Also known as the Best-Amateur-Chef-in-a-Makeshift-Kitchen Cookies
Celebrate with sugar.
Woo hoo!
xoxoL
Recipe via Martha.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The Just-Handed-in-the-Last-Paper-of-Your-Graduate-School-Career TREAT
Cause R just did!
Also known as the Best-Amateur-Chef-in-a-Makeshift-Kitchen Cookies
Celebrate with sugar.
Woo hoo!
xoxoL
Recipe via Martha.
Also known as the Best-Amateur-Chef-in-a-Makeshift-Kitchen Cookies
Celebrate with sugar.
Woo hoo!
xoxoL
Recipe via Martha.
Rest and exasperation
I'm technically on holiday. One week away from the 9-to-5. Except the 9-to-5 is a temporary gig and our sweet, sweet (paid) time together is ticking away.
This is no time to vay-k. Though I'm happy to give it the ol' college try.
Today I swapped my 6 a.m. gym time for a leisurely 9 a.m. ooze out of bed and into the kitchen. After a night of intense drowning, running, trapped-in-small-spaces dreams I was eager to be awake with some conscious thoughts.
By noon I was at the gym taking a mid-day class. Yes, they have these. Who ARE these people who take these things? But I tell you my class was PACKed. A few were sneaking out of work for an extended lunch, others...well...who was I to question? The class was led my some sort of pocket-sized She-Man between the ages of 19 and 57 complete with a wicked Boston accent.
"OH-vah"
"OH-vah"
"OH-vah"
She screamed into her Evangelical microphone.
It took me three tries to figure out where she wanted my arm to go and when.
While She-Man screamed "just eight mower" at the class I sneaked a rest and got a glare from the bendi-grandma in the back.
No, I think I'll go back to worrying over jobs on the couch.
This is no time to vay-k. Though I'm happy to give it the ol' college try.
Today I swapped my 6 a.m. gym time for a leisurely 9 a.m. ooze out of bed and into the kitchen. After a night of intense drowning, running, trapped-in-small-spaces dreams I was eager to be awake with some conscious thoughts.
By noon I was at the gym taking a mid-day class. Yes, they have these. Who ARE these people who take these things? But I tell you my class was PACKed. A few were sneaking out of work for an extended lunch, others...well...who was I to question? The class was led my some sort of pocket-sized She-Man between the ages of 19 and 57 complete with a wicked Boston accent.
"OH-vah"
"OH-vah"
"OH-vah"
She screamed into her Evangelical microphone.
It took me three tries to figure out where she wanted my arm to go and when.
While She-Man screamed "just eight mower" at the class I sneaked a rest and got a glare from the bendi-grandma in the back.
No, I think I'll go back to worrying over jobs on the couch.
Monday, May 10, 2010
My new (imaginary) occupational boyfriend
Finding a job is like dating. This seems to be an apt metaphor for a situation that poses a serious imbalance of hand.
Have you met my new occupational love? He's incredibly smart, well-connected and absurdly confident. He's got this ridiculous pad in New York City and all the girls flashed a knowing look when they saw us together.
Man I want him. I want him so bad I dropped everything - my current occupational boyfriend, my friends - and just jetted down to New York like I was always planning to do. Yup, just a casual run-in really. I was breezy. "Oh, Monday? Oh sure, well I was going to be in the city anyway."
I wore my best outfit, something I knew occupational man would appreciate, with pumps (I mean - pumps in the city!). I thought we really clicked - I think we even shared a laugh (girl giggle on my part). I floated my way out of the city thinking of all the time we could spend together - the late nights, the coffee breaks. It could be so good!
I mean, maybe I was a little eager, e-mailing the very same day. I may have thrown an exclamation mark in there - I know! Too much. So I didn't hear back. One, two, three, FOUR excruciating days passed.
Then, all of a sudden, an e-mail. Another date. Monday? Like, this coming? Well sure, I don't have, uh, anything else I have to do day.
Back down the eastern seaboard in a new fancy outfit (same pumps) for another breezy hang. This one there were definitely sparks. I could feel the tension. I was a bubbling breeze of interesting conversation and witty retorts.
