Happening now.

The past two weeks have been one crazy and intense whirlwind.

So, it all started last weekend, when I worked two days straight at Historic Columbia, giving tours for the very first time, and we were so busy that I didn't sit down once, which meant 9pm nights for me on Friday, Saturday and Sunday (lame!) and made for a horrible Monday, when I did my first workout with Jillian Michaels, dubbed The 30 Day Shred; needless to say, it shredded me, and I barely recovered, drug my 45 lb. feet around all day, toured the Fall Line exhibit at the Museum with all of the sweet and energetic Columbia docents, after which I came home to Hubs, who I made baked spaghetti for, because he loves it; and then, the Winter Olympics have made for very late nights for Hubs and I, because although we are not accustomed to watching televised sports, we LOVE the Olympics and were unable to tear our eyes away from the fantastic athletic feats of our Olympians until 1130pm some nights, which means that Hubs has been taking even more cat naps on the couch than ever before, and I have (as usual) been vacuuming and cooking up a storm; risotto, homemade pizza, slow-cooked ribs and rosemary yeast rolls in an iron skillet have been scenting the cottage up quite nicely. Not to mention that Will and I celebrated one of his coworker's birthdays at Wild Wings Friday night after a full week of working, cleaning and shredding, which meant that one cocktail quickly led to four with a few split birthday shots somewhere in between, way too much foolish dancing to horrible 90s songs (I mean, really, who does "HEEEEEEEEY, HOOOOOOOOOO" anymore? Who?!) while I stared down the DJ in the hopes that he could read my mind or at least hear the screams in my head for "BEYONCE. Hello! Play Beyonce or the Black Eyed Peas. I mean honestly!" But, as usual I was the youngest one there and the only one who didn't want to do the Tootsie Roll (yeah, it was one of those dance parties thanks to Mr. DJ) except of course for when he put on "Jump On It," which I promptly responded to by screaming, jumping up and down and hopping out to the dance floor to do my rendition of the Fresh Prince of Belair's "Dance Contest" episode, but apparently I was the only one there who ever watched the show and knew the reference, so when I looked up expecting to see everyone in sync with me, I was completely disappointed to see that I was utterly alone on the dance floor and was at that moment the entertainment, but that didn't stop me, I finished the dance proudly and then sauntered off the floor to chew on ice cubes because it was an inferno in there! That night ended with a wobbly trip to Wendy's and a small fry and chicken nugget later, I was asleep on the couch with Hubs by midnight; we woke up blearily at 1245am, me with an aching jaw from leaning against Hub's shoulder and with Hubs hungry for some cereal. Saturday was a tour day, but luckily I only had to give two tours which allowed the apocalyptic war that was raging within my female organs to calm down before I had to spend the rest of the night sitting upstairs at Seibels House (working as rental assistant) as a drunken wedding reception thumped beneath me. Thankfully, that ended early enough that Hubs and I were in bed by 1230, which made Sunday a lazy morning of pancakes and coffee and SHOPPING, as a quick trip to Dollar Tree landed me the proud new owner of prep bowls for cooking; TJMAXX afforded me a new soy candle that smells like lemons and a white trivet in the shape of an owl (a-dor-a-ble); Target allowed Hubs and I to make our very first appliance purchase, which was a microwave to replace the ugly white one that took 20 minutes the other morning to heat my coffee from room temperature to lukewarm, and also a new lampshade to replace the paper lantern one that the Panther decided to have for supper one day. And now, after a delicious dinner of Greek pork chops, mashed potatoes, mushroom, onion and red pepper stir fry and butter beans and two loads of laundry and sweeping the floor and cleaning the bathroom, I am ready to curl up on the couch and imagine what life will be like in West Virginia, because I hope it will be at the pace of molasses.

Whhheeewwww... glad I got all of that out, and all in one breath, too.

Chivalry is not dead.

So, the most romantic thing happened the other day as I was driving down the road. Strange setting, right? It gets better. At least, I think it gets better. You will have to wait and see.

