One Dress, Four Reactions

This morning was weird.

Jolted awake by my alarm, I was ripped out of an intensely emotional dream about an ex-boyfriend. Confused and slightly embarrassed that he invaded my subconscious, I decided to laze around instead of getting ready. This, of course, resulted in me running obscenely behind schedule.

For the pattern-spotters/detectives of the world, it is hugely obvious when I've gotten ready in a rush. Almost guaranteed, I will be wearing one of two go-to dresses, my hair will be in a ponytail, and my eyeliner won't extend all the way to the edge of my eyelid. Like clockwork, people. Still, I never leave the house looking entirely unpresentable. This morning followed suit.

After run-walking out of the house and crowding on to the Metro, today was business as usual. However, when I got on the train, a woman leapt up and offered me her seat. Slightly puzzled, I let her know I was fine standing. I couldn't figure out why a middle-aged woman would give a healthy-looking 23 year-old her seat. Those things are valuable! Like, REALLY valuable. Like, regular citizens become pumas when they think someone in a seat is planning to get off the train.

And then it dawned on me: she totally thought I was pregnant.

While I certainly don't have abs of steel or even a particularly flat stomach (OREOS!), I don't look pregnant enough to be offered a seat worth its weight in gold. Rather, I was wearing a short cream trapeze dress with a giant bow. Think about that description for a minute--it totally sounds like a maternity item, yah? Compounding the issue, I have relatively thin legs. In a similar situation, I would probably make the same mistake. I spent the rest of the ride cursing my wardrobe choice/wishing I had a faux-wedding ring. The only thing worse than being mistook for pregnant is being mistook for pregnant and single! Judgement city.

Anyway, the major outcome is that I decided that the aforementioned dress should no longer be a go-to item in my wardrobe unless my cabbage patch is growing a Pammy.

...but, the plot thickens!

At work I stopped by the office of the crankiest woman in the entire world. She's said one nice thing to me ever, and it hardly counts because it was in an email. Yet this morning, she sees me and straight away hits me with: "You look especially lovely today." Um--what? Slightly bolstered, I thanked her. I'm certain she doesn't think I'm pregnant, so I figured the universe was rebalancing itself.

Flash forward three hours. I see another colleague, who tells me that she loves my dress. Flash forward another two hours. I'm leaving work and a man on the street tells me that I look really nice. I don't live in a movie--why was a cute stranger talking to me?

So confounded--I can't decide whether to burn or champion the dress! Wish I could have Gallup run a poll for me or something...

Chocolate Chip Cookies Test Lab

Rob (my BFF and then some) is hosting an Oscar party tonight and I've agreed to make a number of sweet treats. Most notably, I'm baking chocolate chip cookies, which were quite the hit at his Golden Globes party. So much so, that people who RSVP'd to the Oscar party specifically requested that the "crack cookies" be present.

As a bit of context, Sara (my twin) and I used to be FAMOUS for our chocolate chip cookies in high school. For many years I refused to make them without her, but when I found out she regularly baked them while we were apart (traitor!), I decided to cave and have been happily fattening up my friends ever since.

The thing is that recently, the cookies have been really finicky! Two times, the cookies have turned out really fluffy (in a bad way) and too salty. Consequently, I bought new salt and halved the baking soda for the next batch. However, the cookies that should have been perfect were overly flat. Why God, WHY?!

As you can imagine, I was very concerned that my Oscar cookies would be sub-par. I decided to buy extra chocolate chips, just to make sure I had extra resources in case the first batch was disappointing.

Flash forward to this morning: the first cookies had excellent flavor, but were flat again. FIE!

For the second batch of cookies, I used heaping cups of flour and the cookies turned out...drumroll please...

PERFECT.

Whew.

Crisis averted.

On a related note, I believe I've set a new world record for the amount of cookie dough consumed in a 3 hour period. Call me, Guinness.

For Chile and Haiti specifically, for the universe--broadly.

"Society is composed of two classes: the forgetting and the forgot, and it sometimes happens that chance orders them to change places."

