The Life and Logic of Leigh

Hump Day List

2009-11-11T15:59:00.004-06:00

A list of utmost randomness:

1. There are some things in life you count on to be true: it will always rain when Sid is out of town; the dogs will always come in muddy after I've mopped the floors; my cell phone will always ring when I'm juggling a purse, keys, book and latte; and especially relevant today, my mom will always be out of town when I really want to talk to her (no offense Mom - it's not your fault!).

2. After some witty banter with an enthusiastic Starbucks barista, I step aside and wait patiently for my tall 3 Equal latte, catching a smile from a seated gentleman who appears to be chuffed by this humorous exchange. "That's nice," I think. "Barista and I WERE a good comedy team. We could go on tour, even." Then I notice the blue tooth in the seated man's ear as he looks down at his laptop, nodding uselessly as if the caller can even see him. If a comedy duo makes a funny and no one hears, is it still funny? No, I guess not.

3. I think little Dixie is losing sight in one eye, but the moment I start to pine over her elderly age, she does something amazing, like climb the stairs with the speed of an Olympian, or follow, with her poor little eyes, a tiny house fly as he zooms around the living room. Yesterday Sid says, "I think we need to speak more clearly and always with a comforting tone since it appears she's relying more on her sense of smell and hearing." So what does Sid do not even an hour later? He hollers, "Dixxxiiiiiie!" and makes exaggerated monster movements under the fluorescent light at the top of the stairs, which throws murderous shadows all over the walls. It's a little game he likes to play with her, but clearly it's a violation of his new rule. And also just plain dumb. Poor Dixie.

4. Are you guys watching Community on NBC Thursday nights? It is Bril. Liant. So much so that the very word has to be divided in half so it is properly pronounced. The humor, much like my very favorite show 30 Rock, is multidimensional and clever and subtle but hilariously obvious at the same time. And let's be honest with one another, Joel Mchale is delicious! My favorite laugh out loud moment from last Thursday:

Brita: Those faucets are beautiful. You know what they would go great with? A HOME! Which you no longer have! You need to move on with your life!

Jeff: Yeah, move on with my life? Shmove shmon shmith shmy shmife!

Okay, okay. One more!

Abed: Lucky Charms?

Jeff: How are you so satisfied all the time, Abed? Don't you ever want anything more out life than just cereal?

Abed: Sometimes I like to pour hot chocolate mix into cold milk and drink it with hot cocoa, I call it special drink

Jeff: And some day you will know it by its true name, diabetes

Who's laughing? I am! Here's a clip if you want it, which has both quotes in it. Awesomeness with a whipped cream and 14 cherries on top.

5. My brain is t'ard. (translation: tired with a Southern spin) I love my new job. Love, love, love. I'm treating it much like I did my college coursework: prepare, prepare, prepare, study, study, study, always look in the mirror before walking through the office doors to check for ink stains. Old story alert! I stayed up all night studying for my history final freshman year - totally aced it, by the way - and when I made it back to the dorm after the essay final, Sid and Jesse who were visiting, and Kena, my roommate, bursted into fits of belly laughter and commanded me to look in a mirror. I had more ink stains on my face than freckles and that's saying something. My history final was on the other side of campus, meaning I walked the entire campus with belly-laughter-inducing ink stains all over my face. Lesson learned? Always be prepared: mentally and facially. My brain is thankful for the new challenges, but needs to catch up on her zzzzz's.

6. Glee tonight! 'nuf said!

Woke up this morning (da na na na na)

2009-11-09T15:25:00.005-06:00

My alarm buzzed at 6:30am and naturally I hit snooze because I am a snooze-button-pusher, so much so that I wonder why I bother to set the alarm at all. Sometimes I'll hit snooze 7 or 8 times, in fact, but not on really important days like today. Today I woke up with that jittery dread you feel before an exciting event - wedding, job interview, vacations. Throw a heap of excitement and a handful of terror into a bowl, mix it up, throw it in a 325 degree oven for 30 minutes and voila - that was me this morning at 6:39 when my alarm buzzed for the second time.

I had three hours to prepare for my first day as the Marketing/PR intern for a real deal book publisher, and first things first, I needed to stop saying things like "real deal book publisher" or I might as well walk into the office and shyly stammer, "Hi, I'm Leigh! I've got butterflies in my tummy and I'm super duper happy to be here at this big ol' office building. Grandma says I've made it big. Will someone warm me up a bottle of milk?" So, after vowing to be as calm and cool and mature as possible given the circumstances, I faced the day:

6:39 - tumble out of bed like a drunk and mutter good mornings to Sid and the dogs

6:42 - take a shower

6:52 - throw on some lounging-around clothes

6:58 - enjoy coffee and conversation with Sid

7:45 - read

8:45 - jump out of chair as though attached to a rocket and make exaggerated motions and mutterings about reading too long when I should be getting dressed

8:47 - blow dry hair, roll hair, file/paint fingernails and apply makeup

9:19 - grab two shirts from closet to iron since I can't make up mind which to wear

9:21 - realize that very expensive cardigan has a hole near the neck

9:23 - discover a water stain on shirt #1 and a rip in shirt #2

9:24 - mentally curse myself for not taking better care of my clothes

9:25 - iron pants

9:27 - polish boots

9:30 - get dressed

9:35 - master the obstacle course of my hallway, staircase, and living room, avoiding dogs and dog hair at all cost.

9:45 - avoid mud and dirt climbing into Jeep

9:47 - hit the road, Jack.

10:30 - officially start my new job
1:30 - hit the road for my other job

Are you curious about what happened between 10:30-1:30? No? Okay, nevermind then. I'll just say it was a fabulous start to what I feel, deep down in my tummy, will be a life-changing experience. It was baptism by fire, as promised in the interviews, and I kinda like it that way!

I got an Award, I got an Award!

2009-11-06T13:45:00.000-06:00

It's Friday, I had a delicious brunch with a friend, a latte from Starbucks, a bath with a good book, a long phone chat with Mom, kisses from little Dixie, NO WORK, had a box full of new clothes from Ann Taylor Loft waiting on my doorstep when I returned home, and [drumroll] I got an AWARD from one of my favorite blogger friends who while I've never met her in person, I'm convinced we could be BFFs in real life. So, Thanks Melissa for nominating me!

Here are the rules:

1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award. (Check!)

2. Copy the logo & place it on your blog. (Check!)

3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award (Check!)

4. Name 7 things about yourself that people may not know. (We'll get to that.)

5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers:

1. Cindy

2. Mom (cats out of the bag, Mom! Start bloggin'!)

3. Stacey

4. Amanda

5. Anna

6. April

7. Allison

6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominated. (Check!)

7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs, letting them know they've been nominated. (Really? Is that necessary? Sounds like a lot of work, so...maybe.)

And now the highly unanticipated 7 things you don't know about me.

1. I hate when people misspell words to be cutesy. For instance, Kreativ Blogger. Huh? Creative starts with 'c' and ends in 'e'. It isn't cute to use a 'k' and drop the 'e,' it's just bad spelling. Like the little store near our town square - Bobcat Kuntry. Kuntry? Really? Why not erect a giant billboard on the highway telling passerbyers what a bunch of hicks and morons we are?

