Oh Money! Oh Job! Oh No Thank You..................................

If I could still get away with stomping my foot, clenching my fists, and wringing my face up into an unattractive pout (lower lip turned way down, eyebrows plunging toward the ground), I would throw a temper tantrum right now.

"But I don't want to get a job," I'd screech.

That's how I feel inside. My inner child is scraping at me under my skin, urging me to find any way out of this horrible, horrible thing Responsibility is making me do. "Surely there must be some way out of it?" the little child asks, "Please don't say we have to work. I'd rather play all day."

My eye has been caught by various entrepreneurs and speakers. By jobs that claim not to be jobs. By schemes promising me I'll never have to leave my house for work again. Work as a personal shopper or a mystery shopper or someone's grocery shopper. Learn how to get paid to travel around the world. Make up to $75 per hour on your computer.

But I have yet to find the one I am looking for: Sleep in for big bucks. Bonus checks for staying up late reading and writing.

Please keep your eye out for this job listing. I'm sure I'd be perfect for it.

How to Take Over the World

We've all had our stomach take over, driving us around the office, on the prowl for anything, anything to satiate its little growlings. While some people may claim to be in control of their snacking habits, the vending machine tells another tale...

Standing in front of that dratted machine this morning, with no desire other than to appease the pitiful pangs of my belly, I wondered who would be coerced into purchasing a "Smooshed Apple Flat" or the "Cococo Chocolate Organic Crackers." Only the deepest craving could force one to press the corresponding number and retrieve these scary sounding treats (if they can even be called treats). With so little options to vend today, and with such a pressing ache under my belt, I realized I was at the mercy of the machine. I suddenly saw the possibilities: by basing vending operations on a barter system, tasty snacks could be traded for small deeds. Imagine the possibilities. In the wrong hands, it could be dangerous.

While I would not take over the world with this plan (it could be done, by no means is this the most efficient way), I'm thinking of installing one in my house to barter for small chores. You may have a cookie if you mop the floor. You may have a granola bar if you empty the dishwasher, and so on. The beauty of it all is that I won't have to feed my guests anything significant and they'll never notice because the junk food compensation will outweigh their expectations. Believe me, it will work!

New Advice Column

In this vast technological world, us bloggers have to stick together. That is why I am plugging my friend's new advice column, The Cure for the Common Question. Andie, the expert advice-giver, has long dreamed of becoming an advice columnist, and let me tell you, she gives really good advice. She's thoughtful, has great life experience, and is always spot on. I've gone to her many-a-time for words of wisdom, and have never been disappointed.

She's looking for serious questions about the problems you're having trouble wrapping your head around. To submit a question, email her at andieeast@gmail.com. If you have trouble locating this address, I've linked to her blog on this page, which has instructions for getting your question through to her.

Happy Internet therapy-ing!

Happy National Women's Confidence Day

What a great idea. I heard about this on the radio last night exactly while I was reading Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own. Woolf was talking about how women (in the 20s) were overcoming the expectations set upon them over the centuries, how the day to day life of a middle class woman was virtually a mystery up until the 1800s, and how even through the 1800s a gifted woman had to hide her work behind a male pseudonym. I started thinking about the obstacles women face in the 21st century, and hearing about National Women's Confidence Day (NWCD) helped to clear things up.

Women are still trying to prove themselves, yet maintain their identity as women. Any year now I'm going to face the decision to continue working or to stay at home raising kids. I have to seriously consider how my priorities will have to adjust when I have a family. And all along the way, I have to have the confidence to make it all work: to maintain whatever work schedule I'm on, to sell my passion as a viable living, and to be the kind of parent I hope to be. Getting much more into the detail than this begins to make my head spin, and my heartrate quickens. Luckily, because I know millions of women carry this off every day, I feel so much better.

And that's what this day of recognition is all about. Here are the goals of NWCD:

• To remind women everywhere to empower themselves with self confidence every day.
• To create an opportunity for women to help other women live more confident and fulfilling lives via educational programs, fundraising, self-empowerment and volunteer work.
• To tribute women who contribute, via education, fundraising, self-empowerment and volunteer work, to other women helping them to gain more confidence and self esteem.

I'm curious to know how Woolf would update her essay 80 years after she wrote it, and especially to see what criticisms of society she would have now. Surely the volume would triple in length with all that's happened to women since Woolf died. But my question is, would Woolf's tune change from having a room of one's own to having self confidence? Well, as far as fiction is concerned, having a room full of self confidence can't hurt.

Some Sort of Rut?