-Naked Truths and Veiled Allusions

I'm not currently "the forgot," but don't have to be "the forgetting." Through prayer, volunteering or monetary donation, do your part to help.

7 Happy Inducing Things

I look at the picture above and wonder if it's really that simple. Do the gods simply roll a die to decide who's going to have a good day? If so, lady luck was on my side this morning because today has been and continues to be a phenomenal day. See the proof below in chronological order.

1) I used iTunes to make a genius playlist based on "Secret Heart" by Feist and it is SO! GOOD!

2) Work was exciting and productive.

3) My friend Sean has had a crush on a boy for months and he stopped by my office today to tell me the adorably sweet story of how Mark kissed him. YAY!

4) I met the daughter of the guy who founded the Dow Jones Industrial Average.

4) I had lunch with my friend Annie. On the menu was pizza topped with goat cheese, sun dried tomatoes and spinach. A) Who thought of those ingredients and B) Can I have his/her autograph?

5) I got to call a small group of students to tell them that they were accepted into a highly competitive university program. Their excitement = better than heroin.

6) I'm about to make chocolate chip cookies.

7) Women's figure skating is on tonight and Rob is coming over.

Seriously, I was so overjoyed when I got home from work I didn't even know what to do with myself. First instinct was to call my Mom, but unfortunately, she's on a plane and unable to answer.* Thus, I did the only other thing I know how to do when I'm "totally, completely and incandescently happy"** which is, of course, to put on red lipstick. How are things so good right now? Keep it coming, universe!

*Sara, I'm jealous you get Mommy and Daddy for the weekend!

**Courtesy of Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, duh!

Crime Alert!

Because I work for a University, I'm constantly getting "crime alert" emails that share details about campus robberies and other unlawful incidents. The indiscretion that dominates these crime alerts? The cell phone snatch.

The "cell phone snatch" is exactly as it sounds. Assailants will literally run up to people using their cell phones, grab the phone out of his or her hand, and run off. As someone who regularly talks on the phone while she is en route to various locations (Hi Mommy--thanks for talking to me all the time!), I am very perplexed by this idea. Doesn't it seem kind of absurd? What's the motive? I'd be willing to bet that the thieves already have cell phones and even if they don't, it's likely that the rightful owner would immediately turn off the service.

What am I missing here? ::strokes imaginary beard::

I'm obviously no Samantha Waters (automatic +10 for "Profiler" reference), as I have no understanding of the criminal mind.

In a Betsy-run universe crimes of this nature would not be allowed. Not because stealing is wrong, rather, it is SO INCONVENIENT to replace a cell phone/all the information in a cell phone. Big pat on the back to people who back up their address books on their computers, but since I'm not one of them, I shudder to think of how screwed I would be if an attacker tried to pry my Blackberry out of my hand. That's right potential robbers, it will be a mayjah fight to get my phone away from me, so don't even think about it.

Hey--You're still thinking about it, aren't you? STOP IT. Not an option for you.

Anyway, the real kicker is that Campus Police used to encourage students to talk on their phones while walking as a safety measure. Oops. Someone change that in the freshman handbook...

In truth, this is just one more reminder that I live in a city and need to be careful with myself and my belongings. Stay safe, DC!

Top o the mornin' to ya!

First things first, I hope you read the title of this post with an Irish accent. Moving on...

I enjoy sleep. Like, REALLY enjoy sleep. I invested in an awesome mattress, and there is no place I would rather be than my bed. Consequently, there are few things that I find compelling enough to make me wake up early. It's a short list, but see my list of exceptions below:

1) Yoga. Stretching feels unbelievably amazing and it's such a nice way to start the day. Anxiety, I banish thee!

2) Watching Family Guy before work (aka what I do when I don't wake up to do yoga).

3) Anything that involves taking care of friends. Example: some of my favorite friends are coming over for dinner tonight so I got up an hour early to make corn muffins from scratch. I have a feeling that I'm going to regret this decision when I wake up from an accidental desk nap at 3:30pm.

4) Getting to the DMV super early so I'm first in line! Please note that last time I had my vehicle issues handled by one of America's most disgruntled employees, I got to the office an hour and fifteen minutes early only to be third in line. Third! The wait wasn't a problem, but the indignity of not being first was highly frustrating. Next time, I'm getting there an hour and a half early so I! Can! Win!

