Spiced Pumpkin Smoothie

My new fall kick is pumpkin smoothies. They are relatively healthy, and my version only has 145 calories.

Throw the following ingredients into a blender:
1/4 cup canned pumpkin (not pie filling)
1 tablespoon whipping cream. The kind that comes liquid in a carton, not in a can.
1 cup milk. Actually, that is a lie. I dislike milk, so I use 8th Continent Light Vanilla soy milk. Vanilla soy milk is delicious and I highly recommend it.
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

Blend it all up till it's smooth. Pour into a glass and serve with graham crackers (it brings in that pumpkin pie crust feel).

Honestly, I am a lazy cook and don't measure most of the time; I just kind of eye things up. Usually I end up putting in more than 1/4 cup pumpkin, which makes it thicker (use a bit more sugar if you do this). I use a straw for supreme suction when I make a thick drink, because otherwise you'll be staring at the deliciousness stuck to the bottom of your cup.

If you want it creamier then you can add in more whipping cream. The next time I make this I think I am going to try brown sugar instead of white sugar and see if it makes a difference.

If you want to get fancy, use some of that whipping cream and actually whip it for a tasty little dollop on top. If you've never made whipping cream, I suggest this. Because of my lazy factor, I only did this because it looks better photographed. Sprinkle a bit of cinnamon on top.

This recipe is just for one single serving (a bit over one cup), so if you are making it for more people, be sure to increase proportions. This is where adding fractions applies to real life. If you have a 4th grade student you should make them mix up 7 servings as homework. You can grade their efforts based on the resulting taste.

I like to make this for breakfast or for a snack. Dunking graham crackers in it is pretty tasty.

Make one and let me know how it turns out!

Domestic Domination

 I made my students write a short paper last week called "Ten things that are worse than_______." They had to start by picking a daily activity that they did not enjoy, and then describe ten other things that are even more terrible than that. As you can see, I really like to focus on the positive with my students. For my writing example, I wrote "Ten things that are worse than making my bed." Vacuuming made it onto the list. I described to the kids how I absolutely abhor vacuuming, because the vacuum is large and cumbersome, I always get too hot, emptying the vacuum is gross, and it takes forever plus a minute.

I vacuumed my house today [applause]. I was really dragging my heels about it, but then I tricked my brain into believing that I enjoy vacuuming. I realized that the new vacuum I bought over spring break really is quite fabulous, because it actually sucks up dirt with a vengeance. So I cruised around my living room, running over crumbs and clods like a maniac driver trying to hit pedestrians for points. "Got you, you little sucker!" I'd say. "Mwahahaha, you are no more!"

Basically, don't ever come to my house while I am vacuuming, because I will probably frighten you with my tactile plan of capturing the groadies lying on my floor. I'm like a vacuuming ninja.

I had previously thought that I hated emptying the dirt canister, because usually I get all dusty. But as I emptied it (twice) today, I realized what sort of magnificent satisfaction it offered. I had visible proof of my work, and I awed at how much nasty was actually sitting on my mostly-clean-looking carpet. Shaking out that collected dirt was better than popping an overly ripe zit. Both tasks are disgusting, but you know you feel satisfied when it's done.

I marveled at how easily the vacuum glided across the carpet, at how powerful the hose really was. I could suck up a loose hamster with that thing. Not that I ever would. I am against harming cute, cuddly pets. As I observed the air inside the see-through canister spinning rapidly, circulating that dirt and hair round and round with unending speed, I realized that the rapper of "move your body like a cyclone" was actually referring to his stellar Eureka vacuum, and not some slut on a pole.

I've got a cyclone in a canister and it is wreaking havoc on all the dirt in its wake. It's like the equivalent of Joplin, Missouri being spun into confusion. Only, you know, with tortilla chip houses and gray fuzz people.

When I completed my wrath, I dusted off the outside of my vacuum, like a soldier wiping blood from his sword. I put my weapon back in the closet and shut the door, a blade nested back into its sheath.

Google images provided me with this frightening photo of my vacuum.

One battle down, another to fight next week. Or you know, in three, depending on how much I feel like cleaning.

Good Wife/Bad Wife

It's quite debatable whether or not I'm suitable for marriage, though the usefulness of man has recently become apparent to me through observations of my brother-in-law, cousin, and my friend Leslie's husband. More on them in section two.

This post is going to be divided up into three sections:
*Why I would be a bad wife
*The usefulness of man
*Why I would be a good wife

Why I would be a bad wife

Point 1
I buy what I like

Well readers, you know how just prior to spring break I posted all those photos of my house and gave you a home tour? After that I decided to make some domestic improvements, and on the second to last day of break I went out and dropped a wad of Jacksons on a new vacuum, living room rug, and pillows. Here are pictures.

This rug doesn't shed like the white wool one I had from Ikea.

I think these pillows are darling.

