Friday, October 26, 2007

I'll sleep when I'm dead

I've been insanely busy the past week and a half. Which isn't really a bad thing; I've figured out over the past few months that I actually like being busy. As in constantly doing something. The only flaw with this is that most of the stuff keeping me busy is so intense that by the end of the night, when I normally update, my brain is mush and conversation is reduced to me going 'uhhhhh' in a zombie like tone. This also what my mornings often sound like, during the first five minutes when I am talking myself into getting out of bed. I am not one of those people that wakes up easily, unless I have a deadline or a test, and then it is the panic that gets me out of bed, not pure unbridled love for the world. If I ever wake up and immediately greet the day with a smile, my family will know that I have been traded in for a pod person.

This past week has been a mess of meetings, class work, homework, knitting, tests, and other miscellaneous things. You ever have one of those weeks where you're constantly bouncing from place to place and thing to thing and you're so excited about everything that you can't sleep because you're brain just won't shut down? Or is that just exclusive to me?

I mostly blame my friends for the lack of sleep: two friends I haven't seen in a while(one since Christmas time and the other in early September) are in Athens this weekend for the block party, and I have been so jazzed about them coming into town that I've been like 'YAY AIR! YAY SUN! YAY EXISTENCE!' all the time. I mean, I have things to stress over, things that would actually make sense for keeping me up until 2:30 in the morning, but pure excitement? THAT IS NOT NORMAL. Maybe I have been exchanged for a pod person and don't know it. I mean, I am normally a happy person, but this week I have been bordering on obnoxiously happy. I actually was irritable today, and I was like, 'oh, thank god, I'm turning back into a person.'

I can only imagine how great it's going to be to be around me if this weekend goes well at all.

(Please note: I am really really sleep deprived as I write this, and I also spent part of my afternoon writing a post for Speakeasy. Hopefully I will make more sense when I post next.)

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Playing dress up

Over the weekend, I was mistaken for a guy. I was in a hotel lobby with my dad and the short one, waiting for my mom to wrap up a meeting, when this man walked up and asked if I knew where the elevator was.

More precisely, he said: "Excuse me, young man, do you know where the elevator is?" Dumbstruck (last I checked, I do, in fact, happen to look like a girl), I pointed and croaked out, "That way." He then slapped me on the back and told my dad, "I figured if anybody would know where the elevator was, it'd be this guy."

Sure, I was sprawled out across a chair in such a way that it might have been hard to tell that I happen to be, you know, A GIRL. Yeah, I was wearing a hat that isn't necessarily the most girly hat in the world. Let's not forget my creaky voice brought on by a cold.

But I was wearing shoes with pink stripes! And jeans that actually fit, which not many guys seem to go for. I figured I looked somewhat girly.

My first reaction was to buy one of those pink ribbons, the one's little newborns get before they start growing in hair so you don't have to constantly inform people that the little thing you're toting is a girl. Maybe even get a few dozen. Because subtlety is over-rated.

My next, and arguably more logical reaction, was to just try dressing a little more like a girl. I tend to live in jeans and t-shirts, and have been slowly inching towards wearing a few of the skirts and dresses I've managed to accumulate over the past several years. This just pushed me over the edge. I have been mistaken for a boy maybe twice before this, and the one time, I was wearing a polo, the kid only saw me from the back, AND my hair was significantly shorter.

If this was a few months ago, it wouldn't really be bothering me. I've just finally started getting comfortable with being a girl, and dressing up when I feel like it, or painting my nails(which I did for the first time in a year yesterday. It looks about as bad as you would expect after not painting them for a year), and it just really grates on me that I can feel so girly, and yet still be mistaken for a boy. I'm restraining myself from drenching myself in pink clothes and accessories, but when you see me and I'm not in my usual 'I fell out of bed and grabbed what I knew was clean from the top of my dresser' garb? Don't be surprised.

Friday, October 12, 2007

A lazy post

The cupcakes are more fierce in color in person-more pink. FAR more pink. I don't know how the banana bread turns out so shiny, other then maybe the tofu? I've been asked many times, and it's the only logical explanation.

This post shall be known as the I am lazy but still felt like updating post. Marvel at my baking skills while I research cell phones and marvel at my younger brother, sitting still, reading Harry Potter:

He doesn't sit still. Period. The reading bug finally caught him.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

First three rows will get wet

The Dude was in a really good mood today. I mean, he's normally in a good mood, but this was one of those good moods where I wished I didn't have to put him down for his nap. You don't get many of those, whether you're the baby-sitter or the parent, I've learned.

He wasn't overly bouncy or asking questions that seemed to result in an endless series of 'why's. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with a three year old who feels the need to respond to every answer with a 'why?' It's cute the first few times, but eventually you slip into the 'because' mode. It's either that, or answer every time, and lose a small piece of your ability to be a normal person in the process; I say 'why?' more than I did a year ago. Which is arguably a good thing, but I was happy to not always feel an urge to ask why.

Anyway: He was excited about having gotten to go to a petting zoo with his preschool, and, as a result of the field trip, had to have a bath. Baths and the Dude always seem to go well together-though I have to start it with the knowledge that my nice, dry, warm clothes are going to be soaked within seconds of him diving into the bathtub. (And I'm not kidding about the diving. He LOVES water.)

I have no problem with bath time. It is one of the few occasions where I am allowed to fully participate in whatever game he has made up for that moment. Most of the time, I get told that what I just said for the doll I'm holding is NOT what it was supposed to say, and then told what I am supposed to say. Thankfully, we don't play with dolls much. Or are they action figures when you're a boy? I mean, they don't look like action figures.