2. I start a new job on Monday! It's a part-time internship with a book publisher, can you even believe it? I spent several months feeling down in the dumps about my lack of career, the reality that I'm a creative bird who keeps locking herself into a tiny office-cage, and the gloomy psychological diagnosis hiding under the covers in my mind - FEAR. I decided one day that enough was enough, attached a ridiculously unimpressive resume to a heartfelt letter and hit Send. A week later the biggest surprise of my entire life was delivered over the phone wires - a call from the publisher/CEO herself! And she actually LIKED my letter and my writing! WHAT?!?! After a couple of interviews and phone calls, I'm officially the marketing/PR intern for a real deal book publisher! I will be doing a whole great big bunch of fun stuff and I am T-H-R-I-L-L-E-D! (And very much looking forward to the celebratory dinner with the hubster Monday night!) I'm also really looking forward to being part of an office family again. Isolation in the workplace is the pits!

3. 4 out of 5 of Ann Taylor Loft items I received today fit. I used to be an "Ann" pant style and now I'm a "Julie," apparently. Ann - "a classic fit, sits slightly below the waist." Julie - "a curvy fit, sits slightly below the waist, flatters the hip and thigh." Fantastic. Because every girl dreams of having thighs and hips that need "flattering." The pants are fabulous, though, so cheers!

4. I had a dream last night that I was on a love trip to Fredericksburg with.....Clint Eastwood. We were strolling the streets in the rain, hand in hand, and stopped to listen to David Allan Coe performing "You Never Even Call Me By My Name" in the street, where a very overweight version of Pat Green was spotted in the bleachers, rockin' to the beat. I'm pretty sure this means I need therapy.

5. I've gained 8 pounds of the 35ish that I lost last year, and while I've vowed to shake it off and get back up on that weight-loss wagon, I'm terrified about the approaching holidays and Manhattan vacation. Deep down, I know the 8 pounds is a just a little bump in the road and since I still fit into my clothes, I refuse to break down and sob like a chubby baby, but the worst part is the bloat around my middle and in my face that is more a product of poor eating than the 8 pounds. THAT bums me out.

6. A few days ago, I picked the nail polish off my toenails instead of using nail polish remover like a normal person. I haven't had a pedicure in 6 months. Guess how pretty my hobbit feet are right now?

7. Sid's list contribution: I have crazy nicknames for my pups that I sing to them daily. For instance, when I come home from work, I throw open the door and greet Bear and Dixie, who naturally run to greet me, with, "Hi silly willy pilly tilly milly dilly chillys! How is my Bear-bear-chair-bear and my Dixie Swixie Trixie?" They totally eat it up. That is one of a million nickname sing-song scenarios.

Makenzie Tales

2009-11-05T10:45:00.002-06:00

Sid and I, realizing through a sleepy fog that we are wearing identical Aggie t-shirts walk to the second floor banister and greet the family below. Nana laughs, Ken Ken doesn't. I head for the breakfast table and before I can lean over to hug my Ken Ken, Nana says, "Leigh Leigh, can you believe that Daddy ate her leftover special donut?"

Sidenote: Sid and I took Makenzie to Starbucks the morning before and she thought it was such a treat, we had a grand ol' time singing loudly with the windows down, giggling at random. She led us to Shipley's Donuts (the girl knows her way around town) and when we get to the drive-thru window she says, "Daddy always gets me a twisty thing, about this long, with chocolate and sprinkles." We repeat this to the Shipley's girl, who has never heard of such a thing, but she disappears momentarily and returns with exactly what Ken Ken described - she made it special just for her. (When we got home, Cindy laughed and said, "She totally made that up. She's never had a donut like that." Randy confirmed later that evening when he got back from work that he's never ordered said donut.)

Leigh: Oh, Ken Ken! I'm so sorry! I can't believe he ate your special donut without asking you first!

Makenzie: [sad little tears streaming down her cheeks] He never eats Ryan's food! He only steals MY food!

Leigh: Well, baby, Ryan's food is nasty, baby food. You've got the tastiest food in the whole house.

Makenzie: [Silence]

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When we first arrive in Spring, we head to Makenzie's school to have lunch with her. We see her class lining up and Nana, Sid and I rush over near the line to give her big hugs and kisses. She grins and starts to run, only she's running away from us and holding up her finger in a "just one sec" kind of gesture, grabs her lunch card and runs to the cafeteria line. We stand there like dissed idiots because it's Pizza Day, afterall, and well, the girl has got her priorities. The whole cafeteria laughed and pointed at us, standing there like rejects. No, they didn't, but they wanted to.

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Leigh: Ken Ken, what do you want to be when you grow up? (I ask her this every time I see her, because I love how the answers change.)

Makenzie: Welllll, (like the answer is just SO obvious) I'm going to take care of animals during the summer and teach kids the rest of the time.

That said, we spent many hours this weekend playing school, with Makenzie as our teacher. She is the most precious blend of bossy and tenderhearted. She handed out clipboards and papers and passed around some crayons and commanded us to draw a picture of a garden, and she would grade our papers and select a winner. She declared Aunt Leigh Leigh the winner, and Nana pretended to have her feelings hurt, so without skipping a beat....

Makenzie: So, Leigh Leigh won first place, BUT, the person with the lowest points is also a winner!
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Sunday morning before we left, Makenzie and Siddy could be found on the sofa, giggling at some private joke. A few minutes later, my cell phone dings with a text message. Makenzie hijacked Nana's phone and the following text conversation takes place:
Makenzie: Leigh I hope you have a happy halloween.
Leigh: Makenzie, I had a GREAT Halloween! I loved trick or treating with you!
Makenzie: I had a grat halloween.
Leigh: I'll miss you sooooooooooooooo much.
Makenzie: We miss u 2. Leigh leigh ur so crazy!
Leigh: Send me a photo of your fish latwer, okay?
[Sid and Makenzie burst into giggles at my misspelling of the word later.]
Makenzie: Leigh i hope you have a happy year.
Leigh: You too, love bug!

It should be noted that Makenzie knows how to unlock the Blackberry, find a name on the address book, and then compose a text, without any adult help. She also learned to use my big, complicated camera all by herself and took some really great shots! She's 6. I swear, their generation is going to build a city on the moon or something.
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I adore my husband and the kiddos adore him too. But I spend half my time giving him that raised eyebrow look when he says stuff like, "That's dumb, Ken Ken." ("You can't say dumb, Sid.") or he sticks his tongue out at Ken Ken and makes tooting noises and then she copies him, and the SHE gets in trouble because her Mommy didn't know that Sid started the whole thing. Sid is an instigator, for sure. So we're driving in his rental car with Kenzie in the backseat and:

Sid: Hey, look at the little locked compartment in the seat next to you, Ken Ken. It's a secret passage to the trunk!
Leigh: [in hushed tones] Sid! You don't point out secret passageways to trunks to kids!
Sid: Um, it's really hot and stuffy in there, though. Not a place you'd want to be. Ever.
Makenzie: Yeah.
Sid: And if someone ever tells you to get in the trunk, what do you say, Ken Ken?
Makenzie: NO WAY JOSE!
Leigh: [in more hushed tones] Sid! I don't know if they've had the kidnap talk yet! Abort! Abort!
Sid: So, what are you going to eat at Chick Fil A?

Cindy, my apologies! Let the damage control commence!

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I can't wait for Ryan to start talking up a storm! Those two are going to be hilarious together!

