Tag Archives: imma crazy like that

Things I should be doing instead of agonizing over falling behind for NaBloPoMo…

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I know myself only too well. I already missed the 8th post for this NaBloPoMo thing I decided to participate in. Deadline yesterday. But I am going to cheat by turning time backwards through the magic buttons on my blog dashboard.

It is not because I am a religious person and I don’t believe in working on Sundays.  That would have thrown a giant monkey wrench in this whole A Blog Post EVERY Day thing. For that conundrum, Pajamas and Coffee had an ingenuous solution. It would have been due to a religious reason if Laziness counts as a religion.  I didn’t write a post yesterday (which is today if you look at the date on this blog) because I actually had lunch with a group of friends and afterwards had a friend over and we finished an entire pot of Spiked Rum Apple Cider.  Social life is very inconvenient when you are an aspiring blogger… Just sayin.

So to make up for the missing day (which is today in case you are confused), I am going to insert a filler post called, “Things I should be doing instead of agonizing over Not Blogging” since that was what I did, inside my head, when I was still sober, the whole day yesterday (today, I mean… Ok. You got it…)

  1. Blogging. Duh.
  2. Doing Quicken. I haven’t touched that baby since July. All of our Credit Card accounts have automatic payment set up, so I have been slacking on reconciling the statements with actual shit that I ordered online.  I am sure by now there have been numerous fraud purchases charged to my litany of cards now.  Well, here is what I am thinking: I HOPE, if there is any fraud charge, it is of a pornographic kind. THAT would be a hilarious topic for my blog to help fill this void I call My NaBloPoMo Idea Bank…
  3. Doing the laundry.  I can’t see the floor in my closet any more because there is a mountain of dirty clothes.  That should be a sign when you need to hurl yourself over the mountain to get to the other side to reach your clean clothes.
  4. Folding the laundry. I HATE HATE HATE folding the laundry. Probably because it means I cannot be on the computer when I am folding the laundry.  There are currently three baskets (the record was five. I love buying laundry baskets) on the family room floor, waiting for me to pay attention to them.  My kids have learned to look into the dryer to find clothes to wear in the morning. Did I tell you that I have the best kids and I love them?
  5. Grocery shopping.  There is no milk nor bread left: The common barometer for how well a household is faring. No milk/no bread = Irresponsible mothers = Ignored kids = Repressed anger = Serial killers

Nope. That’s not an oversight on my part. Believe me, it’s always the MOTHER’S fault…

So there you go. A filler post. Tissues in my bras. White tube socks in my pants. 99% of the stuff found in hot dogs (which I feed my children with. Thank you very much).  The thing they injected into Octomom’s lips…  Oh, you get the idea.

Day 5 of NaBloPoMo: When in doubt, talk about phobias…

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I suck. It is only the fifth day of National Blog Posting Month and I am already wanting to quit. Life and work seem to have a way of getting into the way of daily blogging…

I am totally kidding up there.  Blogging should be a supplement to life: a conduit to reflect on life and stuff.  It should not become a substitute for life. Blah blah blah. Oh, who am I kidding?  Blogging now consumes my free thinking hours.  I agonize over what I should blabber about throughout the day.  That is why the whole NaBloPoMo is very stressful for me.  I seem to have a pathological desire to run away when there is something expected of me.  How did I ever finish school?!  More importantly, how did I manage to raise two children?!

Ok.  Phobias.  The real ones.  The irrational fear of something to the extent that you cannot function normally.  I will talk first, and then you join in with yours, ok?

I have a couple of fears that are definitely irrational, but fortunately, neither interferes with my ability to function in a civilized society:

1. Frogs. I kid you not.

Like many ladies, I am not fond of squirmy things such as snakes, worms, earth worms, silk worms, caterpillars.  As a matter of fact, I am dastardly afraid of earth worms and silk worms.  I cannot stare at them for longer than 5 seconds before I am absolutely convinced that I have hives breaking out all over my body.  Silk worms especially bring back traumatic childhood memories:

For some reason, many Chinese schools make it mandatory sometime during grade school for children to raise silk worms and observe them turning into cocoons.  (Hey, it is one of the 5000-year cultural heritage that we get to talk about over and over again.  We will remind you whenver the opportunity presents itself that, WE INVENTED SILK.. ) When it was my class’ turn to keep the silk worms in the classroom, I did not want to go to school for several weeks. One day when the teacher FORCED me to pick one up, I broke down into hysterical screaming. Soon red spots started appearing on my arms and my neck.  Can anyone say “psychosomatic”?

