Recent Posts


Sick Kitty-cat

I am totally preoccupied with my sick kitty and have started writing a post about a million times and just can't seem to pull it together. Ebbie will be FINE...but I'm a worry wart. We took a late night trip to the ER vet this weekend and antibiotics should have kicked in by now but they haven't so she is spending the day at the vet for tests. My regular vet is RIDICULOUSLY nice but I still hate to leave her since she was a shelter cat and those stacked kennels can't bring back good memories. I'll know more this evening and hopefully will be back on my game enough to write something entertaining!

Above pic is of Ebs in the exam room, trying to figure out what the heck was going on. Below is Bekah trying to entertain the kitty while I got her discharge papers and then the princess reclining on her blankies, all drugged up.


Dollar store no-no

There are some things I believe should not be bought at the dollar store. A pregnancy test is one of them. Although, it is convenient they have it hanging next to the register with other last minute/emergency items like toothbrushes, gum, and bunny ears...

(Sorry for the blur. I think I must have laughed when I took the picture.)


People send the darndest things

So, I've been having a case of the empty brain this week. Yesterday I was going to post about how someone needs to make metal sporks and sell them in stores so I can stop taking handfuls of the plastic kind at Taco Bell. Then Wikipedia made me feel like an idiot by pointing out metal sporks already exist and are even being marketed as icecream forks. So I deleted that post. Sitting in the most ridiculous class to date last night for five hours didn't help my melty mind so, here are a few of the things people sent me today. I love the randomness! And now I want Taco Bell. Dagnabit.

Sally doesn't speak French and neither do I (Sister does...translate, now!) but we still thoroughly enjoyed this music video.

A co-worker sent me this video showing an adorable Irish baby monkey (ok so he might not actually be Irish but as co-worker pointed out he does have red hair and beautiful brown eyes.)

And last but definitely not least is this sheep video courtesy of Bekah-Boo. I kind of want to meet the person who thought to drape sheep in LED lights to do cool things like reenact a game of pong and show the Mona Lisa on a hillside.


Better than lint

It is spring and you know what that means...
...tulips, baby animals, and Easter eggs?
Well, that too.
But I was thinking along the lines of spring coats and jackets! There is nothing more liberating to a cold climate dweller than shoving the down puffer jackets and long wool pea coats into the back of the closet. Then, the light weight happy jackets get to move to the front and it is like going shopping at your own house. This morning I busted out a jean jacket for the first time since the fall and you'd think the excitement would stop there but no, it just kept coming. While chatting with a co-worker first thing in the morning I put my hand in my pocket and could feel my face lighting up. She paused and watched my slowly pull out...TWO DOLLARS!
She said, "Well hey there, money bags!" Clearly that is someone who understands the joy of finding treasures in spring outerwear after a long winter.

I checked the other pocket and found a Dora the Explorer band aid. Also exciting but it won't buy me treats from the vending machines in the basement at the office like the money will so it takes second place.

(Photo from


Wine rack stocking

So, I usually post first thing in the morning but sometimes nothing witty comes to me so I wait until later in the day when my mind is working a little more clearly. Today, I don't think that time is ever going to come. The only funny story I can think of to tell you is that this weekend I went to Trader Joe's and stopped by their liquor store to stock my wine rack. A really cool girl who worked there gave me some awesome recommendations and I ended up with a variety of wines totaling ten bottles. At the check out my cashier asked, "Oh, are you having a party?"
"No," I answered, confused. She gave me an odd look and went back to swiping bottle after bottle. "Oh! Because I have so much wine!" I finally said when it occurred to me why she had asked. "There just aren't any TJ stores near me so I stock up when I make the drive out to one."
"Whew, I was worried I was going to have to call an intervention," she said, sounding genuinely relieved.
I swear, I just have a really big stand (sidenote: I almost said rack but that would have just been setting myself up) and it looks sad and lonely when there are less than 5 bottles of wine on it at any given time. Whatever, I don't have to defend myself. But seriously...that's the truth.


Sick of me yet?

