Ikicka

IKEA was packed today. Crazier than it had any right to be on a Monday but it's always a holiday in Orlando. They then didn't have the baskets we wanted for a storage solution for my parents. Online they said they had them but they didn't. In store it said they had them but still no. We checked inventory and everything. So we chose a good second. Then we spent forever looking for a certain color shelf and there were thousands of the other colors but none of ours so after looking everywhere and offering to buy the floor model we picked the second choice. Then we convinced ourselves it was the exceedingly better choice. Finally in line we waited for days as every group in front of us fucked up their register. Ten years later we finally left having eaten the twinkies in front of us. Thankfully the gays had a big boned friend who provided something to keep us going until it was our turn. And then we went to the mall for some more shopping. I can't even talk about it. Can't even begin to describe the failure that that was. And I'm still starving.

The Dork Family on the Move

We've passed hour six of eighteen and brother-in-law is still going strong. I'm sweating my balls off with the heat in my sister's new car. Let's say it works.

I'm excited to arrive, especially since tension mounted early. All in all a merry Christmas. My friend David (of Pirateer pirating note) dropped by and got to meet J finally. He also brought chocolate from around the world including pop rocks chocolate bar from Israel. Shut the front door, you say. I know. But it's legit popping and rocking chocolate.

I think 2AM is a good nap time. Maybe the rain and fog will have gone away by then…

Christmas Past

Last night we enjoyed Christmas numero duo at my mom's friend's house. My nephew was a wild child and right now I'm helping to watch him. It was rough going at first but we played Candy Land with my grandmother making four generations playing that old classic. He's adorable but I most definitely don't want one of my own. I can't wait to see what two glasses of egg nog from this morning will do to him after his nap. Yeesh.

J gets in this evening which will be nice although I don't think there are any Christmas Eve plans. Things are still a bit of a panic around here despite last night's relatively calm proceedings, at least for that party. I feel like there was a funny story about it but it now escapes me. God this is a dull post. I did get a Batman and Robin shirt though, which I find hilarious. The gay joke was of course intended but still funny. Yep, still dull.

Happy Christmas Eve!

Booted

I went to Mom's boot camp gym and died. Almost literally. But the trainers were super nice and gave me Gatorade after I had pushed myself a wee bit too hard. I definitely worked it out, pushing a weighted sled and jumping hurdles and using inverted row rings. When I heard they had rings, I got all excited about being a monkey in a circus, but alas. So begins the return to workout land. The goal is to get back in shape over the break in the sunshine. And the pool. And the gym room.

Chrissmiss Time

I'm in the sunroom wearing a bathrobe tied with ribbon because my mom couldn't find the belt when she gave it to me. It's wire-lined so it is totally staying on (so that's the sage advice)! It's 64.8 degrees according to the thermometer next to me although it feels about as warm as my apartment when it reads 67, so J and I will need to investigate. I just thought we were being wimps. It would help if the heat didn't fly out the windows and through the newspaper-lined walls.

It's Christmas time at the old homestead, which means everything is sheer chaos. Christmas number 1 is tonight, then 2 tomorrow (with a theme of 12 days of Christmas), then a day of rest, and then Christmas morning, and then God know what. There's always something to be done. Last night I wrapped everything I needed to wrap for the first three Christmases. Below is one of my gifts for the 12 Days of Christmas. It's 8 Lords a-Leapin' because, well, they're pretty gay and two of them realized they were meant for each other and well, they're leapin', together, just not in public. Eight is also easier to paper-doll than ten when you're just dicking around. There was no pattern but my just fitting what I could into the space by sight, trying to make sure that they did in fact touch together. My mom and I think they turned out great, but we're biased.

I also made a lady dancing to the ninth power. And eight maids a-milking who look like they're Hari Krishnas at pianos. And then one swan with nothing to signify its myriad personalities, but hey, it was dinner time. They all enjoyed my Alice in a Winter Wonderland (I can't wait for the new Tim Burton one, even though the preview reminds me more of Looking Glass Wars than the original, which, to be honest, I've not yet read) scheme, by which I mean the same black/white/red combo I've loved since 2003, but with the IKEA chessboard paper it was just my idea of heaven.

In other news, my uncle with Asbergers sent a letter in his Christmas card, which, as my mom pointed out to me when handing it to me to read, shows that he's at least feeling good enough about himself to send a letter (she's an optimist, really). At one point he mentions a friend's prostate cancer, just in passing, and my mom's friend's job loss, house selling, and some other shit, just as a tangent. He also included his cholesterol level and his own prostate exam results, so, he's doing quite well, thank you very much. It's funny, sad, and not surprising all in one. I find it hard to converse with him because all I know that he likes are sports and women. And, well . . . J somehow finds him great to talk to, but J can talk to anyone and I think he likes that he knows my uncle is being honest whereas he's not sure about anyone else.

