Another year

My birthday weekend brought the welcome respite of 50- and 60-degree weather, and for the first year in recent memory, March's reputation for nasty beginnings was spared. Despite The Huz's most-repeated phrase this weekend ("I'm not good at planning parties"), he managed to pull together a surprise party for me Saturday night, complete with a surprised look on my face. A friend of mine sort of ruined the surprise by e-mailing me to ask what the order of events was, so The Huz went into recovery mode and convincingly warned me not to get my hopes up too high. He said he had something planned, but that the person he'd counted on to help him execute it had backed out. While that turned out to be true, I was totally convinced that whatever it was had fallen through completely, and I was happy to spend the evening with my guy.

We went to a friend's house "to pick up my present because it was too big to keep at the house," and there was a sweet little crowd waiting to wish me a happy 25th. And the leftover keg beer hit the spot yesterday afternoon as we soaked up the rare warmth sitting outside. Just when it seemed like it would never warm up, a couple of warm days makes all the difference.

It's like how they tell you to eat cheese and drink milk to lose weight

I have three and a half weeks of vacation/sick days accrued at work, and I feel guilty about taking even one day off. Damn this sense of responsibility. I work six days a week, and I barely take any days off from work except for those already chalked up to holidays. How do I learn to take time for myself and not feel guilty about what I "should" be doing at work?

Last week I took the day off on Wednesday, and I already got Thursday and Friday off for the holiday. Though I did put in quite a bit of work making those tarts, and we travelled a little to get to the feast, the rest of my five-day weekend (!) I just wanted to relax. I watched tv, read books, sat on the couch, and napped. It's getting cold here, and I honestly didn't even want to leave the house. The minute I came home from work on Tuesday, I strutted around the house crooning, "I'm on vacay!" And at various times over the next few days, I'd marvel at the situation and think to myself, "I'm getting paid right now." At one point on Friday or Saturday afternoon though, as I read on the couch cozied up under a blanket, The Huz inquired, "So this is what you do on vacation?"

And I thought about his question. He's right about the fact that I was unabashedly lazy for a few days (except for the tarts! They were v. hard!). But I think that the biggest problem is that because I hardly ever take a day off, when I do finally get a day off, I'm so overcome by the opportunity to do nothing that I just can't resist it. It's funny how I've now rationalized that in order to be less lazy, I need to take more days off from work.

Someone trip me on the way to the grocery store the next time I plan to make anything involving tart dough

My father-in-law totally deep fries our turkey every year, but not before he injects cajun-flavored butter goo into it.  It's seriously delicious.



I killed myself to make two cranberry and almond tarts, and let's just say they did not go over well. I took a whole tart home with me and left a half-eaten one at my in-laws' house. I guess I shouldn't have underestimated how the midwesterner's palate pulls so hard to the sweet end of the spectrum.



I was looking forward to a few days off of work so fervently, and now that they're almost over, it feels anticlimactic. I mean, I still have the weekend, but vacation days always slip by so quickly when work days drag on. I'm going to try to enjoy what's left...

It's just like me to criticize but not participate

I didn't dress up for Halloween this year. Unlike last year, there just weren't any parties that sounded like great fun, and I just didn't have the energy to think of a hilarious costume. I hate it when people just put on some random shit to be something boring (cowboy, witch, doctor). Then there's the other popular option, which is to be whatever you want and just add the adjective slutty. Slutty nurse, slutty fireperson, and slutty bumblebee are always popular. Last year I witnessed two slutty bumblebees vomiting at the same party. And they didn't even know each other. I swear to god. Note to 19-year-olds: tequila and orange soda will make you vomit. Honestly, I can't stand costumes that don't make me laugh or bear an unbelievable resemblance to whoever/whatever the person is supposed to be.

Anyhow, despite the fact that I didn't dress up or go to any parties this year, I did get to see my little brother in his costume. I would guess that this is a pretty common costume, but I've never seen anyone do it before, even though I live in a college town. The resemblance is uncanny:






Though there are minor details that could've made the outfit more Belushi-like, it still cracked me the hell up.