Ok so I feel like I've post ad nauseum about the poetry project I was a part of last summer but once again it has gotten me undeserved publicity so, I'm going to share just one more time. Plus, this article is like a cop out meme because you get to know more about me but I don't have to write it up!
My alma mater featured me in their spring magazine and it was the first time I had ever sat down with someone to do an interview. My interviewer didn't record my answers with a tape recorder, she just took notes in a yellow notebook (the paper kind, not the Apple kind)and I was curious to see if she would really capture my voice. I think she did a great job...check it out. What do you think?


Roommate tales

So, Dolce recently challenged people to tell the story of a horrible roommate situation that could beat the time she lived with a girl who had an STD and was caught wearing her underwear. I'm not sure that I can beat that but I have a few good ones...where to start? I guess I'll start with Junior year...
Three of us friends had a 4 bedroom on-campus upperclassmen apartments 3 friends we got 1 randomly assigned roommate to fill the place up.
Crazy Smokey Oakey Jenny was the fourth, and she was crazy. And smoked pot all the time. ALL THE TIME. And was from Oklahoma. Hence the name Crazy Smokey Oakey.

Our room was on the first floor in the corner and the living room was giant glass windows so a few weeks we had to make a rule: no drugs in the kitchen or Public Safety will see you and we will all get arrested. Usually when we were getting back from parties at 2 or 3am she would be just waking up from her daytime drug induced sleep and would stumble out the door to God knows where as we stumbled in. One Saturday morning she came running into the living room where we were all sharing stories about the night before and watching SATC. "I'm late! My boyfriend is picking me up and I'm late!"
"Oh, hi, Jenny. You have a boyfriend now?"
"Yeah, he's great. So hot and a business man and stuff."
"Really? Cool!"
"Yup we're going to Duluth for the day. He has some business to do up there."
"Oh, that's romantic! A day trip! What does he do?"
"He sells drugs. There is a shipment coming in from Canada. Bye!" And she ran out of the apartment.

One thing Smokey Oakey was good for was her refrigerator. "Refrigerator?" you might ask. Yes, fridge. See, she was the only one in the room who was 21 so we kept our alcohol in her fridge since she couldn't get in trouble if campus security busted in and did a search (presumably after seeing her drugs but whatever).
So one night we desperately needed to get our raspberry Smirnoff out of her fridge in order to make jello shots but at 9pm she was in there, sleeping something off. Everyone was a little afraid to knock so it was decided someone would sneak in and pull the bottle out of there without waking her up.
After a rigorous round of rock-paper-scissors, I became the someone who had to complete the mission. I opened the door silently and tip toed toward the fridge. I was so close to getting out without her waking up, the bottle was in my hand and the door was inches away when one of the spectators in the hallway started laughing. Next thing I know, my skinny, drugged out, naked roommate was flying at me, blond hair sticking straight up, pupils dilated.
I screamed and threw myself out of the room as another roommate pulled the door shut behind me. We heard a thud as Jenny hit the door, and then silence. In the morning she came out of her room wrapped in a bathrobe and asked, "Hey, did someone come in my room earlier?"
"No, not us," someone answered quickly and we all shook our heads in agreement.
"Really? I could have sworn...gotta lay off that..." she mumbled as she wandered to get some leftovers and went back to bed. As soon as her door shut we all burst out laughing.
Yes, Smokey Oakey, you should lay off it. No one ever went in her room ever again.


UNSUBSCRIBE me please.

I keep getting emails from some research company and I have no idea how they got my work email.

Ok actually that is lie...when I was at a conference in Chicago this winter I got suckered into dropping my business card in a bunch of those glass fish bowls venders put on their tables with promises of really great drawings for prizes like a soft leather bag or a trip for two or a candy bar. The candy bar gets me every time.

Anyway these emails are really starting to get to me because every time I see the little notification that I have mail I get excited and start thinking, "Someone loves me! Maybe it is a coworker emailing me the link to an awesome but overpriced bracelet we both wish we could afford. Or my dad offering to cook me a lobster feast this weekend. Or my boss offering me a raise!" Because all of those things do happen. (Except for the raise part; that hasn't yet but I'm all about the power of positive thinking so I thought I'd throw it in there.)

So here I am, all worked up about what gem of an email is waiting for me in my box and what do I see instead? "Understand your donors and set new fund raising records," from C. Research and Associates. Do you realize what a let down that is? Enough is enough people. Stop dashing my dreams and breaking my heart. Yesterday, through my tears and disappointment I found my way to the "Unsubscribe" link and a very polite box popped up, informing me I would no longer receive emails from the sender. Finally, the disappointment would be over.

