Day 214: A Picture Is Worth 1,000 Words... On Serious Business

"Why aren't you taking me seriously?"

Last week's cliche: Blue balls

Day 213: Stop. Focus. Click... On Family

I've have some time to spend with family this week for the holidays, and it was just what I needed. I love my family.

I didn't have time to make my cheese ball for the Christmas Eve party, so I gave the recipe to my mom and asked her to make it. This is what she gave me to take to the party. And to answer your question, yes, I did ridicule her for giving me a cheese boob. All I needed was another one to have a nice set.

Chloe was with my family and I this week and, as evidenced by the photo, LOVES Christmas. 

Day 212: Remember The Time... Kids Just Have A Way

One of my best friends has a daughter. I remember being with him when he got the (surprising!) news that he was going to be a father, and his daughter, Sophie, is now almost 4 years old.

I try to see both my friend and Sophie every time I'm back home. Each time I marvel at how much smaller the cooking pot her dad puts her in to take pictures has gotten, how many more words she can say, and how far her personality has developed.


I usually go over there for dinner, play with Sophie, give her a bath, put her in her PJs, and read her a handful of books before I help him put her to bed so then he and I have some time to catch up. This time was no different - except when we put her to bed.


This time, she asked me to rub her back after we tucked her in (something her dad does to comfort her). So I sat on the floor in the dark near her toddler bed, leaned over it, and ran my hand up and down her back so she could sleep. I was watching her eyes blink and the way her eyelids opened slower and slower when she took reached out with one of her hands, put it in mine, exhale-sighed, and closed her eyes all the way.


Something happened to me then.


This feeling splashed through my body me when she did that. It was a mixture of fondness, love, comfort, longing, and peace. It was an amazing feeling, actually, and I remember being surprised that such a simple thing from such a small child could be so powerful.


Children will never cease to amaze me.

Day 211: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... Chore-Sharing Would Make Life A Bit Easier

I don't mind some chores. I've never minded doing or folding laundry, going to the grocery store, vacuuming, running errands in the car, or organizing. In fact, those are the chores I actually like to do.

On the opposite end of that spectrum is washing pots and pans, cleaning the shower, and ironing. I'll avoid those chores and always put them off until last. 

But regardless of the chore, I hate that no matter how well I do it, I'll undoubtedly have to do it again. Regardless of how clean the shower gets, I'm going to have to clean it again. The laundry will get dirty again and we'll run out of food at home if I put off heading to the grocery store.


Since chores are always going to be there, in Lichtenstein we're going to make them a bit easier. There will be a chore-sharing system where you volunteer do chores for other people who will return the favor. That way, everyone can do the chores they like and get the chores done at their homes that they don't.


I actually don't know why this isn't something already done. I guess it's because if you have someone coming over to do chores at your house in the United States, you're returning the favor by paying them in cash.

Day 210: What Did Batman Say to Robin... On Pressure-Cookers

Holy BFF Batman!

Why is it easier to be friends with so many people online than it is to be friends with one in person?

My mouth gets me in trouble. It's probably a big reason why I'm a writer. I love the way I can write something really freaking stupid then read and re-read what I wrote before I hit "send" or "publish". 

However, once you hit that button, you have to be OK with it being in black and white. But I think because it's "permanent" so to speak, people are more careful.

In person, you have to actually plan a date and time to meet where you're both free. And you not only have to be cognizant of what you say, but you also have to worry about what you look like, where you go, what you do, etc. It's a lot of pressure! 

There's less pressure online. You don't have to respond right away, you can be in your underwear or however you're most comfortable, and you can be online talking to or messaging friends from anywhere and at any time. 

Plus, you can talk to several people at one time - even if they're in different social circles or different countries - to keep in touch.


So why is it easier to be friends with more people online than one in person? It's less pressure!

Day 209: Never Have I Ever... Thought My Family Was Weird (And Still Don't)

I know my family is weird - to everyone else.

We have arbitrary rules that are strictly followed, like the point, snap, thumb rule. (If you see someone younger than you sitting where you want to sit, all you have to do is point at them, snap your fingers, and make the "get lost" gesture with your thumb and the younger relative must get up right away with minimal grumbling. I'm lucky that my younger cousins were the ones who kept sitting near the fireplace where I wanted to sit.)

