The One with the Post That Got Eaten

I wrote this really awesome post about causes I feel are important, and how the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation was one that was especially important to me, and I went into this whole thing about how I support it now, etc.

And then it disappeared.

Which is sort of embarrassing, since I linked it up to a Share Your Cause blog link.  My first link up, and Blogger eats my post.

There's a comment someone left on it, so I know it WAS there, but now it says it's not available.

Anyone know why this might have happened?

The One With the Hurricane

So, Hurricane Irene came and went. We're far enough inland in North Carolina that this was the extent of the damage done to the area where we live:

I love hurricanes. I don't like being IN them, but I love the build up, watching hurricane coverage all day, listening to the wind and rain, all that kind of thing.

Yesterday, while we watched the peripheral of the storm outside the window, I told D I felt like one of those people on the cop shows, the ones that, like, their mother was raped and produced them, so then they go after rapists?

Which, OK, is a TERRIBLE analogy if you don't know what I'm talking about. What I mean is, the people whose lives were affected by something, so that becomes a focal point of their lives from there on out.

Back in 1996, when Hurricane Fran came through North Carolina, my family and I were living in a house in kind of the country side of the city, in the woods, with lots of trees around. Prior to Fran coming through, Hurricane Bertha came through, and it had been raining for what seemed like weeks, so the ground was nice and squishy, and that was why so many trees ended up down.

We ended up with this 100-foot sycamore tree that knocked out part of our back deck and that came crashing through the kitchen bay window.

Trauma. I was a kid/am an adult that is fairly easily traumatized anyway, so that made this giant, scary impact on my life (at least as far as hurricanes are concerned) from then until now.

So it could potentially make sense that now, I'm kind of obsessed with hurricanes, while they're happening. I also know information that is kind of weird to have stored away, but it's there, because I've read so much about it.

Anyway, I woke up at 8 yesterday and spent the better part of the day watching out the window and watching news coverage. The beach area got hammered, but where we live barely saw anything. Which is simultaneously good and a little disappointing. Not saying I want bad things to happen, but they'd hyped this thing up so much, I expected at least a couple of missing shingles.

Additionally, I'm aware that I started the month-long-picture-a-day thing and lasted. . .one day. Since D didn't get home until 8 this morning, and is going to be sleeping all day, most likely, I'm going to make it my goal to get through the past month's pictures so that maybe I can finish out the month with the people who actually were meticulous and finished the project.

We'll see.

The One With the Offensive Books

I love books.

I think anyone who knows me knows how I feel about books in general, libraries, reading, etc. Love it.

So today, when one of my new co-workers brought up two books that had been "challenged" in the system by people who wanted them removed, I was interested in what other people find offensive.

Book #1 was "It's a Book" by Lane Smith.

The premise of the book is that this monkey is reading a book, and this donkey (introduced in the first couple of pages, actually, as a "jackass") doesn't get that in order to read a book, you don't need all kinds of electronic gadgets.

"How do you scroll down?" asks the donkey.

The monkey replies, "I don't. I turn the page. It's a book."

"Can you make the characters fight?" asks the donkey.

Again, the monkey replies, "No. It's a book."

And on and on. Finally, at the end of the book, the monkey passes over his book to the donkey and then heads out to the library to get another one. "Don't worry!" the donkey calls out. "I'll charge it when I'm done!"

At this point, the mouse that lives under the monkey's hat says, "You don't need to. . ."

And when you turn the page, he finishes his sentence: ". . .it's a book, jackass!"

I laughed when I read that. It was a very funny, very cute, well-illustrated book. The problem? It is categorized in our Easy Reader, picture book section. Call me old-fashioned, call me too PC, say whatever you want, but I agree with whichever patron is it that brought this to our attention.

Can you imagine being up in front of a group of small elementary school-aged kids (and their parents!) and reading this out loud? Admittedly, if you're super-vigilant about what your kids read and you want to avoid profanity (even though yes, I KNOW "jackass" is another word for "donkey." I know this. But the double entendre is clearly intentional), then you should be screening the books beforehand. Sometimes, though, you just can't do that.

My vote on this one? Keep the book in the system (because it really is good), but put it in Juvenile Fiction, or even Adult Humor. Most of the story would go over young kids' heads anyway. (What little kid knows what a blog is? Or Twitter?)

