WWFD?

Maybe I've been watching too many episodes of Frasier, but I thought it might be fun for you all to interpret a dream I have had a few times over the past year. A little game of What Would Freud Do?, if you will.

In my dream, I buy this awesome house. It's huge and Victorian and the complete opposite of my real house.

BUT, I am relegated to the main floor because the attic has been rendered unusable by some very proper and very evil Victorian ghosts. They spend their days lounging in parlors and watering ferns (don't ask me why, but that just seems like something a suffragette would be all 'bouty 'bouty) and wearing corsets and they do NOT act kindly to non-ghostly visitors like me.

I also cannot go downstairs because it is constantly moving and crumbling and it looks like a really cheesy 70sVegas-style hotel with a carpeted refrigerator. It's also covered in bugs.

So, readers. A dream where I live in a house with no usable basement and no usable attic - can any of you tell me what this could possibly mean?

My vote is that this is proof positive that DIY house renos will indeed change your mental makeup - even way before they are started (the attic isn't on tap to get tackled for at least another two or three years) or after they are finished (happy five month-a-versary, Finished Basement!).

Signs I Might be Crazy, Installment Six

The other night, friends were coming over. I hadn’t seen them in a few months, so it was going to be fun. But, I was also making one of my favorite dips that I haven’t had in a whole year. I was equally excited about the social interaction and the dip. Maybe just a smidge more excited about the dip.

(Ladies, please do not take this personally. You know how I adore adore adore my dips. If it wasn’t super morbid and highly illegal and possibly poisonous, I should like to be cremated and mixed into sour cream and served with butterfly crackers. Dip and I, we have a history that cannot be denied.)

PS the dip was this.

PPS When all was said and done, the friends and conversation trumped the dip. They're funny gals, my pals.

Signs I Might Be Crazy, Installment Five

Been a while since I brought out the nuttiness around here and frankly, I miss it. So, without further ado - the two songs I (who am a terribly nervous flier and once muttered horribly un-lady-like things at an old woman after enduring a particularly shaky and life-threatening flight from Lisbon) listen to when I need to calm down on flights.





Making sense, everyday.*

*Also my blog's motto, except replace "sense" with "cents." My day job is in no way threatened by me becoming a full-time blogger.
**When spell-checking this bad boy, Blogger said "blog's" was misspelled. Fo' realz? That's wack.

One Thing Thursdays: Athens

One day early!

Today, my friends, all I have is this:

Yes. Me. Doing the Running Man. On the stairs of some ruins in Athens.

Have fun. Be careful of the ouzo, she's a meanie in a bottle.

Please forgive the head-to-toe denim, the wild bleached hair, the absurd look on my face and my errant tummy. Times were different.

Signs I Might Be Crazy, Installment Four

Sometimes, my logic just isn’t logical. For example, this week, I’m restocking my contact supply. Therefore, spring is officially here.

My annual eye exams/contact replenishment is always in the spring, so I can’t help but tie these things together. Do you ever keep track of time by medical appointments? I’m at the dentist, so I need to buy little Billy’s birthday present? Flu shot time, so I should start thinking about the Thanksgiving menu? Annual lady exam means it’s time to buy sunscreen?

No?

OK.

Signs I Might be Crazy, Installment Three

We are meeting with our tax guy this weekend. While dear old Dad has done a real whiz-bang job since I first started scooping ice cream at age 15, the time has come to bring in a professional. I mean, I changed jobs, bought a house, got a fatty first-time buyer’s credit, used that to get some blissfully draft-free, tax-credit-eligible new windows, and got married.

Taxually, that boggles my mind. The mister and I could not even fill out our new W4s without a quick call to the tax man.

Why is this a Sign I Might be Crazy?

I’m really looking forward to spending Saturday morning with the tax guy. I’m ridiculously excited to see how my withholding changes and (most importantly) what our return will look like. I’m no math genius, but I sure do like big numbers on checks made out to me.

Signs I Might Be Crazy, Installment Two

I was reading a fitness article that had a call-out about "high knee kicks." And I giggled. Heiney kicks? Bwahahaha

Signs I Might be Crazy, Installment One

Noticed lighting in a public restroom made the water in the toilet reflect ripples on the ceiling. Found it peaceful before realizing the reflection originated in a toilet. source

I thought I was all super-Zen, but clearly, as a woman seeking peace anyway she can get it, I am not.