We make racist jokes because there just so happens to be no one in my family who isn't white.


We tease each other to the point where most would be offended, but we know by now that it's out of love.

It takes newcomers some getting used to, but to me, this is and always has been normal Christmas celebrations:

Calvin was getting two frames for Christmas from my sister. Obviously he would want photos in those frames of his mom and two sisters with the gorgeous wreathes the three of us kids made 20 years ago and with the La La Lady whose sticker eyes fell of, so my mom replaced them with googly eyes.

Too many people, never enough room (the number of Rays on my dad's side alone numbers 67... and three women are pregnant!)

John smelling Becca's money bouquet with the card denoting when it's his turn for the white elephant gift exchange safely on his forehead.

Becca thinking she's better than any present in the gift exchange (and with felt hangers, an Entertainment Book, and draft door guards as actual gifts, she's pretty much right...)

John loves the gift that was in the Victoria's Secret bag he picked thinking it couldn't possibly be girly. And then I stole his gift - fair and square.


Dad was apparently not good this year...


Never have I ever thought my family is weird... and still don't.

Day 208: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Worshiping Our Savior

An epitaph is a brief poem inscribed on a tombstone praising a deceased person, usually with rhyming lines.

Given the date today, I thought it fitting to write what He might have had chiseled near his tomb after his crucifixion.

He died with love so that we could live.
Forever we will worship for what He did give.

Day 207: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... On What Only A Grown-Up (Or Teenager Going Through Puberty) Would Understand

In the spirit of the season, I give you this absolutely non-holiday-related cliche: 

Last week's cliche: Birthday suit

Day 206: Stop. Focus. Click... On Smoking Art

After I clean the bathroom, I light incense to make it smell extra nice. Today I watched it and sat marveling at the patterns it was making in front of the mirror. Then went to get my camera and captured a woman on her wedding day, an alien playing the violin, and the smoking caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.

Day 205: Remember the Time... You Can Keep These Genes Mom

I'm always cold.

And by always, I mean I was wearing stark white socks with black heels today at work because the tops of my feet were freezing. I also keep an emergency pair of fuzzy striped footies in my desk drawer for emergencies. No Band-aids or aspirin. Just footies.

I wear long underwear from about October until April and will take the long way to the lunchroom at work if it means loping through the always-warmer editorial section at work.

And I've been this way my whole life, taking after my mom, which made growing up in the subzero winters of the Midwest extra (not) fun.


Remember the time I gravitate toward the heat source of wherever I happen to be at the time?

I grew up eating breakfast while sitting on the floor of my kitchen and leaning up against the wall that housed the heating vent that was just kicking on to warm up the house after an evening of cooler temperatures. 


Down time spent at my grandmother's house - the one my mom grew up in - was spent on top of the old-fashioned heating vent that was big enough for me to sit cross-legged atop.

You'll be able to find me near any fireplace - even random ones we stumble upon at a bar (see who's practically on top of the fire?) and anyone who rides with me in the car undoubtedly asks me if I can turn the full-blast heat down. 
 

The unsuspecting friend I sit on the couch with will most likely at some point feel me wiggle my feet underneath their legs for warmth or ask for a blanket because clothes are just not cozy enough.

I am the proud owner of a heating pad, heated slippers, a space heater, thermal blankets, many pairs of long underwear and Under Armour, and an electric blanket. And when none of that is enough, I've been known to sit on the sink and dip my feet into hot water.

Winter can be miserable, but rare is the day I'm ever too hot in summer!

Day 204: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... Best Buy would sell Earspeakers

I was walking to the train station from work recently and an interesting thought popped into my mind. It was so thought-provoking that I found myself pondering it for a good few blocks.

Why are they called 'headphones'?

Sure, they go on your head, but you can't call anyone on them. And even if you could, there's no way you would need two. From now on, I think I'll call them 'earspeakers,' which is what they should be named.

Why is a blanket called a 'blanket'? Or a lamp called a 'lamp'? A couch? A table? The only items that make sense, really, are those in the kitchen. Whoever came up with the name for appliances was a genius. A simple genius, but a genius nonetheless. Appliances are named based on what they do with an -er tacked onto the end of them. Toaster. Refrigerater. Blender.

