The jerk store called...

I'm such a jerk.

Really.  I just keep telling myself that out loud and in my head.  "You are such a jerk" I said to myself just two minutes ago before I decided to sit down and write it out.  I'm hoping the more I hear it the less jerky I will be.

Fat chance.  I'm such a crotchety old man sometimes.  I swear, every time I see someone's new blog idea they are promoting, or their new photography business or pictures of their clothes or the worst of them all: their entry into some cutest baby contest I just have something snarky to say.  Well, maybe 3-5 snarky things to say.

I just don't get it.  Everyone just has this need to share, share, share.  Share everything!  When was the last time you changed your underwear?  Well please tell us all through cyberspace, we are dying to know!

Gross.

I don't like to share.  It's a documented fact.  There was the great "birthday cake debacle" where my sister tried to share the last piece of my birthday cake with her then boyfriend. Actually it wasn't so much that she tried to "share" it as she tried to sneak it out in a tupperware to him late at night and I caught her and the BIGGEST fight ensued and it is still a touchy subject to this day.  And then there was the time I sat my roommates down and told them that my only rule was that my closet and its belongings were mine and not theirs.  They did not have permission to shop in my closet unless they asked first and to expect to be denied on occasion.  And there is the general hand biting you need to evade in order to try some of my food.  Also, everyone in family already knows but I will gladly donate all of my organs except for my eyes.  I just won't share those.

And the things I do like to share like embarrassing stories I will gladly share - but in person or on the phone.  Not through the internet.  Ok, maybe sometimes.  But in general I like to see people when I share.  You are much more likely to get me to do "the muscle show" or have a bowl of my home cooked meal when we are face to face and you give me the sad eyes.  But even with the sad eyes you will never, I repeat NEVER get a bite of my apple because sharing apples is just about the grossest thing I can think of - all of the slurping and biting and saliva.....gag.

And even this blog that I write at once in a blue moon is for me.  I've never posted the address anywhere and frankly I don't care if anyone even reads it.

I really think it just comes down to self validation.  I don't need the publics approval to feel good about the shoes I'm wearing (or not wearing) and I think my baby is pretty cute without entering him into a contest.  And while I'm on the subject you will never see me posting anything about my awesome husband because he already knows I love him because I tell him a lot.  Face to face.  Or I yell it down the hallway when he leaves to embarrass him.  Which almost never happens.  Yes, it happens all of the time.

But I'm lying.  There is one time I need direct validation to keep my heart from shrinking.  I need to hear that you love whatever I made you for dinner because chances are it took a long time to prepare because if I made you dinner then I must like you and I only want the best for you.  So sit up straight, you were slouching.

I'm such a jerk.  But I'm trying.

Almost there

Well I got my nails done a classy shade of red, got my hair did (and by "did" I mean that I chopped about 4 inches off my bangs in my bathroom one afternoon) and now have various outfit combinations that have been tested in my closet.

The Euros have been purchased, passports are ready and the snacks are all lined up.

But I still feel anxious.  Really anxious.  The kind of feeling I get when pulling up to the airport, not days before a trip.  I always get these kind of nervous/excited butterflies when flying.  It's how I know that it still hasn't lost its charm for me.

What is missing?  Why can't I relax?

Continental Divide

It has literally been over a year since I wrote something on this blog.  I hope it has been sufficiently long enough that no one reads this blog anymore.  I don't know why I haven't written anything in so long.  I have written posts in my mind so many times this past year.  I had things to say!  I have things to say!!  I just didn't say them.  I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  Something about the act of sitting down and writing what I was thinking seemed useless and then I was reminded why I'm grateful this is just a hobby for me and that I don't get payed for it and that people don't expect me to write anything because they would have been sorely disappointed.  Now let's get down to the meat of this post.  The very thing that got me writing again.

My wardrobe.

That's right.  Clothes.  My clothes to be specific.  My closet FULL of clothes bursting at the seams with the shoes and jewelry to go with it.

And how I have nothing to wear for my upcoming vacation.

To Europe.

And not just anywhere in Europe, Spain.  The land of my forefathers who would never be caught dead in half of my wardrobe.  A place where your grandma wears pearls and a sweater-set to the grocery store.  And I have great clothes.  Cute clothes.  Even chic sometimes clothes.  I mean, they better be cute to me or why do I own them?!

