Lost and confused

Sometimes I'm an airhead. Usually only when I have lots of very important things flying through my head but sometimes just because. This week has been a combination of the two. I'll give you three examples:

Example 1
After work I decide to go to Target. I need some essentials (grapes, tights, and an eye shadow brush) but pulling into the parking lot I remember that I hate running errands at 5:00 when the rest of the workforce is doing the exact same thing. Circling the aisles I give up and park at the end of a row, far far away from the door. Walking through the automatic doors I grab a cart. Since when did Target revert to using metal carts? I thought they were all red plastic? Then,
standing in the middle of the door, blocking traffic, I finally notice the giant sign on the wall ahead: CUB FOODS.
I let go of my cart like it had become electrically charged, put my head down and slumped my way to the exit. Pretty sure the cop at the door was suspicious of my guilty look but believe me, sir, you have no idea what that shame was all about.

Example 2
I forgot my phone at home. That alone is a sign that I am not myself. All day I felt naked and abandoned but the real trouble started when I stopped at the mall on my way home. Without my phone, I have no clock, so I had to keep asking strangers, "Do you have the time?" I am positive at least 75% of them thought I was hitting on them and I'm not surprised; I heard once that asking for the time was the most successful pick-up line guys use. Only I'm not a guy. Whatever.

Example 3
For six months I've been taking classes in the same building on campus, parking in the same building, and using the same skyway to get to my lectures. One night, however, I parked, walked through the skyway and just kept walking right on past the stairs I should have taken. When I finally look around I find myself in the middle of the business school. Now, I heard that women make up less than 20% of today's MBA candidates. At that moment wearing my bright red peacoat in the midst of swarm of dark suits, I believed it. I found the closest stairs, bolted down them, and still couldn't figure out how to get back to my building. I stopped at the security desk and that is the point where if I could have cued some harp music in the background I would. "Oh-my-hot-security-guy" is all I could think. One word to describe his brown eyes: dreamy. It's a good thing after asking him for directions I found a sign pointing to my building because he had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe he fell a little bit in love with me, too? Perhaps being lost and confused isn't all bad...

Monkeying around

Sister and I work hard but everyone needs a little mental break sometimes, right? Today ours came in the form of drawing each other monkeys. Don't ask why, just embrace it.

Cal's monkey face


Kate's monkey face (with a body attached...and heart feet...she's always been a show off.)


Oh and if you want to draw me a monkey (or any other fun little animal) email it to me at cjconney@gmail.com and I'll totally post it...or just keep it to enjoy for myself. One of the two. (C'mon Jonas...I know you're out there with your crazy little comic sketches!)

Ebbiversary

OK so once in a while I mention Ebbie but I generally don't gush because I don't want to sound like a crazy cat lady. This post is the exception...

Two years ago I decided I wanted a cat so I found an endearingly ugly little diluted tortie on petfinder, packed up my roommates and headed off to the humane society. The minute I picked up that cat I knew it wasn't meant to be mine so up and down the aisles of cages we went, peering in at sad little whiskers and noses. One after another was brought out for me to hold and play with but none felt right. Then, in the bottom right corner beind thin metal bars a small black cat with white paws and a milk mustache stood up and cried at me. "I think that cat is talking to me," I whispered.
"I think you're a little bit crazy," my roommate whispered back. While I was olding her in the crowded room a boy with Downs, about 12 years old, came up to me and asked, "Is that your cat?"
"Not yet but I think I'm going to keep her."
"Good," he said decisively. "It's a good cat. That is a very good cat. Very good." And that was that. As I signed the papers a volunteer came up and tapped me on the shoulder. He thanked me for picking that pint sized tuxedo cat and told me that because of her age (she was 6 at the time) and because she had been in the shelter so long she was on the schedule to be put down soon. Her past owners had gotten a kitten and when Ebbie didn't get along with the newcomer she was shipped off to the humane society. Whatever doubts I'd had before disappeared and we packed up and headed home.

1/28/07-Busted napping on Ebbie's first day home, she was already attached to my side
Before I even knew that T.S. Eliot insists all cats must have three names, Ebbie had already morphed into Ebony Fifi Manolo which to this day is what gets shouted when she has one of her naughty moments. For the most part she is the sweetest six pound creature you will ever meet and and has turned quite a few cat-haters into lovers.
She meets me at the door, licks my forehead when I'm sick, and sleeps tucked under my arm next to my chest like a teddy bear. When I talk to myself she cocks her head to the side. If I am sitting, she is in my lap. She runs to the door to greet me when I come home and gives me an earful about having left her. I can't move from room to room without my black shadow behind me and underfoot but I wouldn't have it any other way.