But I digress.  I meant to talk about frogs.  Frogs are something else.

I cannot even look at them in the pictures.  Posters.  On TV.  On the computer monitor.  Nope.  My breath will quicken and my heart beat will start speeding up.

I believe I made my husband swear on his life that he will never never ever threaten me with frogs for any reason.  I wonder whether he has forgotten his oath.  I need to administer a Spanish Inquisition on him as soon as I am done here.

The funny thing is, I actually loved playing with frogs when I was in kindergarten. I remember catching frogs in the rice field bordering the edge of my school (yes, stereotypes aside, there were indeed rice fields behind the kindergarten…) and throwing them at the boys.  One day, we read the book “The Princess and the Frog”.  The long passage where the Princess describes how disgusting the frog is left such an unshakable impression on me that, I believe, I internalized the fear deep inside my psyche.  From that day on, I cannot stand being in the same room with a frog.  Even if it is in captivity.

Wanna guess whether I will go see Disney’s upcoming The Princess and the Frog?

(I am SO grateful I have only boys for this matter. I am not suggesting that boys should not see Princess movies. If I had a daughter, I would really NEED her to watch this DISNEY movie featuring an African American PRINCESS, despite all the controversies already surrounding it, and I would really want to watch it with her; I would have been caught in a bind then since I don’t think I can sit through 90 minutes in the dark with gigantic frogs projected on the screen…  But of course, I digress again…)


2. White Milk. For real.

I cannot bring myself to put my mouth to a glass of white milk.  Everybody told me it tastes like nothing.  At least skim milk does.

“It tastes just like water.”

Uh huh.

The reason why it is categorized as a phobia is because I otherwise have no problem drinking chocolate milk, even the home-made one that does not taste chocolate-y at all (’cause I am too cheap to add a lot of chocolate sauce!)  I can also drink strawberry-flavored milk, apple-flavored milk, fruity-flavored milk.  I just can. not. put that thing to my mouth when it is white.  I don’t know how to explain it.

“Would you drink white milk if someone offered you a million dollars?”  My husband once asked me, out of exasperation.  And I did give it some thoughts.  I even slept on it.

No.  The answer is no.  At least right now when the question is only hypothetical.  Then my answer is a hypothetical no.

Coda: What did I say about google? Google is your friend. Yours. Not mine. On a whim, I googled Frog + Milk. Although I did see entries as interesting as Frog Milkshake, as a fitting conclusion to my rambling, I found something called Amazon Milk Frog. I am attaching a picture of it here for your scientific education because I am generous like that. As for me? I need to go take Benadryl because I am absolutely convinced I have hives breaking out all over my body!

Amazon Milk Frog

My arch nemesis: Look at his smirk...

p.s. If Robert Redford ever offers me $1 million dollars to sleep with him?  You bet ya I would.  In a heart beat.  Naturally, I did not offer this extra bit of information to my husband.  He would not be able to trust me again if we ever meet Robert Redford some day…

p.p.s. Is Robert Redford still alive?  And if I have to ask this question, perhaps I should Not be so enthusiastic when he propositions to me…

p.p.p.s.  Whew.  Turns out he is still alive.  And looking darn good…

Robert Redford

For a 73-year-old…  Darn.  I wish he had propositioned to me 16 years ago right after he propositioned to Demi Moore…  Too late now, Mr. Redford.  Eat your heart out!

p.p.p.p.s. Dear Mr. Redford, you are fine.  Please still proposition me and the answer is yes.  I only wish that your buddy Mr. Newman were still alive since he was the one I really had the hots for.  The more faithful a man is to his wife, the more desirable he becomes. I hope you have learned this from watching your friend.