Book #2 was "The Polar Bears Are Hungry" by Carol Carrick.

The story is about a mother polar bear and her cubs looking for hard-to-find food and ending up trying to break into a house to get food, being brought to "bear jail" and then being re-released into the wild. The pictures are beautiful. There is a vague liberal global warming agenda, but while it would be pretty obvious to astute parents, unless a parent wanted to say, "And all this is happening because of X, Y, and Z," kids wouldn't get it. How frightening the book would be would, in all actuality, depend on the tone of voice of the adult reading it.

The person who complained said there were pictures of bears viciously eating seals (not true. It just mentioned the bear was hunting seals. Which. . .they do.); that they "drugged" the bears and sent them to "jail" (true, but not as frightening as the lady made it out to be); and she said that it was "propegating" the "theory" of global warming, which is SO UNTRUE, because everyone smart knows that the Earth has, throughout the years, goes through periods of extreme heat and extreme cold.

I'd like to pause a moment here and comment that, um, did she not just disprove herself? She said the Earth isn't any hotter than it was 20 years ago, but then she goes on to say that the Earth continually gets hotter and colder.

Um?

She suggested that we get rid of every copy of that book in our system and send them back to the publisher, and that we then buy books about the REAL eating habits and habitats of polar bears. Which, I'm pretty sure this book has all of those things.

I guess some people just need to complain and be indignant.

One of my co-workers suggested maybe she just wants us to have copies of books about how polar bears hang out at the North Pole, where it's always frigid, with Santa and his elves.

That made me laugh.

If I haven't bored you enough yet, more about books in my next post, including offensively gay books and the cutest book I've ever read.

So what do you guys think? Should we ban profanity and books about the natural life cycle?

The One Where HarperCollins Hates Libraries

Sorry for the hiatus, y'all. Lots going on, not feeling like talking about most of it.

There comes a time in everyone's life, I think, where you realize that big companies, with their millions of dollars of income every year, are really just out to screw you. I've already said my piece about insurance companies, but now I have a new company upon which to unleash my (completely justified!) bile: HarperCollins.

Most of you know I work in a library. I refer to myself as a librarian even though I haven't found the money to go back for my degree to make it official. But here's one thing I don't need a degree for: I love books. I love books as much as I love food, and you guys know that's a LOT.

When e-Books started being a thing, I worried. I worried that the printed book was going to go out of style in a few years, and I worried that I'd be forced to get an e-Reader just to read the books I love so much.

My house is full of books. There are books everywhere. I'm always reading. Books and reading and all that are all very important aspects of my life.

(I know I'm jumping around here, but I'm getting to the point.)

HarperCollins has decided that they are going to limit the number of times they are going to let libraries check out e-books. I've linked to the letter they posted, but the basic gist of it is that libraries may purchase e-books for check out, but they can only be checked out 26 times. HarperCollins has decided that after these 26 times are used up, the libraries must purchase the books again.

This is. . .infuriating to me. If libraries made a habit of buying books that would only last until they were checked out 26 times, we'd have nothing. We'd have no books on the shelves, and the point of libraries would be moot. HarperCollins is just going for the money. They don't care about getting the books out. They don't care about people reading. They care about the money.

If you go here, you can read a very eloquent open letter to HarperCollins that says everything I'd love to say here, but for some reason, am missing the words to say.

The writer of HarperCollins' "open letter to librarians" said, "Twenty-six circulations can provide a year of availability for titles with the highest demand, and much longer for other titles and core backlist."

Any book that lasts just a year? Has no room in a library. And if e-readers are the wake of the future and all that, why would you make it so hard for someone to get books on it? Why are you punishing people who maybe don't like holding books, but who like reading? (Like people who, up until this point, maybe used audio books.)

It seems that many libraries are boycotting HarperCollins or HarperCollins' e-books or whatever. I've got a whole list of things I'm boycotting, so maybe we just need to add HarperCollins to that list.

I'm not suggesting they give unlimited views for one price forever, but 26 views? Ridiculous.

