Music Monday...oh wait, its Wednesday

Yeah, it feels like the past few weeks have been flying by, so I'm going to cut through all the crap-ola.


First my little brother graduated from high school!  It was hot and we had a party.  I made lots of kinds of dip and me and Meredith tore it up on the bocce court (I think we're going to make the switch to curling this winter).  It was fun and here are some pictures:

Also, my toe is all better!  I made my triumphant return to running just a few hours ago.  It wasn't my first run since I got the okay from my doctor, but it was the first time that I ran when I didn't feel like I was going to either die or melt into a pool of my own sweat.  So I'm considering this one win-win-win.


Also important: I am now a proud Mac owner.  My Macbook came with an iPod Touch, a printer, and a promise that it won't die on me, like ever.  What they tell you is that a Mac is cool.  What they tend to leave out is the fact that a Mac (and the iPod Touch it comes with) will distract you from doing anything.  Say, for example, you need to do the paperwork for your student loans.  And say that they tell you that this process should take you about an hour and a half.  What they don't tell you is that with a Mac at your fingers this process will take you at least 4 hours.  


It gets worse.  You know how they say "There's an app for that?"  There really is.  There's even one for Phase 10 aka the finest card game known to man.  It literally distracts me from sleeping.  Phase 10 is not a good enough reason to stay up until 11:30 EVERY NIGHT THIS WEEK!


So, faithful readers, we're officially all caught up.  Stay tuned for a return to my amusing musings and general witticisms about life!

O.M.Ginger!

Last week my lovely BFF and her Hubby adopted a cute little puppy.  I wanted to blog about her and I realized that I haven't even blogged about MY OWN cute little puppy.  So before I go off singing the praises of a little Miss Elliot, I think I need to sing the praises of a certain Miss Ginger.

I know I've already written about my sometimes sweet, sometimes Satanic kitty, Annabelle.  In case you missed it, you can catch up here.

After having to put my childhood cat to sleep, my brother reminded my mom of a promise she had made a long, long time ago.  "You promised we could get a dog after we had to put Vixey to sleep."  My brother even had a name already picked out - Ginger, after Ginger Baker, a drummer in some band that he liked.


So the search began.  I was away at school while my parents and brother traveled to animal shelters far and wide looking for a puppy.  After weeks of searching, one day they stumbled upon the Hope for Life Rescue Shelter in Virginia Beach where they had seen an ad for a litter of puppies.


By the time they got there, all of the puppies had been adopted.  "But the mother is still available for adoption."  So my parents went in to meet her.  Between my mom and Ginger, it was love at first sight.  At a year and a half, she was past the teething and housebreaking stages that my mom was dreading.  Even though she'd already had a litter of puppies (while battling heart worm) she was just a young thing herself.  


Every Sunday, my parents would drive 20 miles there and 20 miles back just to visit her until her puppies were weaned and her heart worm treated.  We finally brought her home at the end of June, four years ago.  


She has completely changed our lives.  

As a side note, my grandfather (and one of the biggest dog lovers I've ever known) passed away very unexpectedly on October 15, 2004.  Ginger was born two weeks later on Halloween.  Her puppies, born on my grandfather's birthday, March 23.  I am fairly convinced that he picked her out and sent her to us.


Ginger is sweet and kind and loving.  She adores being around people and is constantly happy.  Most of the time she walks around with a big doggie grin on her face.  She was mistreated for the first year and a half of her life, and is so appreciative of the unconditional love that she's found in our house.

She's a mutt, but a super cute one.  When people ask my mom what kind of a mix she is she tells them that she's a perfect mix.  Cute and happy with the sweetest disposition, I'm kind of afraid that Ginger's ruined me for any other dog.


Here is one of my favorite pictures of Ginger:

Her likes include:


Going on car rides (she's happy she's going for a car ride, but not happy I'm taking her picture, please see dislikes).

Running.

And going for walks.

Her dislikes include:


Having her picture taken.

Being held and forced to have her picture taken.

Thunderstorms/loud noises (sorry no picture).


Before we had Ginger, I didn't even realize that I liked dogs (I was kind of like Chandler on Friends, but I wasn't afraid of them.  Unless they were big.  Or tried to lick my face).


Now she's my buddy.  I could go on and on, but I won't.  But I'll probably put some more pictures up of her.  

Can you be BFF with a dog?  I think so...

So I was Skinny Dipping and....

I realize that this post is going to make me sound old and crotchety, but I'm alright with it. 

One of the main reasons I started this blog was so that I could rant and rave about all of the little things in life that got under my skin, which I haven't done, not even once.  This fact makes me simultaneously proud and sad.  Have I grown up?  Do the little things really not irritate me anymore?  

I always considered my ability to complain as part of my charm.  What would it mean if I lost the ability to kvetch about pretty much anything?  Who would I be and what would I become?  A complacent, khaki-clad country clubber who sips martinis while continually agreeing with every word out of her husband's mouth?  I could practically hear my individuality gasping for its last breath.