There should be a law against laziness… (Wo)man up, Award Time!

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On 17 October 2009, the lovely Jane over at They Call Me Jane temporarily lost her mind and shared with me another award that she just won.  It is displayed below as Exhibit 1 Exhibit 2:

Kreativ Blogger Award

If I don’t end up in the nut house, it is partly because the love and support from a stranger, who no longer feels like a stranger any more, and her name is Jane.  I am not saying this because Jane has given me two awards.  Two awards!  That’s got to count as something, right?! She is one of the most level-headed, fair, rational, understanding, sensitive, thoughtful, and wisest people I have come to know through this thing invented by Al Gore. Her blog is like a fresh breath of air: a thinking blog that does not put your to sleep.  And the most important thing is?  She is REAL.  She is NOT pretentious.  She is naturally cool without having to say one single cuss word.

At this point, after reading her blog on a nearly daily basis, Jane can say nothing wrong in my book.  If she says, one day, and this is purely hypothetical, people, that she is actually a bunny killer, Imma gonna guess it is the bunnies’ fault.  Just sayin.

It took me more than 2 weeks to officially “accept” this award because I have to come up with 7 random things about me.  I guess nothing X-rated is allowed…  And you all know, at least those who have read my blog on a semi-regular basis (i.e. more than 3 times in the past 6 months), that I am Asian, more specifically, Chinese.  There goes my Number 1 through Number 3: Hi, surprise! I am Asian/Chinese. I can speak/read/write Chinese. I like rice. (I DO! DAMN IT!).

Ok.  Here it goes, in no particular order:

  1. I am secretly obsessed with angels.  As in, I believe in them.  Or, I strongly wish they are/were real, even though I am not Christian. I envision them to be the angels in Wim Wender’s “Wings of Desire” (Der Himmel über Berlin). NOT the Nicolas Cage one. Oh, god, no.
  2. I am agnostic because I am too cowardly to make up my mind.  I want to have my cake and eat it too.
  3. I am a classic insecure overachiever.  Psychotic.  A bit bi-polar.  I guess I should have added these to my “About” page. Oh well.
  4. Laziness and fear of embarrassment are the driving forces of my life.
  5. I played Lizzie Borden in a play when I was in graduate school.  In fact, I played a few other homicidal characters, including Hamlet and one of the women in “Unfinished Women Cry in No Man’s Land While a Bird Dies in a Gilded Cage” who gets to wield an ICE PICK!  (I was totally typecast, I suspected…)
  6. Being on stage was the only times when I felt completely free.  I miss that feeling with a heartache, barely noticeable except during the night, when I am writing to nobody.  Like now.
  7. I also played Billy the Kid (adapted from Michael Ondaatje’s book) and I had the best lines in my acting career:

After shooting Gregory
this is what happened

I’d shot him well and careful
made it explode under his heart
so it wouldn’t last long
was about to walk away
when this chicken paddles out to him
and as he was falling hops on his neck
digs the beak into his throat
straightens legs and heaves
a red and blue vein out

Meanwhile he fell
and the chicken walked away

still tugging at the vein
till it was 12 yards long
as if it held that body like a kite
Gregory’s last words being

get away from me yer stupid chicken

I am kind of depressed now because I just realized that none of these things that I have shared with you I share with my co-workers after more than 5 years working together, in a very small office space.  Because I don’t think they are interested in hearing about it.

Without further ado, I am going to pass this award along to….   Drum roll please…

Tomatoes on the Vine

Velva’s food/cooking blog is more than that.  She genuinely believes in the simple ritual of sharing a meal as the way we create and maintain a community.  Besides, it is always yummy to look at the photos.

booshy

On her blog, Jessica comes up with ideas.  Lots and lots of ideas.  I honestly cannot tell you what her blog is about.  But I enjoy reading her ramblings.  They make me smile.  Her latest “scheme” is to get everybody to come up with a “I am thankful for” list and send it to her before November 24.  So why not?!