Happy Halloween

2009-11-02T11:30:00.004-06:00

November 2 is much too early for Christmas tree greetings, but I walked into my office building this morning and sure enough, a Christmas tree bid me a good morning, before I've even posted my Halloween photos. But, that is a topic for another blog so don't get me started.

By some small miracle, I made it to Houston by 12:30am Friday morning. What should have been a 20 minute drive to the airport and a 45 minute flight turned into a 10 hour nightmare - 2 hours on the runway, 2 hours in the air only, to end up right back in Dallas with a 4 hour drive in my future. Why I continue to fly American Airlines is beyond me, but again, that's another blog.

By Friday at 11, we were in Spring with Cindy, Ryan, Mom, and Makenzie having lunch with our favorite 1st grader and we didn't slow down much between then and Sunday afternoon when with a teary start, I made my way back to Dallas, with Sid in a separate car.

As usual, I had so many funny things to share that flew out of my brain the moment I sat down to write and like clockwork, the stories and dialogue will flood my mind the second I publish this blog. So, how about I just post some pictures for now?

Many more photos over on the photo blog. Click Here!

Letters from Leigh

2009-10-29T11:20:00.003-05:00

Dear Wind,

What are you trying to prove? You're a powerful force of nature and rain can't hold a candle next to you (get it? Because you'd just blow it out?) You can knock down power lines and destroy hairdos and overturn 18-wheelers, and we're all very scared and impressed but frankly, we're really annoyed with very bad hair and delayed flights, so can you cut it out already?

Love,

Leigh

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Dear Pro Comp tire maker,

The Pro Comp tires you charge $300 A PIECE for are the worst tires in the history of all tires in the entire universe and my steering wheel shakes and I look like a lunatic to passing cars and you should be ashamed for ripping me off. May your road always be bumpy and the sun always in your eyes, buttface.

XOXO,

Leigh

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Dear John Mayer,

"Say What You Need to Say" is a beautiful lyric and a haunting message, so, bravo! But, um, I kinda got the point after 5 or 6 "Say what you need to says" and the additional 527 times you sing that phrase makes me want to stab something sharp into my eardrum to make the madness stop.

All the best (you need it, obviously),

Leigh

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Dear Fellow Dallas Tollway Driver,

I drive a Jeep that is underpowered and shaped like a box. I am never EVER going to drive over 80 mph because the engine would explode and the top would fly off and hit your windshield and frankly, that would be a huge drag. So, how about I continue to drive in the right lane minding my own business, singing along to the radio, and you can select from one of two very lovely, pothole-free lanes for your drive into the office. Mmmkay?

P.S. We all know that your secondhand 3 series BMW cost less than $30k, even though YOU think that WE think you're really rich because you can afford a German sedan. It's a lovely car, a wise vehicular choice, spectacularly engineered, but you're not fooling anyone.

Hugs and kisses!

Leigh

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Dear Self,

You're a little grumpy today, what's up? It's the bad hair, isn't it? I knew we should've gone with a pony tail. Cheer up because in less than 24 hours we'll be eating lunch with Ken Ken and Ry Ry and they could care less how flat and dull your hair is!

Peace and love,

Self

Pinch Poke You Owe Me a Coke

2009-10-27T11:04:00.002-05:00

My name is Leigh, I have an irrational fear of jinxes and...I have a job interview today. I'm only telling you this so that if I'm rejected we can blame it on a jinx and instead of, "Aw, Leigh is a pathetic loser," you can instead say, "Aw, poor Leigh. She jinxed herself! If only she hadn't posted that blog."

I had to dress half-fabulous/half-hobo today - slacks and heels with a ratty cardigan. That way if my boss shows up unannounced he'll be so distracted by the hideous cardigan that he won't notice the fabulous blouse, pants and shoes. As soon as I leave the parking lot, the suit jacket comes out! Viola! I'm a genius. Or a lunatic. Either way, it's a great plan.

I don't know if you know this but I have a parking angel. It's true - ask any family member or close friend and they'll confirm with bitter jealousy that I snag a spot wherever, whenever. Christmas time at the busiest mall in Dallas? No problem, there'll be a spot waiting for me near the entrance. This morning, however, in my ratty cardigan (sidenote - I totally wrote this blog in a dream. Major deja vous. Creepy!) and my clinging-to-life high heel (I'm pretty sure that stuffing said heels into a grocery bag and shoving them in suitcase where they remained for a week...I lied, two weeks...I'm not an efficient unpacker, okay?...was more than the left heel could take and she is crying out for her revenge this morning), I could not find a single parking spot. Not a one! I drove around for 5 minutes. And then another 5. And then I wanted to cry because if my parking angel abandoned me today, what does that say about the rest of the day?

After a detour to Starbucks for a muffin to go (hey - I had to cure the coffee-on-an-empty-stomach jitters) I did find a spot. In the parking garage. 17 miles from the building entrance. And then, I got the sweetest email from my brother and I watched my favorite Liz Lemon montage (I laugh out loud EVERY time), and the world is right again and my parking angel just took a potty break when I needed her most (when you gotta go, you gotta go), and my left heel doesn't want her revenge, she's hanging in there because she believes in me.

It was a dark and stormy night...

2009-10-26T11:03:00.003-05:00

The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and the rain assaulted my windows like it had something to prove, and as I sat all by my lonesome in a big empty house, the power went out with a bang. Bear went into a full-court panic press while Dixie remained perched on her sofa throne, "I simply cannot be bothered with this," her expression warned. "No big deal, no big deal, no big deal," - my mantra as I stumbled and fumbled and bumbled in the darkness, but if this power outage and raging storm was "no big deal" Bear didn't get the memo and if my scavenger hunt efforts weren't clumsy enough, add a pat to Bear's head every 3 seconds, "It's okay, boy. No big deal." Dixie slumbers. Praise God for battery operated candles and sconces, for it wasn't long before I'd located matches and real candles and my empty living room looked...well, like a haunted house, for Pete's sake, long bogey man shadows dancing on rain drenched windows, the knife I'd used to slice an apple now a murder weapon on my countertop. And then a knock at the door.

Kidding! But I did slip on the rain invasion in my entryway, nearly tumble to my death in the pitch dark stairway, and risk death as I let each dog out to do their business as a full lightning attack raged in our midst (Bear walked out, whimpered, and walked back in. Dixie bullied her way out the door to show Bear how it's done.) Special circumstances call for special allowances and my dogs know this well. Dixie sauntered into the bedroom, launched her paws as high as they'd reach, and stared back at me, "Lift me up, already! Geez! Is your bed tall enough?" She said all this with her eyes as Bear leapt gracefully from the doorway to the bed in one fluid motion, knowing he wouldn't be scolded when his paws hit the mattress. The dogs snored while I read a book in the candlelight, the thunder practicing the announcement of Christ's second coming outside MY window. (My foggy dreamland brain associates middle-of-the-night thunderstorms with the end of the world, I don't why or when this started.)

We awoke this morning unscathed, Dixie and Bear in the hallway (of course I eventually kicked them out - I can only take so much snoring from Dixie and pillow-hogging from Bear) and me shivering under a thin quilt. As I made my morning coffee, I thanked God for electricity and coffee makers and lamps and the Fall chill and my favorite Banana Republic sweater. Life is good.

I'm Blogging on Saturday!