I really love my new rug and pillows. I mean, the old ones were okay, but I love these ones. I think it's important to own things you really love and to get rid of what you don't like. Anyway, so after coming home and unloading the goods, I thought to myself "boy, it's a good thing I'm not married or else my husband would be mad at me right now for spending all that money." I felt guilty for a bit. Then I realized if I were married, that means I would have had a bridal shower/wedding presents, and I wouldn't have had to buy all this stuff myself, because I fully would've registered for all of it. So my imaginary husband couldn't be mad at me.

Point 2
I suck at doing laundry

About two weeks ago my friend Natalie was over when I was doing laundry, and I made an aggravated comment about how I just discovered a tissue completely torn up and stuck to all my clean clothes. This makes me very upset, because I really do check all the pockets first. Natalie said to me, "this whole tissues-in-your-laundry-thing happens to you more than anyone else I know." I was a tiny bit offended because that makes me sound careless--also, like I have a super snotty nose, which I don't.

I thought to myself "surely this doesn't happen to me every time I wash clothes." Well folks, today I went to put my wet laundry in the dryer and noticed bits of Kleenex stuck to about everything. Why, God, why? I checked the pockets. I swear what happens is that the Laundry Gremlin who lives behind the dryer sneaks out and just drops tissues into the washer as it's going, just to spite me. Laundry Gremlin got bored of stealing socks, so he decided sabotaging an entire load of dark clothes would be more effective. If I had a husband, I think he'd be really mad about the whole torn-tissue-stuck-to-his-black-pants thing. But I always pick the stuff off before putting the clothes away. I'm dedicated to correcting my errors so that nobody knows they ever happened--sshh.

Point 3
I never cook
I was starving after church yesterday, so when I came home I went straight to the kitchen. I found my roommate in there cooking. As I started to get provisions out of the fridge, she says to me "do you need to cook something?" Because you know, she was taking up the stove space with her noodles and sauce and who-knows-what. I said "no, I think I'll just zap something." This lead to her asking "how often do you actually cook?" I had my nose in the fridge looking for the salsa while I thought about it. I replied, "Ummm, well...pretty much...never." I was quick to add "But I baked cookies yesterday!" While it's true that I do not often dirty a pot or pan, I enjoy baking up a storm for a good purpose.


The usefulness of man

Point 1
They fix your house

So last week my sister and brother-in-law had to rip out their shower due to a crack and install a new one. I went over to inspect their progress. When I got there, I was shocked to find my sister sitting on the couch watching TV while Travis, my cousin, and Travis' brother were putting in the new tub. I was surprised because my sister is very much the "I can build it myself/fix it" kind of girl. If the boys weren't there, she totally would have been helping her husband through it all. After I walked in, I said, "Have you just been sitting here the whole time? Not doing anything?" She told me, "Well, pretty much. But I did have to go to Home Depot three times." So essentially the men folk just tell her what they need her to buy, she buys it, brings it back, and they put it in. I reflected upon the men doing all the hard labor and said, "Geez, I need one of those," like they're a Ken doll you can just pick up in the toy aisle of Target.

Point 2
They carry heavy stuff

Last month I went on a church retreat with my friends Kaitlynn and Leslie. When Kaitlynn and I got to Leslie's house, the front door opened and I said to the person who was hiding behind the luggage, "Do you want me to carry anything for you?" And then I realized the person carrying all the cargo was not Leslie, but her husband Kaleb. "Oh, never mind." Leslie came down the stairs shortly after, carrying a smaller load. The fact that a person's husband would be nice enough to carry his wife's gear down the stairs, up the street, and to the car amazes me. I don't even think Leslie had to whine about it. I think Kaleb just did it. Because you know what I would've pictured? This:
WIFE: Hey honey, my ride is here for the retreat.
HUSBAND: (while watching TV or playing video games) Okay Sweetie. Have a nice time. See ya later.
WIFE: Love you! (struggles down stairs with bags)
Thanks to Leslie and Kaleb, I now have a different scenario in my head. They're cute together.

Point 3
They help you when you need it

Last week my mailbox stand needed to get fixed, and my overgrown winter lawn needed to be mowed. I wasn't too excited about attempting to fix the mailbox stand, because the use of a saw was required. My cousin Jason nicely offered to fix it for me. Then on Friday I was out cutting my grass with my 1950s style grass cutter, but the job was overwhelming since it hadn't been mowed since November. It was practically knee high. I texted my cousin and he came over after class to help me. By help me, I mean he put his lawn mower in the back of his truck, drove to my house, and cut everything down. It was beyond awesome.

