Today, I am proud of myself (and The Prof, too.) Not only did we power through looking at/in about 15+ properties yesterday, but this morning we got up at 6:45 a.m. and went for a run. GRRR!
By the time I arrived at the office, I needed a little *something*. Luckily, I just read about The Big Word Project last night, so I clicked on over and bought myself a word:
If you could be described by just one word, what would that word be?
Last night, The Prof and I attended The Wolf School's annual Discover the Difference event. Wolf, located in East Provi, is for "children with learning differences who struggle in traditional elementary schools." The Prof edited their graduation video this and last year.
Besides information about the school and a few alluring silent auction items, I found something else at the event: a new identity. Now presenting "me", as indicated by my name tag from last night.
Mmmkay. Not only is the first name misspelled, but the last name isn't mine...it belongs to The Prof! Not. even. close to reality. I guess, for one night and based completely on Avery nametags, we had a de facto marriage. Hee hee. We acted very contemporary, too -- I bought the drinks (although he did drive.)
What would Christie Murphy be like, I wondered as we drove home? Might she have athletic leanings, be a teetotaler, actually read books from start to finish, and not give a damn that Mariah Carey just got married to a guy 12 years her junior who proposed with a recycled ring, or that Bobby Kristina tried to slice her wrists after failing to stab her mother Whitney Houston? Would CM have long wavy hair, maybe in a nice shade of (dyed) blonde and strong, shiny fingernails that were the envy of her acquaintances? In other words, is Christie Murphy my possibly evil, health nut, perfectly groomed Doppelgänger? I'd love to find the other me, even if she did spell her name with an "e" at the end.
I guess I (and you too, Inter-net) will never meet this "Christie Murphy" character though...because if I change my first name, I'm going for the full-fledged 1970s-esque "Kristy" (with a heart dotting the 'i',) and I already told The Prof that no marriage will my last name change. Besides, as Skydiving in Stilettos so succinctly put forth: "What would you do, change the name of your blog to Blogomurphy?
Exactly.
This week, I am ready, waiting, and all about Spring. Even though New England doesn't technically have a season between Winter and Summer (we just have rain,) slightly warmer temps do mean I can start giving Vinny, or more specifically his big empty trunk, some lovin'.
I got a jumpstart on salvage season by scoring some free wooden fruit crates at the grocery. My plan is to use them to package and transport the numerous vintage plate sets that I have in stock for Wündercabinet. Until I either sell the sets on the local Craigslist, or at The SOWA Open Market, the guess the cute crates will live in Vinny's trunk.
It's funny how the proverbial (or actual) flood brings with its waters insight and rebirth. Such was the case when our basement flooded last weekend AND I got an email from A Classic Girl letting me know that Etsy had been featured on the Martha Stewart show. As many of you know, I've been storing hundreds of items in various locations for 2+ years in the hope of launching an online store. Whether because of programming deficiency, lack of time, or just plain procrastination, "the store" sat dejectedly in Vinny's trunk, then The Prof's study, and now, our basement.
Not anymore! The Prof and I carried everything upstairs into our dining room, and for the past five days I've been burning the midnight oil photographing, measuring, and describing the many treasures. Since apparently Etsy is the next Google, the time seems ripe to send some of these goodies off to new homes as Martha Stewart mention=mad site traffic. Admittedly, selling on Etsy is not as great, in terms of look and feel, as having my own Wundercabinet url and store design. Also, PayPal is a slight pain in the arse and I hate paying commissions on sales to both sites. However, until I can get my sh*t together (or just in case I never do, heh,) at least the goods are out in public doman.
Click here to check out Wündercabinet on Etsy!
(He must love me...below, our kitchen, overrun by items waiting to be listed)
(Below, some mint condition Russell Wright Residential melamine dinnerware, finally ready for its moment in the sun -- literally! I think these pieces would be great for Spring/Summer picnic or patio dining.)