What do you think? I think HarperCollins is all about how much money the can eke out of libraries who already are having to cut their budgets way, way down, and who just want to provide an inexpensive service to their patrons. I'm not saying we should get anything for free. But be reasonable, HarperCollins. All you're doing is pissing off the people who use you the most.

The One With the Avocados

Good morning/early afternoon/whatever, y'all.

I've been super busy doing not a whole lot. On the plus side, one of D's new clients is a bar owner, so I have had more than my fill of beer and bar food over the last couple of days. Please don't tell my endocrinologist. Or my mother.

Speaking of food (you like what I did there?), I was talking to my cousin, Carrie, this morning, and we had a conversation that led to some Google searches, which ultimately led to a downward spiral of shame.

She starts the conversation innocuously enough, with "random question."

The question goes like this: "So I'm reading on this Web site about uses for avocado. I originally wanted to see if you can eat the pit. People always throw it out, but it's soft and malleable like the flesh, so why can't you eat it? Anyway. I came across this site that has various other uses for avocado and saw this -- Foot and Hand Massage. With your partner, share the luxury of a relaxing massage. If you both have sex in mind, don't stop with the hands and feet"

That led into a discussion of whether or not that was gross. Carrie conceded that a hand and foot massage might be OK, but that was the end of it. I said, if something touches my feet, I don't want it touching ANYWHERE ELSE. I also have texture issues with touching things with my hands, so I don't think I'd like that either. So feet would be it.

This got me thinking. So, as you do, I went to Google and typed in "Sex with Food."

(At this point, you're probably thinking, "Sarah, will you NEVER LEARN?" The answer to that is probably "No. No I will not.")

The first thing that popped up (that's what she said?) was on the Web site TheFrisky.com, which I have heard of before, but do not frequent. In a column entitled "Doin' It With Dr. V," someone writes in and asks, basically, that since she got all hot and bothered while her boyfriend was cutting up peppers, and then he touched her in the delicate lady area, could this cause bad things to happen?

Yikes.

The answer was basically, as long as nothing's burning, you should be OK. But then she also went into the types of foods that WOULD be OK to use, and ways to be careful about it. So that's cool.

Next, Google gave me a page at askmen.com. The title? "Food For Sex" This one starts out talking about the movie "9 1/2 Weeks" (obvs) and continued on to discuss ice, whipped cream, and chocolate.

Now, I'm not a huge food-with-sex connoisseur (read: never ever), but this article is kind of. . .obvious, isn't it? I've read enough Cosmo to have heard this stuff 9,000 times. So while I commend The Frisky for telling people how to be safe, etc., I have to kind of give Ask Men a fail. Because. . .really.

The next one was a Google image gallery that had the famous triple-X in the address, so I left that one alone.

There were a couple more that I skimmed over, but I think that, since I only wanted to highlight 3, I'll leave off with my favorite one. A blog at the "Houston Press" talked about the top 10 best food and sex scenes in movies. I didn't watch them (would have possibly been a little awkward explaining to D what I was doing. "I'm watching food sex scenes." ". . .why?" "For my READERS!") but every clip includes a synopsis of what the scene was about, and the foods necessary to pull them off. Cool.

So what do you all think? Food and sex: Awesome and Awesome or Weird and Messy?

The One With an Unintended Hiatus

Merry Christmas! 12 days late

Happy New Year! almost a week late

Wow. I am way, way behind. I'm happy to see that my 21 people are still here and haven't yet abandoned me for being so incredibly remiss. Thanks, guys!

I also want to thank the people who let me know that they would, in fact, eat something from someone they didn't know. I didn't have enough people in the time before Christmas actually rolled around, so I'll keep it in mind in case I want to do some kind of giveaway in the future.

I'd like to "formally" announce my other blog, my new-ish food blog. I actually (with the help of D) started it back in December, but kind of dropped the ball, as I did with this one, but I will be doing my absolute best to keep it updated and awesome, so I can move on, eventually, to my intended full-time food career. You can check it out at www.shelikestobake.com. Once I get into the swing of things, it'll be updated more often. I promise.

D gave me a video recorder for Christmas for the express reason of getting further into video blogging. I took some video of the ridiculous amount of snow that we got, but I'm going to have to figure out a way to remove the audio before I put it up. Because I was rambling like an idiot moreso than usual and no one wants to hear that. I also did a video blog from downtown Raleigh during the New Year's Eve celebration, so I'll put that up too, in the future. (By "in the future" I mean "as soon as D has time to help me, because I am fairly technologically illiterate.)