Or so I thought. This morning I opened my mail box, saw I had 3 new emails, got excited, and there it was; "Email and text marketing of the future," from C. Research and Associates. Can you hear it? The sound of my heart breaking? Again, I clicked the "Unsubscribe" link and what did the polite box say this time?

Lies, lies, dirty lies. That is what the box said. I don't know how much more of this my emotions can take...


Twist my arm for St. Patty's day

In college we often played a game called True Colors. Here is the description off (picture from the same site):
Always surprising, hilarious, and often revealing, True Colors asks of all players who best fits the following descriptions:
It was the party to beat all parties. Who was the last to leave?
Who would lose a winning lottery ticket?
The world is coming to an end. Who is the last to realize this?
Each player secretly places their votes for the players who best fit the decriptions. Next, you guess whether you received some, none, or all of those votes. Guess right and you'll score.
Think you know your friends? Think they know you?

During one particularly memorable round we drew the question mentioned in the description: "It was the party to beat all parties. Who was the last to leave?" Now, just so you know, I am the kind of person who just gets really tired after having one to many drinks and tends to curl up on a random couch and nap until everyone else is ready to go (even if that couch is outside on the porch...). In fact, the only time I've ever gotten kicked out of a bar it was because I kept putting my head down on the table and they said I couldn't sleep on their patio. Whatever, it isn't like I was hurting anyone...

Anyway, I didn't even vote for myself when that question came up but one person in the group DID vote for me and stepped up to defend their vote. "You know, when Caley puts her party boots on she is in it for the long haul." Everyone thought for a bit and finally had to acknowledge that when I convince myself to really get into the party and go all out I am unstoppable. But since that only happens on rare occasions...

Saturday the plan was to swing by a friend's party, eat dinner at the rents and call it a night. What I didn't anticipate was running into some of those old True Colors playing friends from college who knew exactly how to twist my arm into going out with them for the night.
"Put those party boots on, Caley! It's gonna be a long one!"
Ok fine, twist my arm! I ended up going on a (pre) St. Patrick's day pub crawl downtown St. Paul that was all fun and games until someone at the Shamrock Bar poured an entire beer down the front of my green cardigan (unintentional but still unacceptable.) I got more than a little upset and called little brother to come rescue me from the melee. When all was said and done I was at home, in bed and asleep by 11pm with my party boots trailed one after another on the living room where I had yanked them off in a huff.
Oh well, at least I tried...


Ahead of myself

So, I might be getting ahead of myself with the whole spring thing but I don't even care.

Snow and flip flops totally go together.


"Embrace your grace"

I'm a little bit obsessed with the show "Saving Grace." I can't even tell you how many times I've watched the first season on DVD. If you just read the premise of it online you'll think it sounds a little cheesy but give it a shot and you just might enjoy it as much as I do. Anyway, in one of the promo commercials I heard the lead actress, Holly Hunter, recite a monologue that took my breath away.

"I wanna bust the world wide open the way you do when you’re filled with youth. I wanna engage with people and lovers. I wanna be physical and I also wanna ask the big questions. I want to taste the tastes and fix the problems. I wanna run headlong into chaos and darkness and pranks and fun and laugh, laugh, laugh. I want to be the best friend and I wanna be the greatest Aunt and the most complicated daughter. I wanna be the mystery in the room. I want to be known. Embrace your grace."

Listening to what she said I thought to myself, "I want that too, and so, so much more..."


Mutant skin

I think I have mutant skin. This picture was taken five days after the bouncer at Sweeny's swiped my hand with a marker. The stupid ink won't come off! What is wrong with me? I swear I've showered (well a few times anyway) and I wash my hands every time I go to the bathroom (with scalding hot water and lots of soap). At least it is starting to fade but still. It shouldn't be there at all after almost a week has passed, should it?

I hope I'm never abducted by aliens because I feel like they probably write all sorts of crazy stuff on humans while they run tests and if earth ink sticks like this I can only imagine what alien ink would do. I'd look like Einstein's chalkboard for the rest of my life. That would be more traumatic than the actual abduction.