5) Blogging. Or at least I did this morning. ::smiles::

Have a great day, Universe!

Two Days, Six Movies

It's snowmagedden in DC, so I haven't been oot and aboot much. Thankfully Rob, in all his splendor, has been a wonderfully entertaining friend. We spent the last two days holed up in his apartment eating WAY too much ice cream and filling his living room with belly laughs. Check out the weekend in film recapped below!

1) The Devil Wears Prada

Oh Andi Sachs, what I wouldn't give to look EXACTLY LIKE YOU (post-makeover). So gorgeous, so chic. Where do I sign up?

2) Don't Drink the Water

It's official--I really enjoy Woody Allen movies. You win, Rob.

3) The Green Mile

John Coffey vomits magic. VOMITS MAGIC.

4) Talk to Her

One of Pedro Almodovar's finest. Equal parts interesting and creepy.

5) Minority Report

Precrime, what a concept! Plus, I hope we have cool technology like that in 2054. Minus the retina scans, bien sur. They're a little too Big Brother for my taste.

6) Schindler's List

A terrifying look at the horrors of life in Nazi-occupied Poland. So gruesome, yet not gratuitous. What a masterpiece.

And thus I sign off to get some sleep before returning to work after the snow-caused sabbatical. One day until the three day weekend!

I think it's love!

Valentine's Day is approaching, so it's only natural to think about what I love in my life. Outside of family and friends, there are two things I love above all else: 1) Musical theater soundtracks and 2) Anthropologie.

There are still a few days left before V-Day strikes, but in the spirit of love and adoration, I want to share some of my current favorites off the Anthropologie website. In no particular order...

Tiny Tucks Tunic

Airmail Skirt

On-the-Horizon Shorts

Abuzz Cardi

Star Sprinkled Cardi

Blooming Saphire Wrap Dress

Tassel Fronds Dress

Acrobatics Wedges

Mirasol Wingtips

Rough Draft Heels

I don't even want to know the grand total of these items combined, but perhaps one or two will come home with me as a special gift for myself. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY to me!

Superbowl Sunday with Vida, Noxee and Miss Chi-Chi Rodriguez

The Superbowl is on and like the rest of the country, I have major plans.

Yes, I'm about to start watching "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar." I'm also planning to pull out (don't say pull out...) a few wedges of Laughing Cow cheese to spread (don't say spread...) on multigrain toast. It is going to be a WILD afternoon/early evening.

Is that not what you're doing?

Oh, and can someone call me after the game to tell me who won? Don't want to sound like an idiot at work. My boss is a Saints fan. Wait...the Saints are playing, right? Maybe? ::sighs::

Sing, Sing, Sing!

Record amounts of snow in DC has left me housebound since approximately 3:45pm yesterday. Not having the option to make plans has been liberating, as it's left me with 23+ hours of Betsy time. I've filled the last day and a half with cat naps, movies in bed, yoga, eating chocolate chip cookies and singing.

It's all been magical, but I think the singing has been my favorite part. Why you ask? I rediscovered my collection of vocal jazz! The velvety voices are so evocative--how could I have forgotten? My neighbors will tell you that I love singing any genre of music (sorry 'bout them thin walls!) but jazz makes me feel different. I think the appeal comes from the unencumbered structure. Performers are encouraged, if not required, to play around with the tempo and melody. Furthermore, the classic songs feel so conversational that I can't help but relax when I sing them, as if I'm casually recounting my heartbreak/drinking problem/lullaby of birdland to an old friend.

How wonderful would it be to sing in a small, smokey lounge? I would love to be the background noise for all the romantic happenings I imagine in those types of venues. The execution of public performance is extremely difficult, and I doubt I have enough desire for the follow-through. But goodness, I do love these evenings at home giving DEVASTATING* performances in front of my bedroom mirror.

*No public performances = no reviews = no one to contradict my brilliance! :)

Why hello again, old friend!