In other news, I ran a mile yesterday on the treadmill. This wasn't a New Year's resolution. I go to the gym occasionally, and yesterday I was feeling particularly sloth-like.

via hyperbole and a half

So I'm running along, feeling like I may or may not die while a skinny Asian girl runs along beside me like it's NOTHING and "Down Home with the Neelys" plays on the TV. I'd like to make it a mile. I'm gunning for a mile. At .80, I feeling like I'm just going to keel over. I think, no, Sarah, you've baked and subsequently eaten SO MUCH these past few weeks, you are going to RUN THIS DAMN MILE.

For Christmas, my brother gave me an iTunes gift card, and I've downloaded a few new songs onto my iPod as a result. One of these songs gave me the wherewithal to get through that mile. It was this one:

Say what you will about her, but this song is awesome.

I've got more stories to tell, but I'll save them for later, possibly preventing another month-long hiatus.

The One Where I Have a French Friday Disaster

Sorry I've been ignoring you. I kind of feel like one of those parents who go on business trips all the time and then bring back lots of little trinkets and sometimes food to make up for the fact that they just Were Not There.

Unfortunately, I do not have anything with which to bribe you and to apologize for the fact that I've been a lax parent blogger, but I can update you on things that have been going on.

I attempted to make my FFwD recipe for my mom's side of the family's Thanksgiving, which is held the Sunday before Real Thanksgiving.

I've had a few recipe disasters in my day, but none like this one.

I had everything ready. My greased casserole dish held sliced potatoes (all sliced with my new-to-me Cuisinart, which, I'm convinced, could chop ANYTHING), fresh-ish herbs, garlic-infused cream, and a couple of other things. It was lovely.

I did what Dorie told me to do, and that is to put a piece of parchment paper on a cookie sheet and put the casserole dish on top of that, just in case anything spilled. If something spilled, you don't want it going into the bottom of your oven.

Indeed.

The thing about parchment paper is, NOTHING sticks to it. When I made my parents a moose cake for their anniversary, and I tried to tape parchment paper to an outline of moose antlers so I could use melted chocolate to fashion the antlers, the tape wouldn't even stick to it.

Keep this in mind.

So I'm in a hurry when I'm putting this thing in the oven. I'm in a hurry because we have to leave in 45 minutes, and this stuff needs to bake for an hour. 15 minutes won't make THAT much of a difference, was my rationale.

For whatever reason, I chose to pick up this parchment paper-lined cookie sheet containing my potato thing with one hand. Now, when you pick up a rectangular pan with one hand, it's going to tilt a little to the other side where you (for whatever reason) have no hand. This happened. What also happened, thanks to the parchment paper, was that as I went to put the thing in the oven, the entire dish slid off the sheet and exploded at the bottom of my oven.

The dish didn't explode (thanks, Pyrex!) but everything in it did. It was a fountain of potato, cheese, and garlic-infused cream. So I cursed, grabbed the glass dish out of the bottom of the oven, turned off the oven and then did what any good chef would do.

I freaked out and cried.

D was in the kitchen when all of this was going on, so when I started freaking out, saying, "What do I do? I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!", he was all, "Just leave. I'll take care of it." I tried for another second to figure out how to fix it, and he was all, "Sarah. Leave."

So I did. I went into the bedroom and cried some more. And then I thought, "I should take pictures of what's going on so I can write about it!" But then I thought that taking pictures while D was fixing my epic, epic error might be considered bad form. So I did not.

Needless to say, this dish did not go to Thanksgiving with us. An apple cake did, though.

This was not the end of the potatoes, though.

D somehow saved a lot of the ingredients in my erstwhile potato dish. They sat in the fridge for a while, and then, the other day, I decided to give it another go.

Rather than carefully infusing the new cream with garlic, I whisked it with onion powder. The recipe said to fill the cream to the edge, and if there wasn't enough, to add milk. I did just that. Then into the oven it went.

This is what happened:

. . .um?