Why I would be a good wife
1) I'd take back the rug and beautiful pillows if he asked me.
2) I'd love him enough to pick the Kleenex remnants off his laundry. Even if it were his fault.
3) I can bake cupcakes and cookies.
4) If he wanted me to cook food in an actual pot or pan, I would learn. And I don't mean the "oh, it's passable" kind of cooking. I mean, if his meals were that important to him, then I would learn to cook well. If I put in the effort to learn how to do something, I want to be the best I can at it.
5) I'm really good at saving money and getting my bills paid on time.
6) I would brag about how awesome he is on this blog.
7) I can get ready in ten minutes.
8) I'm not super needy. Or even needy. If he wants to leave for a week to go visit friends in Colorado, whatever. If he's going to Italy he'd better take me with him, because that boot is still on my list. And I really want to ride a Vespa.
9) My kitchen is very clean 98% of the time. Husbands might not think that they care about this sort of thing, but they do. Or at least mine better, because my clean kitchen is what I have going for me right now.
10) I could write words to make a grown man cry. And I'm not talking tons of mushy sap; I'm talking words that shake, shatter, or move your soul because you are so incredibly loved. Not to sound haughty, but I write better love letters than Cupid ever could. No man has ever received such a letter from me, but if one ever does, he'll be wishing I left the Kleenex remnants stuck to his black sweatshirt because at least then he'd have something to dab his waterlogged eyes with.

I've Been Framed!

A few weekends ago I picked up a super nasty gold painted frame from Goodwill for $2.99. We're talking so hideous that even some out-of-fashion grandma decided it was too ghastly to keep in her house. I fixed it to look like this:

I think turquoise makes anything look better

What's handy about the clothes pin design is that I can change the photos out easily and frequently. Because, you know, I have lots of friends and have to replace their faces often in order to keep track of who I know.

Another crafty venture I took on was this felt leaf garland for my dining area window. It took like all of 78 cents for materials. Which, you know, is surprising because it looks so expensively made.

Crafting things on the weekends is so much better than grading math tests.

The thing about registries is...

you always want to buy something for yourself. Or at least I do. I mean, here I am, printing off ten pages of gifts someone wants, I'm gonna go shopping, and not get myself...anything?

And lets just say, hypothetically speaking of course, that your three childhood best friends all get married in the same year. And your sister's two best friends get married as well. Not that this actually ever happens in real life. Because why would that happen to someone who is single and already has a house that needs to be filled with beautiful home goods purchased on somebody else's dollar? This is purely hypothetical.

So there I am, like seven registries in (because I have to go to bridal showers too) and that's when I realize what I've been doing this whole time. I bought those drinking glasses for the bride and a silicon spatula for myself. I purchased a ladle and serving ware for another bride and a turquoise Martha Stewart flour container for myself. And all the while, when that silver ladle is in my shopping basket, I think about how when Brittany gets married she is going to take her ladle with her, and then my house will no longer have a ladle, and okay, maybe I don't even eat soup that often, but what if I did? I totally need a ladle. So I might as well buy one for myself. What happens is I go into Target thinking I'm going to spend about thirty bucks and I leave spending 98 with a shopping cart full of stuff. Because I really needed that new soap pump and washcloths. Because this is torture, looking at all these lovely things and choosing gifts for someone else.

What happens is I'm looking at the cashier, handing over my money when I look down and realize something. I've got a stack of registries printed out with various brides' names at the top of them, and I'M NOT REGISTERED. We won't get into the emotional aspects of that, but what I'm trying to say is, I don't need to be registered because I don't need a vegetable steamer or a rolling pin (wine bottle works just fine), or matching silverware or a rice cooker or a crock pot or high balls or low balls or martini glasses or more than two bath towels or a basting brush or a meat thermometer or a pepper mill or picture frames or a tent or camping equipment or a pancake griddle. I don't need any of those things. What I need is to just go to the ATM and put some money in an envelope so I don't even look at the registry or go in the store. Of course I realize this after the last gift has been bought for the season. But you know, there's always next year.

An HGTV Moment

For about two weeks I turned my garage into an HGTV design studio, where I re-painted and re-upholstered this ugly chair and three of its friends.

I think it speaks for itself.

And then I got to work and ended up with this.

The paint color is called Oasis and was left over from a design I did in my bathroom. The fabric is Indian Duponi silk, and looks mostly orange but shimmers pink in the sunlight. Let me just tell you that this project was not a two-day thing. Getting staples for my borrowed staple gun (thanks Natalie's dad) was a two-day thing. Sanding was a two-day thing. Painting was a five-day thing. And getting the screws to cooperate when re-attaching the seat was a two-day thing. But whatever. It's finished.

I added the chairs to my patio, which was quite blah, as seen below.

And then I got some more stuff to put it all together, and voila, here it is.

In the daylight...

And also,

at night. 

Here's everything I used:

old nasty wooden chairs, from a relative

Oasis paint, left-over from bathroom project

orange/pink Duponi silk, Hancock Fabrics

folding table, Target

orange and pink polka-dotted table cloth, is actually a flat sheet folded in half, and has been in my closet for years

Moroccan table lantern, Ross

mosquito net canopy, used to hang over my bed when I was a high school student

mini mirrored star, Target

bulb string lights, Craft Warehouse

various plants, Home Depot

It is pretty simple but took much longer than expected, because everything that can go wrong will such as:

*peeling paint

*having no staple gun

*having wrong sized staples for staple gun

*screws not going into side of house because my siding is practically made of steel

*having to borrow a ladder from my sister

*solar string lights not working, having to return them, and finding an alternative

But it is finished. Any one want to come over for dinner at dusk?