I just realized that I'm in another rut. A blogging rut, at least. All the blogs I've written since getting out of school fall into one of three categories:

• About buying a house
• About my lack of imagination lately
• Cover topics that begin with the letter B

Ok, so maybe the last on is a stretch, because "Bowling Bummer" and "The Banana Bread Blog" cover completely different subjects. But this is also the Blaura Blog, so it's obvious I have some subconscious alliteration thing going on.

So, does this blog count as thinking outside of the blogging rut box? Unfortunately not; it falls into all three categories. Sheesh, I need to try harder.

The Banana Bread Blog

Everyone who has ever baked a banana bread believes that theirs is the best in the world. This is unfortunate, because they are living a lie. Mine is the best.

Ok, I'm willing to share this title with my mother, since I use her recipe. I would extend to her the same right--to bestow the same honor on whomever shared the recipe with her--but I honestly can't speak for their baking method.

I wish that I had a secret to share about the banana bread, but I don't. Perhaps the secret is that I don't try to make it flashy and fancy. It's banana bread, people, not a sparkly bejewelled sweatshirt.

Now the question of quality and perception of quality comes to everyone's mind. The perfect banana bread must not be too dry (I think we can all agree on that, at least). It should maintain the same density throughout (we've all had that bread that gets harder to chew the farther your teeth get from the top). And the top...well, that's where the magic happens. The very top of the banana bread should open like a seam, it spreads just so, naturally, and in tasty goodness. The top isn't crusty, but a moist squishy layer that will stick to your teeth and cling to your taste buds. It's the epitome of the art of baking, where flour and banana and sugar and egg and whatever else the recipe calls for cease to exist as ingredients and come together in harmony.

If only we could each live our lives through the metaphor of the banana bread top. We'd all be pretty special.

It's Safe to Look Now

Well, maybe not, but I feel really good about this house. The last one I blogged about was indeed jinxed, perhaps by my premature public declaration of love, but we are past the first hurdle on this one, so I show it to you without fear.

Ok, it's not anything like what I imagined what we'd end up in, but that's the beauty of being flexible, right? In this case, while the house is very well done, it lacks the charm of the house I had my eye on before. This house overcomes that with it's location: near a pool, tennis courts, park, public golf course (yes readers, I have been known to swing a club), and the Cherry Creek bike trail.

Additionally, this house has the biggest yard we'd seen to date (yay for Oscar!), a finished basement including wet bar (party at my place!), and room to grow when I finally allow my motherly desires to take over. Oh, and did I mention the convection oven? Be prepared for some future food blogs!

So, cross your fingers. This house in under contract, and we hope to close by the end of June. We'll all be lounging on the back deck sipping margaritas and BBQing in no time (like it's never been done before)!

Fasting for Imagination

Last night I began a fast...of television. I will allow myself a very limited amount of viewing. I have deemed that only weather reports, and certain HBO programs will be worthy of my attention from here on out. And if you're saying to yourself "hmm, this fast conveniently coincides with the finale of American Idol, The Office, Scrubs, and 30 Rock," well, you might be on to something. I can only imagine what I'll do once Project Runway comes back on.

So what did I do with my first night of freedom from the evils of television? Perhaps I worked on a writing project for a few hours, cleaned up the kitchen, vacuumed my car, or caught up with family members I have been out of touch with? No. Perhaps I went for a long walk, cooked myself a fabulous dinner, or finished reading the novel I've been neglecting for the past two weeks? No. I read a magazine and fell asleep. Not even the ring of my cell phone with David beckoning on the other end could rouse me. And every few hours I opened my eye just a
crack to see my partner in crime, Oscar aka Mr. Blackpants, basking in the new freedom of being so recently released from the shackels of worthless programming.

Tonight I am going to lay a shroud over the television, to symbolize its death in my living room. Not too big of a shroud, though, I might need to watch something, just a short little something, when there's nothing else to do.

Bowling Bummer


I went bowling last night. Perhaps I should begin this rant by explaining my relationship to bowling, as well as my competitive spirit. Then I will summarize it all for you in a somewhat inconclusive manner that will leave you wondering about your own bowling drive, and, ultimately, how it connects to life overall.

I've been bowling for most of my life. My parents, recognizing that bowling was a great family activity, would occasionally take us all down to the bowling alley, tie up our toes in those delightfully distasteful shoes, and help us select the proper weight ball. One thing they never gave us, however, were the gutter bumpers. We were going to learn how to bowl properly. Fear the gutter, aim for the highest pin in the formation.

