This and That

Tuesday, June 5, 2012


Admittedly, I'm in a bit of a funk. I've said before that I find writing cathartic, and today, though I have no real topic in mind, I just feel like writing. It would probably serve me well to engage in some sort of physical activity, like yoga or even just brisk walking, to achieve this feeling. Yet, here I sit in the center of Cherry Creek Mall, sipping a Nordy's Mocha Ice Storm and munching on strawberries, exerting energy of only the mental variety. I'll warn you: there's no rhyme, reason, or cohesive flow to what you're about to read. Here goes... 


A few months ago I ordered some amazing (amazing=super soft=super cozy=not inexpensive) sheets for our guest room. They turned out to be too small for the bed, but returning them to the online site from which I ordered them wasn't possible. They have been laying on the desk in the playroom since February as I was trying to decide what to do with them (gift them? donate them?). They are now being used as the covering to a pirate fort constructed by Carter in the backyard; at least they are being put to good use, I suppose.


I've decided that if I ever find myself with so much money that I have no idea what to do with it, I will employee a person to complete one simple task: applying self-tanner to my entire body every night before I go to bed. I so prefer to look at my usually pasty skin when it's glistening thanks to a nice coating of the gold in a bottle, but I just don't have the patience or energy to do it myself at night. Applying it during the day isn't an option, obviously: no doubt I would end up stamped with thigh-level Murphy handprints. Besides, when on earth would I be able to remain unclothed during the kiddos' waking hours for the 20 minutes it take the stuff to dry?


Why do adults tell children that something 'won't hurt' or 'doesn't hurt' when it obviously will or does? I observed a little girl getting her ears pierced (one at a time) the other day, and was disgusted at the adults- both of her parents as well as the piercing gal-telling the wailing child that the experience was not painful. As I witnessed the scene, I thought of shooting some sort of dart through each of their heads. Jerks.


Lately, all I want to eat is tomatoes/tomato based items (but, interestingly, not tomato sauce.) I'm not sure if this is a pregnancy craving or just a summer one, but I'm obsessing non-stop about caprese salad and bruschetta. I'm often disappointed when my mental idea of these mini-meals is far more tasty than the real deal. I continue to be let down with the quality and freshness of the tomatoes or the minimal amount of mozzarella. I know I should just head to Whole Foods and pick up some premium products to make my own at home... Hey! maybe the self-tanner-applier-person could keep my fridge stocked with perfectly sliced tomatoes, fragrant basil, and fresh mozzarella???


Yesterday, my mom sent me several random texts throughout the day... ranging from her thoughts on the obesity problem in American to her observations of shopping with men. I sent her a texted 'smiley face' and told her that I loved her 'stream of consciousness' texts; bet she didn't know she'd inspire me to write a blog about nothing. 

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