Life is Not a Movie

I think Robin is a bit insane.  I said that with affection and as a compliment.  She is a woman of many talents: a radio show, a photography blog, and who knows what else.  Warning: She is an avid Kevin Spacey fan.  So don’t say anything bad about Kevin. Or introduce yourself as Mrs. Spacey.  I never know what to expect when I click on her blog every day.  But it is always a nice surprise.

My Wildlife’s Words

Jennifer Lynn is a wildlife biologist. Seriously, I’d never thought I would meet someone in that line of business.  She is saving the earth for all of us!  And her observations of life are full of interesting perspectives that will make you go, How come I’ve never thought of it that way?  (Well, you would have if you were a wildlife biologist.  And if you are, do let me know!  I’d never thought I would meet TWO!)  She is probably going to protest and say, “I don’t write about THAT topic on a regular basis.  It was an one-off special edition. Limited time only.”  But her post on Elk Vagina, yup, you read that correctly, is educational and hilarious.

Where Insulin Meets Insolence

Lynn is a great writer.  She has a great way with words.  And metaphors.  (Well, duh, all great writers are good at these things.  This is why I am not a good writer).  This post is one of my all-time favorites: Four on the Floor.  I think she should publish some of her essays.  They are that good.  This is her personal blog where she can be, well, “insolent”.  Her essays are over at “I have measured out my lives in MP3s”.

National Blog Posting Month OR NaBloPoMo. Try saying it fast 3 times…

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On the second day of November I learned that November is actually the National Blog Posting Month.  (Thanks to Pajamas and Coffee)

The concept is straightforward:

For the entire month of November, the participant will write a post for every day.  30 posts in 30 days.

I have never succeeded in keeping a long term commitment (except my marriage…)  Every year, when I was growing up, I would vow to keep a diary.  I end up with a dozen journals with no more than 10 pages with stuff written on them.  Maybe I am just coming down from my sugar high (left over from Halloween!  I wonder whether this is the reason why NaBloPoMo falls in November?)  Or I am coming down with the Swiner.  I found this idea intriguing.  So I am giving myself a challenge.

november

What is the most awesome thing I found about this movement that is impossible to pronounce without ending up catching myself saying MoFo…?

They have a category for blogs called Psychotic Ranting / Anonymous Foaming

Perfection.

I am going to put that on my badge when I go to BlogHer 2010.  IF I do.

p.s. By the way, I totally cheated.  And it is only 12:39 AM on November 3…  First of all, I changed the publish date from November 2 to November 1 for the post that now listed as published on November 1.  I DID write it on November 1, I swear!  I just didn’t have time to edit and publish it before the weekend was over.  Then for November 2, I totally crapped out by blogging with charts from The Economist.  What’s next?  Post my child’s artwork and call it a day?  (I already did that!)  On November 3, I blogged about how I am going to blog every day for the month of November.  I can already detect a trend: on November 4, I will blog about how I am afraid I may not be able to keep this up.  On November 5, I will congratulate myself for not giving up and blog about it… etc. etc.

How do you know what you are having is NOT swine flu? Waiting for the other shoe to drop…

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For days I thought I may have had IT. Not because I had any telltale symptoms because, well, so far, after I scoured the Interweb, I can’t find any statement on Telltale Signs for Swine Flu.

I watched the CDC video with an obsession, “Symptoms of H1N1” at 2 am in the morning one night when I woke up with a bad cough. Was that a sniffle? Did I feel slightly hot? COMPLETELY USELESS. You can watch it for a laugh if you wish:

“The symptoms of 2009 H1N1 flu virus in people include fever, cough, sore throat, runny or stuffy nose, body aches, headache, chills and fatigue.”  (Copied and pasted directly from the CDC website)

So what we are told is that the symptoms are exactly like any other common flu. Why? Because Swine Flu is just another flu!

