This is a nice way to wake up. I didn’t sleep well last night, but because it’s Sunday I got to stay in bed as long as I wanted. Now I’m chilling on the couch with my fiance on my left and my cat snoozing on my right, his back feet propped up on my thigh because he always likes to have at least some part of him in contact with one of us.

The Giraffe is going to make us breakfast soon, then we’re off to run a few errands. And that’s about the extent of our plans today. It’s been a really busy past few months – since June really. So it feels like such a blessing to have a Sunday with no plans, no obligations, nowhere to be.

Now if only I could get out of work somehow and keep this up all week. Any ideas?

We had another baby shower for my sister today. As soon as I got out of the car at the party my sister said, “Cute boots. You never wear heels.” I was wearing heeled ankle boots (super cute ones I got for $2 at Goodwill!). And then later my sister-in-law saw the boots and goes, “Wow those are pretty fancy for you huh?”

Apparently I’m a total slob on the weekends, when I normally see my family. I wear heels to work on a pretty regular basis, though I do admit I prefer flats during warmer weather. But I guess it’s been a really long time since my family saw me in anything but flats, flip flops or tennis shoes.

Next they’re going to act surprised to see that I’m wearing a bra.

(Just kidding. I wear one every day. Gotta keep the girls from introducing themselves to my waist any time soon.)

I’m having a hard time getting motivated to do much lately. I blame the shorter days. Shortly after I get home from work it’s dark out already, and to my brain, dark means the day is over. So instead of doing anything productive, I watch TV and mess around on the computer. Last night I picked up some clutter and considered that a major accomplishment. Whenever I think of things I need to do — like go to the ATM or hem my pants — I put it off until the weekend, thinking I just don’t have time during the week.

Truth is though, I probably do have time. I just don’t have the motivation. Who wants to sit at a sewing machine hemming pants when you could be curled up under a blanket watching sitcoms? Who wants to drive all the way to the ATM when you could be playing Snood on your laptop (while curled up under a blanket watching sitcoms)?

I’m sure I’m not the only one with this problem this time of year. Right?

With the impending doom of winter already here, I thought I’d share a few reasons why I loathe the season so much. While it’s a sunny (cold) day here in Michigan, I am not fooled. I know winter and all of its misery is coming soon. If you’ve known me for long, you know I’m not a fan of Michigan winters (or any area’s winter that resembles ours).

Here’s why:

Black/grey snow. Yeah yeah, snow is pretty and all when it’s white and glistening, but the snow I know most of the time looks more like this:

Heaping piles of snow that block significant portions of parking lots and roadways. Which fits nicely with the above photo as well.

Terrible, horrible, awful parking jobs.

Wet pant bottoms.

Cold ankles from wet pants and shoes.

Dried salt lines on pant bottoms.

Salty cars.

Wet floors EVERYWHERE!

Shoveling.

De-icing frozen car door locks.

Being locked out of your car because the door is frozen shut.

Hot public places. I thank you malls for keeping it toasty, but what do I do with my coat and scarf and hats and mittens while I shop? If I keep them on, I sweat balls. If I take them off inside, I have to carry them around. If I take them off in the car, I freeze on the trek across the ice-covered parking lot.

Increased heating bills.

Brushing snow.

Scraping ice.

Bulky pajamas. I like to sleep in a tank top and underwear, but it’s so damn cold all winter that I usually end up in a long-sleeved shirt and long pants tucked into socks. Then my clothes get all twisted in the sheets and I get pissed.

Sleeping in socks. Did I mention how much I HATE wearing socks to bed? But poor tootsies get so cold without them.

Bringing extra shoes to work. I usually wear my ugly clunky winter boots to work so my feet stay as dry as possible while I trudge through the snow. But I don’t want to wear them all day at work, so I have to remember to bring a pair of shoes. Which, is annoying, and also sometimes I forget and have to walk around with old lady boots on my feet all day. To meetings and stuff. Where I’m supposed to be professional-ish.

Bundling. I hate having to put on so many layers just to get through the day. Shirts and sweaters and scarves and coats and pants and socks and more socks and boots and mittens and hats. Oh my!

Itchy scarves.

Itchy sweaters.

Itchy socks.

Itchy hats.

(This is my lovely sistah. I have a feeling she’ll hate me for posting this, but I think she’s adorable.)

Slow driving. I know it’s for safety, and I’m all about that. I drive slow in the winter, too. But see, if there was no winter, we could drive normal speeds all year!

Everything takes sooooo long! Not only does it take longer to drive anywhere, but it takes longer to put all your clothes on and take them off. It takes forever to clear your car and defrost your windshield. It even takes longer to find your keys or your chapstick or your phone because you gotta dig all around in your purse with your gloves on, feeling like a grizzly bear trying to pick up a damn ant.

