Corn of my dreams

Gah.  I think I have eaten more corn in the last 24 hours than I have in the past 10 years.  It's not a bad thing, but my tummy is not thanking me wholeheartedly for it as of yet.

Yesterday, my parents had a little family shindig that involved us drinking a whole batch of Pioneer Woman Sangria.  There were six of us doing the drinking, but it was still a little intense.  Especially when we knew that we were planning to get up EARLY this morning to attend the MN State Fair.

But... we made it.  We successfully arrived early enough to enjoy the fair before the maddening crowds, and by the time we left at 1 p.m., tummies full and multiple purchases made, we were happy. 

By far the best new item I consumed this year was the Sweet Corn Ice Cream with Honey Butter Bacon topping.  Wow.  The reviews did not lie.  I gave up my usual chocolate malt at the Dairy Building for this, but it was definitely worth it.

This year, I ended up doing more "shopping" than normal.  Lena got a new toy, I got a t-shirt and a bracelet along with some new CD's, mittens and a cookbook.  Eek.

Now we are home and slightly lethargic due to the caloric intake, our early start and the beautiful weather.  But we are satisfied.  Plus, we can enjoy the day knowing that tomorrow we do not need to return to work. 

Sadly, I do have to keep in mind that school starts this week.  Mercifully, my Thursday night professor has not assigned any readings for the first class.  This is not normal, but I don't mind.  My Saturday professor has assigned some readings, but hey, that isn't until next Saturday, right?

I must now roll my bloated self over to the next comfortable seating location and perhaps partake in an afternoon snooze.  Ta.

Fun with Horoscopes

Over a year ago, back when I was in my highly prolific drawing phase, I created a series of horoscope related drawings for each astrological sign and posted them to a Facebook album.  As I was somewhat pleased with the outcome, I decided to share them here as well.  Please note:  I in no way endorse or believe in astrology.  This is intended for entertainment purposes ONLY.  If you are not entertained, I apologize. 

Clearly, this is personal.  In case you couldn't tell, I am an Aries.

Again, slightly personal.  My friend Mary is an Aries and her boyfriend is a Taurus.

Interestingly enough, this was a prediction that came true.  I was so freaked out, I hid under my bed for three days.

Ha ha.  I wrote this one just about one year ago exactly.  Coincidence?

The drawing of the Leo sign is disturbing, I admit.  But it is marginally accurate.

Good advice.  Heed it.

Mmmmmmm....

I rarely make shoe predictions, but this one was spot on.

Two things that everyone loves:  pirates and fish tacos. 

I usually try to keep "Twilight" from infiltrating my universe, but this snuck in anyway.

If you can't read the words that the girl is singing, it is "Seize the Day."  

Beware of leprechauns and pollen.

Reader's Advisory

One of the interesting and frustrating conundrums I face in writing a blog that is viewable by one and all on the Internet is measuring where to "draw the line."  It is probably safe to say that my writings are not that dangerous and offensive, at least in my own opinion. 

Every once in a while, I am tempted to take a risk and be a bit more "out there," but common sense and decency usually win out.  People could get hurt.  My employer could get angry and fire me.  Not that I am sharing trade secrets or anything, but it could "reflect poorly on the company." 

So I am thinking about trying to add a tab for reader's advisory on my blog.  "Reader's Advisory" is a librarian term, by the way and yes, I am misusing it a bit.  Technically, I am supposed to be able to speak to a patron and through a set of careful questions and lightening quick mental evaluation, I should be able to name some new books for them that they may like.  It's a bit like amazon.com recommendations that are based on browsing and purchase history.

Although this makes me sound a bit teacher's pettish, I love to read.  Always have.  Always will.  It is really just a shame that something I like so much does so very little for one's physical well-being.  Other than relaxation and mental stimulation, it does nothing to improve the shape of one's backside.  What a shame.

