Good night, listeners

I’m happy that it’s fall.  I like the leaves turning, and I like the weather (or I would if it felt like fall, but maybe that’ll happen this week finally).  I’ve picked up my running again recently (I’d been slacking off a lot), and since I go so early, it’s really dark when I start and still mostly dark when I get back.  Sometimes I take a flashlight, but I usually just compensate by sticking to the mostly well-lit sidewalks and paths on the main streets outside my neighborhood.  I’m not running on a road, so I won’t get hit by a car, and I’m near enough to all those people going to work crazy early in the morning that if I started screaming, I would probably be noticed.  I feel safe enough, but the dark is still a little creepy.  And it doesn’t help that I listen to Welcome to Night Vale every morning.  Welcome to Night Vale is not at all actually scary, but when all you hear is Cecil’s voice in the dark for the duration of every single run…it’s just about eerily perfect.  Makes it weird to listen to it at any other time of day.  Did you watch Eureka?  Night Vale is like the town of Eureka at midnight on Halloween.  (Thank you, Randy!)

Do they really say it that way?

I was listening to the radio in the car the other day, and I heard a commercial for the National Association of Realtors.  Except they didn’t say it that way.  Not the way I say realtor.  Not the way anyone I know says realtor.  You know, like realter.  Kind of.  Anyway, no.  The guy on the radio announcing the official name of the organization over and over again pronounced it real-tor.  Over and over again.  Tor.  Like the rock formation.  Or the publishing company.  I assume that’s how it’s pronounced.  Tor.  Like or.  Four.  Bore.  Core.  If tor is pronounced “ter”, then I’m just going to keep saying it the wrong way ’cause that’s ridiculous.  But when it’s at the end of a word?  And that word is realtor?  Please.  Real-tor.  As if there are fake tors out there somewhere.

Reminds me of these guys.

Titles are hard when brain stops working

Sorry about yesterday.  This week was kind of odd.  Busy odd.  Like, I can’t remember sitting down and relaxing much odd, even though I know I must have.  My brain needs lots of help to get out of work-mode, which is why I’ve been relying on other websites so much.  Today will be no different.  Thanks to Tom and Lorenzo, let’s talk about Channing Tatum.

I like him okay (I’ve seen him in one movie and a couple of interviews, and he was plenty likeable), but I don’t find him attractive at all.  Certainly not HAWT, like so many other women seem to feel.  I think it’s his head.  And neck.  The combination of the two.  They’re thesame size.  I have the same issue with The Rock and Vin Diesel.  It’s a type, and it’s not mine.  Channing Tatum, at least in this suit, looks great if you only look from the shoulders down.

I still think he’s a little too body-builder for me.  I’m sure John will be relieved to know I’m not going to leave him for Channing Tatum.

Who needs it?

THIS is a really good idea.  I think I’m going to do it (on my personal cell, anyway), and I think Mom shoulddefinitely do it.  Anyone who never listens to their voicemail (which is everyone*) should do it.  It’s not as rude as never listening and never calling anyone back because you never listened to the message.  So go, change your message, and come back.  Go on.  I’ll wait.

Welcome back!

I could live here (link goes to more pictures):

Or here:

I forget about this blog for months at a time, but that means I have lots of content to drool over when I remember.  Our house could look something like this if we threw out 75% of what we have.  And painted everything white.  And had better taste.  And more money.

*Exception: if you’re job-hunting, DON’T DO THIS.  But then, if you’re job-hunting, you don’t belong to this group.  You’re probably listening to your voicemail messages.

Lazy Sunday afternoon

Going to a one-year-old’s birthday party today took all of the energy I had.  I’m home, sitting on the couch, watching Geek & Sundry videos, and I just poured a second glass of wine I don’t particularly like anymore.  I think I’m over the Cupcake Sauvignon Blanc, for those keeping track at home.  I thought I was over it, then I enjoyed a couple of glasses of it a few weeks ago, and now that I’m finishing the bottle, I’m over it again.  And yet I’m still drinking it.  It would be wasteful to just throw it out.  Right?  Also, it would take too much energy to open a different bottle.  Also also, the only other bottle chilled right now is super big, and I just don’t think it makes sense to open a super big bottle just for me.  Not at the end of a weekend, anyway.  🙂  Also also also, if I put another bottle in the fridge (or freezer) to chill, I’ll have to wait for it.  And I’d have to get up and do it.  And have I mentioned that I have no energy?  I think I’m going to work on my puzzle.