The last few months have housed some life transitions major and consequently, I have been more than a little lazy re: updating the blog. No more!

To be honest, I've felt a little uninspired/tired. That, I recognize, is a meager excuse for shirking my blog responsibilities. I am constantly surrounded by tremendous people and terrific stories. I can surely find SOMETHING to write about each day, no? Plus, I feel the ticklings of an inclination that years from now, the happenings of my 22 year-old life will be fun to remember.

And thus this is a rebirth, like the phoenix from the flame. My hibernating enthusiasm is ready for spring!

Thank you universe, for your patience. And thank you Sara, for your text message nudging.

I'm Cuddling Your Heart Right Now

My roommate and my twin are the world's most perfect girls.  It is like, shocking how incredible they are.  Though I have usually given my stermp of approval to their various boyfriends, I have yet to meet a man I think is truly deserving, probably because I have impossible standards for them.  I try so hard to look for the best in their guys, but even a tiny mistake triggers a response I try very hard to suppress--my inner Lorena Bobbitt.  Seriously, it's a good thing that distance prevents me from acting on all of my irrational inclinations.

When either of my favorite girls get upset, I always try to empathize whilst helping them rationalize what happened with their respective boys.  I know when I've been upset about a guy it's important to have someone ground my thinking.  More than anything I want to make sure that my ladies assume the best in who their dating.  That way, the universe isn't completely off thrown off balance while I'm busy HATING/eternally punishing their boyfriends for being insensitive, slack-jawed Neanderthals. 

Truly, there is little that hurts worse than watching either of them suffer--especially because of boy problems.  I know it's all part of the dating process, but I find it miserable that I can only offer bits of advice, unconditional love, hugs and a pint of Ben & Jerry's.  They are TREASURES and deserve the best.  I'm thankful that they remember how special they are for the most part, though I wish they could spend a few hours looking at themselves through my eyes.  

I'm radiating my love into the universe, girls.  I hope you can feel it.

Wishful To Do List

I just had a wundebar weekend.  I saw a movie, laughed with friends, hiked and ate popcorn...totally living the dream.  As I lie in bed thinking about the week ahead, I realized that I am enjoying a fantastic life right now.  Still, I love to dream about all the things that will be part of my future.  There are near-term items and long-term to dos, but regardless, I love the promise of what might be.  Below, in no particular order, is an incomplete list of some things that I want to do.

1. Become a runner.  (Start running.  Run a 5k.  Run a half-marathon.  Run a marathon.)

2. Put pictures in the empty frames around my room.

3. Talk to my family.  NOTE: This will always be on the list because I always want to talk to my Mom, Dad, sister and twin.

4. Learn to sight read music.

5. Make soft pretzels with my Mom.

6. Meet a man who can convince me that I should make the appropriate adjustments to include him as a regular part of my life.

7. Own a dog.

8. Start my day with yoga.

9. Visit India, Greece, France, Belgium, Egypt, Botswana, Vietnam, South Africa, Tibet, Denmark...

10. Find a comprehensive list of classic American literature and read every book.

A lot of lists stop at 10, so I'll follow suit.  Still, there is so much more that I hope to fill my life with and can't wait to slowly start accomplishing things.  One of these days I'll compile a comprehensive list, prioritize and really get going.  Yet for the time being I'm going to smile and wish.  That cool?

"He no eat no meat? That's okay...I make lamb."

After reading a book called "The China Study" I was 100% convinced that it was necessary for me to become a vegan.  My family tree is riddled with cancer on both sides, and doing something radical with my diet seemed like the best way to take charge in hopes no malignant solicitors would knock on my door and ask to come in.  I endured for several months, but consuming no dairy felt really limiting and it was hard to find things to eat unless I cooked for myself at every meal. Eventually I caved and went full-on carnivore for a few weeks.  The zeal with which I sought out bacon was seriously upsetting.  

Anyfoof, I started to feel slightly guilty for falling off the wagon and that prompted me to pick up vegetarianism.  I also picked up a PETA pamphlet, which is why I've had no problems staying away from meat for the last five months.  I'm sure they exaggerate in those things, but what's done to animals in the name of food production is seriously cruel. I won't share horror stories because Halloween is over.  However, there is some really terrible stuff happening on farms, in PetsMart, at the circus, etc.