So, I was driving down the road, when a moron (which is the name that I call any- and everyone that pisses me off, annoys me or that I just don't like) pulls out right in front of me. Like blatantly in front of me. Like if I hadn't swerved to the right and slammed on the brakes, I would have T-boned them like the best of them blatantly. All was well and my reactions were quick, but they weren't quick enough to send my fist slamming down on the horn complete with a few choice words, silent to their moron ears, and a friendly hand signal.

But, not to fear! As soon as their bumper had cleared from my path and I had straightened up the car and was no longer off-roading it, I heard a long and loud "BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" I checked my rearview mirror wondering who my knight in beeping armor might be and saw Hubs two cars behind.

"Of course," I thought. "He would defend my right-away honor with an angry toot of his horn."

I couldn't help but relish the warm, fuzzy feeling that this defense of love left in the pit of my stomach. I grinned despite myself, as I watched through the rearview mirror with tender eyes the Escape's (Hubs' car) progress down the road closer to me.

I picked up my phone and nervously with butterflies in my stomach pushed "W" that is Hubs' speed dial button.

"Hi baby," he said sweetly.

I giggled.

"Did you just beep the horn at that moron?"

"Yeah!" he said. "Of course I did. He just pulled out in front of my wife!"

"Awww," I cooed into the phone. "That was the most romantic thing ever, baby! I love you."

Hubs laughed at me.

"You're ridiculous," he said, a bit shyly if you ask me.

Saturday =(ed) Craziness

Yesterday was the MilkMonster's first birthday--pirate-themed, aarrgg. Did his only Aunt Beez make it to his very first birthday party? Nope. In some strange twist of fate that I don't remember signing up for, I had to work at HCF giving tours for the very first time. I did pretty well, but I missed the cake! The best part of every first birthday party! So sad. (Pictures to come.)

I made it to the tail end of MM's party at which point he was having way too much fun playing in the pirate ship of cardboard made by his momma and daddy and wanted nothing to do with me. Its ok though. I can handle it.

So, after a Mexican meal with some great people, Will and I went to the red box in Publix and rented one of the only movies that wasn't out of stock.

We got Up.

Its a Pixar film, so thinking along the lines of Toy Story and Finding Nemo, I thought that it would be light, funny and entertaining.

WRONG!

Within the first ten minutes of the movie, I had the biggest elephant tears of my life rolling down my cheeks and puddling on my shirt front. I tried to sit there as quietly and still as possible, hoping that Will wouldn't notice, but the sheer volume of tears left me saturated and just wet. I finally had to ask him for some tissues.

This is what made me cry: (I dare you not to.)

So, once that scene was over, I figured that the movie would be funny and entertaining and most importantly, NOT SAD from that point on.

WRONG!

This part might possibly be the worst. EVER.

The point is that by the end of the movie, I was completely heart broken and scarred for life. 

Thanks, Pixar.

But, the funny parts were hilarious, yet not funny enough to make me forget all of the sad parts.

So, there you have it. I am a total wimp. And loser. And completely ridiculous.

I even teared up again reviewing these clips for the post.

PATHETIC.

Obsessed

I was out to lunch with a coworker, indulging in a turkey wrap swathed in a toasty warm and freshly-made pita, when she innocently mentioned my ALL-TIME favorite show OF ALL TIME offhandedly as we discussed our tube-time vices.

Glee

She said, "Glee. I heard that was a pretty good show."

Glee

"Pretty good?" I nearly screamed, but couldn't thanks to the deliciously soft and yummy pita wad in my mouth. I finally situated my wrap into my left cheek and safely away from my throat, allowing enough room to say, "Its just the best thing that ever happened to TV, if you ask me."

Stream of consciousness as I chewed and swallowed my bite of wrap:

I mean it is the greatest thing ever. It has singlehandedly changed everything that we ever thought was great about TV. Its hilarious, entertaining, stereotypical, poignant, politically incorrect, joyous, heartbreaking and intoxicating. It left me singing, renewed my waning obsession with show tunes and gave me hope for TV future. It made me a better person.