Less daylight. All these things that take so long? We have to do them with significantly less daylight than the rest of the year. Driving to and from work in the dark is not cool.

Dull grey boringness.

Slush. Everywhere.

Frozen nostrils. You know that feeling. When the snot in your nose freezes your nostril hairs. *shiver*

Now tell me, dear friends, why do you hate winter?* Don’t be afraid to share in the ranting – maybe our collective hatred will cause winter to retreat.

Retreat! Retreat!

*If you like winter, I suppose you can share your reasons, too. But ignore that pain in your face, it’s just me punching you.

A few people have asked, and the answer is no. I didn’t get the tattoo.

Yet.

For two reasons. 1) I’m terrible at making decisions, and with something this permanent and non-reversable, I had to be sure I was 100% confident in what I was getting and where. But I just wasn’t. I overwhelmed myself with the choices, and suddenly Tattoo Day was here, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. 2) I’m pretty sure I want the tattoo on my foot, and after hearing all your advice, I realized I might be smart to wait until spring when I can sport flip flops while it heals. The tattoo artist confirmed this for me and said it’s a good idea to wait.

So I just went as moral support for my friend who got her tattoos. The guy did a good job and I think I’ll go see him when I’m ready. For now, I’ve bought myself a little time to figure out what exactly I want. Before I decide, you know I’ll be asking your opinion again. I can’t make decisions without you people!

The Giraffe and I finished the Buffy The Vampire Slayer series on Saturday. When we started the series several months ago, I wasn’t even sure I was going to like it, despite the Giraffe’s insistence that it was great television. Turns out he was right.

After the first season I wondered how they could possibly maintain the premise for six more years. How many villainous demons can you create? How many times can Buffy save the world? But they did it, and I never got bored. They probably could have kept going if they wanted to, moved it to the other hellmouth in Cleveland (thanks Giles), but I guess it’s good to go out on a high note. I’m a little sad I didn’t watch this when I was a teenager. Buffy was the exact same age as me, so I probably would have related well to a lot of the plot lines. Minus the demon-slaying thing, because ya know, I wasn’t the chosen one. But it’s still enjoyable now, even as an adult.

Also, let’s talk about Spike for a minute. He became one of my favorite TV characters ever — not only was he adorably comedic, but he demonstrated the truest loyalty of anyone on the show. His character evolved so much over the course of the series, it’s almost strange to flashback to when he was first introduced. When he first came on the scene, I never would have predicted where he’d end up.

I’m intentionally not saying much for those of you who haven’t watched this series yet. Maybe it’s not for everyone, but I’d highly recommend it.

After considering all of your suggestions, next up for us is Arrested Development. But we’ve also added several others to our Netflix queue for future viewing:

Big Love, Entourage, Weeds, Freaks & Geeks, Six Feet Under, Dexter, Brothers & Sisters, The Tudors, Pushing Daisies, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Band of Brothers, Oz, Veronica Mars, Dexter, True Blood, Carnivale, Deadwood, The Wire, How I Met Your Mother

Wow that’s a lot. Anything we missed that we really shouldn’t… miss?

*Thanks to Andrew for this alternate title.

While I’m on the topic of my cat, let me just get this out of the way.

Somehow my life has lead me to the point where I go to Petsmart in search of a costume for my cat so we can take a silly holiday picture. Yes that happened. To me.

I never would have predicted my life would take this kind of path, the kind that leads one to be excited about animal costumes. But here I am. I was downright giddy about the possibilities. Reindeer? Elf? Santa Claus? Hey this one lights up! We even bought the damn cat a stocking (though we quickly downgraded from the eight dollar stocking to the 89 cent one, so yes, I still have some reasoning skills left).

As soon as we got home, I rushed to show Oberon his gifts. As you can imagine, he was thrilled.

But he did curl up on my lap later in the day, so I’m pretty sure that means he’s secretly excited to try on his new reindeer head gear.

P.S. You’ll have to wait to see the cuteness. We’re thinking we only get one shot at this before Oberon refuses to speak to us for days.

I never thought I would love a cat. But Oberon has stolen my heart. I used to roll my eyes at people who swooned over their pets and thought their every move was sooo adorable. But now I find myself awwing at Oberon all the time, even when he’s sitting there doing nothing. Which is usually what he’s doing.

He’s a very sweet boy, but he also gets really pissed about silly things. Like if he’s comfortably lazing on the couch and we dare to move and disturb him even slightly. Pissed. He’ll glare at you like you’re scum. Sometimes he gets playful though. Actually kind of crazy, especially at night. The Giraffe and I wrote a theme song for Oberon one time, and part of it goes like this: “Oberon, you’re so pissed. Because you hate everyone. You just sleep all day and go nuts all night. It’s as if you hate the sun.”