In high school I took an individual sports class, where I learned and was tested on bowling etiquette, scoring, and terminology. I already knew most of what we learned, since I'd been tallying score cards for a few years. However, I don't want to make myself sound like a big ol' bowling expert, or like I'm even a good bowler. The most I learned in the bowling class was how to approach certain shots. I throw the ball very straight down the lane. There's no fancy spin, and I'm not even particularly graceful . Frequently, I find myself lining up a perfect roll, only to have all but one pin fall down. To pick up a spare on the 7 or 10 pin in the back, you shouldn't bowl along the gutter. Try coming across from a different angle.


So, last night, with all this bowling history behind me, I want to bowl well, like I always do. I can usually expect to break 100 (I told you I wasn't very good), and on a good bowling night I break 120. My best score is 142, and that was very exciting. I'm always salivating for that next high score, I'm always out there to beat myself. Of course, it doesn't hurt to have competition on the team. It keeps me modest, mostly, and forces me to realize that even though knocking down nine pins seems quite good, it does nothing toward launching my score to the unatainable (at least for me) 300.

I had a horrible bowling night. The first score was 102, the second 82. There was some beer drinking involved, but I really can't blame that. And each time I let the ball slip off my fingers at 14 mph, I thought If I practiced, I could be better.

But in this case, I don't think it's true. I took bowling for an entire semester, and my score virtually remained in the 120s the entire time. Maybe bowling is the one thing I can't be better at. Maybe we just have to accept that we'll never be able to do everything. I have to accept that I'm never going to be a good bowler.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

Awww, it's enough to make you feel cozy, thinking of a charming house with the little panes in the windows and the breakfast nook and the veranda and the porch swing that you're going to put up so you can sip lemonade and watch the sunset behind the mountains. That's what we're going after. Yep, we're packing up and heading back to Colorado.

Looking for houses hasn't been awful. Luckily, it's a buyer's market, so it feels like we've been able to walk among houses and raise our nose in disgust at all the bad apples. But we've also been able to locate the house I described above for a reasonable price. (No, it's not this house pictured...if I publicize the house we want too much, it might go away.)

But it doesn't feel like the house search has just been about finding the house of our dreams. I'm sure we don't have enough money for that. I've resisted falling in love with any house, especially ones out of our price range, or this house that we are about to put a bid on. If I fall in love with it, my heart might get broken, and that's not a positive way to settle back into my home state. So what I'm going for here is finding a good place to start. The current house on our radar has a lot of good things going for it, but there are certainly some traits we're willing to overlook. I know I'm not going to be attached to any house until I can sit on the grass in the front lawn and listen to the wind rustling through the trees overhead, and know that the sound will always calm me down.

Until then, we're still searching for home.

Where Has My Imagination Gone?

I keep trying to think of things to write. I keep trying to let myself be swept away by a thought. I keep trying, but apparently you can't force it. I'm stuck in an
imagination rut. Perhaps it's because I've just finished school and my mind has decided to turn itself off for a while.

On Wikipedia, imagination is defined as: the innate ability and process to invent partial or complete personal realms within the mind from elements derived from sense perceptions of the shared world.

I'm feeling abnormal because I'm not able to access my ability to invent realms. I try to access the creative part of my brain, the part that seemed like a floodgate every time I had a deadline. Now it's my job to learn how to imagine things because I want to, not becuase I have to.

But it's not like I haven't been trying. I've been at my computer several times since my last day of class, trying to work out this character I've had in my mind, but my mind feels stopped up. At first I thought I was just tired, but now I feel like there might actually be a clog somewhere in my brain.

I need a brain plunger. Or a brain plumber. Or a brain vacuum. Or maybe I need to just settle down.

The Day Has Come

I finally get a weekend where I don' thave to worry about getting my homework done. After dreaming of the possibilities (there was hope for a camping trip), I've decided my time would be best spent at home, cleaning up after myself.

Let me explain the significance of this: I hate cleaning. My house has gotten so bad that I am unhappy when I come home. Seeing clothes strewn over every possible chair arm and back possible does not make me happy. Not being able to sit in the loveseat by the computer does not make me (or Oscar) happy. Not being able to navigate my way through the bedroom because there are so many pairs of shoes, dirty clothes, bags, mismatched jewelry, etc. does not make me happy.

So I'll be folding laundry with a spring in my step, doing the vacuum cleaner cha-cha, and dusting away all the accumulation of the past few months--the stress, the late nights, the work I was forced to do. It's spring cleaning, and this will be a great way for me to step into my new freedom. A Clean Home is a Happy Home, and the People Who Live in a Clean Home are Happy Too.

