treat or treat

So every year my mom makes chili and sweet rolls for Halloween. The chili used to take three days (seriously) to reach its perfection. Due to its cooking duration, the smell literally seeped into our very beings, but when it comes to chili, this was worth the risk of eating your hair (Pantene was lost to the chili and your senses would become confused). In recent years, she's found a new recipe for chili that can be made the day you intend to eat it that is equally delicious. Actually I like it better. (Um, hi - it has cocoa in it - could life get any better?)

So this year, I am going to make...

sugar cookies.

Perhaps chili. If I feel like it.

All I know is that after this AWESOME month of not eating sugar cookies or other sweet treats, I'm very focused on SUGAR COOKIES. Not chili. Not sweet rolls.

Plus sweet rolls call for kneading, rolling, watching. They scare me. And sugar cookies don't require that I take their temperature to ensure that they taste heavenly and satisfy my intense craving for the stuff that is cane.

So if I disappear from social engagements for the next few days it is because I have slipped into a sugar cookie induced coma. A sublime, cookie-induced coma.

And I'd like to be left alone. :)

my very own vampire

Sometimes people tell me I remind them of Bella from the Twilight series. So I suppose I shouldn't be surprised...

Take the Quiz and Share Your Results!

Now wait a minute. If I'm Bella, does that mean that Jess is a...

in the leafy treetops

So among the many reasons to love fall, the changing leaves are definitely among the best. I snapped these just outside in what I suppose you could term our "front yard," if by front yard you mean the parking lot we share with several tenants that is pleasantly cushioned by trees.

Also, it should be noted that it's sixty degrees in our apartment (thanks to an open window), and I have no intention of turning the heat on.

Best time of year, fo' shizzle.

i confess...

...I could really use a sugar cookie right now. Topped with sugar. With a side of sugar. Please.

...I don't like water. Well, I do, but only when I'm working out. I'm trying really hard to learn how to enjoy it otherwise. I spent several years of my life guzzling it, so I'm not sure why I experience such an aversion now. My best trick is Crystal Light - virtually sugar free, but still drinking water. The good news is that when I'm sweating it out, I love the substance that is devoid of flavor. I crave it. I also love working out. Maybe I should work out longer, thereby increasing my water intake.

Or not. Because I also love napping. :)

...I'm actually excited to see Twilight (the movie, comes out 11.21.08). I have a natural inclination to move away from the trendy, but I can say that I read Twilight before the madness began. My sister was working at a bookstore and convinced me to read this "vampire book." So I got hooked first, so there. ;) And I still maintain that I don't approve of the duration of the series. It really could've ended sooner. And while I loved the first book (Twilight), I actually have to say that I loved The Host (not in the series, but by the same author) even more.

So there. :)

P.S. How many of you did NOT picture Edward looking like that? Um, he looks scary. If I recall correctly, he was more on the attractive side. This? I'd say more on the "I want to eat your neck, and actually I'm just made of stone not actually stoned, as it may appear" side.

potty humor

So Jess accidentally drops a bar of soap in the toilet. He thinks it's so funny, but I'm all stressed about the sweet smelling cube drowning in our bathroom, and the fact that her majesty may need to visit the throne some time soon. So although I don't really want to, the perma mom in me starts trudging to the bathroom to fish it out, as I'd rather have it removed than forget about it and send it cruising with a careless flush. But Jess jumps up and says, "No! No! I'll take care of it! It's my fault! I've got it!"

Then I hear the toilet flush.

If anyone was wondering, it takes roughly TWO DAYS for a bar of soap to dissolve in the inner workings of a toilet.

bee day

He's twenty-nine years young today.

Sometimes I feel bad that I missed the first twenty-seven. Especially the high school years.

Because I'm pretty sure I would've cheated off him in Pre Cal. Like totally. :)

i confess...

...I get extremely irritated by those who insist on working out without deodorizing. Now I understand that one might forget to grab their Secret if they're like running out the door in a hurry. It happens to everyone, right? I also get that when you're in Hong Kong it's just inevitable that at one point or another you will sweat the deodorant off anyhow, thereby blending into the natural stench of the city. But when you're headed to go WORK OUT, the implications include SWEAT. And sweat should involve DEODORANT.

...I have all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls on DVD. I love them. The Gilmore girls, that is. I've watched every season a few times at least (except the last season because it's DEPRESSING and I think the show totally deserves an eighth season to fix the disaster that was the seventh). I guess I haven't really watched them, per say. Usually I just put them on when I'm by myself, something to fill the empty space. When I was single, living alone, I had two roommates, and their names were both Gilmore. When Jess is gone all day at school, Gilmore. And when Jess is gone for the weekend, you better believe these girls are keeping me company. I like their quick wit, their mother-daughter bond, the inside humor that sometimes you don't get until like the fifth viewing.

If I ever get a dog, I'm naming it Gilmore.