Brilliant.

In Lichtenstein, the names for things will either make sense or be so outlandish that people would wish they made sense. Because if it's not going to make sense, at least we should have fun with it.

So go grab your earspeakers because I just downloaded an awesome song by Foster the People on my snogthuffalopod.

Day 203: What Did Batman Say to Robin... About Bailing Out the Bucket

Holy hand or foot annoyance Batman!

If you had to choose one or the other to have for a year, would you rather have small glass bottles on all of the fingers of your non-dominant hand or your left foot in a bucket? 

Both of these would definitely hinder my basketball-playing abilities. So basketball apparently would be out for that year regardless. And that would be hard.


But on the bright side, having a bucket on my foot would not allow me to do cardio at the gym, so I'm actually in favor of that. The clunky contraption would also prevent me from wearing heels, so this is looking better and better.


Until I think about when it rains - which would force me to stop and bail out my bucket - or when I'd need to take a shower, which would put me in the same situation.

So this one, for me, is an easy call. Even if the glass bottles were on my left hand, it would drive me crazy not being able to type and, thereby, write. I'm a writer. It's what I do. I could write with a pencil, sure, but I wouldn't be able to crank out the volume or be able to re-read and delete and re-write as cleanly as I can when I type.


I also wouldn't be able to give a double high-five, cook, tie my shoes, or anything else that essentially requires two hands. I'm a hands-on type of person and need both of them, so for me - bring on the bucket.

Day 202: Never Have I Ever... Wore Antlers From the Story "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"

I didn't realize that my chosen headpiece was actually the one that the dog wore from "How The Grinch Stole Christmas" until one of my colleagues pointed it out to me as he was laughing.

I then took a good, hard look at myself in the nearby wall mirror and cracked up with him.

Never have I ever participated in an evening-long bar crawl wearing a festive hat... with a bunch of other people wearing festive hats.
 

The first clue that my hat may not so much be for humans could have been when I took it from Chloe's cabinet of costumes and bandannas. But rules are rules and no one was allowed on our bar crawl without some form of holiday headgear. Obviously.


After a few rounds at the first bar, we decided to head uptown even though the original plan of seeing the zoo lights was squashed. But the next bar had a fireplace, which I of course weaseled a spot next to and enjoyed too many fries and awesome conversation.

It was at this bar that we were discussing pickup lines and I heard the single greatest one I have ever heard in my entire life:

"I would drag my balls a mile through broken glass just to hear you fart into a walkie-talkie."


Epic.

Day 201: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Love

A ballad is a short, narrative poem with stanzas of two or four lines and usually a refrain. The story of a ballad can originate from a wide range of subject matter, but are usually written in straight-forward verse, seldom with detail, but always with graphic simplicity and force.

Most ballads are suitable for singing and, while sometimes varied in practice, are generally written in ballad meter, which means alternating lines of iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter, with the last words of the second and fourth lines rhyming.

I chose the ballad form of poetry this week because I wrote a song. Never have I ever written a song before, but for some reason, I felt that a poem in this instance seemed just not enough.

But since it's my first-ever song - and in some ways is much more personal than every poem I've ever written - it's not something I can share. At least not yet.

Day 200: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... On the Many Uses of Wrapping Paper

So many presents that could be wrapped with this paper...

 

Last week's cliche: White as a Band-aid

Day 199: Stop. Focus. Click... On Festive Lighting

I love Christmas lights. They make everything more festive!

Day 198: Remember the Time... We Forgot the True Meaning of Christmas

I remember the time that we forgot the true meaning of Christmas. I remember this time every year on Black Friday, every year I do any shopping in December, and every year I see people plotting out their celebrations to avoid certain family members.


Regarding the shopping - it's gotten out of control. People used to start lining up a few hours before the stores opened for Black Friday deals. Then stores started opening late the night before Black Friday. Now, people are actually missing Thanksgiving dinner because they have to stand in line in the cold two entire days before the store opens - all to get several hundred dollars off a new TV. (And guess what? With the exception of the very few "doorbuster deals" only the first few in line get to take advantage of, all the discounts are also available online.)


