk to the bank and back. We rested and napped and enjoyed each other's company while the rain ruined countless barbecues for our fellow Chicagoans. It was nice to not have anything planned. We met some friends for a mexican dinner (margaritas and civiche to celebrate American independence) and then briefly attended a party where we totally missed seeing any fireworks, but spent part of the evening in the presence of a little pet American alligator.

Sunday's weather was more hospitable to outdoor activities, so we packed some water and napkins and headed down to the Taste. We had a pretty good time people-watching, and due to our penny-savvy food choices, we stuffed ourselves on a mere $21, ending with lobster tail and a frozen chocolate covered banana. Yum! We grilled a late dinner on our roof, and ate during sunset to the sound of a million firecrackers going off all around us. After the sun went down the real show began! We had a 360 degree illegal firework show for nearly three hours. I can't even describe what an amazing experience it was. It engaged all the senses: the sounds of thousands of screaming people, firecrackers popping like crazy; the sights of beautiful fireworks exploding all around, the smoke that filled the air and lit the sky a brilliant purple-pink; the smell of the firecracker smoke drifting over the rooftops, the grill cooking our meal and then our neighbor's; the explosion of a particularly low and large firework, so close that we could feel it in our chests; the taste of our dinners, smoked and grilled during this Independence Day celebration. It was an amazing Fourth of July. The best ever.

Yesterday was spent being lazy, as it should have been on a rare work holiday. We laid around reading, napping, e-mailing, watching tv. We ventured out for a nice long walk to window shop and get a lunch burrito, then to the Art Store for a canvas and some paint. We finally hung our pictures on our naked walls, and are that much closer to looking settled. We still have an empty expanse above the couch, and a large empty wall in the bedroom, but some yard sale Audubon prints and our presently blank but soon-to-be-art-covered canvas will fill the void soon enough.

Maybe it was the unplanned schedule of the weekend that made it so special to me, maybe it was the experiences spent with my husband, maybe it was the starry-eyed, newlywed state we were in, but I can honestly say this weekend was one of the all-time best ever. It was a wonderful way to begin this new chapter of my life. I can't wait to see what next weekend will bring...

5 reasons today rules

1. My co-worker bringing in her little 5-week old baby girl, Ella. She is the most precious, beautiful, sweet little baby I have ever seen in my life, and made me all kinds of hormonal and motherly. She didn't cry when I held her, which ironically made me cry just a little bit.
2. Chicken salad sandwich and a Diet Coke with Lime on Lake Michigan.
3. Nearly finished with all of the getting-ready-to-leave-my-job nonsense. Next week will be a breeze.
4. After 265 pages, I'm finally really getting in to The Fountainhead. I went from liking all of the characters to hating all of the characters, and now I'm just interested as heck to see where they all end up. The character development in the book is phenomenal, which is why it is so damned long. Only 429 more pages to go.
5. One day closer to Friday and a three day weekend! Woohoo!

I am currently a useless lump. I'm falling asleep over my keyboard while my body vigorously attempts to digest the egg roll, hot and sour soup, beef with basil, watermelon freeze and HUGE raspberry brandy truffle I ingested during my "exit lunch" at Joy Yee's Noodles with my coworkers today. I'm not sure exactly why we went on my farewell lunch a week and a half before my last day, but whatever. I'm nauseated by the pan-asian stink infused in my jean jacket, but it's chilly willy in my office and I'm afraid I might get frostbite if I take it off. I tried to mask the stink with some perfume I found in my desk after my student assistant said I smelled like play dough (??) but it made it only worse. I scrounged around and found some Febreeze (you go, girl! Way to be prepared!) but to no avail. It isn't working. Does this stuff expire, or what? I don't know what it is about the restaurants in Evanston, but it seems like no matter where I go for lunch I end up back in my office over-stuffed and reeking to high heaven with evidence of where I dined. Next week I am taking a coworker to the Mt. Everest indian buffet to celebrate her birthday before I leave. I should definitely plan to shower upon returning to work. And nap.

Hopefully driving home with the windows down will lessen my stench. I just hope I don't fall asleep on the Lake Shore Drive.

Randomness

I'm ferociously getting my blog on, for fear of not being able to post for a while after I start my new employment. I'm enjoying it while I have it, filling up these pages with absent minded blabbering.