Now I have a confession to make.  Despite the fact that I am training to be a librarian, I rarely utilize a library to obtain new reading material myself.  I buy books.  Over the years, I have accumulated quite a collection, and please note that I have no intention of donating or giving away any of them in the near future.  I know there are people who can read things once and never touch them again.  This does not work for me. 

I love knowing that I can revisit a book any time I want, provided that I can find it.  You see, I have run out of bookshelf space.  When I daydream, I imagine that I have divested my second bedroom of the common furniture (bed, dresser, etc.) that currently resides within and turned it into my own private library, complete with tall bookshelves and comfy seating. 

At this point, the only thing holding me back is the uncertainty of my future career.  I hesitate to put much remodel effort into a room that I may not be able to utilize one year from now.  If it turns out that my new job enables me to stay in my present location, I may take that step.  After all, it's not like I really NEED a fully equipped second bedroom.  No one has slept in there in years.

In a well-intentioned attempt to catalog my collection, I signed up for an online community called Library Thing.  It's a great idea, but entering everything is time consuming and involves locating and retrieving all my books from their various hiding places, which includes large bins stacked in closets.  If only I could have them all in my centrally located library, I could just bring my laptop in and do it all in one place.  Someday...

If I learned anything from the Library Thing experiment, it is that I have no interest in providing you with a list of all the books I have read.  Far better to just start in the moment with my most recent completed item.

So for that purpose, I am going to try and navigate the template settings for this blog and see what I can do.  Keep an eye out for changes.  Also, if you haven't noticed, I added a little "fun" reaction gadget to the end of all my entries so that you can rate what I write about.  I apologize that the options are pre-chosen (by me), but if you have any ideas of what would be better to use in these categories, please let me know.  It does not appear that anyone has used them yet, so I am a little sad. 

To summarize, I love books, watch for changes on my blog, and for goodness sakes, give me some reactions!!

Touch your OWN toes, thank you very much!

Welcome to September 2011!  Here I am on day one of the month with nothing very interesting to say to you.  I wrote up a few entries yesterday, but they ended up being some pretty serious-type ones and I just am not quite up to sharing them.  Maybe someday I will modify them and re post, but when I consider the spirit of most entries I put on here, they just didn't jive. 

To give you an idea, part one was about priorities in dating and part two was about dating after the death of a loved one.  Eesh. 

Instead, I am going to write about a much more benign issue: mani-pedis.

For the uninitiated, mani-pedi = manicure/pedicure.  According to Merriam-Webster, a manicure is a "treatment for the care of the hands and fingernails."  If you know French (or Latin), you can probably break apart the meaning of the word quite easily.  You should then also know that a pedicure is the same thing, except for feet instead of hands.

In case I have never mentioned it, I have a "thing" about being touched by strangers.  No, I am not a raging germophobe.  There is just something in me that finds the act of touching to be somewhat intimate (and not in a sexual way) and it means bringing some part of my body into contact with someone else.  Perhaps it is my Minnesota-ness coming through, but it conjures up the whole idea of personal space for me. 

If I know you well, chances are I have no problem giving you a hug, shaking your hand, or patting you on the back (and vice versa).  But if I just met you, back off.  OK, so I won't run away screaming or try and fend you off with a sharp stick, but I will be profoundly unhappy about it. 

To embrace a bit of a tangent, this idiosyncrasy really comes into play when I date.  For whatever reason, the general male population of the world (at least the ones that I date) have decided that two dates is the proper amount of time after which major physical contact can be initiated.  Don't let your brain jump too far ahead there, Buster.  I am talking about kissing.  Honestly, I had a guy stop calling me once because he figured that since we didn't make out on the second date, I wasn't interested.

Ha.  Try putting that in reverse.  I was interested.  See, when I am actually interested, I prefer to get to know the person before sharing saliva.  Kissing random strangers is only fun when you're intoxicated.  And in a foreign country.  But we'll save that story for later.

Wow, I just realized how far off topic I went!  I guess it illuminates my problem in a more concrete way, but it may have been too much information.