Shopping for anything during the month of December is also an ordeal. I had to go to Wal-Mart for dog food and some vitamins the week before December and regretted it the moment I realized I wasn't going to be able to park in the Wal-Mart portion of the plaza parking lot. Forget maneuvering a cart around the children being dragged by their frantic last-minute-shopping moms or anyone following the rules of the 10-items-or-less lanes.

And I have to say that I don't remember or cherish any gift more than I do one someone made for me. Ironic, right?


But when the shopping is done, that's when it's supposed to be all about family. I know that especially in big families not everyone can get along. Not everyone does get along. But that is no reason to avoid family gatherings all together. Or keep your kids away from family gatherings to hold onto a grudge. Or ask when certain family members are going to be at other parties so you can plan celebrations without them.

Family is what makes the holidays special. Not the shiny new TV, headache traffic, or snatching the "perfect gift" eyed by another shopper off the shelf first. 


Keep your money in your wallet and just spend some time with me. And join me in celebrating the birth of our Lord and savior.

Day 197: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... Boys Would Be Happy With "My Little Ponies"

I watched a YouTube video today in which Jimmy Kimmel challenged parents to allow their children to open one Christmas gift early. The catch was, the parents were to find and wrap gifts their kids wouldn't like, and then film their reactions.

Kids were given a range of gifts from half-eaten sandwiches to a stapler to a battery.

Other kids were given toys or clothes specifically made for the other sex, i.e. one boy was given a set of "My Little Pony" toys and another was given a "Hello Kitty" sweater.

While the reactions from the kids that were given random items, like toilet paper, were confusion or disappointment, the reactions from the boys that were given "girls" toys were different. These boys were furious.

The boy given the ponies threw them and repeatedly said, "These are for girls!"

The boy given the pink and purple sweater stomped around the house screaming and crying that he got a "stupid 'Hello Kitty' sweater" and that he "hated" his parents for giving it to him.

While the "Hello Kitty" kid was a spoiled brat, I was surprised at the fury of the other boys who got girls gifts. Are boys incapable of playing with horse toys? Is it just because it's pink that it's "for girls?"

My favorite toys growing up were dolls, action figures, and racecars. I played with all of these toys with my brother. I didn't mind playing with our Ninja Turtle and Masters of the Universe action figures--traditionally thought of as "boys" toys--just as he never minded playing with Cabbage Patch dolls--traditionally thought of as "girls" toys.

We even each had our own dolls--mine was named James and his was named Matthew and James always told Matthew to do dishes and Matthew always broke them.

It bothers me that there is such a divide with toys. Even at any store there are very distinct, separate aisles for girls toys and boys toys and then one for board games.

In Lichtenstein, there will be no such thing as "boys" and "girls" toys. There will be a toy section in every store with just toys. Maybe a little boy wants to play dress-up and a girl wants to play with toy guns. That will be OK.

Plus, there are so many kids who don't have toys that kids in Lichtenstein will be brought up to appreciate any toy that they have. Regardless of the color of the pony's mane.

Day 196: What Did Batman Say To Robin... About Judging My Sweatpants

Holy dance like nobody's watching Batman!

What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?

The answer to this question came to me immediately. And all of it revolves around my appearance.

People judge others the second they see them. It could be the way you're dressed, the way you wear your hair, what or whom you have with you, how you're standing, and even the expression on your face.


This is why women wear makeup, shave, worry about pimples, put goop in their hair, wear contacts, spend too much on clothes, etc.

For me, I know I am more uncomfortable than not because the second I get home from week, I tear off whatever outfit I was wearing and trade it for sweats or sweat shorts.

During the winter I'm usually too cold because I'm a woman and women are supposed to wear skirts or thin pants, heels or other footwear that does not cover the tops of our feet, and form-fitting shirts that are not designed for warmth or comfort.

And on weekends when I am just at home and can wear and look however I want, I never put on makeup or contacts, always throw my hair back in a messy ponytail, and again, am always found in sweats or sweat shorts. 

I would love to go to a restaurant wearing sweatpants or out in public without bothering to do my hair, but don't because I know society - and whomever I'm with at the time - deems it not OK.