The rational part of my mind keeps on telling me THAT. The irrational part of my mind, which is not surprisingly a lot bigger, made me stare at the mirror at 3 am in the morning examining myself to make sure that I didn’t look bluish, because the only ONE symptom that makes H1N1 stand out is that it may turn your skin bluish, and when that happens, you need to seek medical attention IMMEDIATELY.

Wow.  Really.  I didn’t realize I should PANIC when I find my kid looking like a Smurf!!!

Since I couldn’t tell Swine Flu from any other animal, I started hoping that what I had was a COLD.  At least with a cold, my kids and I would not be forced into a “house arrest” and be the laughing stock behind the doors in the neighborhood. (ADMIT IT! You would totally make fun of someone you know if they’ve caught it. That is, of course, if they recover with no other damage to their health) And my kids would NOT have gone down the school history as THOSE KIDS WITH THE SWINE FLU.  (You know how brutal children can be.  THIS is easy fodder, let me tell ya…)

I curse the person who came up with this name!

So I started searching the Interweb for differences between a cold and a flu:

Cold:

  • Stuffy nose
  • Congestion
  • Body aches
  • Growing cough
  • Symptoms last 3 to 5 days

  • H1N1 or Seasonal Flu:
  • Fever
  • More painful body aches
  • Dry cough
  • Diarrhea
  • Severe fatigue
  • Respiratory problems
  • Dehydration



This was when I started waiting for “the other shoe to drop”.  I willed myself to have a stuffy nose.  A bad cough.  Congestion.  Come on!  Give it to me!!  Let me HAVE it!!!  So I can be reassured that what I have right now is NOT a flu!

Yes.  In case you are wondering, I have had 20+ years of education.  No.  I don’t watch Jerry Springfield or Maury on a regular basis, nor do I aspire to be a guest on their show.

I was elated when my nose started running, my chest felt congested, and my cough felt WET.

Don’t judge me. And I will not make fun of you if you catch IT.

Update 1: I finally gathered myself up to see a nurse practitioner this past Sunday.  She was utterly convinced that 1) I’ve got Sinus Infection 2) I spent too much time on the Internet.

Update 2: I went to see another doctor today because the antibiotics are not making the cough go away.  I seriously cough like an opium addict.  He was utterly convinced that I’ve got a bad case of allergy, which was part of the result of Global Warming.  So I am now on Steroid.  Oh, and the best part of all this?  I am also on Codeine.

Wheee….

Tea cosies, French Press cozies, vacuum cleaner covers, oh my. (Patented)

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I can’t sleep.  I have either a cold or a flu.  And if I have a flu, I probably have the dreaded H1N1 virus.  So since flu symptoms include severe fatigue, I figured that if I can wake up at 2 am and writing on my blog at 3:30 am, then I probably don’t have a flu.  Plus, my skin is not bluish.  So according to CDC, Don’t Panic.  Not yet.

But if you start looking like a Smurf, yes, run around the house and scream.  ‘Cause, well, you look like a Smurf.

I was reading through Worn Ragged: Mommies on the Edge and also her tweets, (yeah, I’m like some sort of cyber stalker…) and I was introduced to the concept of tea cozies.   Not sure why people make fun of tea cozies: they are actually quite adorable.  And what an ingenious concept.  Al Gore should really promote the idea of tea cozies as an alternative way to keep liquid warm.

So I started googling for some other crafty ideas, not because I am handy, but because (see above).  And I found what I was looking for:

Vacuum cleaner covers!

Vacuum cleaner cover

Mock ye not.  I also found a patent filing on a proposed method of better construction for these babies.  And the patent was issued in 1999.  So I guess you’ll need to find something else to devote your time to until the patent runs out…

Perhaps French Press Cozies? as Jamie on Twitter suggested.  I am sure she said it in jest, but you can find anything. ANYTHING. On the interweb…

French Press Cozies

Granted the shape of a French Press does not seem to inspire whimsical fancies as much as the short and stout figure of a teapot.