1950s Throwback

Last Tuesday I kicked it old-school style and went to Sears Roebuck in search of a 1950s style grass cutter. We're not talking gas powered, self-propelled lawn mower with a bag. Oh no, we're talking old-school spinning blades on wheels. Much like this.

I don't have a white farm house or a dog, but I do have grass that needs to be cut. My neighbor, Handy Dan, has always mowed my lawn for free after he mows his own yard. I used to feel guilty about it, but then I realized it only took him 4 minutes, because my lawn is that tiny. That was last summer.

The second weekend in February was sunny, and I noticed my lawn was getting a bit tall. I didn't sweat it, then two more weekends passed and all my other neighbors were mowing their lawns. Conveniently, Handy Dan's grass hadn't gotten out of control, so he didn't.

All this to say it ended up being March 20th and my lawn was turning into a jungle. I am not going to walk over to Handy Dan's house and ask to borrow his lawn mower, nor am I going to wait around and expect him to do it. It's not his job, and I am fully capable. I just hadn't bought a lawn mower because he had done it all last summer, and like I said, it's a 4 minute lawn.

Because my lawn is so very miniscule, I decided the old-school grass cutter, hereafter known as a "push reel mower," might be ideal as it is small (better to fit in the garage), doesn't need gas (environmentally friendly), and is cheaper than a gas-powered mower.

I went to Sears with all this in mind, tried to talk to a sales associated but they were all a pain in the butt and were trying to convince me to buy a gas-mower, and finally ended up leaving with a push reel mower. Some assembly was required.

I'll spare you the details of that, but just know the instructions were not that helpful. In the end, my grass cutter was assembled, and I labored over my lawn for about three days. I had to cut it at the high setting because like I said, it was a jungle. Then I went to the medium setting. Yesterday I chopped it down at the low setting, so next time I cut it I only have to do it once. If you have a push reel mower, you can't let your green blades get out of control, or it will be very difficult to cut it the next time. The push reel mower is not for the lazy-I-cut-my-grass-once-a-month person (who I was before), and it is only good for people who have small, flat yards (which I do). So well, I'll let you know how it goes.

Now I am like this man, cutting my grass independently in an earth friendly way.

Smash that piggy bank

When you were a kid, did you ever pull up the orange-and-avocado-flower-print-70s-style couch cushions in order to look for loose change? Because you really needed that My Little Pony and had no money?

Well, since feeding the ATM machine my debit card, I am currently looking for cash money so that I can go to the grocery store. I've managed with (non)-essential* purchases with my credit card so far, but while I wait upon the arrival of my new debit card, it is essential to go grocery shopping. And Winco doesn't take credit. Because, you know, they are really awesome and high class and turn their nose down at that sort of thing.

So here I am, making my minimal list, trying to see what I can buy with $8.49. Or whatever. I didn't really count the cash in my wallet yet, but I am guessing it is around there. I do have a jar full of quarters though, and I might just take that with me to the grocery store. Then I can be that person whom everybody groans about. You know, the one that takes 17 minutes in line.

In the meantime, I've been really domestic around the house. Like, I scrubbed my shower with Fiber-Fab and then I even sealed it with white goop. I scrubbed the tile of my bathroom because I wanted to seal it too, but I'm still trying to get those dumb white grit marks out of the indentations. And I washed my rug. And potted some (fake) plants that look super real, because I tricked Kaitlynn with them yesterday. They were the expensive fake kind that look really real. Like you could almost pretend they smell like tulips and not some sort of polyurethane. I also hung a clock in the living room and a fancy shmancy mirror in the dining area. What I really need to do today is plant some grass seed outside, because I've been putting it off since approximately September 22nd, 2009. Since it just rained it is probably a really excellent time to plant some grass seed.

I also learned how to make these whimsical flower decorations. Is any one having a party soon? Can I make some for you?

Today reality needs to give me a good slap in the face, because I haven't done any school stuff and I need to teach the little buggers in 4 days, counting today. Boo.

You know the whole cash problem? I suppose I could pay with a check, but who does that anymore? And that wouldn't be as fun as digging through the couch cushions. Because hey, I found the remote.



*non-essential credit card purchases include things like t-shirts from Forever 21 and organizational structures from Ikea.

The ways I spend money

I originally wanted to name this post "Dolla Dolla Bill Psychology," but I thought my casual gangster slang might ruin my credibility. Plus, I took the silver grill out of my mouth when I edited. Thus, the responsible (yet boring) "The ways I spend money."

Let me preface this post by saying that while I typically consider myself good at managing my money, I will be honest and admit I practically fell off a financial cliff during December, so I am glad it is a new month and a new year so I can start fresh again. I basically felt like December didn't count, so I was spending loads December 28th-31st, thinking that I could just wipe it from my brain in January. But I'm usually never like that, really.

