Maybe it wasn’t as bad as all that. But close.

My brain has officially stopped functioning.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been going to bed too late.

Or it could be that I’ve just finished working nine days straight, which I’m totally not used to. I’ve worked in the hospitality industry for nine years, the first seven of which were spent on my feet. For the last two, I’ve been no less than blessed with a desk job that would make most people want to shove pencils through their eyes, but which I happen to love.

It could be that, due to our less-than-comfortable staffing levels, I’ve spent most of the last nine days back on my feet, checking people in and out of the hotel, fielding complaints, butting heads with irritable sales managers, and making myself available to help ease the emotional turmoil of two twenty-year-olds who’s positions have just been eliminated (thanks a lot, Economy).

It might be that when I do finally get home, instead of doing something to rest or relax like TAKE A NAP, I’ve buried myself under my laptop in a mad and determined effort to get here. (And CSS? Not flippin’ easy. In fact, I think it stands for Can’t See Straight… as in, once you’re done. Or give up.) This goes on for some time, until The Husband finally forces me to fold up my ironing board desk so he can get in bed.

It’s then that I realize I’ve failed to upload or post any photos. And why it bothers me so much to say “this just wasn’t the right time to start this project” I don’t know.

If it’s none of that, then it might be that I still insist on reading before falling asleep. And unlike most people I know who say reading puts them to sleep, it does the exact opposite for me.

So, for the last nine days I’ve felt rushed, tired, frustrated, and overwhelmed. And only some of that has been brought on by myself. I am really looking forward to the next four days off (minus the two hours I’ll have to work on Saturday morning). In fact, I’m thinking it’s been much too long since I’ve baked anything. But that’ll have to wait until after The Nap.

I’m curious. What emotion would best describe the last nine days of your life?

Project FAIL… and welcome home.

There were clouds in the sky this evening. Not the most abnormal thing you’ve ever heard of, I’m sure, but it sort of is for these beach cities. The clouds just don’t hang around for long what with the wind and all.

When I saw the sun begin sinking towards the Pacific, I thought I might be in for a treat and, well, it’s been a while since I’ve gone running off to chase a sunset.

Although it was pretty and the walk refreshing… it wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for. I hung around for a while, then jumped back in the car. Truth be told, there was a maple donut at home that I had been daydreaming about All. Freaking. Day. I kid you not.

So, let’s just state the obvious here and get it out in the open. I missed a day of Project 365. Not even a week in and I’ve missed a day. Well, I’ve been working a lot. And I’ve been fairly obsessed with getting this here blog moved (you did notice the move, right?) and, finally, at ten-thirty last night, I realized I was missing something.

If it makes you feel any better, I did grab my camera. And I wandered around my apartment, hoping something would spark my interest. I almost took a picture of my work area where “work area” equals the ironing board I pull up to the end of the bed so I can sit and watch TV as I work on my laptop. I thought it was amusing, but… sometimes that stuff doesn’t translate.

I took some more pictures of the cats.

I took a picture of my ice cream, thinking maybe it would spark conversation about our nightly habits and/or rituals. For example, I can’t go to bed without a bowl of vanilla ice cream sprinkled with chocolate chips. (Although, after the amazing donut I had for dinner, I’ll probably skip the ice cream tonight. I said “probably,” not definitely.) At least, that’s the current dessert obsession. (And my current breakfast obsession? Oatmeal with brown sugar and a piece of dry wheat toast spread with strawberry jam. But it has to be homemade oatmeal… like, on a pot, not from a packet.)  (I don’t know why I think you want to know this stuff.)

After I was done taking all these half-assed pictures, I knew I wouldn’t post them. They were lame. And I’d rather miss a day than post junk.

Tomorrow is my last day of work for the week. I have my appointment Thursday morning and when I get home, I’m going to nap like no one has ever napped before. It will be the nap by which all future naps are judged… and found lacking. I may not get out of bed until The Husband gets home from work and that’s only ’cause he’s loud and inconsiderate of people when they’re sleeping. (No, not really, but actually… he sorta is.)