I keep glancing at my footnote for the opossum sighting, and keep reading furor as fuhrer, imagining a little baby opossum running down the side of the road with a little tiny Hitler on his back. Ok, I'm weird, but it keeps making me smile.

I seriously considered calling in sick today, or at least calling in late because I don't want to go to work anymore. Now all I can do is count down the minutes until I can take a walk on my lunch break. Damn.

I'm totally all decked out West Side Story-ish today, in my new loafers, rolled tight dark blue jeans and a little retro cotton short sleeved button up. I never ever dress thematically, but today I just felt it had to be done.

Yesterday I told a patron that I was leaving and he would need to talk to my co-worker for future assistance, and he replied, "Really? Wow, you just don't care at all anymore then, do you?" Like, what, since I quit my job I'm going to completely slack off and not give a shit? After getting all defensive and offended I now realize he was kind of right.

Eat here. Holy shit, it's so good. Their panang curry is my new favorite thing in the world. I promise you won't regret it.

On a related note, if you want me to forgive you for something or just give you a big wet kiss, show up at my door with a ukulele (which you may play for me) and panang curry from Roong. I'm yours.

It figures: *no more job related posts after this one, I swear.

1. I've quit my job due to boredom, an insufficient paycheck and an overwhelming fear of technology and lack of progressive thought in my place of employment. So I've quit. Not one day after I quit, a new and exciting project working with state of the art technology is beginning, with me sitting alone in my office while my coworkers meet to discuss it and busily work with testing, contracts and policies. And apparently I've been approved for a brand new top of the line computer, with a flat screen monitor, which will be installed in my old office the Monday I start my NEW job. At least I'm still going on to a bigger and better paycheck.

2. After bitching and moaning about what a weird summer we've been having, forgetting the enjoyment I've been getting from driving with the windows down, and neglecting to think about the horrid sweat drenched walks I endured commuting home from work last summer, it is now getting warmer. Just in time for my new bipedal/public transportation commute. Goodbye air conditioned car and hello summer. They can't fire me for being sweaty, can they?

3. New job = bigger paycheck-to-be = new wardrobe = spending money = bigger bills = bigger paycheck-to-be doesn't make a difference.

4. My cute new shoes simultaneously look great while ripping and bruising my feet. Must...break...them...in...before...starting...new...job...aaahhhhggghg.

5. After working for two years with few lunch buddies (and often dwelling on that fact), I have quit my job. I've now had more offers for lunch dates in 4 days than I have in two years. Niiiice.

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only a test. repeat: this is only a test. thank you.

Cheering up a sleepy girl up on a dreary rain-soaked Monday morning:

1. Honey Nut Shredded Wheat with fresh blueberries.
2. Getting ready for work in 45 minutes flat.
3. Still getting to work on time despite getting up late and working hard to avoid people who don't know how to drive in the rain.
4. Seeing a baby opossum running along the side of the road.*
5. Calmly handling two near-disasters in a row at work. I still care, people.
6. Seeing the sun come out and the sky start to clear up before lunch.
7. Recalculating my new salary, new commute, and number of hours left at my current place of employment. (T-minus 65.6 hours and counting)

* I don't know why this should make me smile, but it did. He (she?) was so tiny, and waddled with a furor to get to the bushes at the far end of the parking lot. I have always found opossums fascinating creatures, so ugly, yet so cute. And baby things never fail to put a smile on my face, even in the puffy eyed, unamused, heavy lidded state I was in at 8am.

Give me links or give me death.

It's been a musical weekend. Friday night was Spoon at the smoke-filled, over-packed, over-priced, under-whelming (did I mention smoke-filled?) venue that is the Metro. They treat you like livestock and demand proof of age at every corner on the way in. I'm never going there again. Sorry. Spoon was good but their second opening band, Thee Shams, can actually be labeled as the Worst...Band...Ever. At least in my book. Sorry guys, but learn how to play your instruments, especially the harmonica. I came home nearly asphyxiated by the black death of cancer growing in my lungs. I still get a whiff of smoke if I breathe out just right. I'll never understand the fascination with killing yourself and those around you in a non-ventilated space, but that's another entry.