What would my Wednesday nights last fall have been like without Glee?

What on earth did we do before Glee?

(cue dramatic gasp and grasping at the chest complete with heaving breaths)

How did I exist before Glee without Glee, having never known Glee?

(sudden piercing internal scream snaps me back to reality)

"I am seriously obsessed with that show," I said low and quickly and conspiratorily, checking over my shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping on one of TV's and life's greatest secrets.

Glee

"You should totally watch it. It starts again this April on Tuesdays," I said.

"Mark your calendar and planner and put a sticky note somewhere. Just don't forget, alright?" (Just kidding--I didn't really say that... out loud; I didn't hold my butter knife to her throat and threaten within an inch of her life either. Seriously, that was a joke.)

Also, Will adores the show almost as much as me, which has increased my own admiration by the millions.

Aahh...

So, anyways, now that you all think I am crazy, I will share with you my tied-for-first place clips from Glee, because I LOOOOOOOOVE it when people post music videos. Seriously, I do. Thanks to Ann Mak's recent post, I have rediscovered my love for Jay Z. Thanks, Ann!

This is by far the best performance those talented cast and crew members put together for our viewing pleasure:

And, like Jay Z, Beyonce, you are amazing. I bow at your feet. I am also extremely jealous that I don't know this dance. Enjoy: 

 

What are your tube-time vices?

Dun-dah-Dun

SNOW DAY 2010

How cute does the cottage look in snow?

How cute does Hubs look covered in snow? 

We got in a little fight.

We got a whopping 6.5 inches! It was incredible. Will and I loved having a little preview of West Virginia. I can honestly say that I am very excited about the move to the mountains. That first winter is going to be unforgettable and so much fun. I can't wait to go sledding and skiing whenever we want to! Oh yeah, and I learned how to drive in snow. And, it wasn't hard. At all.

    

Now for the day of lurve.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 2010!
 

It all began on Saturday morning. We decided to celebrate our Valentine's Day with a special, homemade dinner on Saturday night. For many reasons (which you have all heard me complain about over and over again), we decided to keep V-Day low key and to enjoy it from the comfort of the cottage.

Saturday morning was a big day of nothingness. It was fabulous. We laid around and looked at the snow out the windows, ventured out for a little snow fight and then decided to go on a hunt for some bargains to no avail, unfortunately.

Then, it was time for the meal time preparations.

The Menu:

Starter:

Sauteed brussell sprouts with olive oil and parmesan cheese

Entree:

Red pepper and goat cheese risotto, baked chicken thighs in a garlic aioli with sage and lemon and blanched and sauteed asparagus

Dessert:

Homemade dark chocolate truffles rolled in cocoa powder

The preparation:

The final product:

It was--and, I'm not just saying this because I was Head Chef--the best meal that I have ever eaten.

Ever.

**ALSO** Roll dance clip from 500 Days of Summer as I successfully produced from somewhere in the deepest depths of me the creamiest and most delicious, knock-your-thick-wool-socks-off RISOTTO!

It was also a great Valentine's Day for Hubs and me. It was so relaxing. We hardly left the couch Sunday and didn't feel guilty about it at all. We both figure that while we have the time to lay around with each other and do nothing, we are going to take advantage of it and do just that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Do these photo collages work?? So much cleaner and easier than uploading photo after photo.
Let me know what you think!

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

See what Hubs and I were doing last Valentine's Day here.

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Shopping trip yesterday was miserably unsuccessful.

In store for tomorrow:

SNOW DAY

And:

VALENTINE'S DAY 2010

I would tell you all about these two things right now complete with pictures, but I've been laying on the couch all day with Hubs, so why stop now?


I hope Cupid was wonderful to you all!

 

There are 6.5 inches of snow on the ground, and

we're going antiquing!

To be posted later today:

-pictures of snow
-more pictures of more snow
-pictures of Hubs in the snow
-pictures of yours truly in the snow
-no pictures of the Panther in the snow, but I will tell you how we almost lost her in it.

