Holey Handbags!

I rarely shop. I don't see the value in doing it all the time but when I have spent a year holding my clothes together with safety pins and I realize there are holes in the bottom of my shoes when it rains, I pull up my bootstraps and brave the clothing stores.

I have become an expert at covering holes and tears. I currently own a shirt that sports sleeves that are no longer sleeves. The arms are simply fabric hanging from the shoulder. I love this shirt so I wear it under a cardigan and no one can tell that it belongs in the dumpster.

Since I received a little cash for my birthday, I analyzed my wardrobe and determined that I really need a new purse. If you know me you have seen the purse that I have carried around for awhile now. It is a beige, colorless thing which to the keen observer sports holes and stains and is falling apart.

I am not one of those girls who MUST buy a new purse to match the color of the season but I gave it a try this time. I perused every web site that boasts the most versatile and stylish purses. I told myself that this time I will buy a nice one. I will spend the money so that it will last.

I have never spent more than $15 on a purse.

Never.

My husband jokes with me that if I look at a line up of potential goods and choose my favorite item without seeing the price tag, it never fails that I pick the item that costs the most. The mixture of this fact as well as being tight with our money has meant that I don't really wear or own what I prefer. I make due with less-than-$15-dollar purses.

Below are the handbags that caught my fancy but after looking at the price tag, I realized that my husband was right about my expensive taste and I am treading on dangerous ground.

Cost: $1,499.99



Cost: $2,199.99



Cost: $1,699.99



Never mind. I shut off my computer and went to Target. I would like to introduce you world to my new purse. I spent more than $15!

Cost: $19.99

Dancing with the Vampires

I usually spend my weekends relaxing with my husband. But since he has been out of town, my days have been spent a little differently.

Last weekend I had a lot of alone time. I can handle this most of the time but there comes a point when I have done everything that I can think of to do and cabin fever sets in.

Last Saturday I watched two hours of tennis, paid bills, cleaned the house and ran errands to three different locations all before 11:30am. I was on a roll.

When I returned home from the errands I stood in the living room for awhile trying to concoct some amazing plan to fill the rest of my day. The song Horchata by Vampire Weekend was playing on my computer and I suddenly had the urge to run. So while the song was on repeat I danced and sang my way around the kitchen and living room. This lasted for about fifteen minutes.

I guess cabin fever can be fun. Right now I am looking at the herding marks in the carpet that I created from that moment of insanity. (Like the dirt path around my parent's house that was formed by the family dog Bailey.)

Who says that you can't dance in your living room by yourself when you're 26? I plan on doing it when I am 60.

Don't Touch My Nose!

Below is a short list of my ticks and mannerisms that make me... well, me.

#1
At night time I generally complete one Sudoku puzzle while I am laying in bed. I like to lay on my right side so the only hand I have free is my left hand. Even though I am right handed, every time I complete a Sudoku puzzle, I write left handed. I have become an expert in writing numbers that way. Go me.

#2
I also have Rain-Man-like tendencies. I catch myself counting the syllables in sentences when someone is talking to me. I count as if the person is talking in 3/4 time signature or 4/4 time signature. I tap my fingers while the person is talking. Yes. I am that person. Def-Def-Definitely.

#3
Also, no one is allowed to touch my nose. No one period - not even my husband. I am not sure why my mental state prohibits this but I think it has something to do with the thought that I might have boogers hanging from these orifices.

#4
My husband tells me that I frequently exaggerate the amount or the cost of something. Instead of saying, "I had 50 emails in my Inbox today," I will say, "I had a million emails in my Inbox today." Or "That run on the treadmill lasted ten hours."

#5
When I make a point that I think is definitive, I push my plate away at the dinner table. I also repeat myself purposefully at least three times when I feel a thought is profound or important because I am not sure that the other person understands the magnitude of my epiphany.

The Magnitude Of My Epiphany.

THE MAGNITUDE OF MY EPIPHANY.

#6
And did I mention that no one should ever, ever, ever, touch my nose or I will punch you in the arm with my left hand a million times while counting the syllables in your cries for mercy?

Bare Cracks and Birthdays

I turn 26 years old today. Honestly, I was over the idea of a birthday when I turned 13 years old. I used to sing the Toys R US song. Do you remember it?

I don't want to grow up, I'm a Toys R Us kid. There are a million toys at Toys R Us that I can play with...

Every year on my birthday and the day before it, my mother recounts what she was doing and how she was feeling. My father used to tell the story about how I didn't want to come out. I was too comfortable. He would demonstrate the doctor's stance. "He grabbed this tool that looked like salad tongs and pulled your head. I thought he was gonna rip your head off! Dr. Warrener was pulling you so hard that he was shaking!"

I will spare you the remaining details of my birth.

Moving on.

I have some good Birthday memories like receiving that Garth Brooks CD in elementary school. The thunder rolls and the lightning strikes. Another love grows cold on a sleepless niiiiggght. My family didn't understand my fascination with country music. Looking back, I don't get it either.

In celebration of this day, I think I am going to jam to Garth Brooks in my office. Sharon and Brandy- if you hear The American Honkey Tonk Bar Association, I am not a crazy hillbilly.  I'm just in the mood to listen to a song about bare cracks, gun racks and six packs.

At least I won't demonstrate how the doctor delivered me with salad tongs. Oh wait, I already did that yesterday.

Florida...I Guess

I realize that over the last two and a half years I have not spoken highly of the Sunshine State. On this Monday in February I am proclaiming that Florida has grown on me. Thankfulness is a choice.



I will miss Florida a little bit when I move back to the Hoosier state. (Just a teeny weeny bit)