So if no one was judging, I'd look however I felt comfortable. And would be happy about never having to shave my legs again. Awesome.

Day 195: Never Have I Ever... Made The Most Epic Christmas Tree

The marketing director at work e-mailed my team early today asking us if we were up for a challenge. Attached to the e-mail was a photo of a Christmas tree made of books. The challenge was to make our own Christmas tree made of books made by our company to send out with a Christmas card to our customers.

Challenge accepted.

So I grabbed our company's green screen, and went to work borrowing my colleagues' encyclopedia sets from their desks or offices. ("Hey Brian, can I borrow something from your desk? I only need, like, 26 of your books.")


Then, with the help of my team, we built and decorated this:

Epic, right? 

Afterward, we added these to what's now referred to as the "Christmas cube":

And all this is in the cube located kitty-corner from me so I pass it whenever I leave or come back to my desk. And my colleagues are constantly coming by, snapping photos, and saying "you guys are just so creative!" 

That we are. Epic.

Day 194: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Freezing Cold to Toasty Warm

A Diamante is a seven-lined contrast poem set up in a diamond shape. The formula for the poem is strict but, if followed, naturally makes the diamond shape take form.

The first line begins with a noun or subject, and the last line ends with the first noun's antonym or synonym. I like the idea of the contrast, so I plan to follow the antonym form of the poem.

The second line contains two adjectives that describe the beginning noun. The third line contains three words ending in -ing relating to the noun/subject.

The fourth line is where the poem begins to shift. It contains two words that describe the noun/subject and two that describe the closing antonym.

In the fifth line contains three more -ing words describing the ending antonym, and the sixth has two more adjectives describing the ending antonym. The last line ends with the first noun's antonym.

This poem was inspired especially by how my feet feel all winter until I get in my evening hot shower.

Cold

 Winter, snow

Shivering, chattering, freezing

High heels at work, slippers at home

Toasting, sweating, heating

Socks, sweats

Warm

Day 193: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... Ghostlike

There's Caucasian, and then there's albino.

Last week's cliche: He's Got Alligator Blood

Day 192: Stop. Focus. Click... On Smart Monkeys

I jammed my middle finger recently, and taped it to my ring finger to keep it from bending so it could heal. My colleague, Heather, asked to sign my tape cast-style and chose to memorialize the "Smart monkey" song and dance that I do when I have accomplished a particularly difficult task at work.

And now I'm walking around sporting a smiling penis. At least it's a conversation-starter.

Day 191: Remember the Time... I Love London Bridge

During the first week of my job, I was eating by myself in the lunchroom and one of my colleagues took it upon herself to introduce me to everyone who was in the lunchroom whom I hadn't yet had the chance to meet. 

She then informed me that she and the three people sitting at the table with her were playing bridge, which is the equivalent of golf at my company when it comes to everyone just below the highest executive level (those at the highest levels, like the president, do actually play golf). 

All I knew about bridge at the time was that it was a four-player game where everyone sat in a place with the name of a direction - north, south, east, and west - and it was one that seemed popular in the Peach section of The Blade.


But I love playing cards and loved the idea of taking a break in the middle of the workday to play a game with my colleagues, so I asked if I could learn the game. Apparently, one of the avid bridge players holds classes to teach the game, which includes handouts and homework. He hadn't held a class in awhile, so since I was interested, he found one other person to teach and another who needed a refresher.


He then informed me that the class would be for 6 weeks every Thursday. The first class focused on simply learning the basics of the game from the suits to counting the number of points in your hand. Weeks two and three focused on bidding conventions. Week four brought it all together where we actually played a few hands with all the cards face up on the table, and discussed finesses. Week five tested us with cards in our hands, and week six lent itself to scoring and slam bidding.


It's now been several months, and I've played at least once a week - sometimes two or three times a week - and I'm still constantly asking questions during this very fun, yet extremely challenging game. There are piles of conventions to this game - some of which even the most experienced bridge players don't even know about. Luckily, my colleagues are patient with my inexperience and have learned to simply roll their eyes and shake their heads when I declare that I don't like the term "dummy" for the partner of the declarer, and have taken to calling that person the "smarty."