One last thing. Oberon is so awkward. He gets himself into the oddest positions, especially when he’s trying to bathe himself. I never tire of taking pictures of him when he gets himself into these contortions.

With my birthday coming up soon, I had to renew my license plates, and it just so happens that my license was expiring this year too. So I paid a visit to the Secretary of State last week. These experiences are usually pretty dreadful – long lines, disgruntled employees, smelly people – but other than the fact that my new phone was beeping while I rolled my eyes at the nerve of some people for a good five minutes before realizing it was me causing all the ruckus, my SOS experience really wasn’t so bad.

The wait was tolerable, and besides I had Kurt Vonnegut’s Bluebeard to keep me company. The people didn’t smell too awful, and the employee who helped me was very kind. She complimented my necklace and asked the significance of it (it’s the one seen here, a gift from Robin for helping out at her wedding). She also took a second picture of me for my license when I cringed at the first.

But really, the point of my story is a conversation we had about organ donation. In the middle of signing things and filling out paperwork, I asked what I needed to do to become an organ donor. She paused, looked at me and said, “Thank you for asking about that. I don’t even bother asking people anymore because so many say no.” When she saw my surprise, she added that if she had to guess, she’d say only about 1 in 10 people said yes to being an organ donor when she’d ask. Some said no for religious reasons, but some just didn’t feel like it. Maybe they misunderstood. Perhaps they thought if they said yes someone was going to slice them open on the spot? Because otherwise why wouldn’t you? I’m sure there are very valid reasons, but only 1 in 10 people? That’s depressing.

I think if you’re not an organ donor and you don’t have a good reason not to be, then you shouldn’t get any organ transplants when you need them. Give the kidneys to the people who care, I say!

All I wanted was a carport. A place to shelter my car from the winter snow. It should have been one phone call, one signature and out the door. But no.

Two weeks ago
The Giraffe calls our complex’s business office to inquire about available carports near our building. He’s told there will be one available on November 1 and we can come in the day before to claim it.

Friday, October 30
I call the business office to see if maybe we can get the carport a day early. I’m told there are now several available and to come on in. I call the Giraffe to let him know, and he informs me that he too just called the business office, talked to someone different, and was told he’d have to wait until Saturday as originally planned. I go in anyway.

There is mass confusion in the office about which carports are available, who can assist me and who can’t, where my building is located, what color the sky is and who the current president is. After way too much time has gone by, I am finally assigned a carport, a prime spot in fact, and sent on my way.

I get to my building and see another vehicle in my carport, so I park in a regular spot. I figure since it technically wasn’t available until November 1, maybe I have to wait until then to use it, and they just failed to tell me that.

Saturday, October 31
We go out of town.

Sunday, November 1
We return and there is still a car in my carport.

Monday, November 2
I call the business office. They check the records and tell me that the carport isn’t leased to anyone else and I should leave a note on their car asking them to move. This seems sketchy. So before I write a note, I scope out the car and see that they have the appropriate parking pass on their mirror. I can’t read the number, but I have a feeling there’s been a mix-up.

Tuesday, November 3
I call the business office again. Talk to someone different and explain the whole situation. She says she’ll get back to me.

Wednesday, November 4
I get a voicemail from the business office explaining that they had leased out that carport awhile ago to someone else and never updated their records. So yeah, I can’t park there. But there are two other carports available only a little further away, except they can’t seem to adequately explain to me where they are. They tell me to go find the carport, then call back if I want it.

I’m out running errands, so I call the Giraffe, just as he’s about to get in the shower, make him put clothes on and go out to find the carport. He says it’s in a good enough spot, so I call back and say I want it. Then I mention that we might want the other available one, as well, for the Giraffe. She says it’s almost the end of the business day, we should come in tomorrow to claim our carports.

Thursday, November 5
I drive home after work, even though I need to be somewhere on the other end of town in 30 minutes, and meet the Giraffe at the business office. We have to explain the whole situation again, and now they can’t find the original contract I signed for the first carport. So she has to draw up two new contracts while we wait.

Once everything is signed, she tells us that they don’t actually have anymore carport passes (the ones that hang from your mirror) to give the Giraffe. But don’t worry, he can park there anyway. Only, if maintenance happens to notice he doesn’t have the pass, they’ll leave him a note and he’ll just have to call explain the whole situation. Again. Because that’s not inconvenient at all.

I thought some of you might be interested in what I wrote over at Shan & Mike yesterday about acknowledging our support of marriage equality in our wedding. And also I thought you might have some good ideas for us. I admit, that’s my real motive.

