Random

My niece said to me the other day, "Geez, Katie, you're so random!"

I'm not entirely sure what she meant by it, but I'm sure I'll only prove her right with this entry.

My backyard looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting. The snow is coming down in long streams and the last hour gave us two inches.

A few friends and I made an impromptu trip to Pittsburgh last night which proved for a very fruitful 30 minute shopping spree at IKEA before the employees kicked us out at 9:15. It sucked to have so little time, but at least all indecisiveness had to be thrown out the window and every movement had to count for something. I walked away with two gifts and two photo frames for myself.

The grocery stores are a mad house around here. I had to circle the parking lot for 15 minutes before I found a place to park! I didn't go anywhere near the mall today. I was too afraid those people would eat me alive.

Beer Tree Party tonight! Details tomorrow!

Schizophrenic Friday

An example of how screwy my mind is working today:

As I was driving down a long stretch of Route 18 this morning I found myself stuck behind a slow moving Chevy HHR, that according to the temporary tags, had been purchased only a week ago, but already its new white paint job had been splattered with this winter's salt and grime and the car was looking a bit more gray than white. And although I didn't have any pent-up hostility towards this vehicle for moving below the speed limit the entire way or for taking an extra 5 seconds longer to resume driving after each light changed from red to green, I felt a strange urge come over me after noticing the "Go Blue!" Michigan State license plate frame attached to the rear hatch. I really wanted to jump out of my car, unzip the flimsy black jacket given as a company Christmas gift, and flatten the chest of the Ohio State hoodie I was wearing underneath against their driver's side window and shout "Suck it!" as loud and as often as I could while the light remained red.

There was no malicious intent involved. I just thought it would be funny in a raving-lunatic-sports-fanatic kind of way.

You probably won't believe me, but I'm not even an avid college sports fan. I only own the hoodie because it was a mere ten dollars and the inside was incredibly soft and warm.

The urge subsided as quickly as it had appeared, and thankfully, I never acted on it. I allowed myself a few short moments to wonder what the hell I was just thinking as traffic began moving again, and then I proceeded to put The Postal Service's This Place Is A Prison on triple repeat and wondered where this song was when I was trapped behind the bars of my high school.

The End of the Cold War

400 mini white lights - $12
Box of 100 assorted gold ornaments - $20
9 white poinsettias - $6
Putting an end to all the bickering - Priceless

Suppose They Were Real

I was sitting in the living room today, staring at a tree that still doesn't look quite right to me, when Jack came creeping into the room and climbed into my lap. He laid his head in the hollow between my chin and my collarbone, and placed his paw on my shoulder with his front leg crossing my chest as if he was trying to hug me as tightly as any dog could possibly hug a human. I chuckled and hugged him back, scratching behind his ears. I'm convinced that he read the look I was giving the tree and somehow sensed my urge to run out immediately for new decorations. The hug was his way of saying, "Please don't go, Momma. I don't want to go in my room today."

That's when I decided that Jack was my clingy one. He'd be the type of child that would hang from my every limb like a monkey. He would cry every time I left him with a babysitter. He would take it personally every time I needed a moment to myself, even if it was just to use the bathroom. He would be a good, rule-biding kid because his number one goal in life would be to make me happy. He would grow up to be a straight A student, the class treasurer, and earn a scholarship to Harvard for fear I would trade him in for a new model if he did anything less than perfect.

Macy, on the other hand, is my mischievous toddler stuck in her terrible twos. She would be defiant, laughing maniacally or forcing a staring contest every time I told her NO. She would have to touch everything and break over seventy-five percent of everything she touched. She would be too smart for her own good, and know that the easiest way to get my attention was by being naughty. She would grow up to be a mediocre student who is disinterested in anything homework related. As a teenager, psychologists would diagnose her with Oppositional Defiant Disorder and she would milk it for everything it's worth. She would graduate high school by the skin of her teeth and spend her early adulthood flaunting her stuff as a waitress at Hooters.

I've never known two dogs to show so much personality that I could accurately imagine their lives as if they were humans. Between Jack's constant brown-nosing and Macy's brazenness there is never a dull moment around here, and yet I can't seem to get enough of it.