In another explanation as to why I've been repeatedly MIA, my pregnant co-worker and dear friend Jackie had her baby about a month ago (Hi Bridget!) and so my workload at the office has increased significantly. I come in earlier, sometimes work later, and have less time to take lunch. As such, output here at Blogorelli Corp. has suffered, and I do apologize. Once I make it through today (Friday) and get all the remaining items up on Etsy this weekend, I anticipate a comeback. Thanks for sticking around and checking on me in the meantime.
And now, a funny story.
As I mentioned, I've been up pretty late consecutive nights working on inventory. That, combined with the early mornings at the office and just general stress, have made me a bit squirrelly. Which might explain why this site seems like the best thing that I can imagine in the whole universe. Prove me wrong and find something better than "the world's most photographed squirrel," who lives in Boca Raton, has a "small, lime-green parrot named Rio" as a companion, and "loves to dress up, and has over 2,000 outfits with matching hats and accessories....and has her own, posh studio with an elaborate stage and thousands of stage props, and has posed for over 5,000 photos since her modeling career began."
Come on, now!
I sold a few items this week, one of which was a metal squirrel nutcracker, and was packaging everything up to ship out. I bubblewrapped the squirrel and put him in a cute gift bag from IKEA. Being completely metal, the nutcracker's weight caused the bag to sag a bit. See below:
(Bag o' squirrel)
It was almost midnight when I went to check on The Prof, who was working at his computer in the study. I bounded in, tired and crazed look in my eyes, held up the bag in my hand and said, "Look!"
He looked up and replied, "What's in there?"
I said, "The SQUIRREL!" (Well, I was excited about selling the nutcracker because it was my first sale since I started putting items up on the Etsy store again, and so maybe I was a little too emphatic in my reply.)
He paled. Then, "What...squirrel?!?"
I looked back quizzically and replied, "The squirrel nutcracker."
He exhaled. "Whew, ok. I don't know, maybe you had a live squirrel in there and..."
I realized that The Prof thought we had a Sugar Bush Squirrel-gone-wrong scenario on our hands. Yikes. It's not as though I'm an amateur who doesn't know how to dress animals in outfits! Besides, where does one find a squirrel at midnight EST? No really, someone clue me in.
However, there are no clothed rodents -- alive or dead -- in our apartment (that I know about, anyway) and it's definitely time for the weekend. See you on Monday, Inter-net.
T G I F !
The Prof is off once more, traveling to Florida for the next week on business. At least he's staying at SeaWorld, which means maybe this year for Valentine's Day, I'll get a little something special:
Behold, the Shamu "Believe" toothpick holder. I can't imagine a gift more fitting of our love or decor. Of course, over the next week, I'll mostly miss our constant banter.
While watching a movie...
BLOGORELLI: "Did that lesbian in the movie just say something about her cheese pot?!? Is that some secret hot lesbian sex move?"
THE PROF: "She said 'G Spot.' G SPOT...for the love!"
(Just ask Famke Jenssen if you want to know about cheese pots...she brought it up!)
While surfing the Inter-net...
BLOGORELLI: "Sweetie, your blog won't come up. Are you having technical difficulties?"
THE PROF: "I don't think so."
BLOGORELLI: "Nevermind -- I accidentally typed in 'dongsfromamixtape' instead of 'songsfromamixtape!'"
(Making a fake home page for DongsFromAMixTape.net was taking too long, so use your imagination on how I might have taken it there...)
Talking about apartment decor...
BLOGORELLI: "Look! We can buy instructions on how to make a Murphy bed out of IKEA parts! I've always wanted one...can we make it?"
THE PROF: "What for? You've already got a Murphy in the bed!"
At least our new couch is being delivered on Saturday morning, so that's exciting...but the BKP and I will miss you during the inaugural sitting, babe.
(Admittedly, this whole post was a mere excuse to use the following...)
Just a friendly Blogorelli public service announcement that this year's crop of colds, flus, and viruses is coming on full-speed. I've already noticed an increase of people sniffling and sneezing in the T <flinch.> So wash those hands -- and well!
Here's the "proper" technique, as outlined by Jim MacDonald at Making Light:
HOW TO WASH YOUR HANDS
1) Turn on the water and get it to a temperature you like.