I've been reading a plethora of new blogs over the break, and a lot of them have New Year Resolution/goal posts (but not the kind you find in football). I admit, I will likely post a bit of something on such a topic in the near future. What I find interesting is the number of people who are aiming toward debt-free goals, and one of the ways they try to achieve this is through "the envelope system".

Don't get me wrong. I think a debt-free goal is fabulous. I wish my mortgage was all paid for. But this envelope system, it would never work for me. The whole concept is that you plan a budget, then take out all the cash you would need and put it in an envelope. For example, you have your grocery envelope with all the cash you plan to spend, your gas envelope, your entertainment envelope, etc. The people that do this say that it works because then they can't spend more than what they budgeted for. Makes sense, I guess.

I would fail at this. It's reverse psychology for me. I feel like cash is free money. I purposely try not to keep more than twenty bucks in my wallet because I don't feel guilty about spending the cash in my wallet. I feel like it is extra money. I feel like cash spent is money unaccounted for. Unless you are awesome at keeping receipts (I'm not), then you don't know where your money went. It's like "Okay, I know I started the week with fifty bucks, but now I only have 17 and I can't remember what I bought." Because, oh darn, the receipts were in my pocket that just went through the wash.

This is what I do:
I always use my credit card to pay for gas, and I always pay off the full amount at the end of the month so I never pay interest.

I try to pay for everything else on my debit card. The reason I do this is because it's all recorded for me on-line. I can't forget where I spent that thirty bucks, because I can log in to my on-line banking and see that I spent it at Target. I am compulsive about checking my on-line account. I do it at least twice a week. I am reminded week after week, month after month, of where I spent my money. I can't forget it, like I would if I just paid cash. For me, there's more accountability. Plus, it's easier to keep track of one debit card than it is to keep track of six envelopes or whatever. Plus, I like that my on-line spending report automatically categorizes for me. I can see how much I spent on gas, groceries, utilities, clothes, office supplies, health care, insurance, etc. etc.

If you are concerned about spending what you don't have, then just make sure there's not more money than what you want to spend in your checking account. Keep the extra in your savings account. But this is just me. I know the envelope system works great for some people. I just know I could never get it to work for me.

Interesting blogs:
Man Vs. Debt This guy and his wife (and daughter) barely own anything and are traveling around the world.

Samantha over at Mama Notes just posted this link to Enemy of Debt.

My battle with bathroom hardware

I got this wrapping paper the week after Thanksgiving at the Dollar Tree. I was way excited about it because I thought it was too cute. Then I was very proud of my wrapping job on this present. If you don't think it's cute, then keep your thoughts to yourself.

Inside said present was some office supplies, including, but not limited to the following file folder.











I got all of this snarky stuff at Pier 1, or you can order it online at www.knockknock.biz. You should check out the website because it has some really funny stuff on it.

Today I went to Craft Warehouse, bought a frame, some stickers, and paper so that I could craft this for my classroom. I'm going to hang it right outside my door. I made one for my sister and brother-in-law for Christmas, only theirs said "Love is spoken here."

I have like a million things to do during winter break, and I've only started (not finished) a few of them. I've realized that I have guilt issues. I feel like I should be getting stuff done and not laying around watching nine episodes of Early Edition on DVD. But I shouldn't feel guilty. On January 4th I'll have to go to work again, and then there will be more late nights working, extra hours spent at home grading papers, and un-paid Saturday mornings in my classroom. Really, I should feel guilty for trying to get anything done.

Still, I feel the need to justify myself. So this is what I did today. I went to the Craft Warehouse (explained above) and then I went to Home Depot to get foam blocks for the vents under my house, but I'm pretty sure I'll have to shove them in and break off the edges to make them fit, even though I measured the dimensions before I went. It's because they don't sell 7.75 by 7 inch vent blocks. Whatever.

Then I came home, made dinner, talked to Kaitlynn, and FINALLY HUNG UP MY TP DISPENSER! This is a big thing for me. I don't really want to get into it, because it makes me so mad. Long story short is that I hung it up, it fell down, I hung it up again, it stayed up for a while but you had to be very careful, then it fell down, then I hung it up, then it fell down. The screw kept coming out of the wall. Well, I fixed the problem by hammering a big ol' nail in there. Hah! That sucker's never coming out. You really have no idea. I've probably spent a collective five hours on that stupid thing. Tip: Don't buy your bathroom hardware at Wal-Mart. Basically, I feel I have validated the 12 hours I've spent reading/watching TV/looking at websites today just because I hung up that stupid toilet paper dispenser.

Tomorrow I plan on going in to school to get stuff done. We'll see if that actually happens. Ha!

Holiday Advice

As the holidays arrive, some people are put in awkward/frustrating/stupid/weird situations where they just don't know what to do. Here, I offer advice.


Dear TRP,
I'm leaving college to go home for the holidays. On Thanksgiving, I totally felt like I was 14 again. What can I do so that I don't feel like a baby this Christmas? I want my parents to realize I've grown up.