Back to mani-pedis.  These procedures enjoy a great deal of popularity in modern society, especially when the weather is warm and extremities are more exposed to visual evaluation. 

Some people get mani-pedis (or simply manis or pedis) on a weekly basis.  Some stretch it out to monthly.  Some only do it every once in a while for a special treat.

I do it only when forced.  When I really think about it, I am pretty sure that I have only had a manicure done 3-4 times in my life.  I know for absolute certain that I have had a pedicure done NEVER.  The manicures were done primarily in conjunction with weddings in which I was an active participant, so that is my excuse for those.  Honestly, I can deal with manicures most of the time, but this is because I feel no shame about my hands or fingernails.

My feet are a different story.  Over the course of time in general and summer in specific, they get a little uglier.  I use a relative term, because even in the best circumstances, my feet are strange looking.  I have long toes.  I also have a condition known as Morton's Toe.  It's hot. 

Also, I have calluses, on my heels mostly.  I do occasionally attempt to use a pumice stone to work on these and three times in my life I have used foot lotion.  But I always forget and anyway, my mornings are already too full of personal hygiene routines that I simply do not have room for another. 

So not only are my feet somewhat deformed in general, but they have that lovely extra oomph of dried callus-y skin as well!

To many people, the obvious solution would be to get a pedicure.  While the overall shape and structure of my feet cannot be changed without surgery, surely the callus situation can be remedied?

Unfortunately, this is never going to happen.  First, of all the parts of me that I really do not like to have other people touch, my feet are top of the list.  Yes, I am ticklish, but it is more than that.  It just gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Second, it is dangerous.  How many stories have I heard about people getting infections from pedicures?  A lot.  No thanks.  Also, nail polish tends to turn my nails yellow.  Who needs that?

Third, it is expensive.  If I am going to drop money on cosmetic treatment, it sure isn't going to be for my feet.  Hair?  Yes.  Teeth?  Maybe.  Heel?  No way.  Not on your life.

The good news is that summer is almost over, and with that, the end of sandal season.  Soon my feet will be safely ensconced in socks for the duration of the winter and not visible to anyone but me and my dog.  I knew there was a reason that I love winter. 

The End

Are you ready for another imposed theme?  Where to begin.... the end?

Let's see.  When I graduate in December, my grad school experience will be at an end.  Is that OK?

No.

Shall I ruminate on the word "end?"  Really, doesn't it look more like a word fragment than an entire word? 

No.

How about we change it to "The Ent" and make it a LOTR thing?  Hark!  Is that Treebeard?

No.

"The End" of summer? 

Been there, done that.

OK, then.

Once upon a time, there was a woman.  Some might still call her a "young" woman, but age is relative, so we'll keep it general. 

This woman had many friends and a nice family.  And a dog. 

One fine Saturday in the month of August, she attended the wedding of an old friend.  The event was lovely, but the mosquitoes were not.  Hence, the woman ended up with approximately 15 bright red itchy welts on her feet for the next week.

In consideration of everyone around her, she opted to forgo the wearing of skirts lest anyone see her wounds and assume she was a carrier of the Plague.

The End.

Well?  Not my greatest work, I will admit, but my feet are SO DARN ITCHY!!!!!! 

On a different note, can I do some product placement? 

As a single gal, I recognize that grocery selection is important.  If you wish to avoid the temptation of certain foods in your daily life, the solution is simple.  DO NOT BUY THEM. 

This has proven harder for certain things than others through the years.  One thing that I usually am good at avoiding is ice cream.  Bypassing the dairy treat aisle at the store is not hard to do.  There is usually nothing else in that area that I legitimately need.

Honestly, the only brand that usually throws me for a loop is Ben and Jerry's.  Their creations are unique and come in such beautiful containers.  Plus, they are small, which sometimes leads to last minute justifications on my part.

Then the Blue Bunny company upped the ante.  If there is one weakness for me in the sweets department, it is cake.  Almost any cake will do, except for perhaps coconut.  Or anything with raisins.  But otherwise, it is all fair game.