So here I am, a vegetarian.  The thing is, I HATE IT.  There is nothing that would please me more than eating a Chipotle burrito with steak.  Furthermore, I've always wanted to own a leather couch and I think fur coats are gorgeous.  The fact that I'm so committed to something that makes me borderline miserable is fascinating.  There are so many changes I've wanted to make in my life, but very rarely do I commit in a lasting way.  I see no end in sight, and it gives me faith that I have the ability to make a choice and stick with it.  Next on the agenda?  Tackling overconsumption.  I don't care if no animals were killed in the making of my brie, it's still pretty gross to eat half a wheel in one sitting.  Shhh don't tell.

How Babies Feel

I have little to no experience in the childcare arena, but it seems to me that frustrated toddlers usually cry because they don't know what else to do.  Very rarely do I feel that way.  Rather, I usually want to sucker punch someone in the windpipe.  Today is different. 

I have had some major frustrations at work recently, and on several occasions, I have been so exasperated that my face has flushed and tears have streamed down my cheeks.  I HATE crying about work because frankly, I don't have enough responsibility or make enough money to care as much as I do.  Still, my desk has been a Betsy puddle multiple times in the last week.  Today was the worst and though I managed to avoid a full-fledged sob-fest, I have felt an immense amount of pressure in my chest since approximately 8:45am.  What scares me is that it feels kind of cold, like my whole insides are numbing.  I always thought the cliche of corporate America withering your soul was a joke, and now I'm concerned that it's my reality.  Pending a serious conversation with my parents about finances, I need to quit like...ASAP.  I can almost always find the the whole almond in the marzipan, but I can no longer see the goodness or value in what I'm doing.  I'm trying to hold off on quitting so that I'm not the 45,000,1 American without health insurance, but I honestly don't know if I can do it.

When I feel like this there are really only two things to do: watch "Defending Your Life" and eat Chinese food.  The takeout is ordered, so I'm going to start the movie and do everything I can to stop grinding my teeth whilst thinking about the daily grind.

My Gorgeous Girls

Being that I am an overenthusiast, there are A LOT of things I enjoy.  This list includes, but is not limited to: laughing, making pretzels, hanging out in Anthropologie, shopping for home goods in thrift or antique stores and reading non-fiction.  Yet perhaps my most favorite thing to do is find ways to make other people feel really special.  Please note that I'm not one to plan blow-out events...the pressure of a surprise party is a no go in my book.  Rather, I am a veritable encyclopedia of things that my friends like/things I know they want.  To me, it's not good enough to know that Rob likes ginger ale; it matters that he prefers Seagram's over Canada Dry.  

Even more than caring for friends, I relish opportunities to nurture my twin sister.  From a young age I used to make her pancakes that spelled out "I Love You" and when she came to DC for my graduation I greeted her with takeout because I knew she'd be hungry after the flight.  She is equally considerate of me and I am hugely reliant on her encouragement and affection.  My Mom compares us to a gardner and flower, saying that we trade off roles so that we both have the chance to blossom.  Precious!

Being away from Sara is hard for many reasons, but a large part of me misses spoiling her.  My inner caretaker has been going wild over the last few months and I realized that in the interest of my own sanity, I needed somewhere else to funnel this energy.  The immediate conclusion was obvious: I should have a baby!  If I weren't so young, broke and busy, that might actually be an option.  I tried to think of something that's a step down from baby, so my next plan was to get a puppy.  Sadly, the young, broke and busy stuff applies to that circumstance as well.  Still, I wanted something more than a plant, and after pensive deliberation, I decided that my maturity (or lack thereof) meant I would only be a suitable parent for a hermit crab or a beta fish.  