Dear Baby,
Drink a lot of vodka or put peppermint schnapps in your hot chocolate and watch a lot of R-rated movies. Make sure to stay up as late as you want and eat cereal for dinner like you usually do. This will help make you feel like you are still living your grown up lifestyle. Your parents will realize how mature you've gotten while away, and they'll stop treating you like a baby.

Dear TRP,
I already have too much stuff and not enough money to buy gifts for everyone, so I don't really want my friends to get me things for Christmas. What should I say when they ask me what I want for Christmas?

Dear Poor Clutter-Catch all,

Chances are if you say "nothing," they'll end up getting you something anyway. A lot of people just like to give stuff, because it makes them feel good about themselves. They don't give you presents because it makes you happy, they give gifts because it makes them happy to think that they've made you happy. So do yourself a favor. When they ask what you want, be uber-practical. Ask for stamps, toilet paper, scented soap from Bath and Body, and Crest toothpaste. Every year I ask my mom for dental floss and mascara, and I have yet to run out. If you're worried about returning the favor, buy them paper towels, Kleenex, shampoo, or paper clips (if they work in an office). They'll be elated with the practicality of your gift.


Dear TRP, 
I have a work Christmas party coming up and no significant other to take with me. What should I do? I don't want to be the only loner there.

Dear Table for One,
You have tons of options here. You could invent a fake boyfriend who is a businessman or musician, and make up an excuse for his absence. Or you could make sure everyone gets a lot to drink so that they stop being so judgmental. Or you could drink a lot while you're there. Or you could find a male escort like on The Wedding Date. Or you could arrange a first date via match.com and tell him to meet you at the party. Just don't let him know it's a party. Tell him that's where you live. Or you could text people all night long and be elusive in the corner.

Crafty Beavers go Postal

On Saturday I spent about two hours at the Craft Warehouse. I met Kaitlynn there, and we wandered around a bit. My purpose was to find a board and some paper or something to create a cute welcome sign for my house, to make it look like someone actually lives here. We got there at about 12 or 1, I don't really remember. But it was hardly crowded.

We were looking at frames when an announcement came on: free popcorn, free cake, and raffle tickets. I hadn't eaten lunch yet, so I was all over it like strawberry jam on toast. Then the madness began. Crafty beavers came out of the woodwork. Women and children of all shapes and sizes, eager to craft their day away sprung into the aisles. They just appeared. And then I went nuts.

I was looking at the paper aisle when I realized I wanted it all. I had no purpose for it, but the paper was too cute, or too shimmery, or too trendy to be left in the store, and it was too much. I started babbling to Kaitlynn about how I should own a paper store. I love to smell paper, look at paper, feel paper, taste paper...okay maybe not the last one. My problem was that while I saw all this paper I wanted, I couldn't find a suitable paper for my welcome sign background. Kaitlynn suggested we take a break from looking at paper, like how a mom might suggest to her son that he take a break from working a puzzle, because his spatial recognition isn't that great yet and he keeps trying to cram the square shape into the circle hole. 

I obliged and we wandered over to this section that had all these crafty demos. We both really wanted to make these wipe board calender things, and then we wanted to make double-framed ones, and then we saw the triple stacker and wanted more, more, more, like a fat man ordering super sized fries at McDonald's. The employee in her apron was telling us how easy it was to make the jointed-framed-wipeboard-calendar-magnetic-do-dad, like how a contortionist might suggest to you that cramming your body into a box really is not that difficult at all, as long as you stretch first.

We decided to take a break and go back to the paper. I still couldn't make up my mind, and Kaitlynn had to go take engagement photos because she's a pro and snaps excellent shots. Then I splurged. Like a child eating all the cookies when no one is watching.

I found these little 2 inch square chip boards that came in a pack, and I bought all the paper I wanted with the reasoning that I could glue it on to the chip board and make cute magnets. Never mind that I didn't buy magnetic backing. And I bought these dog-tag-esque charms, and some alphabet rubber stamps, and Christmas paper even though I hate it when people start decorating before Thanksgiving has even passed. But it is way cute. It has reindeer on it. And little peppermints. Basically, I'll take Christmas card requests, so that way I can craft you one and mail it to you. And then you will see how glorious the paper really is.

I paid for everything and then drove home, high on my purchases. I have yet to craft my welcome sign, but I am super excited for when I have more time to actually make it. I don't think I'll go to Craft Warehouse on a Saturday again, though. The mob of women is outrageous. And I am a part of it.

Does Al Capone do your shirts?

Okay, so I know laundry isn't the most thrilling topic, especially for guys. But I was reading this article about how a family of four might typically wash things as follows:

Monday: Launder all the sheets from all three beds. (1 load)
Tuesday: Launder child #1 and child #2’s clothing. (1-2 loads)
Wednesday: Launder adult’s clothing. (1-2 loads)
Thursday: Launder towels. (2 loads)
Friday: Launder child #1 and child #2’s clothing. (1-2 loads)
Saturday: Launder adult’s clothing. (1-2 loads)
Sunday: Rest, or launder a load of delicates.