2009-10-24T22:30:00.005-05:00

1. I ripped my pants today, just under my right butt cheek. Adorable. (For the record, it was a fluke. The pants were baggy, for Pete's sake!) Since I was 40 minutes from home and 90 minutes from my hot lunch date with Amanda, I detoured to Target and grabbed the first three moderately cute styles of jeans I spotted on my dash to the fitting room. Pair #1 fit just fine, if I wanted to be a plumber for Halloween. I don't. Let's face it, if you're over 30 (or close to 30, like me) ultra low rise jeans are not for you. Yes, even you, super thin hot girl. If you're too old to audition for American Idol, you're too old for butt crack jeans. Pair #2 were super cute wide leg trousers (Where were you LAST Fall, wide leg denim trouser, when I hunted all over stinkin' town for you?) that I would've bought had they not been 2 inches too long...while wearing my 3 inch heels. Do the math. 2 +3 = ridonkulous. I'm 5'7" - I expect pants to be a little long on my freakishly short legs (Sid thinks it's adorable that he can touch my knee and ankle with the span of one of his humongous hands. Yes, Sid, being a freak is adorable, thanks.) but FIVE inches? Puh - leeze! Pair #3 must've been mislabeled because they were....snug. Moving on. Thank you Old Navy for coming to my butt cheek's rescue and sparing me a trip to the mall.

2. When celebrating the birthday of a very close friend, it is perfectly acceptable, encouraged even, to eat like a big fat lard. Nothing says Happy Birthday better than blue cheese potato chips, fried chicken, and aged gouda and ham mac & cheese from one of our areas most celebrated restaurants, Jaspers. What's that? Um, nooooo, I ripped my pants BEFORE lunch. Why do you ask?

3. After lunch, we caught "New York, I Love You" at the Angelika and surprise! It made me giddy for our upcoming trip to New York - in FIVE weeks! The movie was really great. Strange. Make that REALLY strange. But great! And that $5.00 Slurpee was totally worth it, Angelika. Speaking of movies, how about a movie riddle? If two girls have their feet on the backs of the empty seats in front of them, and there are 200 million empty seats in the theater, where do you think Mr. and Mrs. Grumpy will plop their grumpy behinds? Uh huh. That'll teach us young whippersnappers, won't it? P.S. New York? I LOVE you!

4. I had more bloggy things on my mind but it's 10:30 on a Saturday night and my hubby is out of town, so like, I totally have a hot date. With some zzzzzz's. Nighty night!

Bloggy Bo Bloggy

2009-10-22T14:29:00.001-05:00

I have so much on my plate these days, things I've chosen not to blog about, and I can't find the desire to blog about everything else. I keep waiting for the dust to settle to see how I've fared, but the wind won't stop blowing long enough for the particles to find their resting places. And now I'm officially that girl. Oh, you know the one. She makes a big production out of NOT being able to tell you something because it's a secret, which makes you annoyed all the more that she even mentioned it in the first place. Ugh. I'm sorry for being her. I don't have a secret, I didn't win the lottery, I'm not having a sex change operation, or know something juicy about your best friend. I'm simply cursed with an irrational fear of jinxes, yet I felt the need to explain my lack of bloggy inspiration. Hey, you know the cure for Lack of Bloggy Inspiration? Silly Survey!

i want: a hot, 3 Equal latte from Starbucks to materialize on my desk, like the dudes on Star Trek in their little tubes. Hmmm. I change my original answer. I want one of those tubes, so I can travel all over the globe in a split second. Beam me up, Scotty!

i wish: things had worked out for Sid and me to be in London this week. They didn't, and I'm sad. One of these months, the stars will align and we'll get our chance. My airline miles are twitching with anticipation.

i love: my Sid. He makes me coffee every morning, draws my bath when I'm sick, he can fix anything because he's a genius, he loves my family like his own, he makes time to meet me for lunch, he calls just because, he's racking up some major hotel/airline points (which is the main reason I keep him around - let's be honest), he's kind and thoughtful, he is nice to people even when they drive him crazy, and he lets me call him Siddy in public.

i miss: my family. Always. I'm bubbling over with excitement about seeing my Ken Ken and Ry Ry next weekend (and the rest of the gang - whatever their names are).

i fear: irony, with every fiber of my being.

i hear: a phone ringing in the office next door. I don't know him, but he's rarely here because his phone rings at least 17 billion times before voicemail snags the call, and someone is always trying to catch him on IM, because I hear dings and pings all day long. That said, he has a drawing one of his children made for him framed, matted and hanging on his wall, so I'm okay with all the racket because he's probably a really awesome Dad.

i smell: leftover Chick Fil A.

i wonder: how anyone could believe there is no God, if I'll ever live in NYC, if you can drink too much coffee or take too many baths, if Sid and I will ever finish remodeling our house, why the neighbor keeps their two dogs locked in a tiny pen when they have an acre of land, why my family won't move to North Texas and be my neighbors, why Sid can't see the value in a weekly maid service, if God ever gets the giggles watching us morons make a mess of things, why my dogs love me so much.

Run On Sentence

2009-10-19T10:40:00.003-05:00

It's Monday and a gloriously fresh start and it's 60 degrees with a sky as vast as still ocean waters and I haven't cheated on my diet yet and my accidentally-fire-engine-red hair is now a beautiful light auburn and it's officially hot cocoa season and I'm wearing my most adorable brown suede heels and next weekend I'll be spending Halloween with Ry Ry and Ken Ken...

...and my S-pod shook off those rainy day blues of yonder and shuffled a Monday morning assortment that made her momma proud....

Dead Flowers - Miranda Lambert

Shelter - Ray LaMontagne

Rock the Casbah - The Clash

La Vie En Rose - Louis Armstrong

Bad Kids - The Black Lips

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan

....and nothing says "Take that, Monday!" better than some good ol' fashioned front seat dancing to Rock the Casbah while playing Come-And-Get-Me-Pothole on a washed out dirt road and I made it to work 15 minutes early and found the most hilarious display of butthead parking lot behavior that was cellphone camera worthy...

...and literally made me laugh out loud because it's one thing to bully-park your Lamborghini but a Honda Civic?...really?...and this week just may be the week that everything finally comes together and even if it doesn't I'll still get to be proud of the attempt and now that I'm sitting in the cave I call my office I can sip on a Diet Coke in peace, exhale a peaceful sigh of relief and welcome this October week with a grin.

Happy Monday, y'all!

Waiting for my Real Life to Begin

2009-10-15T10:25:00.004-05:00

It's been a while since we've seen the sun around here and if I have to use my wipers one more time, hear the scraping of the blades against my battered windshield, I am going to rip them off and stomp them into the ground until I can blow the remaining bits and pieces into the hovering fog. Even my S-pod (Sony Mp3 player for those of you just tuning in) misses the sunshine - this morning on my drive into work, the only merry tune she played (I set her to shuffle) was Down Under by Men at Work, but now that I think of it, perhaps that was her coded cry for help: "I come from the land down under", translated "I'm so sad and down, Leigh Leigh. Save me." Speaking of tunes, I've been gripped by a song, as so often I am. "Waiting for My Real Life to Begin" by Colin Hay (of Men at Work). You can listen here. The lyrics:

Any minute now my ship is coming in. I'll keep checking the horizon and I'll stand on the bow and feel the waves come crashing. Come crashing down, down, down on me.

And you said,” Be still, my love. Open up your heart, let the light shine in." Don't you understand? I already have a plan. I'm waiting for my real life to begin.

When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened. But in my dreams I slew the dragon. And down this beaten path, up this cobbled lane, I'm walking in my old footsteps once again.