1/28/09-Still my little snuggle bug

Mop bucket mess

Sometimes I'm a little bit of a mess, but aren't we all? I'm not the kind of mess where you can hear breaking glass, see scattered pickles, and smell vinegar. Plus if you miss the signs of that kind of mess, there is always a "spill on aisle 4" announcement. I tend to be a mop bucket kind of mess. Once the mop bucket has been used and sits unattended for a while, all of the ugly stuff sinks to the bottom but the top layer actually looks pretty clean. You can see through to the plastic sides and if you get close to it the smell of lemons still floats around from the days of fresh water. The problem comes when someone walking by accidentally bumps the bucket. Sediment filled with ickiness floats to the top and all memory of lemony clean disappears.
At this point, let's just say no one has kicked my mop bucket yet but I feel like it might be coming. There are just enough scummy worries floating around in me that even a minor shake up could get a bit smelly and clouded.
I'm a generally hopeful person so I believe that I could wake up tomorrow and the mop bucket feeling could be gone. I'm so optimistic that I bought a pair of sandals today even though it is maybe zero degrees outside. Who knows? It could warm up to 70 this week. I could win a Caribbean cruise on the radio! Either one would be a treat but really, I'd just like to be back to no dirt and fresh lemons: pre-spill clean up on aisle 4.
Photos from Google images

Don't sleep on park benches

Baby brother studied abroad this fall and Dad had some very good departure and return trip advice for him like "You should take your passport," and "Don't forget to bring your luggage back with you." When I studied abroad he told me, "Just make sure not to sleep on any park benches." Why would my father give me this sage advice?

About two weeks before packing up and skipping the country I went out on a Thursday night with the roommates to our usual joint. After a lovely evening of dancing with my $7 refillable plastic cup I decided to head home early so that my 6:30am alarm clock for work wouldn't be too painful. The girls wanted to stay until bar close so I hitched a ride home with a friend. Being the gentleman he is, the car sped off almost before my feet hit the pavement so by the time I got to my front door, looked at my teensy clutch purse and realized I had no keys there was no one to help me out. One girl had stayed home so I knocked and knocked and rang the doorbell repeatedly for about fifty gazillionteen minutes but to no avail. Then I started calling people; anyone really. After the roommates ignored my calls, I started in on anyone who might be awake but there was no answer.
Finally I gave up, grabbed a blanket someone had left on the porch couch after a household "pour your guts out over a bag of microwave popcorn and some candles" talk, and laid down to wait for the others to get home. The next thing I know the awful 6:30am alarm was going off and I was still on the porch, still locked out. Knocking incessantly actually worked this time and I was finally let into my own house.
Yes, when the girls came home they stumbled their way right past me without even noticing there was a human shaped lump under the blanket. The whole incident made me wonder if we would even have known if a homeless person was living on our porch. It also made my father tell me not to sleep on any park benches in Europe. Good advice, Dad. Good advice.

Older and wiser?

Well, older but maybe not so much wiser. I am being spoiled rotten and loving every minute of it. Once a princess, always a princess!

Oh Barrio, so much love

Friday night rocked my socks off. Well, actually I wore tights not socks although socks might have been a good idea since it dropped below zero after a balmy week of 30 degree temps but I digress...

When co-worker Tiff heard I was going to Barrio she told me that drinking one of their good sipping tequilas would be a semi-religious experience and she was right. That combined with wearing my awesome birthday dress and being with my best girls--well I knew it was going to be pretty freakin' awesome.

The girls and I scampered off to the restaurant where we were greeted by a wall of tequila bottles so full that the bartenders had to use a ladder to get to the top shelf, odd little marionette dolls danced in alcoves, and a projection screen played clips from old black and white movies. I would include the crabby hostess in that list but she didn't so much greet us as bark at me that we would have to wait until our actual reservation time (8:00pm) to be seated. It was 7:58.
An hour and 15 minutes later we still hadn't been seated and the amazingly delicious shots of repesado tequila with spicy grapefruit chasers that the manager (who introduced himself as Junior) were no longer smoothing over our impatience.


Eventually we got a rockin VIPesqe table in our very own alcove with a hilarious waitress and by then my friends, most of whom hadn't actually met before the party, were all ready to buy each other some overpriced charms for grown ups.


