I have a very silly boyfriend who makes every weekend awesome. Here he is hiding from the world because he had something in his teeth. A fate that each of us will succumb to at some time in our lives…*
*the stuff in our teeth…not the bag on our head…but if you are prone to putting a bag on your head, make it a paper one. It’s harder to suffocate. Continue Reading
On this day of celebrating things we love, I’d like to take a moment and celebrate one of the best moments in Days of Our Lives history (in my opinion).
Back in 2003 (I think), Salem was stalked by, well, the Salem Stalker. Gotta love that alliteration.
Anyway, many main characters were killed, and here’s a video of the first of the seven murders. I love youtube.
On New Years Eve, Roman was killed at his and Kate’s wedding*. What followed was a very, very long day filled with police investigations and a lot of talking. Hey, there was a murderer in their midst. Everyone was a suspect and no one was safe.
This day lasted straight through the February 13th episode, in which Brady walked into mansion and said to Nicole, “Is it just me or has this day felt like weeks?!”
It was a rare moment where Days of Our Lives made fun of its very soap opera-esque nature. I loved it, and I love it to this day.
The next day was the Valentine’s Day episode (that probably itself lasted a week) in which all the Salemites were busily expressing their undying love and devotion to their partners. AND, it must be noted, every Valentine’s Day on Days of Our Lives, the men perform dizzying feats of romance — rooftop candlelit dinners, engagement rings in champagne glasses, miraculous returns from being held hostage.
On this day of recognizing love, let’s recognize the idiosyncrasies that make the things we love (like Days of Our Lives) what they are. And let’s be reasonable. A rooftop candlelit dinner is probably not in the cards, but a tender embrace and a pastry probably are. Life is perfect if you love it as it is.
We’re headed to Europe this June, and I can hardly contain my excitement.
He’s a really fun second half. He likes my cat, though he’d never admit it and most frequently refers to him as “the rodent.”
I’ve been reaching out to the local community a lot over the past few months, and am so inspired and grateful for the connections I’ve made. I’m sure that running my own business will continue down the same bumpy road, but I’m glad for the company. Continue Reading
Have you ever stopped and noticed what’s happening in your head only to realize that you’re beating yourself up? Criticizing yourself for–I don’t know–not accomplishing enough last month, drinking too much last night, burning the chili, or forgetting your lunch at home again??
I’ve realized lately that I do this. A lot. There’s a word for this: Self Abuse. And it’s the opposite of Self Love, or the practice of loving oneself.
Aristotle’s Nichomachean Ethics made a huge impression on me in college. When he starts down the road of discussing friendship (and other relationships involving love), he begins with an inquiry into “Self Love.”
Aristotle suggests that love from other people stems from love from oneself. We should treat others the way we would want to be treated and the way we treat ourselves. Continue Reading
Over the course of last year Will and I began experimenting and really appreciating how good a cocktail can be. Before then, we had basically subsisted on scotch on ice, beer, and gin and vodka tonics. And food, of course.
All of a sudden our eyes were opened to a whole new world of drinks! Will began to play with different ingredients and soon had invented his first custom cocktail, the Santa Rosa. And he sure has the touch. Even without booze, he can whip up a great drink. He makes awesome sodas during the day out of some combination of soda water, grenadine or simple syrup and various types of bitters. Yum! Continue Reading
Last night could have quite possibly be the worst dance I’ll ever go to. For a while, I just saw Justin, but I finally spotted Eric. I guess it was so bad because I realized, “hey, I have not chance!” Eric has no idea who the hell I am, and everytime I saw him he had 4 or 5 girls all over him. Running their fingers through his hair, trying to get him to dance with them. If he even noticed I was there, he probably didn’t recognize me from Art & PE. Continue Reading
I’m confused. Ana didn’t know who Steve is. She is in love big time. She’s making me be the writer for her notes. Now Peter thinks I like him. Ana says I have the neatest handwriting in the whole fifth grade. Is it true? Does Steve know?
I’m sure that Steve realized that my handwriting was in fact the neatest of everyone in the entire fifth grade.
Jamie likes Steve. That’s something we have in common. Does Steve like me? He’s been on my mind all weekend. Steve is one of the only boys in the fifth grade that doesn’t like somebody. Maybe he doesn’t like someone or likes someone but doesn’t tell anyone.
Steve is cute. I think. I’m not sure. Nobody else thinks so. I do not know why I’m attracted to him. He likes me. I think. Larearta says so. On the dusk hike I caught him looking at me. I was laughing. I wonder what was going through his brain. If Steve likes me does Tim know?
Am I pretty?
Is it wrong to like Adrien too? Adrien’s smart. I guess Steve got two B’s and two C’s. I’m not sure. He could have gotten straight F’s or A’s. Not that I want a roket sciencetist, but I want at least one B.
Yes, I just misspelled “rocket” and “scientist” while weighing the importance of my crush’s intelligence.
During Outdoor Ed I was always with Brendan. On the trust walk I was with Shawn. In boy-girl circles I was with Brendan. For the Barnyard Boogie I was with Brendan. What is it, fate? Brendan’s going with Liz, so how come I’m stuck with him?
Outdoor Ed was a week-long overnight camp for 5th graders. The trust walk is where one person is blind folded and you have to hold hands with your partner–a big deal for a young girl!
I’m growing up. I can feel it. Am I pretty? Nanet and Tasha seemed to think so. I don’t know. I’m confused. Next year I’ll be in sixth grade at Pleasanton Middle School. What if I don’t get good grades? What if I have no friends? What if no boys ask me to the dances? I wish Christina was going to P.M.S.
Seriously, the acronym for my middle school was “P.M.S.”