And you say, “Just be here now. Forget about the past. Your mask is wearing thin." Just let me throw one more dice, I know that I can win. I'm waiting for my real life to begin

Any minute now my ship is coming in. I'll keep checking the horizon and I'll check my machine. There's sure to be that call. It's gonna happen soon, soon, oh so very soon. It's just that times are lean.

And you said,” Be still, my love. Open up your heart, let the light shine in." Don't you understand? I already have a plan. I'm waiting for my real life to begin

On a clear day I can see, see for a long way.

Don't we all live this way sometimes? My real life will start when I'm married, wealthy, skinny, a parent, sleeping in a new house (that magically eliminates dog hair), world-traveled, owner of Christian Louboutin heels bought at Barneys not Ebay, driving every day to my dream job. It's tragic, really, and so universal which makes it all the more tragic. This is real life, the ups and downs, the endless blankets of dog hair, the starter home and knock-off shoes, the extra pounds and bare Passport. It's still a beautiful life though, don't you think?

"Do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:31-34

Amen!

Home Again

2009-10-13T10:12:00.006-05:00

I don't have a "home." Okay, sure, I have a house and a mortgage and a yard that I call home, but we all have two homes, don't we? The one we make and the one leave behind when adulthood catches us. My parents moved from my hometown several years ago, and now our home belongs to a couple who hired a Feng Shui guru to measure the energy waves throughout the house. Apparently, we had marvelous Feng Shui all those years and never realized because they bought the house immediately, leaving my parents with a big fat check after only 30 days.

Being "homeless" made my weekend all the more special, when a hometown family friend was married in downtown Austin. One sweeping glance around the unfamiliar grounds of the wedding location and I was home again. Because home isn't really a house or a town, it's people and family. (Funny, when I visit my parent's new house in a new town, I still say I'm going "home" for the weekend.) The wedding was beautiful, the bride even more so, and for several hours, I was home again.

Sid and I stayed the night in town and enjoyed an evening in Austin. Unfortunately, I didn't want to lug my giant camera into the wedding, which I regretted instantly. I stole one shot from Jenny (photo number one, which I cropped so maybe she wouldn't notice!) and the rest are mine from the trip.

P.S. A few more pics HERE.

P.P.S. Isn't the pic of Dixie precious? We had just picked her up from the kennel and we started the "Where's Dixie?" game. We'll say, "Dixie? Where ARE you?" over and over and no matter where she is or what's she's doing, she always comes to find us. If you just call for her, she's so stubborn she'll probably just ignore you. But the "Where's Dixie" game gets her every time. In this case, she popped her head up right away to see what the fuss was about.

The Ramblings of the Over-caffeinated

2009-10-08T14:49:00.000-05:00

Oops, I did it again. Drank too much coffee without any grub in my belly, that is, and the effects are a bit embarrassing - shaky hands, nervous head tic, irritability, an increase in speech tempo. I've looked like a crack addict for half the day, which reminds me of the guy Sid and I saw on the NY subway a couple of years ago. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a tall, long-haired bloke in a tattered black leather jacket extending his arms out and then back into himself, over and over and over. When we got off the train I nudged Sid, "Did you see that guy with the workout bands under his jacket? Some people will do anything to stay in shape!" When Sid recovered his breathing he said, "Leigh! That crackhead was flexing his arms in and out because he's high as a kite, not because he has Billy Bands in his shirt! And he would've cut off your finger for that diamond ring if I'd given him any chance." Well excusez moi for being naive, my big protective hunk of a husband!

What is up with this weather? Yesterday I left the house in jeans and a short-sleeve cardigan and froze my hiney off. Today, I leave the house in a smashing jeans, silk top, cardigan and boot ensemble and it's 85 degrees and humid as a mother outside. Why the face? (you have to watch Modern Family to get that one.)

I didn't plan on coming into work today but after breezing through a (very successful) shopping expedition only 2 miles from my building, I thought, "Why the heck NOT work today if it means a whole Friday off?" So I'm walking off the elevator when our receptionist says that Henry (not his real name) has been calling all day and he doesn't believe in leaving voicemail. (I could write a book on these people. My boss called my yesterday to cancel a meeting we'd scheduled for November 13th because Friday the 13th is an unlucky day. That's funny stuff, and God forgive me for making fun because he is such a nice man.) Back to Henry, I let out a deep, dramatic sigh and walk regretfully to my office where I gobble my Chick Fil A lunch and then dial Henry's digits. I'm leaving him a voicemail when he beeps in - don't you hate that? - and he says, "I just called to say hi. Hi! If you need me, I'm at my desk." Um, ooookay. So you bug our receptionist all morning so you can say hi? Isn't it like, midnight in India? Has Henry been sipping the happy juice? If my boss hadn't called me this week to tell me how happy they are with my performance, I'd be worried Henry was checking up on my comings and goings. Not cool, Henry. I'm not here 8 hours every day of the week because I work PART time.

I had a naughty dream about a certain 30 Rock star last night. Any guesses? I'm still a bit disturbed by the whole thing but I could do worse for a dream affair.

And so are the ramblings of the over-caffeinated.

A Collection of Thoughts on an Ordinary Day

2009-10-06T13:37:00.004-05:00

1. I had to drive Sid to the airport this morning. At 5:30am. I wish I could record these pre-dawn adventures, because we are monstrously grumpy before the sun comes up.

Sid: [standing at the door, hand resting on his suitcase] Are you almost ready?

Leigh: [fangs protruding, foaming at mouth, clearly NOT ready] Ugh! I'm going as fast as I possibly can! Do you want me to go to work naked? Is that what you want? Huh? Huh? HUH?

Perhaps I'll withhold further dialogue examples, since it is becoming clear that I am the grumpy one.

2. I arrive at the office before 7, even after a Starbucks latte run. A polite man holds the door open for me and we both scurry into the building, wiping our shiny shoes on the mat. Holding his Starbucks cup like it's the Olympic torch, he mutters something like, "Blah blah blah sludge blah blah blah," and smiles expectantly, awaiting my response. My brain immediately rushes to process this dialogue so I can respond appropriately. I'm thinking, "Sludge...coffee?...Starbucks...early morning," and I'm an instant from raising my cup in a Starbucks salute and merrily toasting, "To Starbucks! Fuel for our foggy brains!" A sudden impulse stops me and I simply say, "Pardon?" His reply, "This tile sure does get slippery when it's wet outside." Embarrassing moment averted.

3. I love Dallas, adore it even, but it's not the friendliest city on earth. If I walk past 10 people in my office building, smiling at all of them, only 2 or 3 will return the smile. It's become quite the fun little game for me, attempting to pull a smile out of my grouchiest building-mates.

Our last visit to Manhattan, we had lunch with my old Baytown bff Stef, and she was considering a move back to Texas from New York. I immediately launched a campaign for Dallas, - the shopping, the cleanliness, the sophistication. "But Dallas is so snotty. You're all so convinced your city is superior." After a brief pause, I replied, "Well, but it IS." Oh, the hypocrisy!

My old boss (who referred me for this job and offices down the hall from me) told me yesterday, "Dallasites speak English, the rest of us speak Texan." Hmmmm.