And about this whole WordPress thing? Well… I think we’ll be very happy here.

I certainly haven’t given you much, have I?

Peeps, I’m tired. This morning I found it nearly painful to get out of bed. I felt as if I’d sucked down eight margaritas then went for a swim in quicksand. Finally, finally, after snoozing the alarm too many times to count and being poked at and shaken by The Husband, I got up and on with it.

But it wasn’t pleasant for anyone involved.

On Thursday I go back for my second appointment at the Pacific Center for Plastic Surgery. (I like to say their whole name. It sounds important.) I made up for taking Thursday and Friday off by working this past weekend. Which means I will sleepwalk my way into the office tomorrow on what will be day seven of nine.

This really wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t currently find myself in a pattern of staying up too late each night to finish “just one more page.” So, yes, it’s entirely my fault. (And to anyone with young children, anyone who has to work before eight a.m., anyone who doesn’t have the opportunity to sleep as much as I do… I apologize. But that doesn’t change the fact that I feel physically exhausted.)

So, why am I still up writing? Because I love you. And because I realized I hadn’t yet taken a picture today. And I came this close to saying “forget it”… and then decided to stick with it. ‘Cause I really should try to finish something.

And because I look at this blog as a type of modern day scrapbook and I want to have these posts and pictures to look back on in the future. I want to look back on this one of our girl Mercedes and remember she was “middle aged” in this photo. And I want to remember what a shock it was to realize that just days before said photo was taken. She’s only seven, but in cat years… And I want to remember how sweet she was at this age, how she used to curl up on my lap and then, in sleep, how she’d stretch out in the nook of my own outstretched legs.

I need to remember this, because when we first adopted her? She was nearly two years old and for a solid six months I was this close to giving her up. ‘Cause she was freaking batshit crazy.

And the cat pictures start now.

Our kids used to be “outdoors.” But we changed that a year or two ago when our girl, Mercedes, wound up at the vet for unknown reasons. A three-day hospital stay and two-thousand dollars later and we decided that we wouldn’t risk it anymore. They’re safer indoors.

But that doesn’t mean they don’t still follow us to the door, just hoping to get outside. Of course, on the rare occasions when they’ve managed to escape, they both freeze on the patio, totally nervous and unsure of what to do next. Say their name and they bolt right back inside.

And Luke (above) is the biggest fraidy cat of all.

This vicious circle makes me want to hurl.

There is a possibility that during the last few months I’ve become overly sensitive to The Husband’s behavior. (Shocking, I know.) I don’t think I watch his every move like a hawk, but it’s certainly possible. I wouldn’t put it past me. I am quite neurotic these days. And I expected to be paranoid, but I must say it’s really starting to annoy me. And The Husband? Totally. not. helping. For example…

This morning, as I stumbled my way back to bed after snoozing my alarm, I noticed him coming out of my closet. We each have our own. He keeps a couple of his things in mine; a small toolbox, some old pairs of shoes… but certainly not anything he’d need at seven a.m. on a Saturday.

Although, had he come out with some tools, I suppose I would have left well enough alone considering he has plans to work on my car today. (My poor car made the most pathetic sound two nights ago when I tried to start it. This was awful not just because I absolutely love my car, but I was leaving to get frozen yogurt. Sigh.)

But The Husband didn’t come out carrying tools. Or anything else for that matter. No, he just got right back into bed. So, what the fuck was he doing?

And I know what you’re thinking. Stephanie, what could he possibly have been doing wrong in a closet? Come on, get a grip! Relax!

But, I can’t help it. Especially when he responds to my inquiry with “no reason.” That’s it. Just two words. Two measly little words that explain zilch.

Well, people don’t wander in and out of closets for no reason! There had to be a reason. And he won’t share it with me. This can only lead me to believe that he’s hiding something from me. Again.

So, here we go. Again.