But they aren't good enough.  For some reason I am freaking out over 7 days in Spain.  5 days that will be spent with my relatives in Northern Spain who let's be honest, don't dress that well.  But I have to.   I have to look effortless and pulled together and like I don't live on the street or have my belongings stuffed into a duffle bag.  And my kid has to look fan-freaking-tastic or they will think we are poor and don't know how to take care of him.  Seriously.  My mom even bought him new shoes so they won't think we are totally inept at childcare and living in a box.  Our wardrobe is a direct reflection of us and my entire family.  We have to look nice, but not too nice.  It's a complicated dance of textiles and I am LOSING MY MIND!

I have been mentally scanning my wardrobe for weeks now and have already started trying on different combinations but I have nothing.  Stylist block.  And the new center part, long-bang hair look I've been trying every which way to work is not working and I'm going to hack off some bangs tomorrow in preparation.

This will be the death of me.  My excitement for this adventure is all but gone with the wardrobe conundrum.  And I think I know the root of this stress.  I'm finally starting to fit into some of my old clothes but I'm not completely comfortable in them yet and my bigger clothes are too big and not that cute and I feel like Goldilocks without the third bear.  Everything is just a little too big or a little too small.  Nothing fits juuuuuusssst right.

Concrete

All of a sudden my bed has turned into a slab of hard cement. Seemingly overnight I have begun to wake up with sore apendages. If this is some sort of Princess and the Pea scenario then yes, I can feel the anvil you have placed under my box spring. I wake up feeling like I have slept on a hard floor all night. You know that feeling as well I'm assuming. Every point that was in contact with the surface is aching and sore and you wonder if someone was beating you with a canoe paddle all night in your sleep.

I hate to say this all started the day I officially entered my third trimester because it didn't - it happened two days before. I'm hoping this is just temporary and not what I have to look forward to for the next 2 1/2 months. It's like the day toddlers turn 2 and flip some sort of switch and start smearing things on all your walls. My switch has been flipped. I have ordered a new mattress topper to see if that will alleviate the pain a little.

Because to me there is no greater injustice than waking up before your alarm goes off. Those are minutes I'd like to spend deep in slumber and not being pissed off that I am awake.

Until then here I am just a little bit crabby.

Missing you

I have the distinct pleasure of getting to taste most of my food twice. Its a good thing that I'm a good cook because otherwise the pleasure would be all gone. Don't get me wrong, I'm not regurgitating anything - just little hiccups here and there after eating. Not like my next door neighbor last night who was in the process of evacuating the contents of his stomache into his commode which I could very clearly hear through our paper thin walls. And the weird part was that I should have been grossed out. I've never been able to handle that sort of thing well but I just stood there...listening. And I had no one to share it with. Yes, its disgusting and who would want to share in that experience with me? Ricky. And he's not here.

And he won't be here for weeks. And weeks. All in all 3 months. And I miss him.

And since he's been gone I have realized how much my world revolved around him. Taking care of him, spending time with him, just being in the same room as him. And now I only have myself to take care of. Sometimes I cook, sometimes I don't because I don't have anyone else to take care of.

The first Saturday he was gone I kept myself busy for about 5 hours and then as I was sitting on the couch later that night I thought to myself "3 months of this?"

So I'm working on getting a hobby and socializing more. Honestly my focus is more on a hobby right now because I'm kind of a home-body. But I'm going to try and get out more. The big news is I'm in the market for a new sewing machine. I want something electronic that makes great button holes (according to my mother). If you have any advice or seem to preferance one brand over another please let me know. Who knows, maybe when Ricky comes back in 3 months I will have sewed up a storm! He can have his own puffy shirt to wear on rotations.

Into it

I decided to embrace being pregnant today. I have a stomach that sticks straight out like a bullet, my belly button shows through everything and people stare. And that's ok.

I should be enjoying this instead of trying to pretend like it's not happening. I can still be cute - I might actually have better fashion going on right now than ever before. Besides, when can I enjoy being pregnant while sitting on the couch without screaming kids?

And I can't help but smile every time I feel a kick. I love to watch my skin get stretched around by the baby moving. I'm so in awe of it that I often grab whoevers hand is close by and make them feel it too.

These days I've got more of a smile than a panicked look. Besides, now that my stomach is so big my butt looks a lot smaller... Amazing.