So Close, Yet...

Tomorrow is my last day of class ever. I've already blogged about this. But I still have one more paper left to write, and that's really wearing me down.

I was supposed to get started on this paper two weeks ago. I was supposed to work on it all last week. I was supposed to research it and begin writing it Saturday. I was supposed to finish writing it yesterday. Did any of those happen? No. Of course not. In the true spirit of procrastination, I am doing this final paper correctly--at the last minute.

Tonight, I am supposed to finish my paper. I do believe this will happen, since I am not one to turn in late assignments. However, I also have two other assignments due, and those are currently taking a back seat (as if there is another back seat left on this procrastination bus).

So here's to old habits, excuses, and plain ol' not wanting to do homework. Wish me luck, I have a long night ahead of me (all nighters are sooo undergrad).

A Little Late for Resolutions...

When the New Year rolled around, who knows what I was doing (actually, I was probably shoveling snow off my mom's car in Colorado), but I was too busy to think about improving myself. Realistically, I knew it wasn't going to happen in coordination with the start of 2007. But now, with my thesis behind me, and what feels like a new life ahead, I am going to start a list of things to accomplish.

• Read all the books I've been ordering on Amazon but haven't had time to read yet. This should carry me through June.
• Learn French. I've already started this, but with the thesis and end-of-the-semester papers, this pursuit has taken a backseat. I've discovered podcasts and websites to help me learn, and hopefully I'll be able to say something other than "What date is your birthday" soon.
• Garden. Not only are my house plants suffering from neglect, but my green thumb has been ignored so long it's faded to a wan-pea-soup color. Ewww. I hear sunlight is the cure.
• Travel. This list is long, and always the most difficult to fulfill. I have plans for a trip to Buenos Aires in October (and I'm looking for a travel partner). Smaller trips include (but are not limited to) road trip up or down the California coast, British Columbia, Texas, Minnesota, and Hawaii.
• Keep my house clean. Oh wait, this list should be inspiring. Dare I bog myself down with chores? The answer is yes. Having a bedroom as messy as mine is embarrassing and distracting.
• Train Oscar. Despite being the world's best dog, Oscar needs some work. He pulls on the leash, barks at dogs, and growls at anyone wearing a hat. Oh boy.
• Ride my bike more. I love going fast on my road bike, and I could use the exercise.
  

Well there it is. I hope you weren't expecting things like bungee jump, or space travel, or swim the English Channel. Those things are for people who like big rubber bands, have lots of money, or know how to swim. I am none of those, and I apologize if I disappointed you.

My Life Continues

I just turned in my thesis. The weight of the past two years has finally been unchained, and I can move and flex and walk and...oh, what should I do with myself?

I've been looking forward to some feeling of freedom. Like, what will it be like to come home from work and not have to pull out my laptop and write a paper? What will it be like to travel on the weekend with a book I chose to read myself? What excuse will I think of to get out of keeping the house clean (because really, that is my biggest concern)?

But I also hope that the weight of the past two years continues to exert itself from time to time. I don't want to forget what it's like to work on my writing. I don't want to forget how good it feels to finish a story and think that someone else might like to read it. That, more than obtaining an official looking degree, is what I went to school for. I needed discipline, and I really hope that part of that lesson sunk in and became a part of me.

The celebrations have not yet begun. David offered to throw a party, but my inclination is not to have one. My first big deadline has come and gone. There will be many more. This is my new life, and I hope it's a hardworking one.

Birthday Dog Blog

I can't believe that Oscar's birthday has come and gone, and I didn't blog about it. I'm feeling very guilty, and if I had a tail, it would be between my legs. Sorry Oscar.

Oscar's birthday, April 15th, is an arbitrary date. We knew he was probably born in April, based on when he began losing his puppy teeth. I chose the 15th because it is smack dab in the middle of the month. Just because tax day also traditionally falls on this day does not mean we should think any less of Oscar.

On Oscar's big day we took him on a forbidden bike ride. Although Oscar is small in stature, he is the best for taking on a bike ride. He's not so big that his joints and size slow him down. He zips up and down the trail, and probably covers twice the ground his human companions bike. Seeing Oscar run would bring a smile to anyone's face. He lights up, opens his mouth and flops his tongue over his teeth, lays his ears back, and takes off, as though he were a windup car that has been waiting to be released. Running is his favorite thing to do, so of course, we were going to take him for a nice run for his birthday. The only problem is that most trails don't allow dogs, and if they do, they are supposed to be on leash. It is nearly impossible to successfully bike with your dog on leash.