Saturday night was Andrew Bird and the Magnetic Fields at the Old Town School of Folk Music. Andrew Bird is immensely talented, recording and looping his violin, guitar, bells, and whistling to entertain us as a one man show. His lyrics are a bit too self-aware, but he has more musical talent in his right pinky than I have in my whole body, so I can't really say much. The magnetic fields were great, and I have a slight crush on Stephin Merritt, with his amusing songs, deep voice, animated facial expressions and short stature. He is just too cute. The OTSoFM is a great venue, with NO SMOKING, reasonably priced drinks (all beers $4, much better than the $4.50 piss we drank at the Metro), and real honest to goodness seats. I guess this set up wouldn't work so well with a really rocking band, but for the Mag Fields I was able to thoroughly enjoy myself, and pay attention to the music instead of worrying about my lungs, my toes, and pulling my neck while straining to see more than stage lights.

The weekend before this last one, while my little baby brother was in town, we saw the Shins at the House of Blues (another smoky, pretentious venue where they treat you like cattle, herding you through a dozen ID check points, and then check you again each and every time you attempt to buy an overpriced shit beer. But they do have the saving grace of decorating their walls with interesting art and having bathrooms that actually #1-have locks on the stall doors, #2-have soap, and #3-have something with which to dry your hands. The Metro boast of no such amenities.) It was a good show, and I actually found a spot to stand where I could see more than the big HOB logo above the stage. It is a rare occasion that I can actually see a band play, as a 5 foot (and one inch) tall girl, I understandably often have someone taller standing in front of me.

Here's another link, just for fun. Thank you and goodnight.

It's a beautiful day and I'm happy. For the most part anyway. The job thing is working out and my last two+ weeks are starting to go pretty smoothly. I'm finally busy at work, which is slightly ironic now that I've quit due to the boredom. But this is work I can get into: preparing my office, my job manual, my co-workers, to get along without me. It's slowly inflating my head, knowing that they are so worried about my departure and do in fact truly value my presence here, and at the same time it is giving me a slight sense of unease as I prepare for my extinction, at least as far as the office is concerned. What will they do when I'm gone? Will they remember me fondly, look into my empty office and miss me?

This process of planning my permanent absence is making me think about my life, my family, my friends, my loved ones. It is also making me think about people I've lost contact with throughout my life. Losing touch with someone is a form of death, in a way. You can't plan for it, and you don't know when a conversation or hug or kiss or e-mail will be your last. I've often wondered where some of my past boyfriends and childhood girl friends have been, who they are, where they live, what they're doing right now...if they're thinking of me with the same curious concern. You never know when you're saying goodbye for the last time, so it's important to take advantage of the time you have with the world while you have it.

I've been struggling with the decision to start helping someone close to me out on a regular basis, which I guess I am worried will become a precedent for when this person needs more help, but I love her and I can't stand to see her in the state she is in right now. And it is my duty, as one of her closest friends and loved ones, to take care of her. And when she's gone, will I feel like I did enough? Will I ever feel like I've been the best friend, daughter, sister, employee, wife, and mother that I could possibly be to every person I care for? No, it would be impossible. But I'm doing the best I can.

I'm becoming emotional and girly, but I can't help it. I am starting a new phase of my life and am saying goodbye to a large part of who I am, at least who I have been for the past two years. I'm starting fresh and I couldn't be happier, but there lingers this sense of unease. I've never been good at goodbyes. Looking back, I love this place, and all the crappiness I've associated with it. And I love you guys, the three of you who read this inflated and nonsensical thing.

It is official! (jumping for joy and grinning from ear to ear) I've officially accepted and officially resigned, and am officially so incredibly happy and excited and thrilled and joyful and ecstatic and wonderfully filled with so many emotions I can barely stand it!

I'm overjoyed that I am able to keep working for the major University I am currently employed by so I can keep my benefits including health, retirement and flexible spending account. Yay for me!

I think I need a new digital camera to celebrate my new employment.

I WON I WON I WON I WON!

I got the job! Woohoo! I got what I asked for, and then some! Woohoo! I have gone from being so nervous that I might throw up to being so excited that I might throw up! I start my new job on July 12. Yippee and all that! Yay for me! I rule!

I'm going to go outside to scream now. Thanks.

My stomach was eased exactly at 5pm Monday when I received a reply to my e-mail in which I carefully inquired about the decision process and offered my unending availability for questions and comments. The reply: "I am very interested in offering you the position...I promise I will call you asap on your cell phone tomorrow...if there is an official offer to make...Human Resources...negotiations...discuss salary..." I was absolutely thrilled, and left work cheery and optimistic which carried over to my day off yesterday. The weather couldn't be better as I enjoyed a vacation day with my little brother, who returns to Virginia this afternoon. We went up to the Hancock observatory, visited the Art Institute Museum (Free Ford Tuesdays! Yay for American automobiles!), did some last minute shopping and enjoyed grilled burgers on the deck. I love my little brother, and I'm glad we had this chance to get to know each other again.