What I plan on finding a great deal on during this afternoon of furniture hunting:

-A really gorgeous headboard kind of like this one would give us sweet dreams every night.

 

-A wonderfully old and worse-for-wear chair that we can get for a steal and show some upholstering lurve to--a chair like this one perhaps.

 

-We need a fixer-upper lamp shade to be creative with to adorn our old lamp, since the Panther decided to eat the paper lantern shade that we had originally.

 

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And, lastly, I will leave you with one of our favorite tunes from one of our favorite artists. We listened to this one this morning after our snow fight (that I won!).

Thursday.

I love Thursdays. They are so full of promise--the promise for a break from all those things expected of you. It means that you just have 24 hours left to think non-stop about the weekend, plan your weekend, envision the delights in store for the weekend. And, that is a great feeling, because, let's face it, 24 hours of a Thursday is exponentially better than 24 hours of a Monday or a Tuesday or a Wednesday.

I even like the look of Thursday. Look at it:

THURSDAY

Looking good, Thursday.

Thursday conjures up fantastic images of: 

$3 cosmos - You know that Thursday is the best because it is the last day of the week with Happy Hour specials and it is so close to the weekend that there is absolutely no guilt in partaking in a little celebratory (for the weekend, of course) libation.

$1 movies - From the movie box inside Publix. Note: Hubs and I are very poor. $1 movies are our friend and sole source of enjoyment and weekend partaying. Lame? Most definitely. Ashamed? Would I have just listed it if I was?

SLEEP - I always get enough sleep, but I sure do love to get a lot more of it on weekends when Hubs can enjoy it with me. No 4:30am mornings on Saturdays and Sundays!

PBS - Will and I love some PBS on the weekends. They have some great cooking shows. And, This Old House is fabulous. Will takes notes for future work on our future old home. I relish the old hardwoods and support my cause of historic preservation. Old buildings rock. Save one!

bargains - Thursday means 1 or 2 days until Will and I have the opportunity to bargain hunt for items that will allow me to release my creativity.

So, basically, here's to you, Thursday. May you always be thirsty, thrifty and thoughtfully close to the weekend!

The new box.

Maybe, you have noticed the new box to the right. The one that replaced the fish.

Maybe not?

Great! Don't look!


Confession: That little box makes me feel kind of like a sell-out.


This is why it is there:  

So, I was sitting at the computer last night--on the Big Daddy computer, Will's desktop, that we eventually broke down and moved out to the living room. Why, you might ask? Well, because my laptop has officially died. Its ninth life has come and gone. So, rather than having to sit in our cold, lonely and dark cave of a bedroom to access the computer, we decided to move it out into the only slightly warmer, much brighter and friendlier living room/dining room/kitchen. I digress. 

So, I was sitting at the computer last night, feeling just a little sorry for myself (yet again), pondering my lack of income (as usual) and mourning the loss of freedom provided by my laptop (ie: sitting comfortably on the couch by Hubs with computer in lap), and I started to think. 

I started to think about different ways that I could make money. Legal, morally acceptable ways to make money (because movies like Blow and Oceans 11 appeal far too much to my fantasy, leading me to believe that a life of crime would be a piece of cake and a great and fast and seemingly easy way of cash attainment through the inevitable drug deal and casino robbery: PIECE O' CAKE, I say), when I remembered an article that I read in Mare's Glamour magazine about a blogger who makes $30,000 a year off of advertisements on her blog.

WHAT?!?!

REALLY!??!

Woooooww.......

And, then I thought,

I could do that--

rather, I could try to do that.

Would it work?

How much could I possibly make?

Am I being totally and completely narcissistic and self-centered to think that there is enough traffic on my blog to produce any sort of income? (Probably.)

And, then I thought,

even if there was enough traffic on my blog (which is HIGHLY LAUGHABLE by the way, considering I have a mere 9 followers, who I love dearly with all of my heart; you know my soul), why on earth would anyone actually interact with the ad?