I’m paranoid and suspicious. I’m sitting here obsessing over what he could have possibly been doing in my closet. And all these horrible feelings? The insecurities and what-ifs? They’re bringing back all the feelings that I experienced after finding inappropriate text messages and pictures and realizing that he was involved, hoping to become more involved, with another woman.

Which then leads me to wonder: does this ever get easier? Or will I really go on feeling like this FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?

It’s only day two?

I have no idea if there are rules to this Project 365 thing. I didn’t do any enough research before I started. But if it gets me picking up my camera and practicing this photography thing, then I’m all for it.

And, hey, it gives me something to share while I’m consumed with fixing Blogger’s issues. (I curse you, Blogger.)

Fine. Here. But when I give up and quit and you call me a failure, I’m going to say "I told you so!"

Alternate title: 1/365

They planted all different kinds of vibrant flowers in front of our apartment and now there’s no denying that Spring is here and Summer is fast approaching. They’re so cheerful and the ones above? My favorite.

I was hoping to go out and capture some pretty sun flare, but… it wasn’t happening. Sigh. (I guess that means my camera sensor is pretty clean, though, so that’s something.) (Yeah, I guess sun flare is a result of the sun reflecting off dust on your camera’s sensor.) (Or maybe I just need lots and lots of practice.) (Here I go with the parenthesis abuse.)

Anyway. Can I talk comments for a second? I’ve deleted the BlogHer ads in my sidebar. I’m trying to eliminate, or just figure out, the problem. So, maybe give it another try? Let me know how it goes?

If this is the problem some of you are experiencing…

…all I can say is I’ve come across this same error message on many other blogs, but as soon as I hit the “post comment” button again, it goes right through. That has to be a Blogger issue. (Right???)

If it’s something else entirely, I’m toast.

Goodbye forever.

(Not really.)

Mother Nature has the worst case of PMS ever. And Blogger hates me.

At two a.m. this morning, I woke up to the mother of all thunderstorms. Except, I didn’t realize it was thunder. No, I thought it was the Big One. It was so loud that I immediately bolted out of bed before I was fully awake and ran for something (God knows what) because I thought it was an earthquake.

The Husband was waking up as I went running from the room.

“Honey, wha…?” He started to ask as I ran past him.

“I don’t want to be IN HERE if that’s AN EARTHQUAKE!”

See, our bedroom is built over parking spaces. All that’s holding us, and the apartment above us, from plunging to our death, are these old, skinny pillars. And I have a possibly irrational fear that, when the Big One hits, the entire apartment building will come crashing down around us. (Or, on top of us, naturally.)

It only took a second to realize it wasn’t the Big One. Or even a small one. It was a storm. A totally unanticipated storm. And I’ve never heard thunder like that in. my. life. It seemed as if it was right on top of us. Lightning would strike, then, a split second later, thunder would come raging through, loud and angry.

I like me a good thunderstorm, but I couldn’t even enjoy this one. It was too loud. I was too half asleep. I kept hearing my mother’s voice in my head telling me it’s the end of the world!

The lightning and thunder only lasted a few minutes. Then the rain came. And it was possessed.

We got back into bed, thinking the worst was over. Then, over the pouring, pelting rain, we could just barely hear Mother Nature laughing maniacally and yelling “GOTCHA!”

At the next, and worst, boom of thunder, we (and most of the surrounding area) lost power.

Not cool, Mother Nature. Not cool.

I’m afraid of the dark. (Go ahead and laugh. It’s okay. I won’t cry. Much.) Luckily, I wasn’t alone. Had I been, I’m sure I would have become a quivering mass of fear, huddled in the center of my bed and clinging to our cats. This is something I’ve thought about often. (I’m only slightly neurotic.) (No, actually, this is why I have candles and a lighter next to the bed, within arms reach.) (Please don’t leave me.)

(How do you feel about over-using parentheses?)

I spent the next powerless 45-minutes sleepless and reading by candlelight. It would have been kinda cool if I had been able to keep my mind focused on the book and off Armageddon.