So today I continue to wait for the elusive phone call and offer, but at least I know that I am wanted and am the topic of "negotiations" between HR and my future (crossing fingers) boss. I'm still in knots waiting to hear something, but I'm past the nausea of simply not knowing what the deal is.

Benefits of the new position I look forward to:

- If I get what I asked for, almost a 25% increase in salary. Yay!
- A 50% decrease in my daily commute. Double Yay!
- Leaving the hell that is my current job! Triple Yay!
- Being someone's right hand woman.
- Helping to develop the workings of an office from scratch.

Patience is a virtue, although not one I can proudly boast about. As I've mentioned countless times before, I like to be in control of a situation, and when the seldom occasion presents itself where I have absolutely no say in the outcome I have trouble coping, to say the least. Such is this whole job interview thing. I get so worked up and expect a phone call the minute I step out the door, so when a day, and then a weekend, and then half a Monday morning pass with no word, my stomach turns into a churning volcano of unease, my feet tap uncontrollably and my fingers vibrate with nervous tension. All of this discomfort and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. Goddammit.

And then there is my boss. Asking me over and over again to make sure I don't plan to be on vacation, on jury duty, sick, or dead for a select week in August, or else the department will go to hell with no full time staff around, and his outing cannot be cancelled, and co-worker's jury duty cannot be postponed again, and what will he do without me here to guard the fort? The guilt is already setting in and I haven't even had an offer yet.

The let down of not hearing anything on Friday made me not so much fun this weekend, and with my little brother in town asking to be entertained, I felt like a giant ass on Friday and Saturday. I don't handle my emotions well, especially when I'm unhappy with a situation. I love my little brother and I'm happy to have him around, but I need some time to decompress and relax during this blind emotional roller coaster of waiting to hear if I got the job...or not. Not knowing whether the next move will be going up the hill or cascading violently down is leaving me tense and unexcited about sightseeing.

I'm calling at noon. I don't want to make myself a pest, but I very well may fall onto the floor in convulsions if I don't hear anything by lunchtime.

I have a secret, and it's becoming harder and harder to keep it under wraps. When my boss asks me to make sure I'm here for a select number of days in August, I just smile and say "I don't have any plans for a vacation in August..." and quickly change the subject. I know this is how the world works and all, but I can't help feeling guilty. When I leave this office, which hopefully will be sometime in my immediate future, a vast hardship will fall on my department, right in the middle of the summer when everyone has plans to take their vacations and such. I can't wait to get out, but I feel guilty for wanting it so badly.

Hopefully I'll be going to a better place. Soon. Like, in two weeks. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

The last week has been a busy blur, full of sneezing, crying, flying, family, and meat. Lots and lots of meat. I was still sick during the plane flight to Virginia last Wednesday...the plane flight that took off TWO HOURS after we boarded and departed from the gate. I brought a full box of tissues with me and landed in Virginia with a nearly empty container. Yes, I was an enjoyable passenger to sit next to. You bet. I guess I got what was coming to me during the 8am flight back, with a screaming two year old sitting a mere 3 rows in front of me. My eardrums are still ringing, and I'm swearing off kids for at least 10 years now.

My little brother graduated high school cum laude, performed a voice and guitar solo of the class song in front of the 400+ graduating class and their 5,000 guests in the gym, graciously and humbly accepted his graduation party gifts...and ate lots of meat. I am so proud of him, I cried constantly during the ceremony, and once or twice during the rest of my visit. He has his whole life in front of him, and more talent and opportunity than I could ever hope for. While living under a single father's roof, I practically raised my brother from age age 6 to 14. I feel like his second mother, and for that reason I cried with joy as my little guy took the next giant step in his life.

I'm still in a meat coma thinking about all of the dead animals we ingested on our many celebratory restaurant visits and at-home meals. I think we hit about every major animal: we had fried shrimp, broiled fish, pork ribs, pork bbq, beef bbq, chicken wings, peking duck, stir fried lamb, bratwurst, hot dogs, chipped beef, sausage gravy, turkey sausage, lobster, pepperoni, ham, eggs, and I'm sure I'm leaving something out. My families love them some meat, I tell you, and my father sometimes has trouble putting the grilling tongs down. At a 40 person party we had enough food to feed 200, I kid you not. My dad and step mother are the ultimate carnivorous hosts. Should I ever become a vegetarian I would have nothing to eat at my parents' house.