Then something happened last night that made me believe that everything will be ok.

A few weeks ago a new frozen yogurt place opened in a shopping center near my house - its called The Skinny Dip.  Its one of those self-serve, top it yourself, pay by the ounce places.  I love it.  I'm addicted: I could go there every night.  Really, I think it should be called The Cracky Dip and it should be in the house on my street that's been for sale for a few months.  I never make it "skinny."  I mean why put fruit or granola on your yogurt when you have every type of candy to pick from?  I mean they even have cookie dough!

Anyways, the local Skinny Dip seems to be a magnet for just about everyone in the area.  I always see someone I know when I go Skinny Dipping (they call it that too).  But my beloved FroYo shop also seems to attract the stupidest people on the planet.  Ok, maybe not on the planet, but definitely in the greater Chesapeake area.  

Last night I made one of my regular treks to the yogurt place with my mom.  Two girls were in line behind us, both wearing college t-shirts which made me think that they were high school seniors getting ready to graduate.  We were filling up our cups when the girls behind us sampled a flavor called "Snow White Vanilla."  Girl A turns to Girl B and whines in a disappointed sort of way, "But this just tastes like vanilla........?!"


Now I don't know if its the fact that I'm a Skinny Dip connoisseur or the fact that I actually have the ability to think, but it seems kind of obvious to me that a flavor called "Snow White Vanilla" actually would just taste like vanilla.  What else would it taste like?  Snow?  And I don't have synesthesia (can be found on the wiki, here) so I'm not quite sure what white would taste like.  And I desperately hope beyond hope that these girls were not hoping to eat frozen yogurt that tasted like one of the Disney Princesses.

Maybe I'm being overly critical of them as a result of my vast experience in dealing with ice cream.  But I really don't think I am.  I feel like most high school kids need a good solid dose of reality before they should be let loose on the world.  


If it takes a village to raise a child, the village failed these girls and turned them into the village idiots.

Some Good News!

I had an appointment with the podiatrist this afternoon, and got a pretty good report.

My toe is still set well, which means that I won't need surgery.  Thank goodness.  I can start wearing a shoe again.  For the past two weeks I've been rocking one of these lovely numbers: 

So I'm pretty psyched about the fact that I can wear some of the cute summer shoes I bought this year (even if I have to wait a few more weeks before I can rock my heels/platforms again).


Plus I don't have to buddy wrap my big toe to my second toe anymore, so hopefully my second toe will be revitalized shortly.


There is some bad news.


My big toe will more than likely always be crooked.  So there goes my career as a toe model.  Which was, of course, my back-up plan for when my super modeling career started to fail.  What can you do?  As long as I can still wear nice shoes, I'll make my peace with my crooked toe.


The other badish thing is that I still can't really exercise for another week.  Let me tell you that I am losing my freaking mind and I am driving everyone around me crazy.  I've learned that regular exercise not only helps keep my weight down, it also keeps me from going crazy.

Against doctor's orders, I may or may not have gone swimming a couple of times.  I never kicked with my legs, so I wound up looking like a manatee with my legs dragging behind me.  I don't think I need to tell you that I am already pretty excited for the run I'm going to go on next Tuesday after I get the all-clear. 

 Aside from my restlessly tired and bored legs, I think everything is going to be ok.  And I don't think my legs are going to be happy until they've pounded out a mile or two on the pavement.


Until then!  Or not, but probably!

Some Food for Thought

Its Friday and its almost time to go home.  Its been a long week, and I can't wait to get out of here!  

Before I go, I thought I'd leave you some food for thought...enjoy!

1. Whenever I eat a banana, I get a really bad cramp in my calf.  When I don't eat one, I don't get cramps.  When I google "calf cramp remedies" it tells me to eat a banana.  I think my potassium/cramp signals are backwards.
2. I've met a lot of people in my life and have never met anyone who actually liked Nickelback...why are they famous?
3. Also why are the Kardashians famous?  I think I missed the memo on that one.
4. And why is Ryan Seacrest such a tool, but he's everywhere?
5. And finally, now that its hot and summery, all I want to do is sit on the beach, eat chips and salsa, and drink margaritas.  I'll have to look into funding that one....

 Have a great weekend everyone!

Just a few quick updates

Work's been crazy busy so I haven't been able to blog while at the office, and I've been exhausted so I haven't wanted to blog when I get home.  So I'm taking five minutes here for some quick updates:

1.  Toe, broken, set well, wearing icky boot still, luckily I can still lay out by the pool!  Go back to podiatrist next Tues for more x-rays and hopefully the ok to run again (keep your fingers crossed for me!).
2. Work kind of sucks right now.  And by kind of I mean totally and completely.  
3. Surprise BIG loss last week at weigh in.  I dropped *drum roll please* FOUR POUNDS.  Big, big surprise.  I think the fact that all I ate for almost a week was fruit, veggies, grilled chicken, and skim milk might have had something to do with it.  But I hit my 25 pound mark, or about 1/4 of one of my college roommates, something I still need to celebrate.  
4. Music Monday (I know its Tuesday) - Glee Soundtrack.  Any track.  So good, those kids could sing.  If I could sing like that, I don't know if I'd ever talk again.
5.  My brother's graduation is in a week and a half.  I'm in charge of the "dip committee" for the party.  Does anyone have a good, easy crab dip recipe?