So. Yeah. That was my night. On another note…

Peeps, I need help. My blog’s broken. I don’t know how or why or what… I just know that it is. A couple of good Samaritans have contacted me recently to give me a heads up that they can no longer leave comments when once they could.

Both of these people are using two different types of computers and two different web browsers, so as much as I’d love to blame a specific entity, that’s obviously not the problem. The only other thing I can think of is that I’ve recently added other third-party code (BlogHer, Feed Burner) to this here blog and I wonder if one of those caused a glitch?

This is really bothering me. And not just because I love comments (although I do) but because I don’t want my blog acting like a stubborn two-year-old.

Any suggestions? (And if you’re one of those who can’t comment (sob) please send me an e-mail… chocolateandwhine at gmail dot com. I’ll love you forever.)

In which I ramble on and on about really stupid stuff… and Twilight.

Do you know what really, really, chaps my hide? When people steal.

I bring bottled water to work with me. I buy a case of it at Costco, lug the damn thing in, and, knowing that people are just downright evil by nature, I hide it. I hide a few bottles in the back of my bottom desk drawer and the rest in a box. A box because it looks like something I’d keep old files in.

Recently someone figured it out and my stash has been depleted. I have no idea who’s been taking them, but it makes me really… sad. (And mad, but that’s a given.) I don’t think it’d bother me so much if they’d at least leave a note and say hey, I took a bottle of water, hope you don’t mind! ‘Cause, honestly peeps? I wouldn’t.

But this sneaky stealing behind my back really bothers me. Or maybe it’s just ‘cause that friggin’ case of water is so damn heavy. Or maybe it’s ‘cause now I know I can’t keep water here anymore, except for the few bottles I can squeeze into the bottom drawer. Either way, I’m pissed.

I don’t even care about the money! It’s five bucks for the case. Big deal. It’s the principal of the matter, damn it.

Man, I’m really steamed.

(Deep breath.)

Okay, I’m thinking about starting Project 365. Come on, you’ve heard of it. Take a picture every day for an entire year? Except, for me, it’d be more like Project 245 ‘cause I never finish what I start. (Sigh.) In fact, I can’t believe I’ve maintained this here blog for as long as I have. Which means, now that I’ve said that, you’ll never hear from me again.

I kid! (I hope.)

So… Project 365. Anyone interested in starting it with me? I warn you now, I’ll probably let you down. I mean, I’ll try really hard not to, but here’s what’ll happen. I’ll jump off to a really great start. Then, after a few weeks (possibly just days), the photos will start to get all ho-hum. Then you’ll start to see a bunch of cat pictures. And I’ll tell you no, really, I just took these today! but really? I dug them out of my hard drive. And then I’ll go out of town for a few days and I’ll just pretend like the whole thing never happened. And maybe someone will say what about Project 365? And I’ll act like you’re crazy and what the heck are you talking about?

Eventually, I’ll have to change my name, my url, everything… pick up a new identity and start over. It’ll be like Blogger Protection Program.

And the kicker? One day, a few months into my new blog, I’ll think hey, I really want to try doing that 365 thing again.

And the madness will start all over. I’m awesome that way.

So, what do you say? Any takers?

Can we talk about Twilight again? Just for a moment? (Or an hour?)

I know I already posted this, but I can’t resist putting it up again. And talking it to death.

I hope I’m not setting myself up for disappointment, but I am so excited for this movie. (I know, shocking.) But a BIGGER BUDGET means better effects, right? I was worried about how they’d accomplish certain things in the second movie (especially after the first one, which we all know I LOVED, had some iffy special effects) but after seeing Jacob’s transformation in the preview? Oh, Holy Mother of God, why isn’t this movie out yet?!

I was talking to J on the phone last night and we were both squealing like girls when she said, “Oh, my God, Taylor Lautner (Jacob Black) looks SO HOT!”

To which I said, “Oh, my God, I KNOW! He looks freaking AMAZING!”

Then she said, in all seriousness, “He’s totally TOO YOUNG FOR YOU, but don’t worry, I won’t say that!”