But I absolutely love playing bridge, even though the younger people in my company tease me for being an old lady playing her bridge.

Remember the time I am going to kick ass when I'm old, living in a retirement home, and have 50 years of bridge experience under my belt?


I love it so much, in fact, that one day my colleague Brian and I couldn't find a third and fourth player, so we started playing Rummy, got bored, and then decided to play two-handed bridge (this does not exist). Essentially, we were playing for both ourselves and our "partners". Confusion and hilarity ensued.


I have even taken it upon myself to name the four of us who meet every Wednesday at 11:45 to play the game "London Bridge" - to the absolute dismay of the two guys I play with and the delight of the other girl I play with.


The day I came up with the name, I turned to the elite bridge players (the ones who have been playing for 10 years or more and who have entered, and won, bridge tournaments), who happened to have a game going next to us, and informed them that our bridge club was named London Bridge. I then asked them what their bridge club name was and one guy glanced over at me with slanted eyes and said, without missing a beat, "THE Bridge Club." Owned.

Day 190: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... People are Allowed to be Sick

I don't get sick that often. And when I do feel a little under the weather - like with a headache or stomachache - I'm usually able to continue with my regular life, albeit uncomfortably.

And then there are those sicknesses which knock me on my ass, where even getting up to go to the bathroom seems like an insurmountable task. 

This is how I felt for 15 days this past month. Yeah, that's not an exaggeration. I was sick for more than two weeks in which several of those days were "stay in bed" days.

And yet I had to go to work on those days because of rare, but tight, deadlines that particular week. Crying at work ensued those days because when the file I had been working on became corrupted, I couldn't think of what else to do because of the overriding body aches and coughing.

And of course the laundry and grocery shopping wasn't going to do themselves, and it would have been more of a battle to get someone else to help.

It's inconvenient to be sick, but sometimes I get sick. And if I ruled Lichtenstein, people would be allowed to be sick when they're sick. Someone else would always be there to take care of whatever the sick person needs them to do.

It sucks to be sick. It adds insult to injury to have to work when you feel like crap.

Day 189: What Did Batman Say To Robin... About Journaling Birds

Holy Journaling Birds Batman!

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

This is a question that has puzzled the human race ever since Alice tumbled down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. The Mad Hatter - who I'd very much like to engage in a Batman and Robin-type of conversation with - poses this riddle at the tea party, then later replies that he hasn't the faintest idea regarding the answer.


I have a theory. First, let's deconstruct the two main players - the raven and the writing desk.

The raven is a black, large-beaked bird made famous by a "nevermore" refrain in The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.


A writing desk is simply a plain wooden desk where one can sit and write or, in this day and age, type.


Therefore, it seems obvious that a raven is like a writing desk if only we were living in the medieval era. This was when writing with quills was popular.

A raven, therefore, is like a writing desk in that you can't have one without the other. In order to sit and write at the writing desk, you need the feather of a raven to use as a quill. In order for a raven to have a vocabulary of more than the single word "nevermore," it needs to learn other words by having access to them on a writing desk. 


Duh, Alice. You totally should have been able to figure that out at the party.

Day 188: Never Have I Ever... Been Completely Unprepared At Work

I have recently been a part of a series of meetings with the executives at my work.

For one of these meetings, my boss at the last minute asked me to prepare some screenshots to go along with a competitive analysis. So of course said I'd do it, worked on it for a bit, and then decided to go to lunch thinking I'd have plenty of time to finish the presentation before the meeting.

So when I got back from lunch, my colleague asked me if I was ready to go to the meeting. I told her I'd be ready to go to the meeting later in the afternoon, to which she responded that the meeting started in 10 minutes.

Panic.

Fortunately, last-minute deadlines motivate me more than anything else, so I was able to scramble and do more in 10 minutes on the presentation than I probably would have been able to do had I had more time.

Unfortunately, I felt extremely unprepared, which probably was obvious, as I was the last person to walk into the meeting, I was wearing flats, and was holding a crappy old notebook and regular ballpoint pen. (I always wear heels and bring my leather binder and sleek silver pen with me to meetings in the main boardroom.)

