I do not see these things in Dayton

Take a look at the vibrant wonderland that is Santa Fe, NM. If you step onto the narrow one way streets this is what you might see. You will be just as delighted as I was and take some pictures. Then you will eat mountains of guacamole and think about making out with a certain Pez man who guards a chocolate store. According to him, you don't need hands to make out.

I'm back, to let you know, I can really shake 'em down!

Santa Fe was awesome, except for the part where I got sick on the second day with a fever/head cold/sore throat CRUD that probably hitched a ride on my laptop bag and waited until after my presentation to strike me dead. And by dead, I mean really cranky. I have some cool pictures to show you (but NOT the ones my mom took of me DURING my presentation, WITH THE FLASH ON), but for today I wanted to say welcome back to myself and leave you with this conversation that I had with my husband on the way to the airport last week. Because more than anything, I really missed my husband.

Him: I really like that new Kristy Yamaguchi song.
Me: What?
Him: You know, the ice skater. I like that song about her on the radio.
Me: I have no idea what you are talking about.
Him: Yeah, you know, it goes "Kri-sty Yam-ah-guchi...O-KAAAY!"
Me: [laughing] Babe, I don't think that's what the song says.
Him: Yep. I'm sure of it.

[in the car]
Him: Here! THIS IS THE SONG! [turns radio up]
Him: [singing] Kri-sty Yam-ah-guchi...O-KAAAY!
Me: No. It says, Kri-sty are you do-ing okay.
Him: No it doesn't. It says Yamaguchi.
Me: What you're singing makes no sense, why would the song say that?
Him: I don't know, wait... LISTEN!
[turns up the radio during the chorus]
Him: Okay, that wasn't the right verse, just wait. It will say it.
Me: ....
Him: I swear the time I listened to it, it said Kristy Yamaguchi...

Him singing his version so cute, I almost like it better. Offspring doesn't have shit on my husband!

Please leave a message after the beep

Dear loyal reader(s)

I cannot come to the blog right now because I am having my assk handed to me by life. The stress is eating at my insides as if I swallowed a million tape worms and their babies. New Mexico, work, presentation, STATS FINAL, packing, dirty house, travel, AH! AH! AH! Can’t eat. Can’t sleep and I’m having a hard time being nice to people or caring about anything that anyone tells me (and unlike some people, this is abnormal for me).

It’s times like these when I realize that

A) I rarely use my brain these days and when I do it’s like starting up a rusty chain saw – still sharp but you might get tetanus if you get too close.

B) I handle stress worse with age

C) I know exactly why people snort Xanax. Honest to blog I thought about it this morning.

I am taking a break from my blog (unless I run into Taye Diggs in New Mexico and then I will totally brag about it on my blog the very second after we are done making out) until I get back.

If you stop by to see if I am back yet, leave me a message. I like when people do that. AND you can pray that the stress of my mildly eventful life doesn’t kill me.

Also: I saw a cute quote last night: “Good girls keep diaries…bad girls have blogs!”

Also: The Macy’s fine jewelry department is going out of business and everything is 60%-70% off with an additional 20% if you use your beloved red credit card. I saved some of my Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanza money and with it, I’m buying myself a pearl necklace. Today. After work. Right after I check my belly button for tape worm babies.

Also: BEEP!

you're shorter - you take the heavy end

Sorry so slow on the posts but I’ve been busy at work. One week left until Santa Fe and I have yet to start on my power point for the conference. My presentation is on substance abuse in elderly populations and this afternoon I actually wished I had a picture of my dear birthday grandpa swiggin’ down some gin and tonics! (I figured asking him to toke on a crack pipe would be pushing it.) All in a day’s work people.

Anywho, the GREAT COUCH HUNT OF 2009 continues this weekend. Last weekend was a total bust because we drove all over God’s green earth (why do people say this?) only to find out Macy’s Furniture website is full of lies – LIES I tell you! Why would you make up dimensions of a couch? To infuriate my husband to the point where he wants to hit you in your stupid face with his Croc (the shoe not the pot)?

We discovered two things: 1) furniture sales are completely misleading and 2) getting shocked with a tape measure fifty times in one day SOUPER-sucks.

It’s supposed to be 60 degrees and sunny tomorrow and I’ll be damned if unattached couch cushions are going to ruin my day. We have one promising option and if we can find a way to push, pull, or drag it to our house without filing for divorce – it will be a miracle.

Wish us luck!