But hey, you do what you can to make your loved ones happy. Oscar ran off leash. We were prepared to pay a fine. Thankfully, the day turned out well for everyone. No fine for us, and Oscar was so blissfully happy by trail's end that it made breaking the rules (dare I say the law?) very much worth it.

For dinner, Oscar dined on flank steak. He was a happy boy. He deserves it. He's a good dog.

Happy Birthday Oscar!

Sleepy Blogger

I had the most difficult time blogging yesterday. I want everyone to know that, in case you were wondering why I was not only talking about 6th grade, but writing like a 6th grader. The reason was because I had stayed up the entire night before putting together my final story for workshop. I kept falling asleep while writing my blog, and even though I started dreaming, I kept typing. That's right, I was typing my dream. It was such a fascinating idea that I decided to write a big long email to David and see what happened. Here are some exerpts from my dream email (copied exactly as they appeared in the email):

I can't believe I'm not sleeping yet. I don't know what the deal is, I'm really sorry to waste your time, maybe I'll erase all these and then I'll put ( I had a hard time finding his sweater here).

Can you imagive being a doctor? Whow, the email I am typing to you looked like a logo just now, and I was going to ask you where you were going. What country are you visiting? I want to go somewhere warm so that I can wear my shorts. You want to go somewhere where there aren't so many locals. we hate people. I would rather eat a sunflower.

Remember when you were speaking Spanish and the guidebook had been drawn on? Who brought the kid to dream about thigs. Not meDo you have to wear a diaper there? Because I don't have one for my family.

You souh read my sample outine with the double boiler
wow, I'm super tired. I just had a little dream about winning the Double Tree. Now I'm sleeping. I wonder if this will be hoof ro you. Does she have a lazy eye too? I can't tell. I can see the heat from the sun backthat side. There I went, drooling again.

Stapler Fear

My stapler ran out of staples today. It's such an infrequent ocurrance that I take it as an omen.

Nothing has happened yet (but the day isn't over). I'm worried this one will be a bad omen. In sixth grade, I put a fairly heavy-duty staple into my thumb. They had to use a long flat screwdriver to get it out. Then I got to sit at the receptionist's desk for the rest of the afternoon, which was a fun little job. I think I remember seeing the staple in 6th grade on the other side of my nail, and that image wouldn't shake from my mind.


So I'm not sure how to take the stapler omen...should I prepare for an evening of kicking my feet up and relaxing, or should I grab a box of band-aids and avoid sharp objects altogether? I hope not the second, because I nearly had an incident this morning. I put the wrong size staples into the stapler, and then the top kept springing back on my vulnerable hand. I was having serious flashbacks.
I am afraid of my stapler.

This Goes Out to My Grandma

It's Grandma's 80th birthday today. What I love most about the whole situation is that she's excited, and she still looks forward to her birthdays.

Weeks ago, she revealed to me that she had never had a birthday party. It was a big hint: throw me a party, or else. Just kidding. She's not like that. But seriously, I knew the party would be a big deal to her.

The invitations have been sent out, the location has been booked, and the menu written. There will be friends and family (minus one V.I.Son, but that's a whole other story and not blog material), a little booze, a game or two, and the best part of all--a Hollywood theme. I'm putting my photoshop skills to good use and transforming old photos of her into starlet movie posters. I've also ordered some party decorations to help set the mood. I plan on making her wear a boa throughout the whole event, and maybe even some kitschy costume jewelry, and long gloves. I can't wait to see it all turn out, and see her have a great time.

Happy Birthday Grandma! Love ya!

JEaNS

I've come to a sad realization. My jeans are out of shape. I know the old trick: wash them and they will be restored. But after a while, they are just too worn out. They hang from the hips without attitude. They make my butt look like a sunken pie.

And what makes it worse is that jeans are so difficult to shop for (unless you have that "certain" figure, the one even sweatpants look good on). So when the day rolls around when your jeans give you the "I just don't have the energy" look, and they begin to suck the life out of the rest of your outfit, it's only natural that you put off the search for a new pair. It's just too much work, and the jeans concur, "Nothing is worth making an effort for anymore."

Once you muster up the energy to go shopping, the word has spread. Your jeans have told every other pair of jeans in the entire world that you are coming. Therefore, every pair you try on skips straight to the hanging "I don't wanna make your ass look good" phase. The trick is to be impulsive. Grab a pair on your way to lunch. Don't take your old jeans with you. Better yet, don't even try them on.

I'm still waiting for the full bad-jean coma to sink in. Besides, I don't have time to shop for jeans (is that me or the pants talking?).