4. What is up with my hair? It is in the worse shape of its life. I decided a few months ago that I would grow out the length and the color after a couple of hairdressers (who shall not be named) put highlights over highlights over highlights and left me with straw sprouting from my scalp like a freaking scarecrow. Now I want to kick that grow-it-out idea in the face and rush to the salon for the works. Or maybe I should just color it myself and splurge on a fabulous cut? I've always wanted to be a brunette for a few months, see how life treats a gal with gorgeous brown locks. Any ideas? Have any of you ever tried a temporary color that washes out over time?

5. Two of the greatest musicals of all time are coming to Dallas next year! Phantom of the Opera and Wicked - I nearly peed my pants yesterday morning when the commercial aired, and again today when Stacey texted me, "Wicked is coming!" We've seen both on Broadway, but maybe this time I'll actually be able to afford great seats! Speaking of Broadway, this girl is off to Manhattan in less than 2 months! This year, we timed our visit around the lighting of the Rockefeller tree. Another fabulous reason to pee my pants! (I'm Mrs. Pee, afterall!)

6. I did a quick Google search to see which Myers Briggs personality profiles I'm most compatible with as a mate, knowing that Sid is an ENFJ. My ideal mate? ENFJ. Shocker.

7. If this video doesn't make you laugh out loud, we can't be friends anymore. Best dance move ever at 1 minute 8 seconds. Love my Ken Ken!

Over and Out.

Personality Evaluation - I'm Crazy!

2009-10-04T20:49:00.014-05:00

Thank you to everyone who commented on the Driftwood post via my blog, email or Facebook. The very next evening, I received a phone call so unexpected, so unbelievable, that if Abraham Lincoln had beeped in during our conversation, I would've snapped at him to call back later (not before throwing in, "Dude - the hat. Really? Seriously?) I've chosen not to blog about the events that followed (for now) because my head is still spinning and I don't want to jinx anything. At the very least, the unexpected affirmations could not have come at a more pertinent time and I am so unbelievably grateful.

The soul-searching, or "penetrating examination of one's motives, convictions, and attitude" ([insert eye roll here] continues - painful, frustrating and annoying as it may be. What is the meaning of life? Why am I here? Where am I going? Will the sidewalk end when I turn 30? Ugh - shut up, already! I even took the Myers Briggs personality test [double eye rolls are permitted] and generated the same result I've received on prior tests: INFP (Introversion, iNtuitive, Feeling, Perceiving. "The Idealist," so I'm called. Could I actually use this information to more accurately examine my "motives, convictions and attitudes"? Amazingly, yes! (And I urge you to do the same, especially my fellow soul-searchers.)

1. As an INFP, your primary mode of living is focused internally, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit into your personal value system.   So far, so good.
2. INFPs, more than other iNtuitive Feeling types, are focused on making the world a better place for people. Their primary goal is to find out their meaning in life. What is their purpose? How can they best serve humanity in their lives? They are idealists and perfectionists, who drive themselves hard in their quest for achieving the goals they have identified for themselves. So my soul-searching is a natural reflection of my personality? Does this mean I will forever be searching? Lord help us all.
3. INFPs are highly intuitive about people. They rely heavily on their intuitions to guide them, and use their discoveries to constantly search for value in life. They are on a continuous mission to find the truth and meaning underlying things. Every encounter and every piece of knowledge gained gets sifted through the INFP's value system, and is evaluated to see if it has any potential to help the INFP define or refine their own path in life. The goal at the end of the path is always the same - the INFP is driven to help people and make the world a better place. Unfortunately, this is painfully true. It's no wonder I'm exhausted!
4.Generally thoughtful and considerate, INFPs are good listeners and put people at ease. Although they may be reserved in expressing emotion, they have a very deep well of caring and are genuinely interested in understanding people. This sincerity is sensed by others, making the INFP a valued friend and confidante. An INFP can be quite warm with people he or she knows well. Heeeeey, I need an INFP in my life, but perhaps this explains all the dialogue with myself! "Self, you seem upset. Talk to me. I'm here to listen." Ha!
5. INFPs do not like conflict, and go to great lengths to avoid it. If they must face it, they will always approach it from the perspective of their feelings. In conflict situations, INFPs place little importance on who is right and who is wrong. They focus on the way that the conflict makes them feel, and indeed don't really care whether or not they're right. They don't want to feel badly. This trait sometimes makes them appear irrational and illogical in conflict situations. On the other hand, INFPs make very good mediators, and are typically good at solving other people's conflicts, because they intuitively understand people's perspectives and feelings, and genuinely want to help them. Nope, nope, nope. I DON'T like conflict, but I most certainly don't go to great lengths avoid it (just ask Sid). In fact, I'd rather face you head on and get it over with than fret for days over an issue that could easily be resolved. The rest is embarrassingly true.
6. INFPs are flexible and laid-back, until one of their values is violated. In the face of their value system being threatened, INFPs can become aggressive defenders, fighting passionately for their cause. When an INFP has adopted a project or job which they're interested in, it usually becomes a "cause" for them. Although they are not detail-oriented individuals, they will cover every possible detail with determination and vigor when working for their "cause". Hmmmm, is my recent obsession with the meaning of life my "cause"? Does this explain my determined and vigorous quest for answers?
7. When it comes to the mundane details of life maintenance, INFPs are typically completely unaware of such things. They might go for long periods without noticing a stain on the carpet, but carefully and meticulously brush a speck of dust off of their project booklet. Finally! A scientific explanation to justify my poor housekeeping!
8. INFPs have very high standards and are perfectionists. Consequently, they are usually hard on themselves, and don't give themselves enough credit. INFPs may have problems working on a project in a group, because their standards are likely to be higher than other members' of the group. The INFP needs to work on balancing their high ideals with the requirements of every day living. Without resolving this conflict, they will never be happy with themselves, and they may become confused and paralyzed about what to do with their lives. Ding ding ding!
9. INFPs are usually talented writers. They may be awkward and uncomfortable with expressing themselves verbally, but have a wonderful ability to define and express what they're feeling on paper. INFPs also appear frequently in social service professions, such as counseling or teaching. They are at their best in situations where they're working towards the public good, and in which they don't need to use hard logic. I HAVE always loved to write, and growing up I wanted to be a novelist or a counselor. Boy, that business degree was a perfect choice! NOT. (Why didn't anyone TELL me I was making a huge mistake!)
10. INFPs who function in their well-developed sides can accomplish great and wonderful things, which they will rarely give themselves credit for. Some of the great, humanistic catalysts in the world have been INFPs. Virtual high-five to all my fellow INFPs!

Nothing like a good old-fashioned personality evaluation to make sense of the senseless, not to mention the most valuable piece of advice I've ever been given, and from a cheesy psychology website: if I can't balance my high ideals with the ins-and-outs of daily life, I will never be happy, I will always be searching for internal balance. Can this "idealist" survive her own imperfections? I'll just have to wait and see.

Mooray!

2009-10-02T12:05:00.003-05:00

Moooooooray! (cow talk for Happy Friday.)

P.S. How precious is this email from my beloved niece Makenzie after she watched the cow song video I sent her? She warms my heart!

thak you for the song. I love you makenzie

Driftwood

2009-09-30T13:12:00.011-05:00

Disclaimer: It's my blog and I'll be a big whiny baby if I want to.