Smelly shirt

"Did you just smell that dvd," I asked the girl at the selling counter of Half Price Books.
Laughing she answered, "Yeah! Something smells really odd." The other employee agreed and they both sniffed the air. "It's like, cooking oil or something." As soon as she said it I looked down at my sweater and the homemade chips I had fried before leaving the house flashed through my mind. "Must be drifting in from the parking lot," she added.
All three of us turned to the door and I tried to wrap my non-vegetable oil smelling jacket farther around my stinking clothes. "You know, it did smell out there when I was coming in. Must be the place next door." And by the place next door, I meant down my shirt. That's what I get for trying to cook.


Tact div appearance!

So, not sure if you've picked up on this but Sister (aka Cheshire Kitty in comments) and I think we're pretty darned funny. Turns out the witty minds over at Tactical Diverson think so too! Check out our guest appearance as well as the general site if you need a good laugh.

Love at first sight

This weekend I feel in love and went on a first date. Yes, in that order. Wait, slow down, before you make any assumptions let me clarify: the two had nothing to do with each other.
On a girls night out with the madre I found myself browsing the shoe section at Neiman's. Manolo, Chanel--it was like Candyland for a grown up. Then, I saw them: the black patent Christian Louboutin "Decollete" pumps, sitting on a pedestal, waiting for me. I think I might have actually gasped. Mom and I played it cool and had the sales associate helping us as if I was actually prepared to drop $595 right then on there. Of course, that is more than my piano cost and I'd rather put extra money toward my mortgage right now but that is BESIDE the point.

What is the point, you might ask? The point is that I put those shoes on and I felt unstoppable. Gorgeous. Worth a million bucks. Pick a cliche and that is how I felt. Right then and there I knew: it was true love. It was almost painful to leave them there in the store when I KNEW that they wanted to come home with me but I had to walk away, sans the Louboutin's of my dreams. And yes, in case you were wondering, I did actually dream about them that night. It was amazing. [Sigh]

Sidenote: The first date went well except for the fact I was traumatized because the resturaunt's ladies' room was under construction and the alternative facilities were porta potties set up on the patio with space heaters duct taped to the inside and a Purell hand sanitizing pump sitting outside. Come on, people. Seriously? I may or may not have snuck into the men's room, but don't tell on me. Sister said she has been kicked out of bars for such things!


A worthy traffic jam

"Hurry the eff up!" I think as the cars started stacking up on River Boulevard. Work sucked, I'm tired, and I just want to get home, wriggle out of my tights and wrap up in my fleece blanket. Instead of speeding up, they all started slowing down even more and I debate giving the Volvo station wagon in front of me a little love tap. As Grandma says, "That's what bumpers are for!" Ok, so she actually says that about parallel parking, not being stuck in traffic but maybe the same philosophy applies. Craning my neck toward the right I can finally see what is holding everyone up: a biker has stopped on the side of the narrow road, but it seems like there is plenty of room to get past him. "Seriously, people, what is your deal? Drive around the guy!"

For some reason, everyone is looking off in the same direction, even the biker whose elbows were propped up on his handlebars as he stared off toward the river. Tapping my steering wheel I look to see what is so captivating. There, over the cliff, framed by the empty winter trees, the sun is breaking through the clouds in a way that made me think a choir of angels might descend at any moment. It looks like thousands of hymnals are coming true before our eyes, in the middle of the evening commute. Inching my way past the scene, I smile at the back of the biker's helmet and wonder how many of us would have missed the sunset if he hadn't blocked traffic standing there to enjoy it.

...the view from my alley when I finally got home...


Outline Schmoutline

For class last night I had to write an outline for the Leadership Case paper I'll be writing at the end of the semester. Basically we have to pick an organization and analyze its leadership. The 20-25 page paper doesn't worry me a bit but the outline? I hate writing paper outlines.
My paper never ends up following it and then I have to revise the outline to reflect what I've written. How ass-backward is that?
Sister offered to do it for me, or at least get me started, in an effort to assuage my annoyance with the assignment (check out that alliteration!).
Below is what she oh-so-kindly wrote for me. If they couldn't expel me for plagiarism, I would have turned it in last night.
As it is, I ended up having to start from scratch and write it myself but her attempt at least got me de-crabbified enough to do it!


