Thundersnow: Not nearly as cool as Thunderdome.

Yesterday we had thundersnow. THUNDERSNOW. Just kill me now, please. Apparently I no longer live in Chicago, I've been teleported to Narnia, pre-Pevensie intervention. Goddammit it.

Last night all I could do was make a meatloaf in my I Love Lucy flannel pajamas.



I'm still wearing my flannel pajamas at the end of March! Goddammit it.

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Steve has abandoned me for the weekend. He's going to Memphis, to MLB's Civil Rights Game, which features the White Sox vs. the Mets.

Really I'm happy that he's going, because he's not necessarily one of those people that throws caution to the wind and takes off for a selfish weekend. I think you need those sometimes, though. He's meeting his brother, who's a pilot at Southern Illinois University, and he's going to sleep on his bro's couch and, I don't know, do some other shit that you do with a bunch of college guys.

I did my requisite freak-out-at-Steve-and-make-him-the-sole-reason-my-life-sucks routine early last night, only to realize (and admit - I'm not above admitting) that it was really just my mind finally reacting to possibly missing him while he's away. I tend to go the Nonsensical Route when it comes to dealing with my emotions.

Actually, though, I sort of wanted Steve out of the apartment for the weekend because I have a date with my mom, my carpeting, and a Rug Doctor. We are going to clean the hell out of that indoor/outdoor eyesore that is my floor. Then, starting Monday, the kids are going to be sequestered to the kitchen when I'm not home. It's definitely a downgrade from their awesome couch privileges, but it will also be nice not to have my apartment smell like piss.



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I also have a date on Sunday night with PBS, and the final installment of "The Complete Jane Austen." Incidentally, today I got an email from some friends of mine informing me of a movie night that, sadly, is at the same time as "Sense and Sensibility."

Sorry guys, but escapism-through-Romantic-era-costume-drama wins.

And I think it's gonna be a long, long time.

I've decided that, this summer, I'm going to channel Elton John whenever I step out into the sun:



Except I'm going to channel awesome Elton, not any of that 1980's, 1990's, "Circle of Life" shit.

Teeth curls

I just opened up my new pack of Orbit Gum, and on the back of the box, it says, in BIG letters:

"HELPS FIGHT CAVITIES BY STRENGTHENING TEETH."

So all morning, all I've been thinking of is an image of my little teeth, sweatin' it out in my mouth, doing squats, lifts and cardio.

Tuesdays in a boring office can do this sort of thing to you.

Just as bright as pink.

Happy Easter! I really pulled out all the stops when choosing my Easter outfit this year, and decided to abandon the normal spring-y colors of this season and instead celebrate Christ's resurrection by dressing in the colors your bruise turns a few days after you plowed your shin into the coffee table:



All I need is an bonnet, and I'm set.

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Moxie has been getting 5mg of Pepcid AC twice a day, thanks to a recent bout of diarrhea and vomiting. Call me crazy, but I think it had something to do with that ENTIRE LOAF OF WONDERBREAD SHE ATE ON THURSDAY. I walked in the door of my apartment, and all that was left of the bread Steve had bought the night before was a ripped plastic bag and one of the heel ends.

As she was heaving up a whole slice onto my shoe, I stepped out of the situation for a moment, and thought that perhaps, maybe, I should have just cut my losses when the cat died, and been left with only one animal to take care of. I couldn't for the life of me remember why I had thought it was a good idea to get another dog.

But then I took off said soiled shoes, went inside, and Moxie wriggled and writhed on the ground in complete Adorable Mode - I mean, she really knows how to dish out the Cute, and dishes it she does - and, well.....acidic, yeasty bread vomit can't hurt a suede boot too much, right?

Sigh.

Flocked and fabulous.

I can't seem to get these guys out of my head. It stemmed from a conversation I had with Steve in the car on the way up to St. Paul, where I was sitting in the passenger seat, thinking about things, and I thought about those little flocked bears with country clothing that I used to have as a kid. I asked Steve if he remembered them (although I didn't know the name), and of course he didn't, because why would Steve know of any toy that didn't have buttons, beeps, or was named after famous artists? Yeah, of course not.

Well so, during a boring Friday at the old job, I was looking at Playmobil stuff - because it's awesome and I've always wanted some and when I was a kid it was too expensive (shit, it's too expensive for adult me, too) - and long story short, I found the little animals again. Apparently in the U.S. they're called Calico Critters of Cloverleaf Corner. Per usual, the Europeans are, indeed, more awesome.

Anyways, I haven't gone and bought anything, though, because I started off this year teetering on the brink of financial ruin, and I'm not very interested in going through that again. But I seem to get this sick thrill from looking at things I could potentially buy, and then! Then! Not buying them.

Such cheap thrills when you're broke.

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I think I'll leave you with this. Just, well, because.

Neighbors to the North.

Whoo! Steve and I went on a whirlwind vacation up to St. Paul, Minnesota this weekend, to see a live taping of "A Prairie Home Companion", and to visit with Sharyn.

Super-great time. Didn't take enough photos, per usual. But the ones that were taken (mostly by Steve - he's the preserver of memories in this relationship) were pretty awesome. I mean, how awesome is Ruth?