I should note that there were some other potatoes in the dish (it didn't bake as empty as it looks), but I'd taken them out to try them, before discovering the sea of cream in which these things were swimming.

Maybe it's because the potatoes sat in the fridge for a while. Maybe it was the milk. Maybe it was the cream. I don't really know. What I do know is that this dish ended up being an epic fail.

I didn't do the last week of November's FFwD (I forgot, plus we were out of town), but hopefully, I'll catch up soon. I also have other things to write about, but I've been overwhelmed with my new Web site project, I've just kind of shut down, bloggily. I'll get it all figured out one of these days.

And, just so you don't think I'm a total failure, I'll show you my blueberry-cranberry pie I invented:

A little on the sweet side, but D said it was "the best berry pie [he'd] ever had." And he's got Southern grandmas, so I think that's saying something.

If you wonder -- My new blog/Web site venture is going to be baking-centric, so while I'll still be talking about non-baking food here, when the spirit moves me, my baking stuff will be moved to its own site shortly. I'll be sure to post the address for that for those who are interested.

The One Hundredth

It's been like two weeks since I've been here (actively writing, at least) and there's not a lot I can say about it, really, except that I haven't had a lot to talk about that people would want to hear about.

I used to have an "online diary" (they weren't called blogs back in the day) back in high school/college/whatever and it was emo-tastic. If I was fighting with someone, I wrote about it (subtly, passive-aggressively, obvs). If I was being all unrequited about a non-relationship, I wrote about it. If I had a bad day, I wrote about it. It was all there, in black and white (and purple) for the entire world to see.

I just went back, actually, and looked at that old journal. I did want to share this one entry I made. I've changed names (because OBVIOUSLY), but everything else is still the same. It was a letter to my boss at the time:

Dear Boss,

I understand that you're older and sometimes don't get references that other people get. I can understand why, that time you told me I could take a laptop to a press conference and write the story on the way home, you didn't understand why Carrie laughed when you said I could "whip it out" on the way home. I get that. I get why you don't know what "the shocker" is. I get that, too.

But, dear Boss, the expression is "chewed out." If you do something wrong, someone might "chew you out" for it.

That is why I would recommend never, ever repeating what you said to me today, which is that, because of the High School Letter Incident, that you would be "eaten out by the school system superintendent guy."

I'm just sayin'.

Love,
Sarah

OK, THAT was funny. I remember that, too.

But the entry immediately following that was about how going out to dinner with two couples sucked. (I was, clearly, single at the time.) And then there was a survey. And then there was a direction to my newest blog (the one before this one), because I was trying to get away from the desperately depressing downer of an "online diary" I was keeping.

I KNOW that you don't want to hear about it, and the reason I don't recount everything negative that happens is because, one, I don't want everyone knowing. I think that's simple enough. There are a lot of wonderful people that come and read, and I love you all for it. But there are also people who are just trying to keep tabs on me, to know things about me, so they can, potentially, use it against me in the future. (You guys? If you want to stay more hidden, use a computer with a different IP address. Just FYI.)

I also know that when there are blogs that are all doom and gloom, you lose interest. Personally, I've lost a total of 3 readers along the way, and that always happens after I write something about bad things going on. So I pretty much know my audience.

But on this, my 100th posting, I just wanted to say that I'm still here. I'm still here and I'm trying to get back on track. I love my job, and I have a birthday coming up, and we'll just see how it goes.

Cheers. Here's to 100 more.

The One Where I Shake It Up a Little

List.

OK, you guys. I have a confession to make.

This list is getting to me.

It seemed like a good idea at first. Something to keep me on track, give me things to write about, and provide a cohesive. . .something or other. (I just wanted to use the word "cohesive.")

But now? Now it's pissing me off. It's pissing me off because I'm so far behind (Today is supposed to be Day 21. I am currently on Day 13. I've missed a week.) It's pissing me off because today's prompt is supposed to be about a fictional book, and I've already DONE a post on fictional books.

So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to ask for suggestions. I'm going to do the prompt for Day 22 today, and I'm going to ask, first of all, for a prompt to take the place of fictional books, and, secondly, I'm going to ask for people to help me put these in random order. If you go check out the list (the link's at the top of the page), leave me a note saying which one you think I should do next. When I do postings regarding The List, I'll ask for suggestions of what to do next. It's fun! It's interactive! It's going to make The List stop pissing me off!