Mosh pit parents

When I am 60 I hope I am as much of a fox as Stevie Nicks. Or Lindsey Buckingham, for that matter. Stevie rocked her tambourine and long blond hair like it was still the 70's (although I hear she now keeps a PT on staff to help with an old shoulder injury that sometimes gets in the way of the tambourine shaking...possibly the hair shaking, too) and Lindsey was jumping around the stage with the energy of a middle schooler at his first dance. Growing up, Dad and I used to listen to the greatest hits album on the way up to the cabin so I was pumped to see them live with him, too. (Camera phone pic at the concert)

Aside from the amazing music, Mom was convinced that security thought we were terrorists. She was in top form, let me tell you. It started when I was the last one through the gate. She asked what took me so long and I told her they had to do an extensive search of my purse because they thought I had contraband. Her eyes got huge and she said, "Caley! What did you have in your purse? Why would you bring contraband to a concert?" It took about five minutes to convince her I was kidding, there was no contraband, there never had been, and security never accused me of having any.

Eventually we made our way to section 219 where our seats were waiting for us in the top row of the upper level. A venue worker stopped us and said in a hushed voice, "How many are there in your group?"
"Four! There are four!" I said, getting excited as I saw him reach for his pocket to pull out what I hoped were tickets for better seats. Mom gasped and took a step back.
I was right. The next thing he said was, "I have four seats in the lower level, do you want them?" Mom, however, was wrong because apparently she thought we had been randomly selected for an extensive security screening which may or may not involve a strip search in a room with bars on the windows. Somehow she has international flying confused with concert going.

Sitting in our lower level row 14 seats I couldn't help but enjoy the view of the woman in front of me with a sleeveless denim shirt and the most magnificent mullet I've seen outside of rural Minnesota in a long time. The guy rocking out with his sleeves cut off, two beers, and a gas station hat was the only one who had the potential to eclipse her. In the middle of one of their head banging dances I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Psst. Caley."
"You don't have to whisper, Mom. It's Fleetwood Mac."
"Oh, well, is that the mosh pit?" she asked, pointing to the floor seats where the largely baby boomer crowd was sitting (key word: sitting) and singing along with Stevie.
"No, Mom, there is no mosh pit here."
"Well why not?"
"It isn't like an orchestra pit. There isn't one built in..."

The final highlight of the night happened when I snuck out of my seat to hit the bathroom and passed a girl being detained by the cops. "It isn't like it's fucking poison. What's the big fucking deal?" I'm still not sure if she was talking about the band, Poison, or some kind of illegal substance that was in the purse one of the cops was holding for her but either way, it was the perfect end to the night.


Laziness, supersized

Yesterday I wanted Arby's like nobody's business. There is an Arby's three blocks from my office. Seems like getting my roast beef sandwich and curly fries should be pretty simple, right?
I immediately started getting mentally whiney, throwing up road blocks to satisfying my craving. "It is cold. Really cold. And it is too bright outside and I don't have my sunglasses. And I didn't bring boots and my heels would be killing my feet by the time I got back. And I can't wear my tennis shoes because my pants would drag on the ground. And it is really cold."
Suddenly, in the middle of my tirade I realized there was a solution to this that would allow me to get my Arby's without any shoe or cold problems: drive. As soon as it dawned on me a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders and I skipped to the parking ramp, heels and all. Back at the office as I bit into that delicious sammie I have to say, laziness never tasted so good.


A lotto weekend

I had a pretty fantastic weekend. So great, in fact, that Kathleen asked me today if I bought a lotto ticket with all of the luck I had. It started when I dropped my car off for an oil change and a tire rotation and ended up not getting charged AND had the cute mechanic ask me out. Then, I found the perfect leather jacket that I have been wanting for about four years and even better, it was only $40. Believe it or not, things actually got better from there but I think I'll keep those stories in my back pocket for a little bit. Then it was all rounded off on Sunday by homemade tortilla soup at the house of Cat and Theresa from Thrifty Muse. I don't know what she put in that soup but it was so good I dreamed about it. No joke. I think I'm addicted.

(Sidenote: I don't know if I've mentioned it but the girls convinced me to do a little moonlighting on their fashion blog. Clearly I started out with a post about the always fashionable Slanket. I'm such a fashion guru...ha!)
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