I was in my element almost all weekend, hugging and catching up with grandmothers, aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings. I was raised in a large family with large get togethers, and this was the first time in years that we were almost all in the same place. It was nice to be able to include my husband in my family's tradition of gathering and grazing. I often look at our different backgrounds and wonder how we'll handle these occasions when we have kids. Only time will tell, and I look forward to it, but don't hold your breath. Although cranky, tired, and still sniffly towards the end, I very much enjoyed visiting with all of my families. I'm incredibly sentimental and cheesy, and this weekend full of celebration with friends and family has left me in an excellent place, although left me here with a serious lack of sleep and an overdose of protein.

My bro arrives at O'Hare tomorrow to spend a week with us in our new apartment. It will be nice to get to know who he is, at almost 19 years old. I knew him well at 12 when I left for college, and have known the major ups and downs of his life since then, but I am eager to spend time alone with him to learn about who he is now.

So now I'm off to prepare, clean, entertain, learn and have fun. And resist as much meat as possible.

Still sick. At least I feel a different sort of sick every day, on my way to recovery. Bronchial infections are an adventure, and until today I felt much better than I sounded. I know it's clearing up, but I feel like I've been attacked by a truck which sits idling on my forehead, in between my eyes with its heavy load resting on my chest. I think I'm becoming addicted to Nyquil and am a little bit concerned about the results of my weeklong medicine binge as I head back to the Right Coast this week to be with my families.

I generally don't sleep well in other people's houses, especially when noise and light levels are different than what I am used to. I always make a point to pack my earplugs, sleeping pills and satin blindfold (I know...I'm such a priss) yet I still get an attack of anxiety when I lay my head down on an unfamiliar pillow with unfamiliar smells and sounds. Even in my old bedroom at my parent's house I lay awake and recall the memories that the scent of the room recalls from my subconscious. Parts of me are still 17 and living there.

Every so often I catch myself referring to Virginia as "home", and it has become an odd feeling. Chicago is my true home now, my grown up life with my new family, my safe haven and comfort central. I feel wrong calling anywhere else "home", yet I can't find a better word for where I grew up and where my family still lives. I had barely moved out before my old bedroom became something unfamiliar and completely not mine, and now everything has changed, from the furnishings to the pets. But there is still that comfort of being in my daddy's house. I guess this is just part of growing up and moving on, dealing with the emotional transition between two places.

We have a busy week ahead: Work tomorrow morning, then fly to VA in the afternoon. Tomorrow is my mother-in-law's birthday so we stay with them, Thursday is my father's so we head to his house, Friday is my little brother's high school graduation (I'm so proud!), Saturday we see my mom's new home and it is my husband's grandmother's birthday and a party later on at my dad's house. There are about a million reasons to celebrate with my family on Saturday, aside from the above mentioned occasions, my brother-in-law's birthday and his wedding anniversary with my step-sister (I guess that would make him my step-brother-in-law), early father's day, hub's and my visit, etc. Sunday is back to the in-law's to spend with the grandma. We fly back at the crack of dawn Monday morning, and immediately head back to work. Thank goodness for drug-induced sleep and wakefulness, I say. Hurrah for Nyquil and coffee.

Daddy, I'm coming home.

Chicago's first nice weekend, and I spend it hacking up my lungs inside my newly air-conditioned apartment. I guess I deserve it, it's been quite a while since I've been genuinely ill. Today: off work at noon to get better sipping oj in a swimsuit on the deck. Poor, pitiful, sick me.

Though everything still remains vague and nothing can be described as "definitive", I'm still slowly morphing into a sniffling pile of quivering emotional heartache at the mere thought of a final clear negative response. That's right, emily, get it all out now so when the heartache presents itself fully, all games aside, you can go on with your day without skipping a beat. I've still got it; I am still managing to fall in love with every new and probably unreal opportunity I glimpse. The new me is up and running, bouncy and resilient as ever, ready for the next stumble, donning knee pads and a huge neon green helmet to either soften the blow or just let them know I'm coming.

Add "slightly emotionally unstable" to resume.