If you are like me, then you might be thinking "Oh mis gatos y holy frijoles!" Who wants to do laundry every day? Seriously, you have to wash your clothes twice a week? And okay, I get it, if you have an uncontrollable sweating problem like my high school biology teacher did, and you pit-out in every shirt you wear. But if not, it seems unreasonable. Am I gross that I don't wash my shirts every time I wear them? Do I smell? Somebody, tell me, please. Granted, I wash my clothes more often during the summer on account of the whole perspiration thing, but still. Twice a week?

I usually do my laundry every two weeks, minimum. I know I've gone longer in between. Here's why:

I own 37 pairs of underwear. Subtract the 11 pairs that aren't that cute, or ride up, and I typically utilize 26 of them. That's just about enough for 4 weeks.

I own 26 pairs of socks. I usually don't wear socks at all during the summer (except when I go to the gym) because I am wearing flip flops most of the time.

I know I own at least 30 shirts, but I'd rather not count them.

Pants/shorts, meh. I don't really know, but I don't think it's a lot. I have like my favorite four.

I use one bath towel a week. You use it after you're clean, so why get a new one each time?

Confession: I pretty much wash everything together. I don't separate whites from my jeans, or look at the tags to determine fabrics that should go together or anything like that. I've had maybe five problems my whole life.

And that's it. Am I a freak? And seriously, do I smell? What's your laundry schedule like? How many loads do you do a week? Do you re-wear without washing?

Bonus: I really want to read Al Capone Does My Shirts, but I haven't yet. I have no idea what it's about, but it sounds interesting.

What Changed

When I was seven years old, my family built an addition on to our house. This meant I was subject to many boring trips to Home Depot. I remember riding in the cart and being pushed past the pink insulation. I remember my mother spending hours deciding what color/kind of light switch plates to get. It smelled of wood glue and lumber and paint. It was hot and stuffy and pure torture. I actually cried while in Home Depot, I hated it so much.

What changed (if anything)? Because I have fully gone to Home Depot more times than I can count in the past two months. For a week or so, I was going once or twice a day. I needed more paint for the bathroom, I needed a dimmer switch, blinds, a fridge, etc. etc. etc.

I made a trip last night by myself and I felt my old childhood feelings creeping up. It was chilly outside, but the store still seemed to hot. I could smell the insulation aisle even though I was clear across the building picking out things in the Home Garden section. I had a small desire to go to the outlet aisle, pick up a handful of light switches, and just throw them at people.

This is all very misleading to potential customers. I don't want to deter you. All of the employees in their little orange aprons are very helpful. But I feel some sort of anxiety creeping up when I go, like maybe I should take some meds prior to getting a shopping cart.

This is why I can never build my own house. Undoubtedly, I'd have to go to Home Depot at least three times weekly, and I would for sure have to be put on Xanax.

So parents, please, take caution. Home Depot is not a place to take children. Not unless you want them to have anxiety attacks while picking out flower pots.

Home Ec

I hate grocery shopping almost more than I hate shopping for pants. I always manage to get the cart with the one wheel that always wants to turn left and ram the woman in front of me. A worker is always stocking bananas whenever I go to the produce section. Always. Their timing is impeccable. I have to wiggle my way through to snatch a few, like a chimp swiping a snack from his elders. They are constantly out of mozzarella cheese. But the thing I hate most is the lines. You only have one check-stand open out of the 16 you have available? Really? Whenever I am stuck in these lines I am forced to look at the trashy magazines. I learn that yes, Jon really did have an affair with his kids' nanny, and that Kate had a secret plastic surgery. Madonna's adoption finally went through and a woman in Texas gave birth to a baby with a cone head.

Last week I plotted my grocery excursion. My sister recommended I go at the dead of night, because the grocery store nearest my house is open 24 hours a day. I was planning on being dead asleep at the dead of night, so instead I plotted my attack for 10 pm. I made my list and sketched out the aisles, labeling the Xs and Os like the head coach of a football team. Then I assembled my crew. Both of my roommates came. We got one cart and perused the aisles.

An absolute miracle occurred. There was no one stocking the bananas. I was free to move about and choose whatever delectable fruits I desired. We went up and down just about every aisle. I had to majorly stock up because I didn't want to go back for at least two weeks. We kept building the pile in our cart higher, like ancient Mayans building pyramids out of stone high enough to reach the sun. Only, you know, with single serve yogurts, pre-grated cheese, boxes of granola bars, and hydrogenated vegetable oil.

Our Grocery Extraction Team encountered just one opposing group: Cheerleaders. From Amity. The were all giggly and wearing their uniforms with their shorty short shorts and their glittery hair ribbons. We are talking straight up hysterical laughter in front of the cream cheese aisle. They couldn't hold it together. I thought maybe they were drunk, but someone's mom was with them. They were getting all the necessities that a high school cheerleader needs on a late Friday night: Cheetos, Capri Sun, hair spray, apples, and Mydol. These cheerleaders seemed to go every where we went in the store. They ended up being in front of us in line, at the one and only line that was open. The adolescent girls were still being giggly, pointing out Taylor Swift's hair on the cover of Seventeen, and Brad and Angelina's slew of children on US Weekly.