...I LOVE FALL. On Wednesday it was eighty seven degrees. Today the Fall Fairy came to visit with a beautiful handful of fairy dust in the form of fifty eight degrees. With its leafy treetops, it seems that the whole of North Carolina morphs each fall. I absolutely love how beautiful the leaves are, how they change into something entirely new. It's pretty sad when they morph again, into winter. But not to worry as the popcorn will be popping in no time.

dreaming big

So lately I've been having troubles sleeping. My dreams include the following highlights:

1. Back at home in St. George, there was a ginormous tarantula up in the corner of our very tall vaulted ceiling. And how did my mom get it down? With the GARDEN HOSE of course. I remember being perfectly mortified that she was spraying the hose in the house making this disaster of a mess.

2. I woke up (in my dream), and I had pink chunks of hair. It wasn't cute, if you were wondering.

3. So I found out that you could go to ZCMI (um, ZCMI hasn't even been around for years) before they opened and work out on their sports equipment, like the floor models. It was an underground operation that some employees had going on - renting out the equipment that was for sale. Hey, it only cost one dollar. I wasn't complaining.

In the old days, I would fall asleep before my hair even began to take the shape of the pillow. Maybe I miss my Asian beds made chiefly out of particle board. Perhaps my spine had become aligned with the grains of wood. And now it's trying to mold itself to a pillow top, which is just causing all sorts of REM interruptions.

Late onset insomnia. That's what I have.

PHOTO: Jess captured this cheetah at the National Zoo in a blink. Or maybe he's sleeping standing up because he too dreams of pink spots in his hair.

vote for pedro

So Jess had a great idea: How about these incessant political campaign ads be relegated to their very own channel. That way, those who want to methodically pull their hair out, STRAND BY STRAND, can just flip to the Kill Me Channel and watch dirty campaigning to their hearts' content.

And the rest of us can just be happy that IT'S ALMOST NOVEMBER and this will all be over soon.

the king

Simba:
Everybody look left,
Everybody look right,
Everywhere you look, I'm
Standing in the spot light.

Zazu:
Not yet!

Jess snapped this while at the National Zoo this weekend. Every time I look at it, I start singing the Lion King. But it's no wonder this animal is called king. He looks so regal. I'm pretty sure I'd do whatever he asked, and not only because he'd eat me if I didn't. His sweet mane deserves some respect as well.

anniversed

So we went to (where else?) D.C. for our anniversary. It's totally our "go to" place. Amazing place, lots of free things to do, but even more - the free things are beautiful, inspiring, educational. The following about sums it up:

1. Our hotel was the convention location of ANIME U.S.A 2008. Okay. Seriously? It was like I was back in Tokyo, but backwards. Imagine several hundred white people (aged 16-25) trying to look like Japanese youth trying to make a statement. Which means they took the Harajuku look to the tenth power. Wigs, artificial battle wounds, ninja outfits, plus your classic Nintendo characters floating around. NOT NORMAL. But then the more we thought about it, the more we kind of liked the idea of these people having a place where they could go and have friends and be themselves.

It's kind of like when I go to the store. Luckily, myself doesn't require the use of moon boots or a pink wig.

2. We try to do one new thing every time we go to D.C. This time we stopped in Virginia at the Udvar-Hazy Air & Space Museum. If you have children, particularly those who think they can fly or those who want to fly, it's worth a visit. It's an absolutely amazing collection of aircraft dating back to the Wright boys and including the Enola Gay, a Lockheed Blackbird, and a Concorde. My heart has a little tender spot for flight and aircraft - the papa is a private pilot and he's worked at SkyWest Airlines for an eternity. I also did a little stint at the airline (not as a flight attendant because I know that's what you were going to ask, actually in the Communications Department - makes more sense right?). So the museum made me feel right at home.

Note: It does cost twelve buckos to park there, it is in no way near the other Smithsonian museums, but I think it's totally worth it.

3. For our anniversary dinner, we didn't really have a location in mind. In fact, we were suited up to head downtown to take night shots after dinner. So off we go looking like we stepped right out of Tourists 'R' Us. Then we smelled steak. Really yummy, delicious, aromatic steak. If I were Japanese I'd call it yummy and yummy so much. The aroma picked us up and deposited us - in our jeans, flip flops, back pack, the whole bit - in the lobby of Ruth's Chris Steak House.

I'm pretty sure that as we marched back to our table (heads held high), a woman with hair just as high dropped a hunk of steak onto her bedazzled skirt as she witnessed the spectacle that was us.

What?

I know, you're trying to decide if you're embarrassed or if you're secretly jealous that we ate really delicious steak. IN. OUR. JEANS.

we said yes

One year ago today, we said "yes."