I was having such a good time that I kept forgetting to eat, which might explain why yesterday I had a torrid 24 hour affair with my couch and multiple bottles of water. The cat was there, ask her about it.
(Photo from Nordstrom.com)

Birthday equation

Birthday celebration + 10 girls for a night out + tequila bar = trouble

There was a time when this equation would have been more than true and tonight it might still be a little bit true. The difference is that now I am wiser, older, and I know that too might time with Mr. Jose Cuervo results in waking up fully clothed with your heels still on and an entire Taco Bell burrito in your hand. What a waste of God's gift to fast food! Not that I've ever had that happen to me...
My 21st birthday was OK but I was so nervous about getting sick from partying that I made myself sick about 2 minutes after getting to the bar. Year 22 was pretty amazing; four glorious nights out in a row followed by the adoption of a certain little black and white tuxedo cat. What did I do for my 23rd? No really, what did I do? I can't remember...
This year is going to be good. I can feel it, from the tips of my new mascara to the toes of my awesome new tights.

Sidenote: The actual day is Monday but who wants to go to a tequila bar on a Monday? Well I mean, I would but I don't know if anyone would join me so tonight it is! Stories to follow next week...

Fried windchill

Walking out of the gym this winter I was hit square in the face by something delicious; no, not the -15 windchill, that was cruel not yummy. What hit me was the smell of fried food; warm, delicious food; the kind of food that makes your thighs expand just smelling it. It wasn't just any fried dish that wafted around my bare neck, it was mini donuts. Getting excited about the prospect of some Tiny Tom's, state fair style, I took a step to the right and sniffed the air; nothing. Turning to the left I took a step in the opposite direction but again came up with nothing. I stepped the right again but stopped when I realized I was right outside the gym's glassed treadmill room doing what probably looked like a snowy Electric Slide or Macarena.
Shuffling down the sidewalk I thought, "It is probably for the best. I mean, I did just work out and all." But I didn't mean it. What I really meant was, "I don't care that I just worked out, I WANT MINI DONUTS." Clearly.
At the parking ramp I made sure I never looked at the stairs because if I didn't acknowledge their presence they couldn't make me feel guilty for taking the elevator. Another diet/exercise truth that ran through my head is that if the food is free the calories don't count and, according to Mentor Pam, if no one sees you eating something naughty then it never happened. Rules of the Universe; it's true stuff.

Back to school

I wish I had heard this argument before I registered...
http://www.overheardinminneapolis.com/2009/01/that-seems-worthwhile.html
Back to class today! Is it a problem that my book hasn't come in the mail (I found it at Amazon for $20 cheaper than at the bookstore) and I was supposed to have read three chapters before lecture tonight? Naw...no big deal.

THE inauguration

This morning I put up a post, one I had written days ago in the event I should find myself with a blank mind some morning, but while I waited for my toast to pop in the break room I noticed the neatly folded newspaper with a historic picture on the front and realized I don't have a blank mind, I have something to say.

I am beyond excited about Barack Obama's inauguration today.

Driving into work I ran into some traffic which never happens because I take quiet side streets for most of the commute. Getting frustrated with the long wait, I did a quick detour which brought me to the bottom of a hill overlooking the river and the Minneapolis skyline. What I saw made me gasp out loud and slam on the breaks, luckily no one was behind me. Staring with my mouth hanging open I wished there was someone there to see what I saw seeing: the sunrise behind me was perfectly, brilliantly reflected on the glass and made it seem like the city was made of flames. I thought, "It looks like a magical city, like Oz. No, like Camelot!" After a few minutes of gawking I continued on my way, the sight still burning in my eyes.

This morning every city in America is being lit on fire with the prospect of hope and a fresh start, a new way of thought and the rebuilding of our country; perhaps our generation's Camelot. Will Obama be able to solve all of our problems? No, but I do believe that his inauguration is the end of one era and the beginning of the next.

In a few hours the United States will have her first African-American president and I, for one, am honored to witness this piece of history.

MLK

Caley: Mom, no school on Monday!
Mom: Really? Why?
Caley: It's King Luther's birthday!
Circa 1st grade

I might have had a little problem with syntax as a 6 year old but I think I've got it right now...
Happy Martin Luther King Jr. day!

The Black Cat Salon

Does your hair need an updated look? Are you stuck in 2008? Just want to feel and look great? Consider visiting The Black Cat Salon, featuring head stylist Ebony "Ebbie" Fifi Manolo. With 9 years of experience you have nothing to fear when Ebbie does your hair!

Customer reviews:
"I could tell she really cared about me, not just my hair." -JoAnn
"It was so relaxing, she really made me comfortable." -Cal
"My hair looked like a nest. Ebbie made me feel so much better about myself!"
-Kelsey (seen in video)

Still don't know if The Black Cat Salon is for you? Check out this video and your doubts will disappear.