I sit and wait in a state of permanent nausea and anxiety, waiting to hear a few little words that will alter the path of my life ... for the better, I hope. A simple phone call is all it takes, people! Come on! I'd even settle for a one sentence e-mail, just to satiate my desire to know SOMETHING, anything, a word, a yes! Or a no. Either way will determine the next rise in the hilly interstate of my life. I don't fare well in states of unease, a flaw of mine which I may have neglected to mention. I'm a planner, an organized and detail driven (freakishly so) planner, the likes of which you want, you NEED. You will call me and you will tell me you love me and you need me and you want us to be together. For always.

Until you achieve that moment of clarity I wait. And wait. And wait. But don't forget our match made in heaven, our perfectly fit puzzle just waiting to happen. It could be such a beautiful picture.

fun for nature boy...or girl.

How many times can emily post in one day?

I'm back from lunch, energized and exercised from a walk around the lake. Sitting on the grass I was amused to see how thrilled the bugs were to have a human to explore. Ladybug after ladybug tried to dive into my pasta, which I quickly learned was not a good food choice for picnicking, but was a delicious lunch nonetheless. Insects just love garlic and mussels, and apparently birds do, too. I made friends with a couple of crows who fought greedily over a mussel I tossed their way. They followed me along my walk and landed nearby to caw at me when I stopped to rest on a bench. I wish I'd brought along some bread for them. I treated myself to a small frozen yogurt on the way back to the office, and now warm, sugared and full, I am enjoying my view looking at the trees basking in the sun. A small group of barn swallows are hanging out on the oak branches right outside my window, continuously falling, flying, and returning to sit and sing to each other.

One day like today can make up for a month full of rainy three day weekends.

Memorial Weekend Adventures

Friday: Beer and tacos with new friends until 3am. Hubb and I suddenly realize with embarrassment that we haven't been in a bar at last call in quite a long time.

Saturday: A broken microwave and an absent landlord do not a happy tenant make. Makeup chinese food and the first half of Airplane are serious therapy for a rainy day gone bad.

Sunday: Rain and rain and rain. And shopping until we are dropping.

Monday: Cleaning the grill in the sunshine and grilling our dinner in the rain.

And today, back at work with nary a rain cloud in sight.

As the week winds down and I move closer to entering the holiday weekend, the sun comes out and my spirits brighten. I don't want to jinx anything, but there is a potential career change in my near future...I'm keeping my fingers crossed all weekend for good measure.

I wish I had stayed home today to enjoy the sun and the crisp spring air. I can't believe it's almost June and we have yet to see a really nice hot day. My superficial fashionable side wants to start on my tan so that my legs aren't blindingly white when I finally reveal them, and the other "new me" side wants to make the public accept my legs as they are. I'm pale as milk and I'm proud. Maybe I'll start a trend.

Tonight we enjoy a flashback to our college days at the House of Blues (Which hub and I continue to refer to as the House of Boobs for no apparent reason other than that it's fun to say. We're such children sometimes.) with the members of Hepcat. I can't wait to reminisce. Before we head downtown we may stop by the Gaper's Block party at Danny's to meet people we interact with online almost every day. I don't know why I am feeling a little bit apprehensive about it. I guess I just imagine myself as being seen as mysterious and fascinating, and when I reveal my 5' tall shy self the mystery will be gone in a poof. I'm just uncomfortable about meeting people in general, which I suppose I need to work on if I want to land a new job on the first interview. It would be fun to have a masked "blind date" party, to physically meet for the first time but leave that safety of not revealing your true identity by wearing a paper cutout of Bush's face or one of those Mardi Gras feather masks. Therefore if you get drunk and say something stupid (which I am sometimes known to do) you can pretend it never happened should your true face be revealed to the group in the future. I'm waaay overanalyzing this. Shut up, Emily. Ok.

Three day weekend, here I come!

Bad Ideas:
- Eating so much you feel like you might puke before a job interview.
- Buying new pants on your lunch break, changing into them in the bathroom, and leaving the size sticker on them while waltzing around the office.
- Adjusting your bra in front of your boss.
- Reinstating the draft.

WRITING ME AN E-MAIL IN ALL CAPS AND USING INCORRECT PUNCTUATION? OFFERING ME A JOB OPPORTUNITY DOES NOT PRESENT AN IMAGE OF BELIEVABLE EMPLOYMENT.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR INTEREST IN ME BUT THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I AM GOING TO REPLY TO YOU.