Darn.  Now got that song stuck in my head.  Well, good night while I get up and do the dance…


What did I just say?  Yes, indeed, one can find ANYTHING on the Interweb…

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Just keep on telling yourself that…

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I am under duress at work…  I am a certified procrastinator for important projects.  I will be obsessed with it, can’t stop thinking about it, being kept awake at night worried about it, but feel at the same time utterly powerless.  It is like end of term at school with multiple papers due all over again…  The fear of failure sometimes gets too overwhelming.

I found myself humming inside my head the songs from Mary Poppins on Broadway while I plowed along on my presentation…  First up is, what else?

.

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Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

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.

Then I move on to….  “Anything Can Happen (If You Let It)”

Anything can happen if you let it

Sometimes things are difficult

But you can bet it doesn’t have to be some…


.

Just what I need to hear right now…  The following always gives me the goosebumps:

If you reach for the stars
All you get are the stars
But we’ve found a whole new spin
If you reach for the heavens
You get the stars thrown in

.

.

The last one is currently my “theme song”.  I am sharing with you my secret right now…  It is what gets me going on some of these days when I am so almost convinced that I suck at everything…  I just hum it as I go along with the motions until, miraculously,

.

I Am Practically Perfect!

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(Watch from 1:03)

Those who do the laundry should have immunity. Just sayin…

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So the other day husband left one of his baseball caps on the floor of the laundry room, looking quite dirty.  As in, it’s no longer beige but brown-ish all over.

So what does it mean when someone just leaves clothing on the floor of the laundry room?  I’d say it means they are asking you nicely to wash it for them.  Wouldn’t you agree?

Since I am a very nice person, so I did.

Turns out this hat is husband’s favorite.  Don’t ask me why.  This was the first time I heard it too.  A cap from a baseball team we don’t really know about.  A cap husband had purchased for our oldest at a company outing and later inherited because our oldest was too cool to wear it.

CIMG2707

It’s a mystery to me, really.  Sort of like the mystery of how a child selects his/her lovey.  (THAT. Is yet another topic we should all blog about.  Raise your hand if you have experienced the agony of a lost lovey.  Or worst, the death of a beloved lovey…)

It also turned out that the back closure of the hat had split in half and husband had glued it together with super glue.  (Have to say I am impressed by that feat and his dedication!)  So the hat came out of the wash, well, broken again.

“You broke my hat!  That’s my favorite hat!”

In order to keep peace in the household, I offered to glue it together.

“Well, you’d better do a good job: don’t get glue all over it.”

Have to say, he knows me only too well.  I can’t work with any type of glue:  I once glued my fingers shut with super glue.  I offered to use the glue gun.

“You are KIDDING, right?”

Well, I guess I’m now even if I wasn’t…

As I sat there trying to hold the pieces together as my fingers were being glued shut, again.  I thought,

Shouldn’t there be immunity for people who do the laundry in the household?  Next time, I’m going to have him sign a release form…

FINE.  I’ll fix your hat for you.

i'll fix your damn hat!

There. You. Go.

Got Summer? Or, On the Agonizing Ritual of Closet Reorg

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Apparently not this year.

Despite its severe winters and famous 3-foot snow, Chicago has always delivered hot and humid summers.  These two things are not mutually exclusive, I am sure, according to a meteorologist, but in my mind I always wonder, while either dying from motion sickness from all the shivering or from dehydration when my body turns into a water tank with holes, “Why out of all the cities did we choose this place?! WHY?!”

This year, we had a very cool summer.  How cool?

I went through the whole year without seasonalizing my closet…  I have basically been living on the clothes I hauled into my closet last fall.  And it is LIBERATING!

You know the twice-a-year ritual:

You say goodbye to your sweaters and place your summer clothes on the hangers.  Later you stash away your shorts and tank tops and bring out your t-necks and wool pants.  The fat clothes, much to your dismay, are still applicable.  You may or may not decide to look through the clothes you put away for when you lose weight.  Probably better if you don’t.  Since if you do, you will realize, by the looks and the styles, that they have been there for A VERY LONG TIME…

Although I love the changing seasons in the Midwest: the 2 weeks of spring, the 5 weeks of fall, I always dread the implications: Summarizing/winterizing the closets.  More so because as soon as I am done reorganizing the closets, the temperature will drop/increase to be “unseasonably” WTF.