To book your appointment, please use the comment section and know that Ebbie is very much looking forward to seeing you at The Black Cat Salon (located at The Stanford House).

Mirage, anyone?

For weeks I, along with all of my coworkers, have been complaining about how flippin dry it is in the office.
It's so dry that I can chug water all day long and not have to go to pee until about 4:00pm. (Sidenote: Maybe Dolce should work here to help with the constant pregnancy induced bathroom trips? Hmm...)
It's so dry that my lips look like an ice rink post-hockey game/pre-Zamboni.
It's so dry that I put olive oil on my skin TWICE a day and it still feels like I sat out on the beach too long and fried my forehead.
While those descriptions are very accurate and paint a wonderful picture of exactly how dry it is here, some people might need a more quantitative measure. For you, I have this:

One of my coworkers has a little hygrometer and according to her nifty difty device the humidity in our office is 18%.








Average relative humidity in the Sahara desesrt is 25%.






Did I mention it's a little dry in here?

Delurking week?

Who knew such a thing existed? Well, apparently this is the week so if you are lurking out there (and I know you are) leave a comment...c'mon...you know you want to. Just a little "Holla!" won't hurt. Cross my heart. Do it.

More FBI agents

While enjoying the free drinks provided at our DC hotel's happy hour, Sister, Odie, Mom, Glor and I were in awe of all of the hot guys wandering the lobby. FBI agents with radio ear pieces and badges, Army officers with their cool pins, and even a few suspected CIA guys passed by us as we tried not to stare. Then the guy I had scoped out at breakfast in a totally non-stalker "Oooo he likes oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins just like me" kind of way showed up. Sister, Odie and I happened to be grabbing some more hors d'oeuvres (aka cubes of cheese, potato chips and popcorn) when he appeared and all started whispering about how good looking he was. My whispers may have been more like slightly muted shouts, given that he turned around and caught us staring after I said, "No, he is definitely the hottest one here." I didn't really care though because as I said back at the table when we saw him leaving, "He's so hot he could totally be in the FBI calendar."
Remind me again why I live in Minnesota where there are no FBI agents (except for the ones I became friends with at Halloween after deciding to steal their suits), no military men in uniform and definitely no CIA agents (although I suppose they might be here and I just wouldn't know it)? Ugh.

ADDENDUM: Sister posted this in the comments but it was just too priceless not to be included here...
Mom: "He's married"
CA Sister: "Ya? So am I!!!"

CA Sister: "Did you hear, sis? He's got a ring on"
MN Sister: "It could be part of the disguise...you know - to throw people off??"
CA Sister: "That's EXACTLY what I said to Mom"

CA Sister: How come I didn't get to put dibbs on any of the beefcakes? Because of my ring?
MN Sister: Um, yes.

A high temp of -4°F?

Seriously? And that is without the windchill of -36°F? Do you want to know what I think of that?






This pretty much sums it up.








It's freakin cold.

DC, again?

In grade school, Dad took me to Washington DC for a long weekend. What was the occasion? I have no idea. How long did we stay? Not really sure. What historic sites did we visit? Um...
At this point you might ask, "What DO you remember?"
Well, if you were to ask me my answer might be, "The brand new rockin pair of brown tights I wore the whole weekend and the awesome plaid jumper with a matching turtleneck that I wore with those rocking brown tights."
Yeah, I've always been cultured, refined, and...oh whatever.

Where has the time gone?

Checking out some other blogs I've seen a lot of "year in review" type posts. I hadn't planned on doing anything like that but now that I start to think about it, I've had a pretty big year. Here are a few things that happened...

-ended things with my first (and only, to date) post-college boyfriend
-visited Chicago for the first time and fell in love with it
(Touring the city with our "Kiki and Lettie Reunion Tour" t-shirts...I am Kiki, she is Lettie, in case you were wondering)
-got my first ever real life grown up big girl job
-took a week off for the first time in a year and spent it by a pool in AZ

-bought a piano
-dated two guys at the same time (for what was the first and I have vowed to be the only time)
-did a party bus (again, first and hopefully only time ever)
(Aboard "The White Tiger" wearing my cute leopard pumps)
-went to more art fairs this summer than all the rest combined
(St. Anthony Fall's Art Fair, Mississippi River with Mom)
-became a published author
-remodeled the bathroom
-took my first business trip
-spent time with Grandpa before he died and attended his burial with full military honors at Arlington
-drove a tractor

-had my first Thanksgiving with champagne in CA with Sister

-had the second worst hangover of my life after champagne Thanksgiving in CA with Sister (for the record, the worst of all time was also with Sister after a holida in CA...hmm)
-started grad school
-got almost 100% in my first grad school class
-tried frozen yogurt and became obsessed
-shot skeet and rocked at it
-saw some great concerts
(Grandstand, MN State Fair, Brad Paisley concert)
-went to the ER for the first time (at least the first time in the US)
-started blogging again (almost) every day!