I'm loading 80 pounds of groceries onto the conveyor belt (which is ironically about how much most of them weighed), when Britt, Natalie, and I hear a highly intellectual comment. One of the cheerleaders points to a magazine and says "I'm so pissed. I haven't got this magazine yet, and I'm totally prescribed to it."

Yes, I am sure. Your doctor totally wrote a prescription for you to receive Cosmo. It's for your mental health. I am pretty sure if you are prescribed to a magazine, you need to pick it up in the pharmacy section of Rite Aid. Along with your Ritalin.

My grocery bill totaled $79.52 (which is coincidentally how much one of the cheerleaders wanted to weigh) and I took my bags home. Britt didn't get that much stuff, but Natalie did a fair amount of shopping as well. Stacking everything in our fridge was a challenge, and now it's like a Jenga puzzle every time you pull something out. Only, you know, with peaches and milk and salad dressing, instead of with blocks of wood. Because we're not beavers. Brittany's a duck.

And that is how my late night grocery experience went.

When I had maid service

I bought a toilet scrubber today. Exciting, I know. This is the kind of life I lead on Friday nights. I was at Target for the 5th time in the past 7 days, picking up things like shower rods, toilet wands, batteries, and rugs. Picking up the toilet scrubber reminded me of the short time in my life when I had maid service.

You see, there was this one time in New York where I was doing an internship for Teen Vogue and my friend/roommate and I got maid service once a week. Okay, so not exactly. But my sophomore year of college I lived in an on-campus apartment with three other girls. We had two bathrooms and one cleaning lady who would come scrub the loo. It was fabulous. I never had to worry that the porcelain throne would look less than royal. All I had to worry about was my psychotic roommate who stole my toilet paper because she would never take a turn buying it. Picture Olivia from MTV's The City with black hair and that's what she was like. Only weird. Because for a short time she kept flushable baby wipes in the bathroom and I think she wiped with them. Like maybe she had baby-type poo or something. She also jabbed peaches and beans down the sink with a knife, but that's a different story for a different time. Actually, I think I already wrote about that one time.

Right now I'm doing stupid things like checking out the web page of "It's on with Alexa Chung" and thinking Lenay Olsen should have gotten the job, but Alexa is fun I guess. I'm also uploading dumb videos from last weekend's family camp-out. Here's a preview. It gets more exciting in the following videos, I swear. Or maybe not. You'll see things like my sister being really bossy, me crafting costumes out of car trash, and me waving to passing cars. And then there is my favorite segment, the one that I replay four times because it makes me laugh so hard. But you'll have to wait for that one.

June Cleaver was insane

I sometimes think about how much fun it would be to live in the 50s. Wasn't that the poodle skirt era? And greasy diners? All the women with their pin curls and red lip stick?

And then I changed my mind.

Today I checked out Home Sweet Homewreckers, and this is something they had. It's from a 1955 issue of Good Housekeeping. Utterly ridiculous, too. Click on the photo to see in enlarged, and you can read what I'm talking about. The really great parts are underlined.

If zooming in on the photo doesn't work, go to this really long link to view it.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5n7FCStBiWGePwh9HORU_l_8Yd0afq2P3rZMjLamocQysJZufBEANYf3CGYTrabz9MZdW3FB6MinE50InuyugE4s9o25e3t6DrrgZtXdY5iGLaftIgiK1sv4_XlGRBr48dCotGgEdgOj/s1600/GoodHousekeeping1955.jpg

Crafty Pants goes to PDX

Here's some photos of things I made at work while teaching Messy and Marvelous camp two weeks ago. It's a mini bird house. Then I made a bird for it out of clay. I made a friend for him too.

They escaped from the zoo.

In other news, I am leaving for Portland this weekend to attend a writers' conference. It should be a lot of fun and I will most likely learn a lot of useful information. I'm bringing a few stories along so that I can smuggle them (and my business card) into the briefcases of literary agents when they are not looking. They'll need something to read on the plane home.

It's a good thing that I am leaving because I have been putting off grocery shopping for practically a week and more or less have no food in my fridge. I was going to go on Thursday night, but then realized I was leaving on Friday, so what was the point of buying bananas just so they could rot on my counter?

Cupcakes on my mind

I’ve really been into http://www.cupcakestakethecake.blogspot.com recently, and it has inspired me to become a better baker. For example, last week I whipped these up for my friend Katie and her roommates.

Then today, I remembered a dream I had over the weekend. In the dream I was at a shop that had cupcake stickers and cupcake towels and all sorts of things like that. I’m not obsessed, but really, who dreams of cupcakes? Maybe the trigger was the mini cupcake I ate on Saturday, which came from Izzy’s.

I wonder if some people have to go to cupcake rehab.