Don't throw the baby out

I avoid the couch unless Ricky is home. And since he has been gone during the week and home on weekends only for the past 3 weeks I have spent a lot of time sitting at the kitchen table. I just can't deal with the soft cushions. They suck me in and then what can I say? I just can't get up. There is a disconnect between my brain synapses and my legs and they can't work in tandem when confronted with the almighty couch.

I am so in over my head. So far in this pregnancy I have tried to mostly avoid thinking about it. I kind of pretend like it's not happening until I do something like piddle on myself accidentally like I did two weeks ago and then it is suddenly VERY apparent that I am indeed pregnant.

I went to LA a few weeks ago for a friends wedding and got to have a mini-baby shower for myself and another good friend with our friends that live there. And my friend who is also pregnant was a fountain of baby product knowledge. She has researched everything that could possibly be related to babies. Seriously, you should hear her - impressive. And I did listen. I listened to her and our friend who is already a mother discuss the virtues of various strollers and other things and that's when my heart sank.

I have no idea about any of this stuff.

Sure, I've been around kids a lot. I nannied for my nephews every other day. I know babies. I know how to work a stroller. That's the problem. I know how to work a stroller - not anything about what kind of stroller I want. There are too many. And this goes for all baby products.

I just can't do it. First, I don't want a lot of stuff. Second, I don't want to spend time and money trying to figure all of this out.

What happened to just keeping the baby in a basket all of the time?

Picture Message

So I guess I'll have to remember this from now on:

And Ricky will have to remember this:

You need a vacation!!

I'm putting out an APB.

Have you ever wanted to vacation in the great Northwest? Do you dream of summiting the Space Needle or Mount Rainier?

Do you just want to get away from your everyday life? No dishes, laundry and mail runs to be responsible for?

Maybe you want to take a personal sabbatical for 3 months. Maybe you are interested in doing an internship in Seattle? Or maybe, just maybe you are a social worker let's say and are interested in taking a contract somewhere new for a couple of months.....ahem Stasy.

Well come stay at my house!!!

I currently have a roomate, my mate for life Ricky. But....he's leaving me for 3 months to pursue his career dreams. And I've encouraged him. A small sacrifice for now that will benefit our family greatly one day.

There is only one problem - I will be lonely. Do you want me to be lonely? I didn't think so.

Besides, you can have your own bedroom with it's very own en-suite bathroom. Fancy! I'll be your very own bed and dinner! I can't do breakfast since I'm usually running out the door to work and I won't make you lunch because I'll be at work. But I'll probably make you dinner which I'm really good at. Come for 2 months or come for 3 days, whatever.

And if that still hasn't wet your whistle then let me tell you this: you don't need a car. That's right! Take a 2 minute walk down my street to the light rail station and 20 minutes north you are in the heart of downtown, 30 minutes south and they drop you off right at the airport. And I'm not trying to brag and all but every Wednesday from May-October there is a farmers market half a block away full of the most delicious food. Thats where I do my grocery shopping. You should taste the tomatoes....oh the delight.

My neighborhood is cute. Just like me.

So come one, come all July through September! Seriously, he'll be gone the entire time. Don't make me get a dog because I really don't want one.

And this message isn't for your brother's cousin. I'd like to know you if we are going to live together.

Can't you just picture yourself here?

I scream, you scream

I accomplished something very great. I'm really, really proud of myself. Sometimes when I put my mind to something there is just no stopping me.

On the evening of Feb. 1 I started watching Ground Hogs Day and on the evening of Feb. 2 (the actual ground hogs day) I finished the movie.

I'm practically bursting with pride.

I always thought I hated that movie. I was sure that I hated that movie but I didn't really know because I had never made it through the entire movie - I always fell asleep. The same thing over and over? Yawn.

But I knew I should give it another chance because I love Bill Murray. How could he do something bad?

And I was wrong, it's actually pretty funny. At least Bill Murray is funny in it. I hated Andy McDowell in it though. She was bringing some pretty terrible acting to the table there. Actually, she mights always be like that.

I think it was just one of those things that is better now that I'm older, like brussel sprouts. Who knew?

Something else I accomplished this week? Eating an ice cream cone the size of a small baby. I think it weighed 5 lbs. The guy working there gave me a cup and a spoon just in case - even though I assured him that I wouldn't need it. And I didn't. What is even more impressive is that I finished the whole thing off before my friend had even hit the middle of her once scoop.