2) Lather up using soap. (Soap does not kill germs in the time that the germs are exposed during hand washing. There’s stuff that grows fine on a bar of soap. The surfactant action of soap helps the running water flush the germs away. That’s how it works. It’s purely mechanical. Antibacterial soap is a waste of time and money, and just helps breed antibiotic-resistant bugs.)
3) Rub your hands vigorously together, paying special attention to the fingernails, getting up onto the wrists, for as long as it takes you to sing one stanza of The Star Spangled Banner or two verses of Little Mattie Groves. (Blogorelli note: this seems like a looong time! I did an experiment with this technique yesterday and worried my co-workers might start wondering why I spent such an extended amount of time in the loo.)
4) Rinse off the soap with the running water.
5) Dry your hands with a paper towel.
6) Use the expended paper towel to turn off the water. (Blogorelli note #2: I feel like I am reliving my childhood -- this paper towel thing is classic Dad-orelli! Want to take it to the pro level? Open the door with the towel and then throw it in the wastebasket.)
Tonight, The Prof returns home from his extended business trip. He mentioned on his blog that this trip marks the most nights we've spent apart (6) since combining households. I can't wait to see him at the airport tomorrow, but I must admit that I've enjoyed these past nights at home alone. For one thing, I get to use his new computer, which is sweeeeet...abeit a bit of retina burning due to its extremely bright screen.
A few other things I've discovered during my "singleton swan song" at Castle Murforelli:
- I like to brush my teeth in the shower
- Coffee is hotter in my to-go mug when I set the timer for 7:30 instead of 7:00 on the pot's timer
- I need a bigger computer monitor
- Bourbon just tastes better when consumed after 11 pm
- I hate to unload the dishwasher
- Despite my utter fear of the oil system, our apartment heat does work
- I do not know how to mow a lawn or roast a chicken
- Just tonight, I executed a perfectly round bun (see photo below for proof)
The BKP and I had some quality girl time, too, since Saturday. She's slept with me every night, and joined me for a hot cuppa and some magazines before bedtime. I guess, though, that I need more companionship than that of a non-speaking cat. So, BKP -- talk!...or, Mark, come home (and start growing that winter beard! Hubba hubba.)
Below: The (Blog)orelli Gals. BKP Sophia is such a camera whore!
My attempt at "helping out" with the lawn work by mowing our ridiculously overgrown backyard last night didn't go so well:
Um yeaaaah. Our landlord told us that we could get $35 off our rent for each time we mowed the lawn. We (The Prof) did the mowing once this month. We skipped the backyard that time because our upstairs neighbor was working on growing grass in the area seen above, which resembled a dust bowl mere weeks ago. We got a few days of rain and -- poof! -- suddenly the back lawn could only be described as "lush."
Then The Prof left for his business trip and I decided after work last night that I was fully capable of mowing the grass, even though I've never mowed grass, or even started a lawnmower for that matter, before in my life. How hard could the whole thing be, really?
After 10 minutes of pulling the cord to no avail, I went inside and looked up How To Start A Push Mower. Has anyone else heard of this "prime button" thingy? Anyway, I pushed the "red, squishy button somewhere on the mower's body. Push it between 3 and 8 times in order to force the gasoline into the lines." I pulled the cord. The mower shot to life, and I felt both fear and elation.
Since I had the mower positioned exactly in the center of the yard, I started there and cut a straight line across the grass. When I got to the fence, I looked back (note that, at this point, the sky was basically dark.) The grass looked so...short...and dark...almost like, um, dirt. Suddenly, I had the worst thought: what if I had the mower too close to the ground and basically tilled a patch of dirt across the entire width of the yard?!?
AAACK!!!
I shut off the mower and investigated. All turned out to be well, the cut grass felt short and there was no dirt. I went back to the mower, hit the prime button, and pulled the cord. Nothing. Push, pull, repeat. Nothingx2.
"How To Start A Push Mower, step 2: Make sure you have enough gasoline."
Hmmm.
The upstairs neighbor confirmed that I had, indeed, run out of gas. So now The Prof is going to handle finishing the whole operation when he returns on Thursday. Until then, our yard is sporting a reverse Mohawk. Too bad I couldn't get at least one or two more "strips" done...then we could say our lawn has a bi- or tri-hawk which, let's face it, just sounds cooler.