So, in short, today I'm doing Day 21. I'm asking for a replacement for fictional book, and I'm asking for ordering suggestions.

I'd much appreciate it.

So, without further adieu. . .

Day 13 (Day 22) -- a Web Site

I read a lot of blogs. A lot. I've mentioned this. But there's one or two that I get really excited about when they pop up on Google Reader. Jenny's blog is one of these. She has, like, a kabillion followers, and she's so freaking hilarious. I laugh at almost every post. Sometimes, I laugh at posts out loud, and then people look at me funny.

Her conversations with her husband are always hysterical. She posts random thoughts. She buys ugly dead boar heads and names them after dead presidents. Basically, she's amazing, and I love her in a not-too-creepy way.

Also, she's. . .profane. But in a lovely way. Point here is that if you're easily offended, you should avoid her site at all costs.

I swear, I'm going to write all about Carol's wedding at some point. Because I want to catalogue its awesomeness.

The One With Passive-Aggression and Crazy Brides

I'd like to start out with one of those really, really passive-aggressive things that I hate when people do, because I'm naturally nosy and want to know what they're talking about, but I'm going to do it anyway.

For the person who is taking my (locked) Twitter updates and passing them along to person or persons who are part of the REASON they're locked updates, I've figured out who you are. I'm not going to call you out specifically, but I want you to know that you really need better things to do with your life than try to cause drama. I know you live in a small town, and there's not a lot to do, but I suggest you find a hobby, rather than trying to get into something that, quite frankly, has nothing to do with you. I'd also like to thank you for keeping my updates in check. God forbid I say anything too personal, or say anything about wedding plans, because I know that you're going to run straight to the person or persons in question and talk about it/me/etc. So, have fun continuing to think you're getting one up on me. But let me tell you: I don't put anything out there that I expect to be super-secret or anything like that. It's just a shame that you're trying to put a damper on my fun. That just tells me you need more fun of your own.

That being said? Let's continue.

It's been over a month since last time, and life has continued rolling on. I'm working two jobs now, and as a result, I suspect I'm beginning to feel. . .if not my own age, then someone else's much older than me. I've legitimately become one of those people that looks at the clock at about 9:30 p.m. and wonders if it's too early to go to bed. (Answer: Generally, yes. But sometimes no.)

I'm especially sore from this last weekend, because D and I pretended like we're outdoorsy people and DID things. (Well, OK. I pretended like I'm an outdoorsy person, and D just continued being as such.) We went to try out a place for wedding cakes Saturday (There's something for you, Gatherer of Information. Go run and tell people we looked at cake!), and, in addition, I got some new shoes for work, and. . .wow. It's Tuesday, and for the life of me, I can't remember what I did for the rest of Saturday. That's. . .sad, isn't it?

Sunday, D and I played tennis (in 90 degree heat) and then went to the pool briefly (due to the aforementioned 90 degree heat), although I didn't get all the way in because it was freaking cold. Aren't most pools closed until Memorial Day? That's probably why. The freaking cold.

Then I went to work. Then I took a nap. Then we took a 4,000 (or 4) mile walk. Then I collapsed from exhaustion.

Now, a couple of weeks back, we went to this bridal expo that came through. We went because, even though I don't actually buy into the whole thing of the big, fancy dresses and the overpriced flowers and the food at $20 a person, it seemed like something that would be fun.

Let me tell you something. About 85% of the brides there? C-R-A-Z-Y. Some of them were there in big, scary groups. Some of them were there with miserable-looking fiances. Some of them were there with their moms, yelling things like, "OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS IS I DON'T GET THIS FLORIST I'M GOING TO LITERALLY DIE AND OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS DRESS I NEED IT I NEED IT I NEED IT!!!"

Legit. Frightening.

It was fun, though. Samples of things, people giving me things. All the makings of a good day. If I could have all that, without the crazy, crazy brides-to-be, it would have been even better.