Proof:

Giving myself a big pat on the back for this week.

BTW, I haven't been to Baskin Robbins since high school probably and let me tell you, it was good! I'm as surprised as you.

HAIR! The horror continues...

I'm going to Europe in May - wahoo! It's been too long and I'm itching to set myself free, european style, again (let your imagination run wild with that). It's just about all I can think about right now. I have already planned out most of my wardrobe - no joke. And because it's just about all I think about it tends to be something I talk about a lot with Ricky. So it came up yesterday and went a little something like this:

Me: Ricky, I think I need to get a brazilian blow-out before going to Europe.

R: I was just thinking about that today too!

Me: No you were not.

R: Seriously, I was! I thought about it on the way home today in the car.

Me: NO you didn't. Are you serious?

R: Totally! I was thinking about how you should get one!

Me: Tell me your train of thought to PROVE to me that you thought of my hair on the way home.

R: OK. I thought, "I wonder if I can get that new camera I've been wanting before Laquina goes to Europe. Think of all the cool pictures she could take......WAIT - HOW WOULD SHE DO HER HAIR?

Me: Yeah, I'm worried about that too. It could be a disaster.

R: You should get one.

Me: Yup, I think it's my only option.

Aaaaannnd Scene.

See? My hair is as bad as I said it was. My husband worries about it when he is driving by himself in the car.

While in Italy I want to go here. Dreamy.

Game night

Ricky and I have this little game we like to play. It's called, "I could have hair like that!".

The rules are very simple. Watch any late 70's to early 90's movie and find the girl with the best curly hair-do and voila! "I could have that hair!" has begun. The bigger and frizzier the bangs the better. Really. Because I could actually have that hair.

The game was birthed out of my hatred for my natural hair texture: curly. Not nice beachy waves and not beautiful ringlets - a mixture born straight out of Kenny G being electrocuted for just the tinsiest bit of time. Basically, think Capt. Hook (in any of his incarnations) and you've got it! Seriously, I was him once for Halloween and it was spot on. Spot. On. I wish I knew where one of those pictures was just to prove it. Anyone, anyone?

From an early age I remember trying to steal my older sisters hair products to experiment with what to do with my hair. She had nice curls from using Dep hair gel and Aussie mousse, shouldn't I? Nope. I've never gotten it right. To this day I refuse to be seen in public with my natural hair al fresco. Just ask Ricky, he hates it as much as I do. He'll tell you!

But without further ado, some pictures from the "I could have that hair!" game:

I could have this...

And these...

See? Isn't this fun?
I could have all of these!!

I was born at the wrong time we decided while watching Top Gun the other night. Why couldn't I have weathered my 20's during the 80's? I would have fit right in.

I also would have made a great sidekick.

New Year

No one reads this anymore.

Good. Check that off my New Years resolution list: get rid of everyone.

I made a lot of resolutions this year - more than normal. So many that I had to categorize them.

Before I list them off I want you to know that I really love resolutions. It seems that most people hate making them, mostly because they have no follow-through. And also because it seems that often times people want to over-achieve when they make a goal for themselves. There's something to be said for "baby steps". Why set yourself up for failure? I like to create goals that I actually want to do. That still require some effort but that won't peter out after a month because its too much of a struggle. Whenever I tell people my goals they say "but those are things you can actually do". Isn't that the point?

Lot's of people know this about me but I make resolutions for myself year-round. I like to divide my year into three's. A winter, summer and fall with a goal for each. And I usually come up with a theme for each. A little invisible banner that I fly in my head for 3-6 months. It works for me. Gives me something to look forward to.

I don't have a theme for this trimester but I do have a number of goals. Also, I have to admit that I did not do very well on my New Years goal from last year: to squeeze my butt more when I walked. I did it for a while but in the end I forgot more than I remembered. It kind of fell into the dark hole where my kegel excercises reside. Oh well, maybe I'll revisit that this summer and declare it "the summer of the squeeze!". Who's with me? They say you are more likely to accomplish your goals if you have someone to check up on you.

Without further ado.... 2011 Resolutions

Personal: read the book before I see the movie
Marriage: clean the kitchen before bed (update: not so hot on this one. Maybe it should be to get a maid?).
Work: Take care of all the red flags in my email the same day I flag them / Get a raise.
Church: Play the piano in YW's and stop whining to Ricky.
In general: Travel as much as possible.