And, then I thought,

do I even interact with ads?

No.

Will I ever?

Probably not.

But, then I thought,

why not?

Would it be in the way?

No.

Would it be a distraction?

Maybe, but this day and age, we are bombarded with advertisements every second of every day in all places, and yet we find a way to make it through the day, to cope with our material world (of which I am totally a material girl).

And, then I thought,

why shouldn't I at least try to make a little money? Is it such a bad thing?

I mean, blogging isn't my job. Its a hobby that I enjoy. And, people get paid for hobbies all the time. And, I am going to blog no matter if there is an ad there or not or whether I am being paid for it or not, 

so why not try it out?

Especially since I am technically unemployed at the moment.

Ouch, first time actually typing it out loud.

And, then I thought (because I was quite the thinker last night),

If I make money, great. If I don't, I don't. 

So, I signed up for Google AdSense, and now, I have an ad. 

I hope you all (all 9 of you) understand and don't judge me. 

I have already decided that any money I do make off the ad will go into a NEW LAPTOP FUND.


That way, I won't be using Hubs' hard earned cash for my selfish means, which was really, honestly and truly the main motivation for the ad. I feel so incredibly guilty spending the money that Will makes on things for myself. 

And, that is the truth.

I wonder

why it is that as soon as I get the MilkMonster* down for his nap, and have settled myself comfortably on the couch, and have just started the DVRed episode of Project Runway, and just filled myself a cold glass of water and gulped down about half of it that I all of a sudden without warning and without fail have to pee so excruciatingly bad.

I mean like I-better-not-turn-my-head-too-fast-or-I-might-leak-or-explode-bad.

Come to think of it, it could have something to do with the huge cup of coffee I just consumed and the half glass of water that I couldn't gulp down fast enough.

Lucky for me, the bathroom is of course conveniently located down the creaky hallway, past MM's bedroom, with the door closed and the air isn't on to drown out my cautious and soft footfalls. And, I just know that MM is subconsciously waiting for any distraction to wake him up from his deep slumber. Because, let me tell you one thing, that kid does not like to sleep. And then, once I have trekked the creaky hallway and made it safely to the bathroom's threshold and silently opened the door and closed it behind me with no sound of stirrings or shrieks of

"I'M AWAKE AUNT BEEZEY!! SLEEP IS NO MATCH FOR ME!"

coming from MM's room, I finally make it to the wonderful, beautiful, oh how I love thee, toilet!

Unfortunately that full-of-relief, you are my savior toilet now possesses a baby-proofed contraption, or as I affectionately call it, the babysitter booby trap. This thing takes 3 hands to successfully open without the faintest clicks and ticks, and unfortunately I only have 2.

But, after I do get it open, all the while holding my breath and praying that the air would turn on and muffle my toilet attempts, I am able to sit down and RELIEF. Nothing really matters much at that point.

And, afterwards, 20 pounds lighter and loads happier, I wash my hands under a trickle of water that takes 10 times as long to get the soap off, but MM is way too close for a full blast hand-washing.

And, I don't flush. No sirree. After all of those precautions, you better believe that lid stays up and that toilet unflushed until MM wakes up.

I wonder how I can train my bladder to contain the gallons of liquid within until a more suitable time to dispose of it. Sometimes, being a woman is so inconvenient. Hubs can go all day without visiting the loo, but me. I don't think so one bit at all, no way. Don't they medicate for that sort of thing?



*Milk Monster is my nephew Griffin. This kid can guzzle some milk. 6 bottles a day and he will be 1 in 2 weeks. Just this morning, upon the final suck of his 6 oz bottle and my immediate removal of the nipple from his starving lips, he grunted, sat straight up and demanded in all his baby glory that he would have some more. Pronto. Thus the new name from here on out.

If my life were a movie scene...

it would be this scene from 500 Days of Summer, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt would be Cameron Diaz (as me, because this is my movie and I get to choose!) and I would be dancing because I just got a job, or won a bunch of money or successfully cooked risotto.  