Funeral at last

This picture was taken from the balcony of the house Grandpa John had built and lived in for over 50 years.Today my family and I are finally putting him to rest at Arlington National Cemetery. Just reading the description of the military ceremony got me choked up so I can only imagine what the actual experience will be like. Closure and peace; it's going to be good.

REQUIEM
by: Robert Louis Stevenson

UNDER the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

Awesome it is

On the last day of class this semester they made us fill out standard evaluations about the course and professor. Still in the midst of a record breaking senate recount, someone cracked a joke about being sure all of our votes would count. We got pink bubble sheets and little golf pencils and off we went, filling in circles with abandon. One of the first questions asked about my student status and none of the options seemed to fit. After scrunching my forehead at it got me no closer to figuring out which applied to me I nudged the guy sitting next to me. "Psst. Phil," I whispered, pointing to the question on my sheet, "what am I?"
Not even looking over at the question next to my finger he replied without hesitation, "Awesome."

(Picture courtesy of Google images)

Birthday list

We are less than three weeks away from my birthday so I thought I'd give you plenty of time to go shopping. Oh and just a little heads up, since I was very practical with my Christmas list this year I decided to be a little more high maintenance with my birthday list.

In no particular order this year I want:
1) A Taco Bell on the way from my house to work
2) Chanel anything...purse, jewelry...(my initials ARE cc)
3) A white kitten named Scarlett who Ebbie will love
4) Camel leather coat
5) Classic black Christian Louboutin pumps
6) Day at the spa (including a massage)
7) Elliptical machine for my guest room
8) Rock and Republic jeans
9) Dishwasher
10)
(Sidenote: #10 was purposely left blank so you can have the opportunity fill it in with a decadent, amazing, delicious, wonderfulous surprise gift.)
(Sidenote: on the Sidenote: Wonderfulous is in fact a word. Because I say so. And because it is almost my birthday.)

Picture from Chasing Fireflies, idea for present cake from Savvy Girl

"My pony died."

I've been on some bad dates but luckily, friends have bailed me out on several occasions. The first time I employed the buddy-bailout system on a date was freshman year. I told my roommate Rachel I was a little unsure about the guy I had agreed to see one night and told her she had to call me exactly half an hour into the date. If I answered the phone and said, "Oh no, are you ok?" then I would be leaving the date to help her through whatever false predicament I told my date. "The DVD should be on the shelf," meant that all was well and I didn't need to use her as an excuse. After threatening her with torturous early morning wake-ups if she forgot to call, I felt like I had a fail proof escape route.
Exactly half an hour into the date my phone rang and I grabbed it faster than a starving kid taking the last PB&J at snack time. "Hello?" I paused, "Oh no, are you ok?"
Rachel picked up on the panic in my voice right away. "Um, no, I'm not ok. My pony died and I need you to come comfort me." Somehow I managed to cover my spurt of laughter with my hand and made it sound like a shocked, sympathetic gasp. My date looked at me, clearly concerned about the situation or perhaps wondering if I had choked on some broccoli. Rachel found herself so amusing that she kept going, pretending to cry and telling me over and over how much she had loved that pony.
Before my laughing got too out of hand I quickly said, "Ok no problem, I'll be home in 15 minutes. I'm sure he will understand," and snapped the phone shut.
Either the guy bought it hook line and sinker or he was having as miserable a time as I was and just wanted to believe me to end the evening. Either way, saying "my pony died" has since become my favorite code for getting out of a date and I still owe Rachel for saving me that night.

Picture courtesy of Google Images.

Manic Monday

You know it is going to be an interesting first day back at work when your morning starts with waking up from a nightmare about having a baby with Sawyer from Lost and being bitten by a neon pink snake. That was followed up by spilling Rice Crispies (Ok it was technically "Crispy Rice," I buy the generic) all over the counter. Then I dropped my brand new teal blue/green eyeshadow on my cream pants and after walking around the office for wishing everyone a happy new year I realized my fly was down.
Having The Bangles sing to me on my commute was amazing so I thought you might want to kick off the new year back to work the same way I did (minus the weird dream, spilled food and make-up and pants issues).


Oh and if you want to rock out and sing along like I did in the car, here is the karaoke version. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lz7CyjKuzts (Sidenote:it won't let me embed the link so you'll have to copy and paste...I really am on a roll)