My life is good. I am madly in love with my husband, who is the greatest man on earth and the best friend I've ever known. I have a roof over my head, purchased when rates were fantastic for $50,000 less than it was worth (a gift straight from the hands of God), I have a mechanically sound (and super cute) vehicle that takes me to a stress-free job where I make money that buys food and shelter and lunches with girlfriends. I've been to an embarrassing many beautiful, vibrant places in the last few years, places that quite frankly have changed my life. Jesus knows me. I am blessed, friends. Blessed indeed. So why do I keep talking to myself?

Self: What are you doing?

Self: Going to work, duh. You know this.

Self: But why? You're working a dead-end job, just because, and for what?

Self: Dead-end, huh? And what do you mean, "just because" and "for what?" Times are tough, jobs are scarce, what's so wrong with me settling for something stable and secure and easy right now?

Self: Um, because you spent four years in college so you could be something GREAT, not stable, secure and easy.

Self: Don't lie to yourself, self. I chose business management [eye roll] BECAUSE it was stable, secure and easy. That's the way I roll, as disappointing as it may be for you.

Self: That's not the way I roll. We had big dreams, self. Remember? From the time we were 8 years old, we were writing poems and songs and stories...we campaigned for President of the United States, remember?! We went to college to become a writer, or a journalist, an anthropologist, or a psychiatrist, we even took meteorology with visions of chasing tornadoes, for Pete's sake! And now, look at you. You're a sell-out. I don't even know you anymore.

Self: [sniff] Quit talking to yourself, loser.

My typical conversation with myself on a typical morning drive to my typical little office, but yesterday's events swirled and twirled like the perfect storm:

1. Julie & Julia - a mediocre movie about a soul-searching Julie, lost and floundering, works a dead end job, desperately wants to become a writer if she could just stop boring everyone with the million reasons her dream will never be realized (sound familiar?). She 'meets' Julia Child through her year long blogging journey through "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" and it changes her life, she becomes a published writer, all her dreams come true, yada yada yada. I don't like Julie. She's whiny and mean and has a really bad haircut, and HER dream came true and mine hasn't. I don't even know what my dream is anymore. Insult to injury, I had to watch Julia Child traipse all over Europe for 2 hours and I so badly want to live there. No fair, no fair, no fair!

2. My Evening Stroll - I came home from the movie and immediately put on my workout clothes because I was "this close" to skipping my evening walk. Nothing like a walk on a gorgeous night when you live in the country and can actually see the stars to clear your mind, right? So, I choose my route - the "rich neighborhood" across from ours (clever nickname, I chose it myself) and I kid you not, every streetlamp (and they're the charming old-fashioned kind, not the plain Jane urban kind) flickered off when I went by. For an instant I was Harry Potter scanning the darkness for Dumbledore, who would no doubt appear from the grove of trees, quiet as a whisper, with his fancy streetlamp-turner-offer (the official name, I'm sure) and tell me how "it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." But I don't have a Dumbledore and I could really use him right about now.

3. Travis, OH Travis - Because I was feeling melancholy I chose Travis for my evening stroll soundtrack, a musical selection ideal for a foggy, thoughtful walk along a lonely beach but perhaps not the best choice for the mentally unstable as she walks down a dark road sucking the light, literally, from the streetlamps. As I listened to the lyrics of a particularly depressing song, they hit close to my heart: I AM "driftwood, floating underwater, breaking into pieces pieces pieces." When did this "drifting" begin and more importantly, how can I find the shore? What is the shore? Where do I go from here? Back to school? And for what? English? Journalism? What do I want to do? Do I even know? Why don't I know? What is wrong with me?

So are the thoughts of a rambling piece of driftwood.

Things I learned at the Texas State Fair

2009-09-28T09:51:00.008-05:00

Things I learned at the Texas State Fair, in no particular order:

1. If you find yourself in the packed stands of a sweltering hot building watching a performance of adorably outfitted dogs and their ~~disturbing~~ precious human counterparts and the MC hollers, "Where are my Walmart fans!" chances are you didn't hear him right and you should refrain from all attempts at poetic irony (i.e. cheering loudly like a redneck lunatic), especially if you're an Aggie....because Walmart and Longhorn kinda sound alike when shouted into a crappy microphone. (photo taken before the costume changes - sorry!)

2. A short dress (or worse, short shorts) paired with cowboys boots is not an attractive look for every woman. In fact, it's not a great look for most women. In a related topic, some women will hunt for a man anywhere, including the State Fair. Hey, I'm sure the carnival workers thought they looked HOT, so hooray for that.

3. If you fry it, they will come. Seriously. Butter, cookie dough, honey buns, lattes (yes, lattes), Coke - if you can fry it, they (um, we) will eat it.

4. If your husband attend the State Fair with his oldest BFF, and they show up in unintentionally matched outfits, an offhand and very LOUD "Who wants sausage!" shouted from the mouth of a hungry big-brother as the three stroll side by side, could be hilariously misconstrued by passerbyers.

5. In breaking news, clowns, puppet shows, and the "backyard circus" are still creepy.

6. If you find yourself complaining about the price of a kilowatt/hour, back pain, concerts being "too loud" or "too expensive, your bowels, the dangers of carnival rides, and your gas mileage, as you suck down a chili cheese dog (which naturally, leads to bickering about State Fair food being overpriced), you are officially old.

7. I heart Dallas. Wait - technically I didn't learn this at the Fair, but I reaffirmed it. Does that count?

8. People will do just about anything to win a ginormous neon-yellow stuffed banana for the one they love. I just found one on Ebay for $0.99. I'm just sayin'...is the Fair really the best place to "shop" for your beloved?

9. There really isn't a better way to spend a gorgeous Saturday afternoon than at the Fair with old friends. Except maybe in the Bahamas. Or sipping hot cocoa in front of a blazing fire after a long day on the slopes. Or even a day at the Fair when temperature are below 85 degrees. Um, so there are lots of fabulous ways to celebrate old friendships, but...the Fair on a hot September day is one of 'em!

10. Nothing says fun like....fiber?

11. Big Tex could really use some butt implants.

Lots more pics over on my Photo Blog site!

I'm just sayin'.

2009-09-25T10:34:00.006-05:00

I don't recommend taking a walk alone in the dark after watching a show about vampires, specifically a show in which a walk alone in the dark seals your death-by-ferocious-neck-bite fate.

After watching Vampire Diaries, on a crisp Fall night with a moon as yellow as the wet, rotting fangs of a voracious wolf, this girl snatched up the S-pod (sure, Leigh, covering your ears at night is a fine plan) and hit the undisturbed streets of my peaceful little neighborhood. Alone, in the dark, nothing was what it seemed to be.

Overfed house-cat or ravenous bobcat? (if that was a cat, seriously, he needs a Feline Weight Watchers program) Cool autumn breeze or the brush of cold, dead fingers over blood-pumping flesh? (Since when do breezes have fingers?) Eager black Labrador free of his backyard prison or bloodthirsty werewolf with delicious gory Leigh- morsels on his mind? (His tail was wagging but I saw rage in his eyes.) Streetlamps dark by coincidence or the perfectly timed plot of creatures of the night? (I couldn't even see the end of the street, people.)

I'm just sayin'.

Although, now that I think about it, would this fate be so terrible?

P.S. For those of you wondering which came first the chicken, um, I mean Twilight or Vampire Diaries, it's Vampire Diaries, a book trilogy first released in 1991.

P.P.S. Living under a rock and haven't seen the show? Here's a clip:

TV is Back, Baby!