This confession is a long time coming, but here goes: I'm not doing so well lately.
For the past six months, I feel like I've gone into a downslide and the results are weighing on me in every way, like some kind of uncomfortably wet wool blanket. My physical appearance could use some improving, I feel disconnected in my relationships, numb emotionally, and I've started doubting basically every aspect of my life: my work, my self image, miscellaneous decisions, this blog, etc.
The buck stops here. I'm so tired of being, well, tired. I don't want to feel frustrated every day and angry inside at everyone for no reason. Being disgusted with yourself is exhausting. I just want to feel and be happy (or at least happier?) So I need to start a new regime, and I'm declaring its birth in the only public forum I've got -- this blog.
BLOGORELLI'S NEUE SACHLICHKEIT
Agenda Item, #1: Eat healthier and start a consistent exercise routine
I've realized that I just don't love to work out (at least, not unless said fitness is Zumba dance.) However, unless I'm going to some back street plastic surgeon in the near future, The Intertube (my nickname for my excess chub, formerly referred to "The Turtle" when said fat was only parked near my abdomen) is not going to magically disappear. Besides, how am I ever going to look like Tracy Anderson if I don't move that thang?
She looks self confident and sassy, yes?
Agenda Item, #2: Really work on starting my (online) store selling vintage goods
Just to give myself a little credit, I have sold some of my "treasures" on Etsy, but I need to get truly inspired by the ingenuity of sites like Shopsin's General Store and DO IT already...especially since the marketplace is getting fuller.
Bacon scarf! Bacon scarf! Bacon scarf!
Agenda Item, #3: Work on my Life List
(in both the listing and doing sense) and concentrate on the aspects of my life which should make me feel good, not bad.
Agenda Item, #4: Plan my 30th birthday trip
Since The Prof is starting a new job come October 1 (although we'll keep his title here as The Prof and not The Producer, which he will indeed be), he can't take any vacation days until at least Christmas. I want to celebrate turning the big 3-0! So, I've decided to take a week of travel to reflect and commemorate, um, me.
Here's where I need some help: anyone have a good suggestion as to where a gal on the go alone might vacation? I'm totally open, but I'd like the place to be fairly public transit friendly and not super duper expensive.
Rockapella isn't coming along for the ride.
(Exhale.) I do feel better having come clean to the Inter-net about why perhaps I haven't seemed as *razzle dazzle* as usual. I'm finally ready to brace myself and lunge forward, however awkward that might feel. If there's one thing I've learned after all these years, it's that, irritatingly, a person has to make things happen in this big life:
Muriel : "When I lived in Porpoise Spit, I used to sit in my room for hours and listen to ABBA songs. But since I've met you and moved to Sydney, I haven't listened to one Abba song. That's because my life is as good as an Abba song. It's as good as Dancing Queen."
Wish me luck.
Last night's anniversary festivities went well. We had dinner at local eatery Delfino and then came home to chill out at our place. The best part, though? My present:
A MELODICA!!!
I've wanted a melodica ever since seeing one in a Cambridge music store's window about six months ago. Here's an elementary schooler showing proper melodica (or 'melodic-er', as The Prof's mom and every native Bostonian might say) playing technique. Where was this instrument when I had to jam on a flutophone in grade school?
Now, I played the clarinet in elementary band class (should I not have revealed that, I wonder?) so the fact that the melodica is a reed instrument should only make my mastery of it easier. Plus, "If you ever wanted to play accordion, or the harmonica, or even the piano this is a great way to learn about music and play along with others also." Hello...I've wanted to learn how to play my accordion for years!
The melodica that The Prof got me is a Hohner, which is, according to the Worldwide Homepage of Melodica, the company that created the instrument (in 1959.)
Hopefully, I'll look like one of these cool cats once my as-yet-unnamed melodica arrives early next week:
But I'll probably just resemble "The Queen of Casio," Lorraine Bowen:
Not to worry, I won't assault anyone's ears with my delightful playing...at least not until I learn 'The Pennsylvania Polka".
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