My bathroom should be big enough for a swimming pool

The bathrooms in our house aren’t all that great.  They’re not awful or anything, but they’re not the spectacular bathrooms I would like to have.  The downstairs half-bath in the hall is fine (you can’t ask much from a half-bath, and it does its job),  but upstairs is a little disappointing.  Our master bath doesn’t deserve the name, but there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot we can do about it.  I mean, yes, we could replace the vanity and upgrade the shower (and put in a nicer floor), but it’ll still only have a single sink and a walk-in shower with no tub.  There’s no room to do anything bigger.  We’d have to do MAJOR renovations to the whole upper floor, like add rooms over the garage (which would mean a whole addition to the house), and that’s just not likely with our current plans.  The main complaints I have about the other bathroom upstairs (the one I use) are that the bathtub is too small and the water pressure SUCKS.

So naturally, I sometimes find myself daydreaming about the perfect bathroom.  A few years ago, we were in Boulder for a work thing, and we stayed at the St. Julien Hotel.  That bathroom was incredible.  The tub was super long and really deep (I could practically swim in it), and the shower was awesome. I think that bathtub might be my happy place.  (Serenity now!)

You’ll have to believe me. The picture doesn’t do it justice.

Why are standard bathtubs so small?  According to Wikipedia, average height for women in the US is between 5’4″ and 5’5″ (and you have to be shorter than that to fit comfortably in a regular tub) so the evil bathtub industry clearly has something against baths.  Which seems to be contrary to their interests.

Blah blah, complain complain, shut up already

Riley is going insane, I’m freezing to death, and I think I just heard “Gangnam Style” coming out of John’s office.  The world is ending TONIGHT.  Hug your loved ones and duck and cover.  (Isn’t that what the Mayans said to do?)

Riley has been one uncontrollable bundle of annoying energy today.  If he could focus that energy on keeping me warm, I could handle it, but instead he’s been bouncing off the walls while I sit at my computer and shiver.  The thermostat says it’s 67 degrees in here.  I don’t see how it could be. I’m so COLD.

[Pause while I wrap myself in a blanket.  It’s times like these when I wish I had a snuggie.  Kind of.]

Just got distracted by Bookshelf Pr0n and Better Book Titles.  And my fingers are too cold for typing.  So…sure, I’ll publish this disjointed and not very entertaining blog post.  Don’t judge me!

Book Club is coming

Hey, guys, I have to dive into my book, so I’ll be in hiding tonight (except for yoga class).  Possibly tomorrow, too.  Book Club is this Friday, and according to my Kindle, I’m only 12% into Wild.  Not cool.

Have a video (from The Daily What):

Can you imagine?  I’d like to think I’d turn into Spiderman and be halfway up the elevator walls if I thought the floor was dropping out from under me.  I’d at least be hanging on to that rail for dear life.

Boots and livestock

I found my boots!  And I’m never shopping again.  Seriously, I am all shopped out.  So back to yesterday’s trip to the Waterford Fair:

Pop quiz, Jess: What kind of chickens are these?

All I know is they were cute and fluffy and not at all phased by the crowds of people streaming by.  This sheep wasn’t particularly bothered by people or dogs, now that I think about it.  I guess the people of Waterford socialize their livestock.

Frosty the Puppy was terrified of the big bad sheep.  They eventually went nose to nose, but then the puppy ran away.

It was cute.  Because puppies.  Also cute?  Ducks getting into water for the first time ever.

I still have paint in my hair

I think someone cheated and skipped a few days in September.  It went by awfully fast.  What I remember of it was nice, though.  Especially last weekend.  The weather was perfect, and we spent the majority of those two days outside painting the porch.  Not normally my favorite thing to do, but we had a good time.  (Let me tell you a secret: I like spending entire days with John, just us.  It’s fun.  Shh.  Don’t tell anyone.)  We finished the second coat yesterday, and I went for a long bike ride, and now my butt is sore.  I can’t decide if I want to keep doing that.  If I do, I think I might need to invest in those padded bike shorts.  Just checked – those can be kind of expensive.  Also, they look kind of ridiculous.  But not as ridiculous as I look when my butt hurts.

On to the opposite of ridiculous:

I WANT THIS DRESS.  (Thank you, Tom and Lorenzo, for giving me a style goal.)

Not the shoes.  I don’t like the shoes.  (I totally just spelled shoes “shoose”.)  The dress has a Grace Kelly-esque silhouette and have I mentioned how much I want to dress like Grace Kelly?

 

Of course, I all too often have paint in my hair (all too often = every time I paint something), so I shouldn’t really be allowed near nice clothes.