Um.

Okay.

Feeling like a child molester? Priceless.

So many of those brief scenes in the trailer look just how I’d pictured it in my mind. That’s important to me. I just hope that I’m not getting my hopes too high.

I only have LESS THAN SIX MONTHS to obsess about it.

Sugar Cookies… and some other stuff.

The Husband and I went for a bike ride Saturday afternoon once I finished work. We went searching for a used bookstore in Huntington Beach that a recent commenter recommended. After getting lost and huffing and puffing and peddling up more hills than I count (God, I’m outta shape)… we finally found it.

And it’s going out of business.

So, I walked back out with just one book. But it only cost me a dollar. (Boo-yah!) Then we rode back home, picked up some lovely strawberries at a roadside stand, stopped for frozen yogurt (The Husband knows what’s good for him), more hills…

By the time we got home, I was dead. No, not really, but I was pretty much a zombie for the rest of the night. (Especially after my too-hot shower. Why do I do that every time?) Which is okay, ’cause The Husband flipped on an Ice Road Truckers marathon and I got totally hooked.

Yesterday we went down to the swap meet. They have a couple of used book vendors there and I was able to find the second and third books of a trilogy I just started. Yes, another Nora Roberts series. So sue me.

I also managed to take time out of my busy schedule to snap a few pictures of the sugar cookies I made last week. (And by “busy” I mean I had nothing else to do, naturally.) I know what you’re thinking. Sugar cookies? Really? That’s so… boring.

Well, I love sugar cookies. I especially love the giant ones they sell in the grocery store that come in all different shapes and are decorated in all different colors.

Also, there’s this little shop a few block away called Cookies In Bloom. They sell bouquets of sugar cookies. They’re gorgeous. We went in to poke around last weekend and I almost bought a cookie shaped like a castle that was decorated with different shades of pink icing, but I was afraid to ask how much it was and The Husband was giving me the stink eye, so what could I do but go home and make my own?

(I tried to convince The Husband to send me a bouquet of cookies for our eighth anniversary (first date, not marriage) which was the next day, but apparently eight years only gets you a smile and slap on the ass. Pfffsht.)

I absolutely detest rolling cookie dough. But this time? Wasn’t so bad, actually. Maybe it was because I separated and shaped my dough into square-like slabs before chilling.

Or maybe it was because, in the past, I’ve rolled my cookie dough to death, making these super-thin cookies that would break the minute you picked one up. Don’t ask me why. I just thought that’s how it was done. And this time I made them thick. Almost a half-inch thick. And they were wonderful!

I was going to leave it at plain white icing (I wasn’t feeling too ambitious), but then felt guilty for not doing more. So, I did green and yellow stripes… you know, for Spring and all. (Yeah, still wasn’t feeling too ambitious.) But who cares, ’cause they were awesome.

Here’s the recipe I use (just in case there’s anyone left in the universe that doesn’t have a trusty sugar cookie recipe):

The Players
3 cups flour
¼ teaspoon salt
¾ teaspoon baking powder
1 egg
1 tablespoon milk
1 cup butter
1 cup sugar

1. Sift together flour, salt, and baking powder. Set aside.
2. Cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy.
3. Add egg and milk nice and slow; continue to beat.
4. Very slowly add flour. When the dough pulls away from the sides, it’s done.
5. Separate dough into two different slabs, cover, and chill for at least two hours.

Now, I wrap my dough in parchment paper before chilling. This way, when it comes out of the fridge, I can roll it out while it’s still on the parchment. (I tape the corners to the counter to prevent it from sliding around.) I sprinkle powdered sugar on the dough and rolling pin instead of flour. Then bake at 375 degrees for about nine minutes or, you know, until golden brown.

For the royal icing: beat together two egg whites and two teaspoons lemon juice until frothy. Add three cups of powdered sugar and mix until glossy and stiff peaks form (five to seven minutes).

God, I love these cookies.

So, peeps, how was your weekend?