That's all for now but I think I have some more hiding somewhere. I'll let you know when I figure them out.

I tell you what though, I'm already looking forward to "summer of the squeeze".

She blinded me with SCIENCE!!

Remember this?

Alrighty, time to dust off my deep thinking and analytical skills.

Ask question:

Can I continue to eat healthy, balanced meals during my period?

Do background research:

My eating habits from the last 3 weeks have been good and I have stocked my fridge full of veggies and grains.

Construct hypothesis:

Yes, when conscientiously watching what types of food I eat and when, I can continue to eat healthy, balanced meals during my period.

Test with an experiment:

Started Wed. morning off with sugar-free hot chocolate for breakfast. Did not snack before lunch. Ate a healthy lunch of brown rich sauteed with colorful vegetables. Saw chocolate covered Oreos in the fridge. Ate one. 2:30 pm traveled to the coffee spot downstairs to get a deliciously thick 65% cocoa hot chocolate - full sugar. Dinner was a healthy and balanced green salad. Picked up 4 different kinds of ice cream on the way home (not including the samples made to determine which 4 flavors). Sampled all 4 flavors once at home on couch.

Analyze results and Draw Conclusion:

Good intentions were definitely there for the day's menu but will power was not. Gave in to enormous hormonal cravings and feeling of wanting to add extra padding to body. Conclusion: I need chocolate every 4 weeks or I'll torture everyone around me and be immensely unhappy.

Hypothesis is False.

Think! Try again:

Thursday morning had tea for breakfast. Good start. Remembered the butterfingers in my desk and ate one. Had healthy salad for lunch and then proceeded to the chocolate covered oreos and ate one. Don't remember much about dinner but I do remember the candy canes, peppermints, the entire small tin of cinnamon altoids I consumed like candy and hot chocolate.

Report Results:

Negative. Hypothesis is absolutely 100% false.



See? It's scientifically impossible to eat healthy food once a month.

Everytime

I was driving to an activity tonight listening to the radio when I realized that I had been singing "my cherie amor" by Stevi Wonder at the top of my lungs over the NPR that was blasting. How long had I been doing it? I don't know. Why didn't I just turn down the volume on NPR? I have no idea. I had kind of a rough day. But after I did realize what was happening I worked very hard on my vibrato.

I got into an argument with my boss this morning. A real argument. In which he told me he did not want to argue and I walked out - and tried not to cry which is what happens when I get really angry. It felt just like being 16 again.

Speaking of Dads... I had a great moment with Ricky's Dad during our Christmas stay up in Canada. I found out something very crucial about the Great White North. Canada doesn't take out anything from movies that get played on tv. Case in point: I was watching 16 candles in the family room with Richard. Most of you have probably only seen this movie on tv but let me tell you, it's full of stuff they cut out. And I know this - but there is one part that always sneaks up on me. So Richard gets up to get something and leaves the room. His Dad walks in to see what we are watching just as the sneaky scene comes on. Picture it: Dad walks in and a close-up shot of boobs appears on the screen. Yeah. That happened to me. You can tell your friends. And BTW, when they show that part the sound on the movie makes a big "boing" noise for effect.

Of course he walks in right then. Don't parents just have the knack for walking in at the worst parts? I thought I was past that!! But I can't wait to do that to my kids! And yes, if you are wondering my father-in-law freaked a little and ran out. But to be fair later on we were watching the mini-series "Pacific" and a man's junk popped up on screen.

I think that's what you call even-stephens.

FYI and FYE: Ricky has a new blog going on that you can check out here. He is now a .com!

The itchy and scratchy show

Look out world, I have hives!! Or at least that's what I think they are because God help us all if they are not because that would mean I have bedbugs.

They started last week with just a couple red bumps and some itching and now I have tons of red bumps and LOADS of itching. And this morning produced some nice patches of rashes spread all over.

This has never happened before, that I can remember. I'm only allergic to 3 things: sulfa, cats and math. And I have not encountered any of those recently. I'm a medical mystery. I need to go on House.

Don't worry too much about me because I've started a cycle of anti-histamines, unless you find me covered in scales because news flash: that only happens to single women over 30.