2009-09-24T09:58:00.010-05:00

...and I can't remember a more fantastic Fall lineup. That mixed with this unseasonably cold weather and you'd think I was sick with the flu (ask my Mom about the swine variety - she's been sick with it for days!), dirty sweat pants, hair in a sloppy, crooked ponytail, quilt covering everything but my eyes. After laughing out loud 17 billion times, I thought I'd share a few of my favorite quotes from two of last night's shows, Modern Family & Glee.

MODERN FAMILY

Woman Walking to Her Airplane Seat [admiring adorable baby fondling a cream puff]: "Look at that baby with those creampuffs."

Mitchel: Excuse me, but this baby would have grown up in a crowded orphanage if it wasn't for us cream puffs. And you know what, no, to all of you who judge, hear this: love knows no race, creed or gender. And shame on you, you small minded, ignorant few who...."

Cameron (Mitchel's partner) [interrupting with mortified whisper, pointing at the pastries]: She's got the cream puffs.

Mitchel: Oh.

-----------------------

Phil [dorky Dad, proudly talking to camera]: I surf the web, I text. LOL, laugh out loud. OMG, oh my gawd. WTF, why the face. Um, you know, I know all the dances to High School Musical, so..."

-----------------------

Manny [11, after rejection from his 16 year old crush]: She has a boyfriend. I gave her my heart, and she gave me a picture of me as an old-time sheriff.

GLEE

Sue: You know, caning has fallen out of fashion in the United States. But ask anyone who safely walked the immaculate sidewalks of Singapore after winning an intentional cheerleading competition, and they'll tell you one thing: Caning works! And I think it's about time we did a little more of it right here... yes, we cane!

------------------

Kendra: Giving birth is not like how it is in the movies. It is bloody. And bestial. And you get poop all over your cowboy boots...Your wife is going to be pushing a watermelon out of her boy howdy in 5 months. She doesn't need nice!

------------------

More Kendra: Dishonesty is foooood to a marriage, it will die without it.

------------------

Sue: I'm tired of hearing people complain: I'm riddled with this disease! I was in that tsunami. To them I say, shake it up a bit, get out of your box! Even if that box happens to be where you're living. I'll often yell at homeless people, "Hey! How's that homelessness working out for ya? Give not being a homeless a try, huh?

------------------

More Sue: Not everyone is gonna have the walnuts to take a pro-littering stance. But I will not rest until every inch of our fair state is covered in garbage.

------------------

So, my dear friends, if you thought TV was dead, grab your favorite sweats, the remote control, and think again, because tonight, I don't even know where to start! Vampire Diaries, The Office, Community, Flash Forward. What a beautiful conundrum!

Banana Puddin' - Fit and Flab-u-less

2009-09-22T19:19:00.004-05:00

As an on-again/off-again dieter and lover of all things dessert, you can imagine what shoves this girl off the wagon-of-the-fit and into the muck of the fat. Swearing off sweets is simply not an option in this house and I've successfully kept off 30 pounds, so don't argue with me. (What's that? Do I still have weight to lose? Um...next question!) When we're not eating pizza or snarfing Oreo's, we're trying our darnedest to eat right and stay active. Summer was not kind to Sid and me and surely there isn't a worse time to make amends with an expanding waistline than the last few months of the year. Oy!

I whipped this together this evening (I say that like I needed even the slightest bit of creativity or culinary skill - I didn't) and it's a super duper yummy treat that doesn't pack a big ol' punch of evil to the belly:

One banana (preferably one that hasn't accidentally touched a kitchen floor covered in sneaky bits of dried mud and dog hair)
Sugar Free Banana Cream Jello Mix
2 Cups of Milk
Reduced Fat Nilla Wafers

Pour milk and add Jello mix, stirring for 2 minutes. Mix in Nilla Wafers and banana pieces. Refrigerate until it's time to dig in. Top with wafer bits if you need a sprinkle of fancy.

Makes Four "Skinny Servings" or Two "Big Fat Lard Servings."

Skinny: 161 cals*
Big Fat Lard: 322 cals*

*Use Skim Milk for Less Calories. (I only had 2% on hand)

Photo Blog

2009-09-22T10:33:00.004-05:00

Photo Blog is Back in Session.

http://leighsproject365.blogspot.com/

Giant Crickets and Robert Pattinson

2009-09-21T07:11:00.010-05:00

I was greeted this morning by a freakishly large cricket in the toilet. It's that time of year, you know. Cricket season, I call it (clever title), and from September to the first lingering snap of cold, glorious weather, you'll find them everywhere. There should be some sort of peace agreement signed by both parties regarding the toilet, though, don't you think? Instinctively I flush and watch the innocent, gargantuan pest hypnotically swirl and struggle against the death current of the drain, singing a little tune that goes something like, "down, down you go you devilish beast who picked the wrong toilet for your swim" to a quick, merry beat that is more suitable for a skip through a meadow of daisies than this unceremonious water burial. The realization suddenly makes me sad, and I wonder if some giant hand in the sky will now cold-heartedly flush me down the toilet, too. Or if crickets everywhere are plotting my demise.

I dreamt of Robert Pattinson last night. The pre-fame, accidentally handsome Robert Pattinson, not the I-sleep-with-my-costars-and-wear-black-faded-reverse-fit-jeans-that-are-banned-in-37-states Robert Pattinson. Sid begins to stir as I brush my teeth and in his adorably sweet, half-asleep voice asks me if I slept okay. I can't keep myself from bragging in a creepy, Frat boy, pervert voice, "Oh yeahhhh, I did," and when he doesn't bite, I inform him that this girl dreamed of Robert Pattinson last night, as if it is my greatest accomplishment in life. "I hope you two will be very happy together," he mutters as he rolls over and goes back to sleep. "Oh, we will. He turned into Edward Cullen, by the way, and he took me to the movies and whispered that he wanted to marry me and make me the mother of his children...." Sid is already asleep, probably delightfully floating around the foggy la-la dreamland where normal folk and celebrities mingle, whispering the details of my betrayal into the ear of Stacy Keibler or Anne Hathaway, as my momentary grasp on Robert Pattinson melts in the steam of my hot shower.

An hour later, I'm making the Miserable Monday Walk to my sad little office and here I now sit.

Happy Monday, friends.

Blogcation Updates

2009-09-19T18:21:00.004-05:00

There is always work to be done after a vacation and that's where I find myself - unpacking bags, washing clothes, sorting through piles of junk mail and developing photographs, figuratively of course.

I've decided to add a "Follower" widget on the sidebar and since I've never utilized the Follower feature before, I'm sort of excited to see how it works. I must admit, however, that while I know there are more than of 7 of you in the bloggerverse who check up on me now and then, it's still a teensy disheartening to see my sad little follower box. That said, I'm keeping the widget, rain or shine, followers or no followers! One hope for this feature is to encourage my blog lurkers to introduce themselves, so to speak! (I know you're out there and I welcome you with great open cyber arms!)

I haven't quite mastered the Great Photo Blog Merge of 2009 issue, but I know that photos are making a come back regardless of logistics. I miss the Photo Blog too much.

That's all I've got for now, my dear friends! This weekend is in celebration of all things lazy, although Sid just removed a truck engine AND tuned on his dirk bike, so the whole lazy weekend concept has so far made me feel like a big fat loser in comparison. (It doesn't help that we're watching Mad Men these days and I'm reading an incredibly depressing dark comedy.)

Have a great weekend and stay tuned!