Makes For a Scary Ride

There's nothing quite like taking your car out ice-skating, which is what I've been doing every time I've left the house in the last two days. It's less than a quarter mile before I hit mostly dry pavement again, but still. While I understand the city's logic in not plowing/salting my short cul de sac, it doesn't make for fun times. I've been commuting in this stuff for years and I know all of the Dos and Don'ts of winter driving; slow down, watch for ice on bridges, pump brakes and pray really, really hard--I still feel as though today is the day my bumper will meet a telephone poll every time I put the car in drive. There's something about ice that makes me feel so helpless and out of control whether I'm driving or walking on it. What's sad is the way I get over that fear. I tell myself, "Hey! It's not so bad if you total the car, that's what Gap Coverage is for!" Then I try really, really hard to ignore the next thought, that not only the car could be left beyond repair.

So, yep, you guessed it! I'm driving very slowly down my little cul de sac, and I'm gripping the wheel tightly, and I'm pumping those brakes as if my life depends on it until my wheels find asphalt again.

I know that I complained enough about the weather last winter to merit not living in Ohio anymore, perhaps even enough to move to a tropical climate, but the truth is I don't mind the winter. Snow is absolutely beautiful. When all of the rooftops and tree limbs are blanketed in white, and big, puffy snowflakes the size of quarters are falling so fast you can barely see two feet ahead of you--it's magical. Even the cold is tolerable most of the time. Each winter, usually in the very beginning, I feel as though even the blood running through my veins has turned to ice and all the J. Crew sweaters in the world could not warm me, but once I get beyond that initial shock I'm okay with the freezing temperatures. I mean, I am a girl who loves to hide behind bulky coats and scarves. I can't exactly do that in Hawaii.

What I don't like about winter is driving. I can recite all of those Dos and Don'ts to myself for the entire commute, and follow them mechanically, but the fear never goes away. No matter how many times I bring myself and the car back without a scratch I never feel like I have control. Although I obviously do have control, to an extent of course.

Anyway, my company's Christmas Luncheon is tomorrow. We work until noon, head to a restaurant, eat, and hopefully leave soon after. For the past three years I've had to face white-out conditions while driving home from the annual luncheon, so that early head-start has always been nice.

Guilty Pleasures

Scoping out the dessert menu first.

Stalking people through public access records.

Having lengthy, one-sided conversations with dogs.

Writing profanely dirty MadLibs.

Blowing a speaker listening to Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield".

Participating in gossip.

Making to-do lists in an effort to procrastinate longer.

Snow Patrol on repeat... for two days.

Faithfully watching Beauty and the Geek.

Declaring my own snow days.

Letting my mood revolve around the music playing.

Eating the last chocolate chip muffin... or two.

A cheesy romance in-between great american novels.

Threatening to make vegetarian "meatballs" for Jon again.

The Difference Between Men and Women

My brother, a psychology major, is baffled by the differences between the male and female mind. He likes to conduct small, informal polls on the couples he meets in an attempt to further understand his studies. And a few months ago, over a pizza lunch on my parents then empty apartment floor, he asked Jon and I what was more important to us: the size of our television or how well the sofa fits with the room decor? For me the answer was a no-brainer. Of course the sofa is more important, but Jon said the size of the TV. My brother smiled and told us we gave the same answers as everyone else he'd asked that very question; men always say the television, and women always say the sofa.

I was reminded of my brother when Jon and I put up the Christmas tree last Monday, because while the colored lights and namesake ornaments look okay, I'm having a really hard time stopping myself from purchasing one of those tree trimming kits with glittery poinsettias and ribbons from Target. I don't think there is anything that makes my husband's eyes roll farther back in his head than spending money on decorating, let alone Christmas decorations that we'll only see once a year. They're a total waste of money he says, and a small part of me agrees, but I could also say the same thing about all of his electronic toys.

I fear this is a dilemma that will haunt us for most of the Christmas season. One way or another I will pick up one of those kits, but it will most likely be at the end of the season when everything is marked down to 75% off.

We also put up outside lights for the first time this year, but Jon couldn't complain about wasting money, because I received them free from my mom's stash. We hung the white icicle lights all along the pickett fence surrounding the front yard, and we weaved the regular lights through the big holly bush and into a few small trees. I'm not sure whether our yard looks more like a fairy garden at night or something out of a Dr. Seuss book, but I'm happy to have outdoor lights regardless.