That's all for now.  Back to the grind.  Is it Friday yet?

Memorial Day Weekend, By the Numbers

My Memorial Day weekend was slightly more exciting than I would have liked it to be.  So here's a look at my weekend by the numbers:

Miles to Charlottesville, VA: 180
College friends to visit: 2
Bars "hopped": 4
80's Nights: 1
Drunken adventures: 1
Walks down The Lawn: 1
Falls on the steps of The Lawn: 1
Ankles sprained: 1
Toes broken: 1
Hours in the ER: 6 
Sets of x-rays taken: 3
Number of questions I asked the doctors: 9000
Threats of surgery: 1
Number of times toe set: 1
Weeks off of foot: 2-ish (I hope)
Weight I will gain while unable to exercise: not one fucking ounce.

Book Review: The Help

In a nutshell: GO READ THIS BOOK!!!!!!  

This was an amazing read.  I couldn't put it down.  I sacrificed sleep to read.  I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it.  I would get excited for my lunch at work, not so I could eat but so I could read.

Yeah, it was that good.

I don't want to give too much away but here's a brief and basic book blurb (say that three times fast).  This book is about black maids in Jackson Mississippi in the early 1960's, right on the cusp of the Civil Rights Movement.  It really follows three women: two maids Aibeleen and Minny and recent college grad, white "Miss Skeeter."  

Not only was the plot really interesting and intriguing, but the book had such a wonderful message about life and love and what's really the difference between people regardless of race and gender.

That's really all I want to tell you about it, I really don't want to give anything away.  Go to Barnes & Noble and buy it.  Or go to your local library and borrow it.  Or find a friend who read it and loved it and borrow their copy.

Like now....go get going!  READ IT!  You'll love it!  I promise!

Book Review: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

 A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and I have a long and torrid history.  It was one of my mom's favorite books.  When I was 12 or 13, my mom recommended a few times that I read it.  I don't know why I wasn't interested (I was either going through a phase where I rejected nearly everything my mother suggested or I had recently discovered Harry Potter), but the reason doesn't really matter, I didn't want to read it.  

My mom must have mentioned something to my aunt, who is, for lack of a better word, a book pusher.  She's the type of aunt who gets it stuck in her head that you need to read one thing or another and will.not.stop.talking.about.it until you've read it.  A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, unfortunately, fell under this category (I also never read the Chronicles of Narnia and almost didn't read Harry Potter for the very same reason).  She's recommended this book to me in just about every card she's sent me in the approximately ten years since this whole fiasco started (which is a lot, my family practically keeps Hallmark in business).  I think she thinks she's being funny, when in reality she has turned me off to more books than she's encouraged me to actually read.


That's why I threatened my family with death when I decided to finally read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.  My aunt was and is not to know that I finally decided to pick up and read this book.  I don't even want to know what sort of an outcome that would have.  


Anyways, it was good.  I enjoyed it.  You know how sometimes you hear tons and tons of things about how great a book/movie/tv show/restaurant is and so you read it/watch it/eat there and its almost never as good as you thought?  Well that kind of happened to me with this book.  I enjoyed it, I really did.  But I didn't think it was one of the greatest books I've ever read, which is how it was always described to me by my mom and aunt.


If you haven't read it (or heard about it incessantly for the better part of your formative years) A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is a coming-of-age story about Francie Nolan, a third generation American.  The book follows her childhood and adolescence in turn of the century Brooklyn (where else?) and shows the trials and tribulations of living in poverty at the time.

I recommend it.  I'm not sure its something I'd rant and rave about for years on end until someone's willpower collapsed and they caved, but I would recommend it to a friend.  I wish I'd read it earlier and had told my aunt and mom to mind their own beeswax.

Music Monday: Night Moves

When I started this blog, I had this idea that every Monday I'd post something about a song or artist that I was currently enjoying.   

Well we all know how good I am about updating this....so here it is two months later and not one Music Monday post.


Since there's no time like the present, here goes:

The song that I have been love, love, loving recently is Bob Seger's "Night Moves."  Its an oldie but a goodie.  It really is, I promise.

I love songs that tell a story.  I love songs that could be poems (enter my love affair with a certain Mr. Springsteen).


"Night Moves" tells the story of a casual summer fling between two teens/kids in their early 20's.  I love this song.

It makes me want to drive around on a hot summer night with the windows down, wind in my hair, radio loud enough to hear over the air rushing through the car.  It makes me want to act as young as I am and as irresponsible and carefree as I'm not.