A few years ago, a new cake trend moved its way out of Southern tradition and into our cold Northern households:  Red Velvet Cake.  There is just something special about it.  The bright and startling shade of crimson.  The not-so-overpowering level of sweetness.  The hint of chocolate.  Combine it with cream cheese or buttercream frosting and it's all over.  I'm done for.

Well, the Blue Bunny company hopped right up onto this bandwagon and combined forces with Duff Goldman (of Food Network cake-making fame) to make Red Velvet Cake Ice Cream.  They have been advertising this stuff for months, but I remained steadfast.  Until this week.

To use a semi-current popular slang term, OMG.  This is amazing stuff.  So amazing that I would honestly consider cutting out all other foods and meals to eat this once a day.  OK, so I haven't exactly eliminated all other foods, and I do consume it in moderation.  But it is difficult to restrain myself.  This stuff makes me so happy, I wish that I could just kiss Chef Duff on his shiny bald little head.  And then hug the Blue Bunny.

Now that my ice cream truck is up and running, I may just have to sample the new and supposedly amazing Sweet Corn ice cream at the State Fair this weekend and do a side by side comparison.  Of course, I still need my chocolate shake in the Dairy Building.  Hm.  This could be a high dairy count weekend for me.  Better get myself in shape.

School Days

Please be kind to me; I just realized that the month of August is nearly spent.  In just more than one week I shall be returning to the hallowed halls of learning to start my final semester of graduate school.  The full meaning of this has yet to sink in, but I am sure that once I go to my first classes and experience that rush of anxiousness that arises whenever I learn just HOW MUCH I will have to do, it will hit hard.

At the risk of sounding like a total lame dweeb, I have to say that I do like the feeling of returning to school in the fall.  My first year out of college, after I had decided that law school was not the path I wished to follow, I found that I was depressed when September came around and all I had was a job to fill my time.  I felt like I was missing something.  I suspect that I was mourning the end of youthful irresponsibility. 

True, this realization should have come much sooner.  Perhaps at graduation time?  But no.  It took the passage of Labor Day followed by a day of the same sort of thing I did the Friday before to really awaken me to the reality.

As much as I would like to think that this was because I just love learning, I think there may be some other factors in play. 

First of all, school is a social outlet.  Every year, we eagerly awaited the end of the school year and the perceived freedom that summer vacation entailed.  Days of sleeping in, playing outside and not having the pressure of grades and homework seemed like heaven. 

In addition to this, summer vacation meant a bit of natural separation from one's friends.  Sure, play dates could be arranged when we were kids, and impromptu gatherings occurred once we were old enough to drive, but that routine daily contact within the safe hallways and classrooms of school were out of the picture.

Normally, the only people that one would see over the summer would be the friends close enough to make an effort to contact.  All other periphery acquaintances were put on hold and out of mind.  (Unless they were cute guys.  We would usually try to make an exception for them.)

By the end of summer, we all had adventures and new stories to share.  We were all a bit more tan.  We all had new clothes.  New pens, folders and notebooks.  We were ready to show off. 

In high school, we always had to make a visit to the school about 1-2 weeks prior to classes starting for "orientation."  Fees were paid, pictures were taken, hugs were given.  It was one's first chance to premier a new look or to wow someone special.  Everyone received and compared their class schedules. 

When we all arrived at school after Labor Day, the excitement had not completely worn off.  Arriving in classes on the first day was always a bit exciting; especially if it turned out that many of your friends were in your class as well.  It was a bonus if one of your crushes was in there as well, as long as it wasn't a class that promised to prove embarrassing at some point (like P.E.). 

As the first week wrapped up, everyone prepared for what was usually one of the first home football games of the season.  At this point in MN, the weather is still nice and the sun is still shining when the game starts.  It was tradition in our school to have a dance on the first Friday as well.  Again, another great venue to show off our tans and bust a move in front of hotties that hadn't seen us all summer.