Flash forward to this afternoon, when I become the proud owner of two female betas: Pollyanna and Bathsheba.  The man in PetsMart assured me that females can live together in the same bowl, but my two favorite ladies were NOT HAVING IT from the second I put them together.  I should have known better than to take his advice--this PetsMart guy was obviously an idiot.  Case in point: When my roommate, Charlie, told him that we graduated from GW he said "Oh yeah?  Go Hoyas!" with a really proud look on his face.  At first I thought he was trying to take a playful jab at us by referencing the Georgetown Hoyas, but through further interaction, it became apparent he was just.that.dumb.  Seriously, anyone in the DC metro area with half a brain knows the difference between GW and Georgetown.  We're rival schools...it's kind of a big deal.  (P.S. I acknowledge that my harsh criticism of this man may be slightly unfair, but Mama wouldn't be so cranky if he hadn't encouraged her to jeopardize the lives of her precious aquatic children.)

Thankfully, I had a spare fishbowl in my closet (don't you?!) so Pollyanna is now comfortably swimming in the living room while Bathsheba remains in my bedroom.  They are wonderful additions to the family...welcome home fishies!

"Happiness is anyone and anything that's loved by you."

I've recently discovered a new and unexpected kind of torture: the eternal crush.  Unlike run of the mill attraction, this is not someone for which you actively pine.  Rather, this person is a neutral in your mind until you somehow become reminded of past feelings.  A swift jog of the memory sets off an Alkaseltzer-like reaction and you are dissolved by a combination of rekindled longing and confusion over the lasting emotion. 

Yes, there is a boy that does this to me and I've felt the same way about him since I was 16.  I'd like to point out that my affection for him doesn't paralyze my emotions; the pudding proof is that I've been madly in love with someone else since I met him.  Here's the (slightly embarrassing) thing: This boy and I have never actually dated...we haven't even kissed. If I followed the "He's Just Not That Into You" school of thought, I would have written him off a long time ago.  Still, I flatter myself that my feelings for him are more than unrequited love, perhaps because I'm too proud to admit that this enchantment is not reciprocal. 

After a long stretch of no contact, he and I have started speaking regularly.  The good news is that I'm not putty when I see his name on my caller ID.  Through physical and mental distance, I've gained some perspective that makes things a bit easier.  For many years, I truly idealized him; he was a house upon a hill to me.  With time I've been able to find notches in his wood and imperfections in his construction, but somehow, these topical flaws do nothing to detract from the greater truth of who he is.  While I am no longer consumed by a desire to impress him, I still find him to be 100% amazing.

I understand that significant barriers will always prevent us from coupling.  Yet no matter how many things I "know," I still get anxious when we speak, wondering if he'll be brave enough to address the underlying tensions we both dance around.  Sometimes I sigh as I secretly dream that he'll fly to DC and pepper me with kisses. Yet more often, I smile, mesmerized by the promise of finding someone new who will inspire the same emotion without the nagging uncertainty.

A toast to Charlie Brown and whoever comes after the little red-headed girl.

Well now that you mention it...duh!

In life, obvious circumstances have a tendency to remain unrealized until someone verbalizes the truth that everyone has subconsciously accepted.  Ignoring the elephant in the room is oftentimes the socially permissible option, and consequently,  when I run into my ex-boyfriend I will conduct myself as if we have no history; when you have a huge blemish on your face I'll avoid staring or questioning at all costs; and when I buy a box of Entenmann's Frosted Devil's Food Doughnuts I expect you aren't thinking  that I plan to eat the entire box on the way home from the grocery store.  

In all of these circumstances, there is a disjoint between the polite assumption and reality.  Similarly, there are often truths in ourselves and our relationships that we don't recognize or believe until one critical moment.  For example, my friend Ilyssa used to ask me to bring her things all the time, like food and class notes.  I had no problem spoiling her a little because in my mind, friends do that for each other.  However, she lived in a dorm that didn't have a buzzer and rather than come get me, she would make me wait outside until someone exited the building, regardless of the weather. The strange part is that this behavior never seemed ridiculous to me until my roommate told me that humans are supposed to be vertebrates.  Ouch, and point taken.  

Yet there are also happy truths that stay hidden until someone is courageous.  Perhaps the most obvious example is the tradition of saying "I love you." No matter how confidently you believe that someone cares for you, it's the tipping point of 1-4-3 that propels you into the intoxication of absolute adoration.