House Wares and Wants

There are many things in life that I cannot wait to do. Decorating my very own house is one of them. 

Let's explore my design philosophy through a display of all things home-related that Google proudly displayed at just one click of the "search" button.

Let's begin with reality.

 

I purchased this table yesterday on a shopping trip with TuTu, Mare and G (from here on known as "Milk Monster"). I originally fell in love with this table over Christmas, when I literally stumbled upon it at Pier1, where it cost a whopping $50. I got it for $24.99. I couldn't be happier about it and the hopes that we will one day very soon have a place big enough that it can be seen and not have to be stuck between the couch and the wall.

Now, for all those hopes and dreams:

You chair would look fabulous next to my knit upholstered couch, resting atop our 25+ year old Oriental rug (inherited from Mom and Dad). When will you come home to me? 

Take your time though. Our couch barely fits in our apartment now.

Hello, lover otherwise known as a porcelain farmhouse sink and the butter to my bread. One day, we shall be together for the rest of our lives.

 

You, my friend, are fabulous. You would look good just about anywhere. 

There are no words to describe my complete infatuation with this kitchen. Ssshhhh.... No talkie.

You would look wonderful at the end of my bed, in like a year, when there is more than a foot of space there. Till then.

Now, that is how you treat a window, because we all know how much of a good time those windows can have.

**Warning** This is not a style blog. This is just a post about home style and decor within the confines of a blog about the marriage of two crazy kids, who are set to endure the freezing temperatures and weak cell phone signal of the Allegheny mountains in WV. Medical School to commence in 180 days and counting down. 179, 178, 177, 176....

******ALSO TO COME: Hear how my Hunter Boots dream came true! And how I am now completely and utterly proud to be painted RED.

What I Want

Since I probably won't be able to buy or achieve many of the things that I want until 2015, when Will and i will finally have some excess cash (maybe?) and some free time (perhaps?), I am going to blog about them.

And then, I will drool.

Here is what I want:

 

A cameo ring. Something that I have ALWAYS wanted, but have yet to afford.

A collared necklace, because its totally chic, but funky. I want one. Bad. Come to think of it, I could probably make it quite easily. I might just have to try.

In my dreams, I look just like this.

I need some chunky heels. These would do just fine.

 I love, love, love, love these boots. They're Hunters. West Virginia called and said that they were a must.

Our couch is in desperate need of a new slipcover. How awesome would a knit slipcover be??? So warm and cozy and comfy, especially on freezing cold and snowy WV nights.

This picture makes me short of breath. Want. Need. Gotta have. Every head chef needs Le Creuset cookware.

I love my Longchamp backpack. It epitomizes shoulder freedom. After 2.5 years, mine is looking a little rough. I think its time for a replacement.

Umm.... yes, please? My laptop is on its ninth life as we speak. It might not make it through the night. I would love a laptop that didn't weigh 8 lbs that I could take with me anywhere. A Macbook would be perfection.

I'm so sick of my TJMAXX specials. I need some serious sunglasses. These would do just fine.

I am currently the very proud owner of two shirt dresses. I could always use another. You can never have to many. They are way too versatile.

Annoyed

I am really, really annoyed this morning.

1) I woke up circa-4:30am with a splitting, throbbing head ache. Hot spots: under my eyes, above my eye, over my ears, SINUSES. No matter how I positioned my head on the pillow, my head just ached and ached. The kicker: I was too exhausted to get up and do anything about it. And, Hubs? Well, he felt terrible all night and even worse this morning. So, I didn't have the heart to ask for some medi, some sweet Hubs-kisses and head rub. I suffered in bed, tossing and turning until I finally could take it no longer and got up at 6:50am.

2) The Panther. I love you, kitty, but you get under my feet. And, as mommy came stumbling out of her bedroom this morning, you tripped her up 3 times! Then, you gnawed on the tape that holds up our door insulation. You know, the tape that you always eat and then throw up. And then, you situated yourself directly under the step taken by my right foot as I stepped away from the coffee maker with hot, hot coffee in hand. You screeched. I burned myself. I love you, Panther, but you annoyed me this morning.