Today was no exception to the usual awesomeness of bath time. Especially the part where he decided to splash me to the point of my hair being soaking wet and my pants and shirt looking like I just spent ten minutes in a drizzle, artfully missing select drops so as to accomplish a nice splatter pattern. It always starts with a few splashes from him throwing something in the air, and next thing I know, I'm wondering if the door should have as much water on it as it does. He gets 'bath' and 'pool' confused, I think, because I didn't get splashed that much over the summer, when we spent a multitude of hours playing with his kiddy pool and the hose.

I don't think he'd do it if I didn't put up with it, but if there is one thing I'm known for with that kid, it is putting up with stuff. There was one point last year where I was carrying around my dinner for the night in my bag, and he eventually figured this out. From that point on, I learned to pack more food, because he could easily down half of my dinner, and to be prepared for him to go diving in my bag, asking what food I had with me today. Which, while proving that my mom is an infinitely awesome cook, also completely reorganized my bag so that I didn't have to worry about him tossing my CD wallet across the room in search of some fake tuna casserole.

After his bath, he decided to crash for nearly three hours. It always seems to work out so that the days I'm willing to listen to him play drums for an hour straight, he passes out for the majority of the time I'm there. Sure, I get a lot of homework done, but I always feel a little guilty, like 'I was supposed to hang out with you, but because you slept all afternoon, I basically just sat and did nothing.' I don't think he cares, but I do, and sometimes it bugs me. Not today though. Today he was happy and I was happy and there was no major mayhem or destruction involved to get there. Today just kicked ass.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Guaranteed to get double takes

So, it's been a little while since I've updated. I could come up with a variety of reasons, ranging from the large stack of school work I have (I have to read Beowulf, the Canterbury Tales, and Hamlet in the next two weeks, because I've not yet and I need to for my English class), to my own inclination to put off doing something I'm good at, because I figure eventually I'll write something really awful and never be able to post a blog again for the shame of it. Hey, I'm a variety of contradictions and oddities. You get used to it.

But a picture says a thousand words, and this one says a lot about how my mornings have been for the past eleven days:

It's from the morning after the Atari's show, so I was basically talking myself into getting out of bed. A lot of mornings look like that for me. Only my hair usually hasn't decided to stick up in seventeen different directions. Most mornings, it limits itself to six.

So what have I been doing, besides procrastinating?

Cleaning. And getting ready to cave into the fact that I want to bake.

I spent all of Saturday cleaning my house, and nearly vacuumed our dog by the end of the day. To say that she sheds would be an understatement; it's more like she's trying to go bald, and failing miserably. There was fur in piles around the game cube, in shoes, in the spider webs I sucked out of the corners. Whenever Dreamer gets excited, she sheds, which is perhaps the most aggravating thing in the world. The shedding just never, ever ends. If she wouldn't hide under my mom's bed for several days afterward, I really would vacuum her.

The upside to all the cleaning (it really wasn't that fun; if I ever meet anyone who can say cleaning is fun, I will assume that I just met Martha Stewart. And I will walk away) was that I got to fill up the CD player and actually got to listen to some albums I either hadn't gotten to yet, or hadn't really just listened to in a while. Nellie McKay's new album kicks ass; anyone that can sing a song about feminists and another song about zombies and have you singing along to both is pretty much a genius.

So, I'm gonna talk about the aforementioned baking, and then I've got notes to type up, textbooks to read, and other fun bits and pieces to do that fill my day and leave me wondering if giving up coffee was really such a brilliant idea.

I haven't baked anything in a month. I used to bake at least once a week, and, after a month of not baking, I think I'm finally going through withdrawal. I look at bags of cocoa and wonder how many cupcakes I would get out of it. I pick up jars of instant espresso powder and put them back several times during shopping trips. There is no substitute for baking- not learning, not knitting, not the Internet. I want to bake.

I used to bake for this one guy, but he moved up north a few months back, and as good as I am at baking, I don't think my stuff can survive the mail. I also used to bake for Donkey, but my mom's taken that over for the time being- I make banana nut muffins. She makes pumpkin muffins. Pumpkin muffins trump banana nut muffins. I would complain, but when I can eat three in a row without blinking, I probably shouldn't. Technically speaking, I've had no reason to bake for the past month. But when you really love something, you like to do it even when you have no reason. Besides, nothing can brighten one's day like giving someone a still warm pudding cake and seeing their reaction.

I also have been, in a way, avoid baking lately, because I think once I start again, I won't stop. My parents would come home to find me surrounded by cupcakes, muffins, cookies, and several different types of frosting. You can only give away so much before your friends can't eat anymore, and my family is kind of iffy when it comes to some of my more experimental cupcakes (green tea cupcakes ended up going to the dog (they tasted odd to me too); chum (chai and rum) cupcakes had to be encouraged. Heavily. Alcohol bakes off when you cook. They didn't really believe me.).

Even though I want to bake so much that I'm not sure if I'll be able to stop, I'm going to. Because I need something that is not processed and filled with high fructose corn syrup, that I know will taste good. In addition to the needing something I know is healthy, or that I can at least pretend is healthy (vegan cupcakes are healthy... right?), I promised a couple of people from around town some baked goods. Besides, the looks I get when I walk around town with boxes full of goodies are almost as good as the ones I get when I wear my peep hats. (Which I can't describe, other than they're colorful and poofy and have nearly caused people to walk into street lights because they're too busy staring at my head.)

So when I post again and it's a bunch of pictures of cupcakes and banana nut bread and latkes(I've been craving them like mad for some reason)? Try not to drool all over your keyboard.