The sad part is that it was a legitimate management position with a large retail company. Looks like somebody needs to hire a new recruiter who actually graduated high school.

As I am a walking contradiction, starting my new stress free happy crappy life last week, here are Five things I hate this week:

- German engineering pooping out on me. My sweet car has decided not to use her turn signals anymore, no matter how many times I turn the lever and bang on the dash.

- Dogs who run in front of my car, begging to be killed. (and owners who let them do it.)

- Hit and runs. (unrelated to the dog thing.)

- Misused apostrophes. (ongoing peeve)

- The unemployment rate messing up my chances for a new jobby job.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life, and I'm going to take advantage of it. I don't know what happened to me, but something is moving me to take control of my life and strive for happiness and accomplishment instead of whatever else was driving me before. I'm a new girl, ladies and gentlemen.

This morning on the drive to work, even though traffic on North Avenue was insufferable and the overcast sky wasn't letting a single ray of sunshine through, I was happy. I was happy that I live in an amazing city full of amazing people, that I have the most wonderful husband a girl could ask for, happy that I'm healthy and able, that I have a great extended family, and that my new pants fit perfectly. I drove with my windows down, listened to nostalgic music, sipped my coffee, and watched as nearly 90% of my fellow commuters traveled in their hermetically sealed cars with bored looks on their faces, only breaking their glossy stares for angry scowls at the traffic. I didn't take my customary shortcut today, I smiled at the guy selling newspapers in the street, and I let a CTA bus merge in front of me. Somebody stop me, I'm on a roll.

I'm going to start going for what I want instead of waiting for it to come to me. I'm ready for change. I'm thrilled with my life right now, I have everything I've ever wanted and then some, and I'm ready to take advantage of it and appreciate every moment.

I'm a little exhausted from all of this self-reflection and emotional probing. Time for a doughnut.

When it comes to pain and death I'm overly (and appropriately)...scared to death. I'll hopefully have 60 to 80 more years to come to terms with the idea, with the help of psychologists and drunk conversations with my ever loving husband. But who knows where science will be in 60 years, maybe scientists will figure out what makes us tick, what makes us individuals, where this "soul" thing comes from, and find a way to capture and preserve it when our earthly bodies poop out. When I'm 100 I could be existing inside a gorgeous youthful robot with beautiful flowing waves of auburn hair, a flat smooth tanned tummy and legs that won't stop. Or I'll be old and grey and pleased with the life I've created. If the robot thing doesn't work out I'll settle for contentment.

Craig thinks that my fear of death comes from the uncontrollability of it. The fact that I can't dictate when and how I and the people I love will pass freaks me out. I suppose there is some truth to that, but I think it is also the insignificance of it all, and the eternal life question and all that. Most people live selfishly, fulfilling their own desires and needs before thinking of others, which is absolutely normal and fine with me, but if we're all doing that just to survive then what's the point? I imagine everyone leaves some little mark on every person they interact with, but if I never existed would the world really be any different? I need to review Back To the Future.

Then there's the eternal end-all finality of death. There are so many experiences I want to have before I'm gone, so many ways I want to impact other people's lives, so many ways I want to be impacted by others, I can't wrap my mind around the idea of being deprived of these things. Oops, there's that uncontrollability again. Maybe that's my problem. I just can't handle things I can't control. Death, traffic and taxes. It's all beyond my grasp.

5 ways you can get me to work for you: a list.
- Pay me 5-10k more per year than I make now.
- Provide a creative and stimulating work environment.
- Do not make me work with passive aggressive bitches.
- Locate your office within an hour's commute of my home.
- Just offer me a goddamn job. pretty please.

Chicago Tribune | Discoveries Show How Obesity Kills

Change IS good, yet I sometimes have a hard time acclimating. Why do you pull me out of my comfortable mindless Monday morning routine, Blogger? Damn you.

Best weekend ever:

Sleeping in on Saturday (much needed), shopping with the husband (without complaint), a successful 3-bottles-of-wine dinner party (with a complete menu change at the last minute), a new dining room table (we are grown up now!), gorgeous weather, brunch outside at the Milk and Honey Cafe, and being able to start off the week with clean laundry and new shoes.

The highlights outweight the lowlights. Good week.