There was a point when I looked down at what was in front of me (blank page in crappy notebook and unused pen) and what was in front of everyone else (leather binder, research papers, notes, etc.) and just said to myself, "I have never felt so unprepared. This is such an uncomfortable feeling."

Fortunately, I was not asked to present anything, though I am sure I would have been able to somewhat confidently wing my way through it. But I'd much rather be prepared.

Lesson learned.

Day 187: Shakespeare's High School Poetry...

A Clerihew is a comic verse consisting of two couplets and the specific aabb rhyming scheme. It was invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at the age of 16. The poem is usually about a person or character. In most cases, the first line names the person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.

Since this poem was invented by a kid, I thought I'd write about my three favorite kids.

My niece Katelyn Ruth
Just lost her first tooth.
She tells everyone what to do.
Always obsessed with the rules.

My niece Mackenzie Grace
Has the most innocent face,
Though I must confess
That she's always a mess.

My niece Alyson Spencer
Is quite young for me to know her.
But she's impossibly cute.
With a wide smile to boot.

Day 186: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... On Fearlessness

If we were to peel back the skin on this stud, we'd see some interesting stuff coursing through his veins.

Last week's cliche: High as a Kite

Day 185: Stop. Focus. Click... On the End of Fall

I've been trying to hold onto fall because when I tell Chicagoans I hate the cold, they always respond with something along the lines of, "Oh just you wait. You haven't seen anything yet." I know there's only frigid temperatures to come, but I'll just try and keep focusing on the magical lead-up to Christmas. And this gorgeous photo of the golden fall leaves in the courtyard at my apartment complex.

Day 184: Remember the Time... Part Two: Winging It As A First-Time Pup Mom

Now that you know the story about Chloe's adoption, I thought I'd move on to write about winging it as a first-time pup mom.

Before bringing any dog home, I did my research. I read books and online articles about what to expect with my first pup; went shopping for a leash, collar, dog dish, kibble, bed, and toys; and felt ready to be a dog owner when I went to pick her up.

They gave her over to me wearing a green rope leash, and I directed her to jump in the backseat of the car. She then pretty much joined me in the front seat by standing on the center console and staring out the windshield.

First order of business? A desperately needed bath. So we headed to the dog bath section of Pet Supplies Plus. After narrowly avoiding a run-in with an over exuberant Rottweiler, I told Chloe to get into the steel tub, secured her in there by the neck, and went to work. Giving her a bath was distracting, however, as I kept glancing over at the woman next to me bathing her lab who kept yanking her hand away from him and yelling at him to not try and bite her again. Chloe was the model of obedience.

And when we got home, I fully expected her to trot in behind me, lay down at my feet, and go to sleep. That's what dogs do, right? (Now, actually, that's what she does because she's getting to be an old lady.) Nope. This one wanted to explore every inch of our three-bedroom condo. And with me not knowing what she was going to do (chew my shoes? Scratch the doors?), I spent that first evening following her around watching her get acclimated to her surroundings.

But because I was still scared of what she might do when we weren't home, I made the decision to cage her while I was at work. So right before I left, I grabbed her collar and directed her to the cage and set off for the day. I still remember the drive home later that day, as I was looking forward to playing with my new pup before heading to an evening work function.

Poor Chloe, though, had a rough day. I imaged waking her up from a nice all-day nap ready to play. Instead, I walked in to a dog trying her hardest to cower in a corner of her already probably too-small cage to avoid the piles of both puke and diarrhea. (I have now learned that you don't just change a dog's food. Apparently you have to slowly introduce the new food over the course of many meals.) Poor baby.

So that left me dressed in my work clothes hosing off a dog cage in my front yard. The cage became a battle for me, as Chloe was not happy having to go in the cage, and let me know by hiding when she saw me put on my shoes in the morning, and then whining and piddling if I tried to force her in it by her collar. That cage also, however, led to Chloe becoming a magician because toward the end of that short period where I caged her, I'd find that she managed to unhinge it and jump out more times than not.

She didn't like the cage and she let me know she didn't like the cage, but I didn't know to listen. I stopped caging her and I swear when she looked at me it was a sort of "what took you so long to trust me?" look.