Every. Single. Time.  Murphy’s Law.

I especially dread the re-organizing  of my children’s closets: They are not like us.  We get to wear the same clothes every year, or pretty much the same “fat” clothes in my case.  They grow.  Like weed.  And they grow out of their clothes before they have the chance to wear them twice.  Here is when I envy people with only one child.

Outgrew the clothes already?  Pack them up!  Haul them away!

When you have multiple children, now is the time to go through every single piece of clothing and agonize: Will No. 2 be able to wear this one from No. 1 two years from now?  Will he have grown big enough in time to wear this sweater?  Why can’t they grow in sync, as in, No. 2 will conveniently be able to wear No. 1’s hand-me-downs a few years later?  Why do they have to grow OUT OF SEASONs?  i.e. yeah, No. 2 can now wear No.1’s old clothes, but ooops, these are the sweaters, and we are now in July!

You also need to separate them by sizes, by seasons, by the types of clothing: pants, shirts, shorts, t-shirts, sweaters, jackets, gloves, hats, snow boots, Halloween costumes.

I regret for not having planned the births of my children with precision whenever I am sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of clothes, assaulting my anal-itis.

Don’t even get me started on the stress I go through, when in the middle of the summer, I receive the Overstock catalogue from Lands’ End: “50% off on Winter Jackets and Snow Boots!” How am I supposed to know how big/tall these kids are going to be 6 months from now? But I’d better get the winter equipments while they are on massive discounts so we won’t be caught with nothing when winter comes suddenly.  Which happens in Chicago, it feels, every year. And why do I have to worry about winter when I am sweating like a pig? Curses, Lands’ End!

So, yes, this year I have been living in jeans and long-sleeved shirts when it is cool, and jeans and t-shirts when it is warm.  I haven’t touched any skirts or shorts.  I didn’t even pack my capris when we went to the beach for the summer.  I lived in my swimming suit that week.

I did make the attempt to summarize my closet this August when I decided that oh, yes, the temperature is going to stay summer-y finally…

closet

The pile has been on the floor since…

This weekend I’m just going to box the summer clothes up again and hang up the sweaters, again.

And you know what?  Maybe we will see Summer, again…

You can’t fight Murphy’s Law…

p.s. Here is if you need an explanation on WHY cool summers do not mean Global Warming is not happening to respond to snide comments from the deniers…

What bacons look like after you soaked them in Vodka for 4 weeks…

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This post is Part 5 of a series of posts documenting an impromptu DIY project I took on when I done and gone nuts on one Sunday afternoon…  It is indeed very interesting that the whole thing started on a Sunday afternoon, don’t ya think, after I’d been alone with the kids for 2 whole days…  (And, I believe, it is mandatory by law, that whenever I complain about being with the kids for a long period of time, to add this, “…despite the fact that I love them dearly, and yes, I know I will go to the HELL designated for Mothers Who Do Not Enjoy Being With Their Kids 24/7”.)

You can see the Genesis of the Bacon-flavored vodka, my trip to Walmart for the ingredients, 12 Steps to making your own, what it looked like a week before (Hint: LESS disgusting and questionable).  Or you can just take my word for it.

So according to the recipe, I am supposed to soak the  bacon strips in da Vodka for at least 3 weeks and then put the jar in the freezer to separate the fat.  This is the 4th week, so I am doing ok.  Although I have no excuse for why it took me a whole week to perform the step of “Bringing the jar from the cabinet and putting it inside the freezer”.   “I have a full-time job with 2 kids and a husband” just does not seem to work in this case.

Anyhoo, here is how the vodka looks like today:

DRUM ROLL PLEASE…
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cat can sleep anywhere

Awww. Isn’t he (she?) cute? I just thought as an apology for showing you the disgusting picture below, I should reward you with a cute sleeping kitty picture.  Ok, here it is.  For real.  Are you ready?

Here it is…

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Bacon Week 4