I said yes to waking up to a redhead every morning. He said yes to waking up to a girl with hair in various states of sticking in the air, make up smudged under her eyes. I said yes to college football, followed shortly thereafter by the NBA season. He said yes to Ghost Whisperer, American Idol and a lifetime supply of Sprite Zero. He said yes to plans, lists, organization, and precise time. I said yes to (a little) spontaneity, going with the flow (all the way to Asia). He said yes to bathroom accouterments taking residence in his bathroom, which he'll never even have the occasion to use. I said yes to pulling the shower curtain closed every day. He said yes to my (matching and coordinated) bed set. I said yes to his elbow in my face in the middle of the night (we're down to once in a while now). He said yes to air conditioning in the winter. I said yes to cooking red meat, even eating it.

We said yes to nighttime belly laughs, postponed praying because we can't stop giggling. We said yes to "I love yous" every day. We said yes to dinners on our mini tables because the dinner table is currently supporting his law degree. We said yes to two hour road trips (everything's two hours away here), half day flights to far off lands. We said yes to walking through the bright lights of Tokyo's downtown night life, the lush gardens of the Imperial Palace. We said yes to thousands of photos. We said yes to Legos, lots and lots of Legos. We said yes to hashing it out, living life together, believing in each other.

We said yes to each other. Here's to many, many, many more years of yes.

Happy One Year Jess.

heating up

So is it normal that at 5:30 a.m. ON THE DOT every morning, I wake up in overheat mode? I'm pretty sure my room transforms into Hades, so I wake up clawing at sheets and blankets. And then I go look at the thermostat, which informs me that I AM NOT WELL because it isn't hot. In fact, some people in this world would be able to feel a "chill" in the air. And that would by why when I go back to bed, Jess is still snuggling under not only the regular bed details but also his beloved sleeping bag, which is allowed to rest only on top of him because we all know that I need no extra layers.

This whole being hot thing is a part of my life. I just wish it weren't a part of my life at 5:30 in the morning.

the solution

So I watch CNN while I run. I can't really hear it because I still have my ipod in my ears helping my unwilling feet keep time, so I mostly just watch it, sometimes read the captioning. And for the last several weeks I've been watching the market TANK. It's like a big wooden spoon stirred up the economy to a nice creamy consistency then dumped it out, all over Wall Street.

Now I do not understand the stock market. Zero understanding. So for me, I look at this situation, and I'm pretty sure it's an easy fix. With the worldwide media coverage we have these days, the majority of the humans on this planet have access to some sort of form of media, even if it's simply by word of mouth. So why in the world don't we just publish in all newspapers, broadcast on all news stations all over the world a big fat message in like 72 point font that says: "Chill out. Stop freaking out. Just let things be for TWO SECONDS." I realize that this approach would not only put our men and women on Wall Street out of a job, but also make them extremely bored. However, their blood pressure would decrease, the pressure on the economy would decrease. And we could all just SETTLE DOWN.

I so missed my calling in life as an economist.

nectar of life

So between General Conference sessions, Jess and I paid a visit to Duke Gardens. Now even though it's eighty toasty degrees outside today, fall is still determined to break through. Leaves are starting to fall, others to change color, and we couldn't be more excited. On the way in, we passed some flowers that were being smothered by butterflies and ginormous bumble bees. I'm pretty sure these florals have Sprite Zero for nectar, because even with a camera lens extended in their faces, they weren't about to leave their cache of yumminess behind.

I totally know how they feel. I often find my lips attached to a can of the stuff too.

drip...drip...drip

So I love our new apartment. And when I say love I mean I LOVE it. Like I love it as much as I love the carton of pumpkin cookies I consumed all by myself in two days because I knew today (October 1) was coming, therefore necessitating as much sugar inhalation as humanly possible before the cut off.

As I was saying, so I love our new apartment, but I do not love it when it rains. I don't mind the sound of rain and thunder. In fact, I kind of like it. In Hong Kong, I got quite accustomed to being rocked to sleep by ginormous claps of thunder. It was like our little dorm was wrapped in the arms of a thunder clap. You get used to it. And rain is really kind of pretty to listen to if we're being honest. It becomes very unpretty, however, when the rain subsides here at the new apartment, and we're left with the run off. Which runs off like this: "Drip...drip...drip...drip...drip..." All night. "Drip...drip...drip...drip..."

I can't deal with repeated sounds. This goes for sequences of sounds too, like in really annoying R&B songs (um, hi, I live in NC), where the artist has no apparent talent beyond four beats and an accompanying handful of rhyming words, repeated over and over and over again. Annoying. Not to mention totally void of substance.

Anyhow. Repeated sounds are the worst. Like if someone is tapping their foot repeatedly. I imagine that my four-year-old self would probably hit you if she would have possessed this extreme aversion to beats, but lucky for you, you will never know that I want to remove your foot from your leg when you're tapping next to me for hours on end. I'm a big girl now. And instead I just imagine things like this.

So the "Drip...drip...drip..." I can't handle it. My dreams are filled with dripping faucets, ticking bombs. Seriously. Last night I got fed up and moved out to the couch. I got all settled into our super comfy couch, big Grandma Cheney blanket snuggled in all around me, closed my eyes and, "Tick...tick...tick...tick..."

Stupid clock.

I'm seriously a crazy person. A sleep deprived crazy person.