Christmas Eve Morn Mourning

RIP Otis

I'm doing double-duty on house-sitting this week, and this morning I discovered Otis had died during the night. He was old and diabetic. Brooke had joked for years that there'd be no hard feelings if I killed their cats while they were out of town. But all the joking didn't make discovering him any easier. I'm one of those lucky people whom Death hasn't touched much at all in my 25 years. But if this is how I react to my cousin's cat, I can only imagine the flood of tears when Death hits closer.


Funny Sentences in My Inbox, version 11

Wow. It's been a year since my last installment of Funny Sentences. Enjoy!

Busch is not beer. What we had at Gordon Biersch? THAT is beer. Please do not confuse the two again - it will only cause you pain.

I'm leaving soon, too. I have chills, and I really don't need to get sick. There are germs floating around all over this place. I feel like I can see them.

Me: I didn't realize it was so cold last night until I went to the grocery store in just a hoodie!
Him: Just a hoodie? Were your legs cold?
This was in front of my boss, no less. My boss! So, of course, men being visual creatures, there was this moment of silence where I know every male coworker in earshot (there were about three) were picturing me pantless. God.

Sunday: Went to the naked hot springs in Ouray with [name withheld], where we ran into my coworker WHO SAW ME NAKED, and vice-versa. As I write this, he is mere cubicles away from me, working on outdoors stories. It's awkward.

That sounds fun, and that day is good for me. Are we limited to bringing our own roommates and boyfriends or could I bring my roommate's boyfriend? Or maybe my roommate's boyfriend's roommate?

Judging from what my parents say about their work experiences, I've had an unusually lucky streak with people here. There are only a few people I want to kill on a daily basis, which is a pretty low ratio of annoying-to-awesome.

is Mr. Scratchy Throat still spending the evenings w/you? i kicked him out of my house a couple of weeks ago. he wasn't paying rent or utilities.

"She's had more husbands than I've had tacos."

As you probably know already, I am leaving for Tanzania in a few days to climb Mount Kilimanjaro.

How can these headlines be so great if they're not referencing mid-90s songs that 85% of the newspaper reading public won't get?

Agreed. When you get an award for a headline making a Chumbawamba reference, get back to us. (realizing as I type this that [name withheld] may very well have done a hed with a "But they get up again" reference at some point)

If I'd taken a picture every time I'd seen Comic Sans yesterday (and most days in NYC), I'd have a full picture card.

It's that time of year again. Time for me to pretend I've done a better job of staying in touch, so it's not awkward when I ask for a charitable donation.

And so I should clarify: I am not selling a dildo. To the people on the listserv or to anyone else.

My boss almost used Comic Sans today - to describe a report I work on! Thankfully I was allowed to block him off before it was sent out. The embarrassment alone might have caused me to quit.

Well, it's back to normal Dutch life. Yesterday Jim saw the Queen, (who came to his building to officially open it), this afternoon Sterling is playing at the home of a Polish friend from his class, and I was told by the doctor this morning that 7 weeks to get over a deep chest cough wasn't that long, give it another couple weeks. When I told my next door neighbor this she was surprised he didn't tell me to sleep with an onion next to my head, their usual advise. Maybe I'll try it.

And if you do get this job, you'll have to write a memoir or an article or at least a J-school lecture called "How a Penis Joke Jumpstarted My Career."

Erica: nice to meet you! (shaking hands, don’t want to freak you Americans out with immediate kisses).

If you don't know Erica, it doesn't matter. By that time I hope to have her innebriated enough that she'll pretend to know you.

this week i'm enjoying the lack of estrogen in my life.

Hey, while you're there, can you stop by the second floor and see if you can find Jason and I's livers, dignities, and self-respects? You should find them in the 210 closet in a pool of cheap liquors, splashing and playing like a kiddie pool of defective clone children.

He's moving to China to teach English. Not that he knows Chinese. Or that his English has ever been stellar.

Everything that sucks at the time becomes a funny story later. Yeah. I think I want that on my tombstone.

Plus, did you see when scrolling down on that Amazon listing that there's a comment entry entitled "God Does Not Have A Penis". Now THAT is something we should be reading about. ;)

everything was great until he dropped that bombshell, and then I shrank away like a wool sweater on "tumble dry low."

Let me know if there’s anything I can do to be of assistance in the job hunt. Even if it means calling you to say, “At least you have your legs.” Or I can tell you silly jokes. Or pretend to be JFK.


Traveling Not-So-Light

I've found that I pack way more for a week of domestic travel – or even a week of house-sitting in my own town – than I packed for 3 months of trekking around the globe.

Go figure.


Anniversary "Home"coming

Grandie had been in the hospital for over a week, including several days in ICU. Yesterday, the morning of his 57th wedding anniversary, the doctor gave the news that he could be released into a rehab facility. Grammie and I met him at the hospital, picked up his belongings and got to Centre Avenue Rehab to set up his new "home" and to great him when he got there.


Here fishy, fishy

I'm visiting my grandparents in Ft. Collins, Colo., while my grandfather is in the hospital. The other day when we stopped in at the hospital, I found a friend in the waiting room. (See above photo.)

Grandie's doing lots better and today was moved to a rehab facility, which was a great way to celebrate his and Grammie's anniversary. Today marks their 57th year of marriage!


Inspired: Downsizing my closet

I'm trying to learn to do with less

At about week 11 I was ready to toss my 20-pound backpack full of clothes in the Andaman Sea. I was sick of rotating the same 6 tank tops, 4 t-shirts, 2 skirts, dress and 2 pairs of jeans/shorts. Every clothes store I stepped into called its siren song and it became increasingly difficult to resist (hence, one of the reasons I went a little overboard in the tailor shops in Vietnam). The thought of returning to a closet and dresser full of clothes just begging me to wear them nearly made me giddy.

And yet.

When faced with that over-flowing closet of fresh clothing, I tend to reach for what feels natural: my handy jeans, one of the 6 tanks, and (if there's a chill in the Arizona air) my comfy, trusty, stripped sweater. [Exhibit A: See above.] If I'm trying to make a fashion statement, I think it's a broken record.

I can't seem to get over that desire to accumulate more, though. The winter sales are so intoxicating, it's easy to forget the clothes I already have when something new and pretty flashes in my line of vision. I've already discarded two garbage bags of clothes I knew I wasn't going to wear anymore (that's like dumping two packs into the Andaman Sea!), but the lesson I need to internalize is to accumulate only what I need and will actually use.

The broken record I need to start playing for myself is, "I do not need a new sweater...I do not need a new sweater..."


Alright, already

Some of you have already discovered the RSS link on the right that goes to my pictures from this year's Thanksgiving festivities. I didn't want to overwhelm you with tons of pictures, so I thought I'd go an album at a time. There'll be another album posted in a couple days. And then I'll probably be going through a dry spell. It's time for the camera to get cleaned from all the adventures.

Here are a few highlights from Thanksgiving.

The place settings at Brooke's

Chris carves the bird

Olivia gets a taste of Viviane's ladybug galoshes

Brooke and Ally share a funny story