3) I couldn't wait to get up and finish watching Julie&Julia this morning. I started it last night with Hubs, who had to go to bed without finishing it. I just had to go with him. However, when I went to finish it this morning, the batteries that we use with both remotes (you know, loading and unloading them for whichever remote we need then) would not work in the TV remote, and alas, I could not turn the TV to Input 1. Uggghhh. So much for that.

4) Its raining. Well, big surprise. I hate Columbia. When it rains.

5) Its cold. Miserably cold. I think that I will actually be able to handle WV. At least, it will be cold with snow that you can brush off of you without getting too wet. But rain and cold. I just can't take it anymore!

Now, the things that make me happy in the hopes that this day will not be a complete disaster.

1) Hubs. He rocks my world.

2) The thick wool socks that my mom gave me for Christmas.

3) The space heater.

4) Aunt Gerry's salty sourdough bread that is the BEST breakfast ever.

5) Thick lotion.

Here's to a very annoyed morning turning into a GREAT day!

What's your brand?

On the Today Show this morning, they had a marketing executive talking about the importance of branding yourself. He pointed out Donald Trump, who puts his name on everything that he owns. Then, he mentioned Martha Stewart and her perfect empire of sheets, towels, crafts and cooking demos.

And, then he discussed his own brand, which was marked by a business card with a dog-eared corner, inspired by the fans, who brought dog-eared copies of his books for his autograph. He even dog-ears his letterheads.

Crazy, but unique. I would remember it.

It got me thinking about my brand.

I am in the perfect position to begin creating my brand and marketing it. I am not technically an employee of Historic Columbia Foundation. I function there as an intern at times, and then as a contract researcher, where I essentially hire myself out to patrons, who come to them for research.

But, what would my brand be?

As all of my friends know, I am slightly obsessed with bird decor. (I received at least 4 Christmas presents pertaining to birds.) But, a symbol of a bird has really nothing to do with historic preservation and research.

My one true love of historic preservation is old buildings. I think then that my brand would have to be an old building or building materials. Maybe, I will begin the creation of my brand tonight. I can utilize Will's photoshop skills and come up with something extraordinary.

I will keep you all posted.

What's your brand?

At home

There's nothing like a Tuesday night, at-home facial. Presently, I sit perched on the edge of the couch, with the Panther lounging closely to my right and dried yogurt, honey and granola plastered on my face. 

Yes, folks, it is beauty time.

I am a bit fanatic about my skin.

I moisturize daily. And, by moisturize, I mean that I slather on two and sometimes three very thick coats of lotion on my face and one pasty layer over the rest of me every morning after my shower.

I use a special skin firming cream around my eyes. Which I apply with my ring fingers. And rub from the outside corners inward. Always. Never the other way, or WRINKLES. Aaah!

Whenever Will, being the generous, sweet, kind, incredibly loving Hubs that he is, gives me a facial rub to alleviate some of the pain from my sinuses, I always gently scold him:

Not around my eyes, babe! You'll give me wrinkles!

Sometimes, when Hubs is feeling cheeky, he will pull the skin on my face in opposing directions in an effort to contort my features. To which I again will gently scold:

Babe! Don't pull my skin! You're going to give me wrinkles! Do you want a wrinkly, old wife?

Whenever Griffin tries to yank my nose off my face or pull my eyes out with his little baby fingers, I always take his hand and, forehead to forehead, ask him in my most convincing baby voice:

Gwiffin, do you want Aunt Beezy to have wrinkles and have Unkie Wiw weave me for somebody younger and hotter and less wrinkly in a few years?

So tonight, after a rejuvenating scrub of sugar crystals in the shower, and a steam bath under a thick towel while poised over a steaming pot of water, and a thick slathering of homemade skin mask, I think that my skin will be ready for a new day.

Will you?