It's days like today....

....and things like this that never fail to make me smile. And be thankful for the togetherness of people, especially in times like this.



Happy Thanksgiving ya'll!

Sometimes, I just love people....

The following is SO something Chicago or Chels or I would do; and it just made me smile.


dancing with strangers from katie sokoler on Vimeo.

In Conclusion....

"No......YOU're a sexy president-elect."

Put your tiny hand in mine.

It is a known fact amongst me and mine that I'm a sucker for a good theme. Party, movie night.....week of Lifetime Movie Network. Like when they have Going to the Chapel Sunday or Political Intrigue Week around 4th of July. Prepare yourselves children, cause this week's gonna be one for the record books.

A entire week of Made for TV miniseries. The promo said "Because TV movies used to be so awesome that they wouldn't fit in only two hours." I knew where this was going. I hoped and prayed that this was going there. And lo, the television gods did smile down in their omnipotence and grant their lowliest of servants a gift.

O.M.F.G!

You feel dirty and bad and dirty just watching it. And yet, you watch it again. Some more. Contemplate several life choices:

1. Moving to the wilds of Australia and opening a sheep station named after an obscure Irish town.

2. Becoming Catholic.

3. Investing in hot rollers, AquaNet, and a filmy dusty rose (tm) dress.



I could try to explain to you what it's like watching this for the first time. I once attempted to explain the awesome of this masterpiece to someone and apparently it comes off as the pitch for either an episode of Law and Order: SVU or Dateline's To Catch a Predator. You truly have to see it to believe. If you are a reader of the romance novel (not that I am or anything. Shut up!) think back to the first time you read Johanna Lindsey or Nora Roberts or (egads!) Bertrice Small. It's sort of like that. Except everyone's very pretty and Catholic and it's very brown and lots of people die. Just trust me. TiVo this, grab manymany hours worth of snack, and settle in for the fantastic epic journey on which you are about to embark.

He's her lobster. She's his heartsong. They are each other's emperor penguins.


(And while you are watching, try not to think about the fact that Richard Chamberlain would rather schtupp Luke than Meggie. But since I said that that's probably ALL you'll think about.)


Wait, this will clear your mind....... Ahh. That's better.....

"This. Must. Be. POP!"

Why did IDKmyBFFJake and I watch *nsync videos on youtube, you ask?
.
.

Besides that.....

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.
.
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.

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Aaaaaaand that *damn*

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Because it followed a deep philosophical discussions of the various merits of that illustrious music group and their millennium era rivals, The Backstreet Boys.


We are disturbed.


We also laughed so hard at something positively insane that the Parliament smoking, muumuu wearing waitress at 15th Street Diner gave us the crazy eye. Maybe it's time to tone down the post-test festivities juuuuuust a bit. Or maybe not.

My life is so odd.

The word verification thing-y for a comment over at The Other Molly's blog was "grana." What an excellent thing to call a grandmother. Me likey. It'll never be as good as when Jack-Jack wants something and intones "Myyyyy GiiiiGiiiii....."

Why do these things register with me? Especially when I should be studying for my test that's in an hour.
*head desk*

Pray for my continued position on this side of sanity....barely.


Still to do:
Take Edu. Psych. Test *thumbs optimistic*
Fix the broken brake light on my car. *thumbs down*
Pack for the beach. *thumbs up*
Go to bank. *thumbs way down-I is broke.*
Catch up on TiVo. *thumbs way up*
Decide what books to read over break. *thumb neutral--It's such a hard decision.*
Beat Auburn.
Solve world hunger.
Paint my nails.

Out of the mouths of babes

A conversation at the Krispy Kreme:

Daddy leaves the table for more yummi-ness.

Jack-Jack: *leans in conspiratorially* My Gigi.....

Mom: What is it, Jack?

Jack-Jack: Sometimes......my Pop.....he says "Shoot." *shakes head*


If you only knew Jack-Jack. If, you only knew.

Author's Note: I'm guessing that the original revelation of Shoot-Gate made use of a certain other 4-letter word; and my brother found it necessary to inform the nephew that Pop was really saying "shoot."

The following is an excerpt from Joanna Goddard's Glamour blog Smitten:

My sister was dating a guy who fell in love with her bookshelf....

...They were just getting to know each other. He was hanging out at her house for the first time, when he began looking through her books. She had books on mountain climbing. She had books by Seinfeld. She had farmer's market cookbooks and old journals and touching memoirs and giant tomes, like Infinite Jest. "That's it," he said. "I loved her bookcase. I knew she was funny and adventurous and thoughtful. And, at that moment, I knew I would fall in love with her."

Two years later, they got married.

It might sound extreme, but I'm sure you book lovers out there can understand his feelings. Our books can reveal a lot about us -- our interests, the way we think, even our approach to life...

The whole concept so reminded me of....well...me. And Sals. And the other Molly. Books can show layers of ourselves that we are to frightened or embarrassed to verbalize. They can be windows to our future, our dreams, our past mistakes. For me they are often better than a movie--gasp!--because they allow that often dormant creative side of me to take over. In the midst of the tests and the busy work schedule and the grad school craziness, reading is the one time that I seem able to completely tune out the cacophony and focus.

Why oh Why......

....does Anthropologie insist on making their web images flash players---or whatever the term is, I'm not known for the tech savvy, oddly enough. The zoom thing IS every so handy to see the ever-present embroidery/details that I love so about their clothes.....however, and it's a MAJOR however. It makes it very difficult, nay impossible, to save the images to the computer in an effort to make a handy-dandy scrapbook for the Christmas Elf herself (aka Janet). If you know how to acheive this Herculian feat, please, I beg of you. Instruct. Teach. Share your innate wisdom. My Christmas list and fashion sense shall be forever in your debt.

A girl can Dream...

My pastimes of late seem to be decorating the amazingly fabulous loft I do not own and planning the wedding for which I do not have a groom. It would be sad if I wasn't so fizz-ily adorable and optimistic. Okay, maybe it's still sad AND pathetic, but you'll get over it.

It's a girl thing. It's what we do to pass the time. In the way that boys watch NASCAR...and scratch themselves. To that end I submit the following, borrowed from amongst the various creative geniuses and all-around amazing people whom I stalk here on teh internets.

Meet the flowers for the blessed day....

They go with this goooooorgeous centerpiece....


Which, incidentally, all match very well with the future Mr.Magnolia.....


And just for the record, I'm totally cool with him wearing exactly that to the ceremony.

Packin' those Expertly Labeled Boxes and Movin' Out.

After languishing at another site for a bit--starts with an l, ends with an -ivejournal--The Other Molly has inspired me in more ways than one and I'm making my way over to where the growed-ups do the blogging. No disrespect meant, ya'll.

There will probably be some re-posting of previously written stuff. And I'll thank you to shut it and read them like it's the first time, thank you very much. And of course all the amazingly creative, random, pointless things this modern belle is known to comment on with increased frequency. But for now, I'll leave you with the newest thing I covet.

In the words of the deliciously yummy Captain Wentworth.......I burn. I pine. I perish.