After a few more weeks, things started to die down, classes got more demanding, tans started to fade.  Homecoming week always stood as the "last hurrah" of the fall before we moved into the long haul of winter that would only really conclude with the start of summer vacation.

I suppose if you don't live in a climate like MN, your feelings about the school year cycle may be different.  For instance, if you live in Texas, you may enjoy warm weather year-round and your ability to tan may not be dependent on your willingness to fry in a tanning bed or apply orange-tinted lotion.

But for us, the celebration of fall was essential before entering our coccoons for winter to emerge pale and pasty in the chilly sunshine of spring. 

So for all you students out there returning to the world of academia next week, enjoy yourselves.  The next couple of months are the best of the year, so make the most of them.  Even though I am a 31 year-old graduate student, I shall endeavor to share in the spirit of the new year as well.  Minus, of course, the dances, football games, and P.E.  Oh, and the tan.  I am definitely without the tan.

Sunday is Fun-day!

Don't get too excited.  I did not actually post twice in one day.  The post I put up earlier today was actually written earlier, I just didn't get around to publishing until this morning.

I just got back from an exciting Sunday outing that has been affectionately dubbed, "Sunday Funday."

First, let me say that my Saturday was also quite fun.  I attended the wedding of an old friend.  Katie and I have known each other since grade school, and we suffered through the indignity of being orchestra geeks together for three years.  We referred to each other as "Cello Buddies."  Fortunately, our cool factors were great enough to lead us out of this temptation and into better social circles.  We ended up together in church activities and even chemistry lab partners in high school.

We did lose touch after high school (I blame this on the fact that Facebook did not yet exist at the time), but reconnected at a random U of MN Gopher hockey game several years ago.  If you need to know anything about Katie, know this:  her voice carries.  Big time.  So when you hear your name being shouted by said voice across the entrance of Mariucci Arena, it isn't hard to guess who is doing the shouting.

After this chance connection, we made sure to get in touch and managed to get together with each other (and Jill) every six months or so for the past... five years? 

Katie is awesome.  I know, I know, all my friends are awesome.  But they are all awesome in different ways.  Katie is fun.  Really really fun.  She has an awesome job, a great family and people just love to be around her.

So when she mentioned at one of our dinner outings that she was seeing someone new, we were excited.  Six months later, she brought Dan to my 30th birthday party.  We were all impressed; he was clearly a good guy.  When they became serious travel buddies, we knew that this was probably "the one."

Yesterday, they got married.  It was (of course) a lot of fun.  It was like a mini high school reunion, in fact.  Except that we are all older and much better looking.  Right?

I hesitate to say that there was a downside to the reception, because the fact that it was semi-outdoors was really very nice.  Until the sun went down and the mosquitoes took over.  As long as we were in motion on the dance floor, it seemed to be OK.  But as soon as we took a break, OMG. 

Even though it was hot, I was forced to keep my cardigan on to protect my shoulders after three nasty bumps appeared.  My feet were not so lucky.  I would love to be soaking them right now in a nice ice bath, but that hasn't materialized just yet.

But this brings us to today.  My friend Briana introduced us to Sunday Funday a few months ago after a particularly lovely brunch.  It so happens that the local VFW has BINGO every Sunday at 2 p.m.  The drinks are cheap and the BINGO cards are even cheaper. 

So when we received the text that Sunday Funday was happening again today, we were all ready.  While there were two big winners in our rather large group, I was not among them.  Additionally, as the day wore on, the temperature of the room rose by about 100 degrees, so we were all sweating pretty hard by the time we called it quits.  One of these days we will make it to the final blackout round, but probably not until the winter chill brings us a little relief.

So for all you people who thought that I was maybe turning into a bit of an old fuddy-duddy, I offer up this weekend as an example of why I am still able to party with the best of them.  If the best of them are all over 30 and like to play BINGO and dance to Warren G's "Regulate."