The further I get into this whole planning process, the less sense it makes to me. I mean. . .I understand the day being special and all that. . .but why would you want to spend your life savings for one day? Why would you boss people around and bully people and have to have everything JUST SO for one day? A long time ago (maybe a year ago) I told one of my friends' mothers that I'd be OK just going to Vegas and getting married. She didn't believe me. For some reason, she was under the impression that I had to have all the pomp and circumstance surrounding one of these things.

The fact of the matter is, I want to have a party. I want to wear the white dress (mainly because I already have one picked out that I would wear to work if I could, but people might look at me funny). But. . .that's about it. I only marginally care about the rest of the "wedding day." Because I think that what most people (and probably a good percentage of the girls at that bridal show) [the first time, I typed "bridal ho" and the second time, I typed "bridal shoe"] forget is that it's one. Day. You have to spend the rest of your life (in theory) with whomever you marry, and it's not going to matter if your dress is coordinated with the ribbons you tied around the doves' necks, which are coordinated with your bridesmaids' shoes, which match the boxer shorts the groomsmen are wearing.

Plus, I don't care how many times you say "oh, yeah, you can wear this dress again!", bridesmaids' dresses are good for nothing other than being in a wedding, going to a prom, wearing as a Halloween costume, or giving to someone. And they're expensive.

So, I'm probably going to end up a giant hypocrite after all of that, but that's how I feel about it at the moment. And I will never think it's OK to spend as much as some people do on weddings.

I'm going to attempt to put up a poll on my blog. . .I had a conversation with my mother during which I did that thing I do where I don't think about things before I say them. I'd like to know opinions of people on the subject of Facebook Parenting.

Here's the sitch: I have this cousin who's, like, 14, 15. This cousin tends to run their mouth on facebook, using profanity I didn't know existed at 14, 15. Said cousin said something. . .especially ridiculous and parental-insulting and profanity-laden on facebook. Mom sees it, tells cousin's parent. Cousin's parent says, thank you, we did see it.

I (not so brightly) say, "You've become one of those people. Why people were so pissed when parents were allowed to join facebook."

(You can take this moment now to cringe.)

She says (not thrilled-ly) that she would want to know.

So what's your opinion? (Let's see if I can make polls work!)

The One Where My Job Ends Abruptly

It's been a while, yeah. I'm glad I gave up on the 100-days concept (that, I swear, I will not reference again), because I'd be failing tragically.

The awesome job I had that was supposed to take me through the beginning of the year? Gone. Apparently, the other guy I was working with and I finished everything too quickly, and there's no more work. It lasted 3 weeks.

My temp place has a couple days of receptionistism set up for me next week, but that's it for now. I interviewed with another staffing place last week, and they were going to call me to set up an interview with the actual person doing the hiring this week, but I haven't heard from them. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that that's not particularly good news.

I started writing today. Maybe, just maybe, I can push through it and actually finish something.

D and I had dinner with my parents, my sister, and my sister's friend last night that culminated in game-playing. What should be noted here is that D and I are terrible at the game Cranium. Terrible. This is the second time we've played together, and the second time we've lost. (Together.) I'm not sure what it is, but it's just not our forte. He won a round of Pit, and someone or other won the game of Scategories. I won nothing. I should go home tonight and play Life. Maybe I'll win.

Christmas is coming up, and exactly none of you will be surprised to know I haven't bought anyone anything yet. I should probably do that this week, since Christmas is. . .next week.

I'm feeling very stuck right now. There's nothing really going on in my life, and I'm feeling quite suspended animation at the moment. I've kind of put a halt on any wedding planning because. . .well, there's no money to use with which to plan. That seems to be a necessity, from what I understand, and I don't think I can steal a cake. I've been saying I'm going to do the dishes for the last three days and they're still sitting in the sink.

I think what it is here is that when I don't have a job, when I don't have anything to do, I feel pretty useless. And I don't. Have anything to do, I mean.

So that's a short update. Don't have a lot to say, but I felt like I was neglecting the 1.2 people who read what I have to say.

The One Where I Pretend I'm a Housewife

I failed again in my 100 (105) day quest again, so I'm not going to even try for that any more. I'm just going to say that I'm going to attempt to do this every day, but I'm not going to put the added pressure on it any more. Because I really feel kind of like a failure.