There's nothing panties and a fish sandwich can't fix

It’s March. March is a fun month because of St. Patrick’s Day and green and smooching red-heads who claim they are Irish and it’s the month before my birthday and because this year, in March, I'm going to Santa Fe. So why have I been cranky in March? I’ve had plenty of sleep, plenty of time with my husband…I can’t figure it out. Perhaps it’s because Rhianna was stupid enough to go back to Chris Brown after he beat her silly. Perhaps it’s because the jerk mamma’s at blockbuster only carry one copy of Changling in Blu-Ray and won’t hold it for me. Perhaps because it is still a trillion degrees below zero outside and I am jonesing for sunny.

Here are my sunny ideas for March:

The new McDonald’s commercial for lent. The tiny wheels in my brain spin with delight when I see sheer marketing genius. Singing wall fish with a catchy tune and obese man eating your friend – I salute you.



OPI pink iridescent nail polish, you will adorn my seven long nails and three broken ones. You will make them sparkly and strong and not chip within three days of application under penalty of death.

Windsor Pilates, I miss you. I need to get my lazy b-hole out of bed 20 minutes earlier each morning in order to stretch and elongate my muscles. My previously toned arms have gone limp and yearn for your instruction, you complete me.

Schwan’s man, in your boxy yellow truck, please visit my house and drop off some delicious chicken cordon bleu for those March nights when I am lazy and don’t want to cook. I can almost smell the warm swiss cheese seeping from the ham-stuffed middle. Also, please include a half gallon of your delectable raspberry swirl fro-yo. Because it is just the kind of smooth creamy treat that this girl needs to satisfy her after-dinner sweet tooth.

Victoria’s secret free pantie coupons – your ‘no purchase necessary’ clause allows me to throw away old period panties every month and replace them with black/white/whisper pink/ivory/buff low-rise cotton briefs valued up to $9.50 without spending a single dime. The two coupons I have are burning a hole in my wallet and I cannot wait to dig through cotton undergarment goodness to find my free treasures. Please keep sending them. My pantie drawer thanks you.

And finally, when someone else makes a list (for the love of lists) of March lovelies and shows me a pair of crimson wedges that just happen to be on sale for 40% off at Nordstrom’s, delivered to your door free of charge in two days (call a store if you can't find your size!) I need them. I needed them for March. I figured they could sit in my closet with my yellow jacket and wait patiently for spring.

Dear crimson wedges. Please come soon. Bring spring.

Anthropology (the conference not the store)

My abstract, Ashamed, Alone and Addicted: Substance Abuse Issues Among Older Adults in Ohio was accepted for the Society for Applied Anthropology Conference and I was chosen as a session chairperson. Looks like my mom and I will be spending St. Patrick's Day in Santa Fe, NM...Yippee!!!

I'm too busy to tell people how busy I am

Saying I’m having a slow period at work is an understatement. I am having a stopped period at work. Granted our project runs in six month cycles: collect data (ie., interview drug users, dealers, cops, treatment providers), transcribe data (my student does, not me), analyze data, write up report, edit reports, submit reports to the state, edit reports again, post for publication. Our cycles end in January and June. We are between the “submit report to the state” portion of our June cycle and just before the “transcribe data” for January. I.E. NOTHING TO DO RIGHT NOW. Until we get approval to move forward with the June reports and the tapes transcribed for the January reports were are at a numbing stalemate.

My job pays me probably more money than it should for the actual amount of work produced. It has a flexible schedule (9:30am-5pm), a generous lunch (1hr) and my own office (er, uh. cubical) to keep my stuff in. I really can’t complain (and with a 7% unemployment rate and friends and family losing their jobs, I feel guilty for complaining) and besides I have two other jobs and a hunky husband to keep me busy. However, my previous jobs had me up to my ears in stress and work. Tasks that made my brain spin with cost effective strategies and decisions that impacted the way people received services. I miss that. I actually miss forgetting to eat, back-to-back meetings and not opening a single browser all day. I miss feeling like I contributed to something on a daily basis and that my input was vital to the happenings of an organization. Research, epidemiological/anthropological research at that, just isn’t meant to produce immediate gratification. Damn you epidemiology (one time a bitchy girl from my high school asked my mom if I give epidurals all day long. Um. no. AND, you're officially dumb.) I think jobs reflect different times in our lives that can mostly be summed up by cliches: entry level; means to an end; paycheck to paycheck; pain in the a@@. This is my blue period. Not sad blue, just stalemate blue and in nineteen months we will be off on a new adventure. In the next six months or so we get to start planning and thinking about that move. It might be the biggest move of my life thus far. Where? I don’t know. I am excited, but it had better not be blue.

Did I mention I submitted an abstract on substance abuse in the elderly (those oldies love them some crack!) and I might be HERE for St. Patty’s Day? Giada liked it, so I'm sure I will too! (Seriously, could she possibly eat the food in a more sexy way?) Sorry internets, if accepted, I’ve already asked my mom to join me. She’s having a blue period too.