In bigger news, I am now starting up Laguna Beach: Season 1 all over again. Oh man, remember Stephen? He was so cute! And the drama with LC and Kristin? And Jessica? And EVERYONE is wearing flare jeans. Kristin even rocks a choker while grocery shopping - grocery shopping that she got to do in her Isuzu Trooper! Even if you hated that show (which would makes us not friends) then you will still enjoy this clip that makes fun of the show.

Trying to fit a square inside a circle was my life.

These hives are SO much drama.

Lights!

I could just stare at it alllllll day. Isn't it nice?

I just love Christmas. I love walking around downtown with the trees all lit up and the store fronts all decorated to the nine's.

And maybe the best part of the Holidays is that the guy who sells the mini-donuts is back!! Hooray! He sells them from this lit up cart next to the carousel across the street from my job. I've been waiting for him a whole year.

I just had to have them on Monday - so I did.

Merry Christmas from Seattle!!!

Eat me

Alright, let's get one thing out of the way right now: I like to eat.

Yeah, the rumors are true. I love food. I love putting it in my mouth and chewing it whilst savoring the flavors and textures melding together to create a symphony of ecstasy in my mouth.

Word.

When people ask me what I like to do in my spare time I tell them simply: eat. They always laugh like I'm joking. "No, seriously" I have to tell them. One of the great pleasures in life for me is researching places to eat and then eating there. Lately I've been into food trucks. Seattle has some truly great ones and I've made it to all but one so far. They move around everyday so it's fun to track them down, it's kind of like pheasant hunting (I think).

Why am I telling you this? You may already know this about me. I'll tell you. Since moving to Seattle I have had NUMEROUS people comment on how MUCH I eat. Seriously.

It happened at work first. 4 separate times.

1. Co-worker walks in to the kitchen as I sit down to my delicious bowl of soup for lunch and says "wow, that's a really big portion for one person. Are you going to eat all of that?". OF COURSE I AM.

2. Sitting down to my Chinese noodles and veggies. Co-worker #2 says "I can't believe you just ate ALL of that!". OF COURSE I DID.

3. We have cupcakes for a co-workers birthday one day. I wanted to try all the flavors. My boss says "Are you really going to eat more of those??". OF COURSE I AM.

4. Too many other instances to mention at work. Honestly, they act like I'm trying to train for the IFOC (international federation of championship eating). I'm just a fan. They think I'm a pig.

5. I'm at a conference yesterday downtown and I had a small breakfast and by the time noon came around I was starving... They served us my favorite crab bisque in a cup. Mmmmm I polished it of. Next up a grilled chicken salad. I ate it up. The waiter comes up to me leans over and says "do you need more to eat?" and then he starts to laugh. He didn't ask any of the other 127 women if they needed more to eat.

6. Later that night at the same conference we had a cocktail hour with cheese and crackers and fried ravioli (new to me and delicious!). I get a small plate and take it to a table of ladies I've never met before. We chat while I eat my sparse pickings and then I decide I want a little more cheese so I went back to the food table. The new ladies from my table were also there getting some grub and one says "look who's back for seconds!!!!" to me. REALLY.

I'm getting it right and left. Friend or foe, they all say the same thing. I have to wonder if they live in the same city as me. There is SO much great food here! How can they not want to eat it all? Especially with me? I'm really fun to eat with! I love it so much that sometimes I make noises that I'm unaware of like "mmmm", "mmmm". Yeah, I mutter delicious sounds while I enjoy my meal. Who cares?

Everyone gets their kicks and giggles somehow. I'm not judging you for taking spin class at the unearthly hour of 5am or maxing out your Nordstrom card. Go forth and enjoy yourself!

Just stop making me feel like the fat kid. Because you know what? I am.

I'm phat. Holla.

Something that says...Leather Daddy

There are a few things that I'm afraid of in the fashion world.

Mini-skirts, batwing sleeves, chenille, letterman's jackets (and more specifically, suede), corset tops, turtle-necks and leather jackets.

Some because I can't pull them off (mini=skirts) and others because no one can pull them off (batwing sleeves and corset tops). Others for no other reason than I just can't do it (leather jackets).

But I changed my tune two days ago.

I saw this leather jacket about two months ago and instantly fell in love with it. Like fatal attraction fell in love with it. But there was NO WAY I was going to pay full price for it. I don't even like leather jackets. I have a serious aversion to leather jackets (on me).