I e-mailed the same day again. I know, I never learn. But I thought he was feelin' it too. A few days go by, no calls. A week: no calls, no e-mail no contact. Two weeks: same deal.
But, hey, I'm not gunna sit at home just waiting by the phone. Nope, there are other occupational loves out there. Maybe. I'm sure. Right?
So maybe I flirt a little. Get back out there. I get a new date (ol' girl still's got somethin' in her yet). I drop everything once again, same old routine. I traverse the eastern seaboard again. Maybe I recycle an outfit here and there, but it's not like he knows.He seems nice, you know. Reliable. Loyal. He lives in the suburbs, a little more settled, but I play nice because I'm a single girl who can't be picky.
But suburban and I didn't fit. Maybe he felt it, maybe I didn't put out the vibes. Maybe I was still wanting for Mr. New York.
This occupational love life stuff is rough I tell you. I could really use a top 40s song that I can sing along to - let it all out. But all those cheesy fabulous songs out there are just about plane old person-to-person love. What gives? Everyone goes through this. I know I'm not alone.
Kelly Clarkson? I mean I KNOW you. Ms. American Idol orig. I know you tried and failed at your career before we met you. Don't lie to me. Life isn't all about those dudes you love and lost and like and leave.
Lady Gaga? Same goes for you... Ms. Stephanie Germamotta.
Now...sing about what you ladies know...or knew so I can scream-sing along to some tunage when I think my occupational love likes me, like really likes me.
Have you met my new occupational love? He's incredibly smart, well-connected and absurdly confident. He's got this ridiculous pad in New York City and all the girls flashed a knowing look when they saw us together.
Man I want him. I want him so bad I dropped everything - my current occupational boyfriend, my friends - and just jetted down to New York like I was always planning to do. Yup, just a casual run-in really. I was breezy. "Oh, Monday? Oh sure, well I was going to be in the city anyway."
I wore my best outfit, something I knew occupational man would appreciate, with pumps (I mean - pumps in the city!). I thought we really clicked - I think we even shared a laugh (girl giggle on my part). I floated my way out of the city thinking of all the time we could spend together - the late nights, the coffee breaks. It could be so good!
I mean, maybe I was a little eager, e-mailing the very same day. I may have thrown an exclamation mark in there - I know! Too much. So I didn't hear back. One, two, three, FOUR excruciating days passed.
Then, all of a sudden, an e-mail. Another date. Monday? Like, this coming? Well sure, I don't have, uh, anything else I have to do day.
Back down the eastern seaboard in a new fancy outfit (same pumps) for another breezy hang. This one there were definitely sparks. I could feel the tension. I was a bubbling breeze of interesting conversation and witty retorts.
I e-mailed the same day again. I know, I never learn. But I thought he was feelin' it too. A few days go by, no calls. A week: no calls, no e-mail no contact. Two weeks: same deal.
But, hey, I'm not gunna sit at home just waiting by the phone. Nope, there are other occupational loves out there. Maybe. I'm sure. Right?
So maybe I flirt a little. Get back out there. I get a new date (ol' girl still's got somethin' in her yet). I drop everything once again, same old routine. I traverse the eastern seaboard again. Maybe I recycle an outfit here and there, but it's not like he knows.He seems nice, you know. Reliable. Loyal. He lives in the suburbs, a little more settled, but I play nice because I'm a single girl who can't be picky.
But suburban and I didn't fit. Maybe he felt it, maybe I didn't put out the vibes. Maybe I was still wanting for Mr. New York.
This occupational love life stuff is rough I tell you. I could really use a top 40s song that I can sing along to - let it all out. But all those cheesy fabulous songs out there are just about plane old person-to-person love. What gives? Everyone goes through this. I know I'm not alone.
Kelly Clarkson? I mean I KNOW you. Ms. American Idol orig. I know you tried and failed at your career before we met you. Don't lie to me. Life isn't all about those dudes you love and lost and like and leave.
Lady Gaga? Same goes for you... Ms. Stephanie Germamotta.
Now...sing about what you ladies know...or knew so I can scream-sing along to some tunage when I think my occupational love likes me, like really likes me.
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