With that in mind, Rob has been one of my closest friends for the last two and half years and transitioned into his current role as my non-romantic life partner/entire social life at least nine months ago.  Still, I've always suffered from a slight complex because I didn't know if it was weird to call him my best friend.  He has a soulmate from back home, and realistically, my twin sister will always hold the top spot in my heart.  Yet explaining Rob's significance without using the words "best" an "friend" is near-impossible, so I frequently call him that behind his back.  

Tonight, things changed. Rob drove me home after dinner and when we pulled up to my apartment building, he saw one of his coworkers and rolled down the window to say hi.  When his coworker asked what he was doing in the area, Rob nonchalantly responded, "my best friend Betsy lives here."  To anyone who knows the depth of our attachment, "best friend" wouldn't seem to scratch the surface.  Yet somehow, this was a very important moment to me.  I told Rob goodnight and as he drove away, his headlights weren't the only thing beaming.  I'm writing this post a few hours later and am still kind of gooey from the residual effects of being called his best friend.  It was special.  I feel special.  Thanks Rob, for saying it like it is.  Keep an eye out for a package--your half of our best friends necklace in the mail.

Open Letter to my Twin (Sara)

If I could choose one thing forever it would be you.  If I could choose two things forever it would be you.  Twice.

My heart bursts when I think about how precious you are.  Though we can't have constant togetherness, we'll find our way back--I'm sure of it! Until then, may we have many more Skype-filled evenings.

Never my anger bear, always my baby bean.  Don't forget to text me updates from FML.   

I've Fallen for Fall

When I started using the internet in 7th grade, I logged on for one primary purpose: online quizzes.  I blocked HOURS of time for self-reflection and used insightful personality inventories such as "Who's Your Celebrity Match?" and "What's Your Theme Song?" to dive deep into the mysterious abyss of my 13 year-old soul.  I still battle my inner test-taking fiend, though I rarely indulge her.  However, I recently stumbled across a quiz entitled "What's Your Season?" and it was impossible for me to resist.  The questions were trite, but something was designed properly because I completely agree with the results.  I am undoubtedly a "Fall."  There are innumerable reasons why Fall is my favorite season, aka the unequivocal best season.  Yet in the interest of finishing this post so that I can find out what type of cheese I am (not kidding...), I'm listing five of the best things about Fall. 

1) Positive mental effects of the Winter Solstice.  Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise, right?  WRONG.  I'm mortified that even as a healthy 22 year-old, I can't stay awake for any movie started after 9pm.  Seriously, I am permanently in search of excuses/lies to justify this behavior.  "I'm fighting something off" has officially been retired because autumn has opened the door for "my circadian rhythm is easily affected by light and dark."  I mean, it's natural to go to bed when it's dark outside...that's what we're programed to do.  I'm not a loser!  ::erupts into a fit of tears::

2) Countdown to Thanksgiving.  Family reunion?  Check yes!  As an added bonus, my twin's boyfriend, James, is coming home for some turkey.  His company will undoubtedly be oodles of fun because he is the BEES KNEES.  However, I hope he is prepared for a little hazing, because I fully intend to remind him that I'm still my twin's #1. 

3) Pumpkin EVERYTHING!  Pumpkin scone, pumpkin bread, pumpkin latte, pumpkin pie, pumpkin butter, pumpkin pudding, pumpkin soup, pumpkin seeds, stomach looking like a pumpkin after eating too many pumpkin treats...

4) Halloween Costumes.  Historically, I have spent many hours doing the necessary due-diligence to think of a quirky costume that allows me to a) look presentable and b) carry a prop. Over the last three years I have dressed up as a doctor (lab coat and real stethoscope included), an artist (paint palate and faux mustache included), and a bee keeper (HUGE hat covered in net and honey pot included).   This year, I'm coordinating costumes with my best friend/entire social life, Rob, which means the decision making process has been slowed considerably.  If all goes according to plan, I'll convince him that we should go as Marie and Pierre Curie (Nobel Prizes and radioactive material included).

5) Layering.  Welcome back, sweaters and tights.  Mommy missed you.