I don't exactly know where this came from. I love leather shoes and bags and fur coats and even leather accessories - but I have a strict no leather jacket and pants policy. Yeah, you read that right. I won't wear leather pants either.

And yes, I've tried both. My mother owns dozens of leather pants, literally. And I mean she actually has probably a dozen pairs of leather pants - not that way Rachel Zoe would say literally. And you know what? She looks amazing in them. She pulls them off quite nicely. In fact, she pulls off everything she tries to wear quite nicely and believe you me...she has tried to wear everything.

And she has tried to push me into leather many times. The farthest I got was one leather skirt in baby blue which is pretty awesome, but that's it. She even bought me my own pair of leather pants... TWICE! I tried. Really, I did. But as soon as I took a step and it sounded like I needed to grease my squeaky joints I chickened out. Some of you may have the luxury of never feeling your inner thighs but I am quite familiar with mine and the last thing I need is leather rubbing together to accentuate that.

She bought me jackets both suede and not and every time they ended up in her closet. They just give me the willies. Plus they remind me of Ross on Friends.

But back to the jacket. I stalked it (which is where the fatal attraction comes in to play). For the past 2 months I have periodically gone back to check on it. You know, see how's it doing, check the price, make sure no one else has kept the price artificially inflated.

And I've been faithful. I even tried it on once and decided it didn't look that good. But nonetheless I have thought about it every. single. day. since then. I would look out my office window at the store down below and wonder what it was doing.

So finally after stopping at another store I thought I should just go and check on it one more time....

There was only one left in my size. Panic! So I put it on, took pictures of myself in it and then tried to talk myself out of it. I really did. But there was no denying just how cool I looked in it.

Totally cool.

So I took it home where it belonged and at less than half price no less.

I really do look cool. I'll prove it. There's a million picture of me in it on my phone. But you only get one:

Ok, two.

And here is a link that will take you to a video montage of Rachel Zoe misusing the word literally. Literally.

http://jezebel.com/5599824/rachel-zoe-literally-repeats-herself

A frightfully looong post

Rain falls....angry on the tin roof. It stops me and steals my breathe...

Just kidding. But seriously, it has been raining A LOT here lately. Which I know is annoying of me to say because duh, I live in Seattle. But is it more annoying than that song? I don't think so. What do I expect? Well, I expected a summer that I never really got but I won't go into that.

What I didn't expect this year was to have Halloween burn-out so early. I think my Halloween lamp went out about a week ago. Rough. I LOVE Halloween. Love, love, love it. Partly because I have such great memories of my Dad making Halloween super awesome and partly because I like some things that others might consider morbid. I love bones and skulls and anatomy and even owls and black cats and spiders (all in moderation of course).

I love dressing up and getting into character and let's face it, I usually win the costume competition - it runs in the blood. I have these AMAZING vintage anatomy posters from 1961, 65 in all, that I got from my old boss at the BYU Law Library years ago. I found them in a box in his office that I snooped in and asked him what he was going to do with them. "Throw them away" he replied. No! I exclaimed. Can I please, please have them I begged? "For what?" he wanted to know. To put them up in my house! "Why would you want to do that? That's gross" he told me. So I told him I thought they were beautiful and I took them home and from then on they have always had a place in my house, wherever that was at the time, and they aren't going anywhere soon. Here is my favorite which will never be rotated out while I go through my catalog:

Isn't she a beaute? I know. And then years later when I married a med student they really came in handy. Only everyone thought they were his. As if. If we were to sign a post-nup they would go to me and only me. Sorry Ricky. I'm not even sorry. I love them that much.

So this year when October rolled around I got all excited about planning a Halloween party for the youth I work with at church. It was pretty labor intensive and I loved every minute of it. Here are some things I made:

Witches fingers with crunchy bones inside:

Spider cupcakes and merengue ghosts:

And I made this mummy head with a styrofoam head and paper towels soaked in coffee and carefully dried for two days accompanied with the witches fingers:

But after that and decorating pumpkins the next week and blah, blah, blah I got tired. Soooo tired. And now we have 1 more festivity to go to on Saturday night and I can't come up with a costume. No joke. I got nothin. And this is usually my forte.

Help. Seriously. My reputation is at sake! I NEED to win that costume contest or I might. just. die.