I have since learned that Miss Chloe will tell me when she doesn't like something by misbehaving until she gets her way. Like the time she refused to get on her feet on a walk when I was yelling at her to get on her feet because she didn't like me yelling at her (I've since learned that she was abused and rolling on her back is a show of surrender). The second I switched the tone of my voice to sweet baby talk, she hopped right up and was like, "Let's go! Where are we off to?"

And that dog usually gets her way. Like when she wants to be petted, she'll ask to be petted by putting her head down somewhere on you and look at you with those oversized brown eyes. I haven't yet found a way to resist those eyes and her sweet, loving nature. There truly isn't anything like the unconditional love and devotion you get from your loyal dog - even one owned by an inexperienced, first-time pup mom.

Chloe was telling me what I needed to do from the minute I brought her home. I just needed to learn to listen.

Day 183: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... You'd See Gorgeous Models - Stretchmarks And All

No. Sorry. It is not every girl's dream to walk the runway of the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. Contrary to what one of the models said in her interview between sections of the fashion show, it has never been my dream to starve myself so I be a size negative four and walk in underwear down a runway. 

Yeah, I have more lofty goals.

But I still couldn't help but admire the bangin' bodies of the models in the show. And their skin looked absolutely flawless, which is something I have to admit I envy, having had problem skin all my life.

The only thing that was more amazing than the models to me was the makeup.

So one of my cousins whom I'm closest to is a graphic designer. She has a bunch of friends in the graphic design department at Limited Brands - aka the company that owns Victoria's Secret. So she's seen the models' unedited, un-airbrushed film, and hung out with some of them in person. Score.

Is it wrong that I was happy to hear that all the models who've had babies have noticeable stretchmarks? Or that one of the famous blondes has horrible acne?


But had she not told me this, I would continue thinking that there are just women out there with perfect skin and perfect bodies.


Therefore so this falsehood does not continue, in Lichtenstein, models and advertisements are gong to depict real women. Sure, they can wear makeup, but there will be no airbrushing allowed in any magazine in my country. Women already feel bad enough about themselves for not being tall enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, etc. The last thing we need is a false sense of perfection. 


Because according to my cousin, what we see is an absolute false sense of what these women look like. Graphics designers are magicians. If they weren't so good at their jobs, we'd know that even models are not immune to stretchmarks.

Day 182: What Did Batman Say to Robin...

Holy book tour Batman!

They're making a trilogy book series of your life. What are the titles, who would write it and why?

Since this is not a memoir nor am I (God willing) near the end of my life, I am thinking about giving a book to the three most significant periods of my life. This is precisely why this would be an interesting question to ask someone once every five to 10 years, because the answers would most likely change immensely (I know mine would had you asked me this five years ago).


Therefore, my three book titles would be:


Lambertville Snowglobe
small-town girl In New York City

A Chicago Education


Book one would be about my life growing up in the sheltered snowglobe of the tiny village of Lambertville, Michigan.


Book two would be about my crazy, unpredictable, amazing four years living among 8 million people on the island of Manhattan.


Book three would be about what I've learned about life and the world we live in now that I'm on the cusp of my 30s.

And all three books would be written by Jeanette Walls, author of one of my all-time favorite books - The Glass Castle. She can paint a picture in one sentence and breathe life into the most mundane. She would be the one to give my sometimes hilarious sometimes crazy sometimes monotonous life a life of its own.

Day 181: Never Have I Ever... Done Anything to Earn the Nickname Red. Until Now.

I finally did something I've been wanting to do literally for more than a decade. And it seems silly that I've went this long without doing it because it's something so simple to do.

I've always wanted to have auburn-colored hair - really dark brown hair that turns red in a particular light. So I went to the hair salon when my sister was working and she dyed it "lipstick red." So to honor its name, I put on some red lipstick to match.

And I kind of love it.


Never have I ever been a redhead, but might keep it this way for awhile.

Day 180: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Giving Thanks

The Lanturne is a five-line verse shaped like a Japanese lantern with a syllabic pattern of one, two, three, four, one.

I was able to go home for Thanksgiving this year and, as always, just enjoyed 

spending time with my family while eating too much delicious food.

Food

shared while

giving thanks

with family.

Bliss.