Highlights of the week thus far:

- The word "Pimpumentary" coming out of the mouth of my boss.
- Peter Gabriel's "Sledgehammer" playing appropriately in the Home Depot. It made me smile.
- Purchasing a grown up dining room table.
- Craig's well deserved bonus, allowing said dining room table purchase.
- Buying shallots from the fruit market.
- Ice cream sandwiches for dinner.
- The amazing weather. (You were dead wrong, weatherman!)
- Deciding on an anniversary trip to Paris next year with my best friend of almost 20 years.

Lowlights of the week thus far:

- Construction on every possible route to work.
- Sore throat/allergies/headache.
- STILL no internet at home. Boooo.

Who knows what tomorrow may bring.

For some reason I associate purchasing large pieces of furniture with being a mature and responsible adult. I'm going to grow up tonight and buy me a dining room table.

But for now I'm taking advantage of my sore throat and headache to go home and take a nap. Maybe I'll also play some Nintendo and watch Saved by the Bell.

Self-conscious girly weight rant begin:

I've been losing weight recently, which is starting to worry me as I really haven't been doing anything special to achieve this result, but rather eating things like disgustingly cheezy pizza and chocolate bars from the vending machine at work. Not that I'm really complaining, as summer is nearly upon us and I now have a roof top deck on which I plan to sunbathe and I am the only female in my building so I feel that I have some sort of womanly ideal to try to represent. But on a short person such as myself, 10 pounds is quite a lot, and I am learning all of my clothes fit oddly while I'm shrinking.

I first noticed my pants fitting more loosely, which immediately posed problem in that baggy clothes make one look unproportioned and oddly shaped, and do not adequately represent a new svelte bum. So I bought a new pair of pants and have been wearing the other two pairs of previous labeled "tight butt pants" that I had saved for special tight butt demanding situations. So now with pants that fit appropriately I have discovered some other issues related to my recent thinning out, things I hadn't counted on that are now starting to really annoy me and are making me contemplate pigging out on fried chicken and nachos for a few weeks just so I don't have to deal with them anymore. The biggest of these concerns is that my underwear is too big. For most women there is nothing more annoying than ill fitting bras and panties. Not to mention nothing more unflattering. And right now I have neither the energy nor the finances to go on a lingerie spree. Maybe this freakish weight loss thing will just as quickly and mysteriously reverse itself so I can complain about how tight everything is again.

I'm not complaining about being thinner, and I'm not trying to sound all snotty and unappreciative ("Don't hate me because I'm beautiful"), but I do want to complain about baggy panties and share too much information with the three of you who read my ramblings.

Self-conscious girly weight rant over.

We've moved. We need new STUFF. Some of it we really do need, like a dining room table, a place to put the telephone other than the floor and a toilet scrub brush, but other things we could really live without. We could find these things anywhere, yet we decided to punish ourselves with the Hell that is Ikea. We visited Ikea at least a dozen times when we first moved here, each time vowing to never return. We stay away just long enough to forget how the long drive, the insane crowd, the long lines, and the cheap products aren't worth it, but then we move again and we say "Hey, I we need a _____, and I bet Ikea has one." And inevitably they do. And we don't like it. And we buy a hundred other things instead and swear we will never go back.

We started our adventure on Sunday by taking the wrong highway and turning a would-be 45 minute trip into an almost two hour tour of the Northern Illinois suburbs. We arrived in Shaumburg (the most typical name for a suburb if I've ever heard one) and prepare for battle in the poorly designed SUV packed parking lot. Millions of angry Sweedish design loving drivers stalk the first few parking rows, ready to fight to the death for the closest available space rather than (God forbid) WALK an extra 25 yards from the (gasp) back of the lot! After escaping a near-fatal parking spot duel with a fat angry man in an Expedition, we decided we could stand to stretch our legs and parked at the end of a row and walked to the inviting yellow and blue door (while fat Expedition man was still waiting for the spot).

The three levels of plastic, metal and wood are a madhouse of confusion and excitement. Every man, woman, and child must have their own shopping cart, and they all must walk in opposite directions, irradically stopping and going. We were exhausted before we'd even made it to floor two. We had a list of 20+ pieces of furniture and items we "needed", but managed to leave the store confused, tired and poor with a mere two items crossed off. Ikea seduced us with her inexpensive and brightly colored housewares, and then kicked us out with no money for a cab-ride home. We still need that telephone table, a couch and a dining room table, but at least Hubb has an alarm clock that records his voice and we have a bright red dot of a rug in the middle of our kitchen. And the toilet bowl brush. At least we didn't forget that.

I swear we're never going back.