Today was a day of practicing for future days of housewivery. Not that I'm planning on BEING a housewife, but if I were, today was a good day of practice. D started a temp assignment today, and mine doesn't start until Monday, so I had a lot of time on my hands. In that time, I did laundry, washed dishes, got some groceries, and did all the other things women who stay at home are (I guess) expected to do. He was supposed to be back at 2:30-ish, and I was going to have lunch ready, but then it turns out they had him stay later, so he'll be here monentarily. I was, admittedly, relatively ticked off about the change in plan, since I had busted my ass to get everything finished in time to make my Lunch of Awesome (which included chicken, pitas, hummus, and fruit), but I couldn't be too irritated, since it wasn't his fault.

My Lunch of Awesome will have to be either tonight's Dinner of Awesome (which, maybe not so much, since it sounds like he's bringing food home from work from. . .something. A party? I don't know.) or tomorrow's Lunch of Awesome.

Tomorrow night, my sister, K, D, and I are going to take mine and K's grandmother out for dinner, because neither of us are going to be able to make it for Thanksgiving dinner. I'm going to be up with D's family (I may have mentioned this already) and K is going to be at the beach. So we're going for a visit, and so my grandmother can meet D. I think Golden Corral is on the agenda (my grandmother said she would like either that or Chinese, and I'm kind of over Chinese right now.) Plus, I like Golden Corral, so it's a win-win.

Then, of course, Sunday is T-Day.

Here's a question. I've never co-existed as a part of a legitimate couple, where both of us are in the same place. So. . .what do people do on the weekends? Like, Friday night? I really have no idea. We have plans Saturday and Sunday, but what do couple-type people do on the weekends? I really have no idea.

Finally, I had the TV on in the background today, and Ellen's show was on. . .she had Robert Pattinson on the show, and I have to say that he's not HIDEOUSLY unattractive when he's not made up like a vampire. He seems almost charming, or something like it. But.

The fans.

He came on the set, and they screamed. . .and screamed. . .and screamed. . .and dear GOD, it was entirely too much. I had to mute the TV. Maybe it's not Twilight I hate so much as the fans of Twilight I hate.

(No. The books still suck. But the fans. . .)

The One With More About the Photo Shoot

I failed for a second time. I completely forgot to update yesterday, and as I was falling asleep, I was like. . .you know, I COULD update, but it's after midnight, and it wouldn't count anyway, so I'll just take the second of my 5 free days. I need to do better, because I only have 3 free days left.

C finished our engagement photos and I am. . .I don't even know what to say about them. They're amazing. She and F perfectly captured D and I as a couple, and I couldn't not have asked for better pictures. Plus, we had fun doing them! So it's a win-win-(win) all the way around. They're under a password protection on C and F's Web site, so if you are just dying to see them, I can tell you how to get into it. Suffice it to say, they're great, and I am really (really) excited.

Speaking of excited, I got the job I interviewed for yesterday. It's a temp job, until the beginning of the year (so, like, 6-8 weeks?) but I'm still pretty jazzed about it. It's with a company that is involved in the publishing industry, so it helped that I had a background in publishing already. Apparently, the woman that interviewed me really liked me, so that was. . .you know, a plus. Being liked is a plus.

D is in town now for. . .however long. We are currently camped out at an extended stay (that reminds me of a college dorm. . .which is not a bad thing). After the week is out, we'll figure out what to do from there. . .we don't have a definite plan as of right this second, but as far as employment goes, I think it looks promising for both of us. (Fingers crossed).

(Have I mentioned in the last 30 seconds how much I loved the photos? D's beside me, still looking them over, and I look at them every now and again and am thrilled. Thrilled!)

"Thanksgiving" is on Sunday. . .the one where Mom's side of the family gathers? I'm still preparing (mentally, you see) for introducing D to the extended family. Any significant others of my cousins that have been brought into the fray have ultimately been able to engrain themselves into the madness that is my family, but. . .we'll see how that goes.

And, I swear this is the last time I'm going to mention how much I love these pictures, but there's this one. . .I'm looking at the camera, and D is looking at me. . .I've got like this death grip on his tie. It's one of my favorites, and I think C mentioned she really liked it as well.

D's take on it? His words are far preferable to mine: "You look like, 'I'm going to have him tonight. I'm going to make him my love slave.'"

So there you go.