My doctor appointment was easy peasy yesterday. I was worried she’d make me get blood work (I’m not okay with needles in my veins) or recommend a vaginal ultrasound (that’s how they diagnosed my previous gall bladder problem), but I was spared all of that. First of all, this was a new doctor, which is always a little jarring, but she was way cool. She wore dark red pants and a mustard top – no lab coat or scrubs – which put me at ease right away for some reason. She chatted with me for awhile about my symptoms, pressed around on my belly, listened to my lungs and heart, and told me I was just fine.

She’s sure it’s not my gall bladder (woohoo!), and she diagnosed me with GERD. Which wow, that sounds disgusting. But it’s just some esophageal reflux thing. And she believes I’ve had it for so long because I actually had two separate incidents, one after the other. The first one probably started when I ate something to activate it, and just as it was going away, I got the stomach virus which reactivated the problem. Now that it’s been a couple weeks since the virus, it’s starting to chill out again, and I should be fine.

If it comes back, some over-the-counter Prilosec should do the trick. If not, well, back to the doc I go. And with that, I think you’ve heard enough about my digestive system. Thanks for playing along.

Remember the burping fiasco? Well it hasn’t fully ceased. In fact, it was full on burping for about two weeks. Then I got a stomach virus, and all through the barfing and crying and not eating for days, I kept burping.

Finally I decided to make a doctor appointment, but I couldn’t get in for two weeks. My appointment is today, but in the last week things have improved slightly. It’s not a consta-belch anymore, though it’s still pretty frequent. I recently became concerned that maybe it’s my gall bladder again. I had gall bladder problems about six years ago, but it manifested itself much differently. But who knows. I’m no doctor!

Anyway, even though it’s been quite a bit better, I’m not canceling my appointment today. We’ll see what the doc has to say. Because damn, I used to enjoy a good belch, and now it’s like torture.

Last night before my book club meeting, I met my friend Robin for dinner. We found a Pizza Hut on Google Maps and decided to meet there, but upon arrival we realized it was takeout only. So I hopped in her car and we drove down the road to a different restaurant. After dinner we drove together to the book club location, and she took me to my car afterward.

As we approached the parking lot in front of the Pizza Hut, we realized my car was not where I left it. My heart stopped for a minute, but then Robin goes, “Is that your car over there?” Sure enough, there it was at the back of the lot with the rear tires on top of the curb.

What. The. Hell?

I always (ALWAYS!) park in first, so there was no reason that my car would roll. We were dumbfounded. But when we looked inside, turns out I had left it in neutral. Oops! When Robin pulled up earlier that night, I was waiting with my car idling in neutral, and when I got out to ride with her, I guess I didn’t put it in first like I normally would.

However, the parking lot was completely flat. Why would my car start rolling? Did someone bump into it or even push it somehow? And also, even if it did start to roll on its own, there’s no way it would pick up enough momentum to hop the curb like that. It didn’t roll far enough to pick up that much speed. It would have rolled into the curb and stopped. So I really can’t figure out what happened.

I’m glad there wasn’t another vehicle behind it to run into, but my car was on a curb! In the bushes! There was no damage, but man, how disconcerting.

Since I finished grad school, I have had a little more time to get back into crafting. I didn’t do much when I was in school, so it feels good to pick up my needle and thread again.

My sister Andrea is having a baby any day now (well, sometime in the next month and a half technically), and she commissioned a baby blanket. She bought some stuff for the nursery, but couldn’t find a blanket that didn’t make her gag with attempted cuteness. So we went shopping and picked out fabrics. I embroidered his name (I told her she CANNOT change her mind now!) and sewed up a blanket for him.

And now I’m working on a gift for my dad. Hopefully he doesn’t read this blog. He knows about it and has seen it, but I don’t think he reads on a regular basis. Just in case…

DAD, LOOK AWAY RIGHT NOW PLEASE!

My dad is a mountain man at heart, and thought maybe I could combine my embroidery skills with his love for the mountains. So I searched Google images for pictures of mountains to use for inspiration. Then I sketched:

I really liked the look of it, so next I dug through my collection of fabrics and embroidery floss to find a color scheme.

I didn’t want to be literal: greys and blues and greens. Instead I wanted something monochromatic, and I knew browns would suit my dad well. Next I sketched my drawing onto the fabric in a slightly larger scale. It should end up fitting in an 8×10 frame if I decide to frame it. And then it was time to start stitching!

After working on it this weekend, I’m done with the tree and about halfway through the mountains. I haven’t decided what I’ll do with it when I’m done. Frame it maybe. More pictures to come.