Lastly, the feds have not tracked me down for my mailbox fiasco the other night. I was trying to mail Christmas cards (I sent, like, two, because I got distracted and had to pack, so I'm sorry I didn't send one, Shmallama, but you have my posting love instead) and bills and stuff and I kept forgetting, so I just went to the post office to drop them in the drive-up mailbox. It was a little bit of a fiasco and there were several cars to go. I watched as people got out of their cars to deal with the too-high drop slots and cursed them for their stupidity in opening their door, then getting out of the car to lean out the open window (I know, what else can you do? Nothing, but it looks hilarious). Then it was my turn and I drive up to the middle one and see that there are about four billion letters on the verge of coming back out of the mail box it's so full, so I think, no I'll go to the next one, which looks just fine. Once I put my letters in, I realize that mine are now the ones about to vomit out into the street, so I think about it and reach in to take them back, only I take more than mine back and get some bills from other people. Then I think, oh, shit. I shove the bills back into the mailbox and beat feet outta there, with the coppers surely on my trails. I was actually immediately stopped. At a red light. And I made it back home, where we have a mailbox drop thing about a block from the apartment, so I just dropped them in there. Phew. Our landlord will hopefully get the check. And so far, mail tampering-wise, I'm in the clear (and don't actually think I'm under suspicion for such activity).

Look out, Christmas time, I'm so almost ready for you!

Couldn't Bear It

Well I've finished my third final paper and don't really want to reread it before just submitting it, but I suppose I should. Last night while I was working, I had yogurt with granola and honey for dinner. The honey was not that old, but my pantry is freezing, so it hardens and even after attempts to reheat it (stick the bear in hot water for a while, not the microwave!), it would quickly re-crystallize into waxy sugar mush. Delicious, but a real bitch to get out of the bear.

Having just about finished off the honey and having just bought a new jar of local honey, I did what I had to do. I couldn't waste time in the midst of paper writing. I'm sorry, bear, but I'm sure you're in Heaven and doing fine. Grad school requires sacrifices and your brain, btdubs, was delish.

The Big Explanation

I don't wanna write two more final papers! Two is just too many. And the shitty thing is I'm excited about the topics, but I can't come up with a thesis for the one I'm working on now. It's due tomorrow, but I was told I could have a few more days for it. I think I'll end up just writing a history of pictures of drowned women, from 1840-1890. Hooray. Someone's already done that, but I disagree with her one-sided view of things. Clearly there are two sides to everything, so I'll just write about both. Problem solved, except that I still have to write 25 pages expressing such.

What also sucks is my archive; it's all digital, but it's enormous, so I've scanned through like 500 items that return any of a number of search results. It's fascinating and I want to read more, but, we don't get points for reading!

It's especially hard to work when my lovely boyfriend is lying asleep in bed, which is a lot of the time. I just want to join him! And that's a good thing because it means we haven't fought yet and it's been about three weeks, so that's something. It's the longest we've ever spent in the same space together. We've gone to brunch and trivia and a party with my school friends of various sorts. I don't think I have any non-school friends other than my downstairs neighbors, but we did things with them long before J moved in. It's exciting, although he's definitely freaking out over the snow. It's not like he's never see it before. He's just been spoiled by being in the Southwest for so long. And while he's also been spoiled by not having a job and watching all of The Office, season 3 online (we got internet and I've been online now more in the last four days than the last four months I think), it's also meant he's done lots of cooking as "the thing" that he does around the house. We both need to clean, but whatevs. I've been spoiled by all the cooking he makes me, not because I'm some foodie, because then I don't have to make it and I don't have to go out for it. Scrambled eggs? At home? Cookie cake? What? You mean it's just cookie dough in a cake pan? (Obviously I knew this)

A funny story about cookie cake.

J made cookie cake from scratch last night. (We had bought one last weekend or the weekend before and couldn't handle it because it was literally pre-made and pre-cut cookie dough frozen cookies-to-be, the kind you that come in a Pillsbury tray, that had been put in a pan and baked. You could still see the outlines of the perfectly even-sized cookies. Wegmans fail.) So we're eating it and J says, "Well it's certainly sweet," and looks at me. My eyes dart away.

"Don't you agree it's sweet?"

I just start laughing, which makes him laugh.

"What recipe did you use? I was going to say it's subtle."

"Are you kidding me?"

And then I say, "Where are the sweet taste buds on your tongue?"

He has no idea so we look it up (ah, the joys of having internet not just on my phone) and discover they're on the tip of my tongue.

Anyone who has seen the tip of my tongue, which is probably one or two people, knows that there ain't much there. I either killed my sweet taste buds from sweet and salty overload, I never had them to begin with, or the years of licking serrated knives clean of peanut butter and drinking hot hot hot hot tea and coffee, etc have all taken their toll. Some days I have more taste buds there than normal. But now so much is explained. Really, I think it's a smart trait, since now I can eat anything without it being too sweet for me, right?

That being said, I'm going to limit my sugar intake and see if they grow back. They'll be begging for it soon enough.

In other news, I'm excited to go home for the holidays, which means I should probably get to writing.

(A special thanks to Didi for yelling at me to post!)