Thursday, February 25, 2010

A place to put my rye.

When you've got nothing to do during the day except count down the days, weeks, and months till school starts again- you find little things to entertain yourself. And on the weekends, when you can't stand being in your apartment anymore but can't afford to do anything exciting- you go to estate sales with your boyfriend's mother. It was on a particularly ordinary Saturday morning in some strangers house that I found this:


...for four bucks. I immediately thought to myself, "Yes! That is what my life needs- a bread box! I could put bread in it! And paint it blue so that I may have another blue item in an overwhelmingly brown and white kitchen." And I promptly purchased it.

The next Wednesday, my quickly turning fanatic fisherman boyfriend needed some new weights (too many snags- teehee). So I decided I would go with him to the fishing store and we would stop by Home Depot to pick up paint for my new bread box. We arrived and he asked me what I needed and that's when it all went downhill. "Spray paint," I replied.
Him. "You can't use spray paint!"
Me. "Why not?"
Him. "Because it won't look good."
Me. "I spray painted my picture frames and those look fine."
Him. "Ya they look okay. But there's a better way to do it."
Me. "Ok well what's that?"
Him. "Well first you have to sand it down."
Me. "Ok let's get some paper."
Him. "My dad has some- just go over my parents house. And then you're gonna need some primer. I think you can get that mixed in with the paint. Then you have to stand in this line over here so that they can mix you a little can of dark blue paint. And you're gonna need paint brushes and a new knob for the box...."
Me. "Nevermind- let's go home."
Then I called him a fun-sucker and he felt bad.

Now I don't fault my overenthusiastic boyfriend. He is merely a perfectionist. Whereas I wanted to spend about five bucks and one or two hours to fix up my four dollar find.

The next day, while I was home alone and bored, I went to Michaels. I bought a stencil, some white paint, a new knob, and planned to use the spray paint I already had from my frames. It wasn't the right color but whatever. As long as I didn't BUY spray paint I figured my roommate/boyfriend/future-baby-maker couldn't get TOO disappointed in me. I spent a little more than five bucks but not much. The end result:




And my honeys reaction... *drumroll*


"I like your breadbox."


Woo! It may not sound like a lot- but that's high praise coming from a cynic.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

He's the Johnny to my June.

The Ron to my Hermione.
The Derek to my Meredith.
The Joel to my Clementine.
The Sawyer to my Juliet.
The Cory to my Topanga.
The Beast to my Belle.







My happiness, my sanity, my everything.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The only light in a dark world...

My page is too pink, I think. Seems like I've got a pink kink in my think. I'll fix the stink of this link in a wink.

Have you read The City of Ember by Jeanne Duprau? What a lovely story! I guess technically, I haven't read it either- but I listened to it while driving through LA. It calmed me. It's the story of Lina and Doon, two twelve-year-olds who live in an underground city built 200 years ago. Here's the Amazon.com synopsis if you're interested:



It is always night in the city of Ember. But there is no moon, no stars. The only light during the regular twelve hours of "day" comes from floodlamps that cast a yellowish glow over the streets of the city. Beyond are the pitch-black Unknown Regions, which no one has ever explored because an understanding of fire and electricity has been lost, and with it the idea of a Moveable Light. "Besides," they tell each other, "there is nowhere but here" Among the many other things the people of Ember have forgotten is their past and a direction for their future. For 250 years they have lived pleasantly, because there has been plenty of everything in the vast storerooms. But now there are more and more empty shelves--and more and more times when the lights flicker and go out, leaving them in terrifying blackness for long minutes. What will happen when the generator finally fails?


Anyways, the reason I bring this up- is because I am now reading it aloud to the two monsters that I am a part time nanny for. They love it as much as I did. Observe the monsters:


Don't they look diabolical? I love reading to kids. I'm already starting a list in my head of all the books I want to read to my punks. The City of Ember has made the list.

In other news, today my darlin' is goin' fishin'. I was supposed to go too, but making money is taking precedence. Hopefull, he'll bring me home a seabass and we'll have some surf n' turf for dinner.

Have a wonderful and lovely Valentine's day!

Monday, February 8, 2010

Early nights and late mornings.

Someday soon- possibly tonight- I will change my heading. I know it is still winter but recently it's been feeling like spring. Hence the lime green sweater I am wearing at the moment.

The Superbowl was yesterday. It's definitely a holiday around my apartment, so we treated it as such. I made Jalapeno Poppers (sorry- couldn't figure out how to html a tilde), BBQ Chicken Potato Skins, and homemade salsa. And by the time the game was over, I had headache and stomachache from eating too much "bad for me" food, so I crawled into bed around 8:30 with the intention of working on my knitting. But I promptly passed out instead.

And now, I am going to steal my sister's style and make a list.

Qualities of my dream home:
...In the middle of nowhere
...Solar panels
...A windmill
...A movie theatre
...A sauna
...A big garden where I can grow all my own vegetables
...A gardener to make sure I don't kill all my vegetables
...A porch and a porch swing
...Nice view with nobody in sight
...A lake with a dock
...A Newfoundland
...Sang, the sushi chef
...Bay window
...More storage than I know what to do with
...River rock flooring with radiant heat




BBQ Chicken Potato Skins Recipe

Baked Russet Potatoes
A rotisserie chicken
Bar-B-Que Sauce
Shredded mozzarella cheese

While the potatoes are baking, cut up the rotesserie chicken, discarding the skin and breaking the pieces into inch-long shreds. Take the baked potatoes and cut them in half, scoop out the middle of each half until you are left with the desired thickness. My boyfriend likes less potato so I usually only leave about a centimeter of potato. Save the left over potato for mashed potatoes or other goodies. Fill each skin with chicken, a tablespoon or so of BBQ sauce, and top with mozzarella. Bake at 425 degrees F for 10 minutes. Serve with ranch dipping sauce and extra BBQ sauce.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

This morning, I loved my apartment. And that doesn't happen often. Please note our hanging stuffed dragon in the corner. His name is Zeke and we won him in Vegas. Also, please notice my extremely large, extremely awesome diva hat on the wall.


I love it. Also...

I love him.

ALSO- I love that I lost 10 pounds! All day long I had this going through my head: "Jacqueline! You just lost ten pounds! What are you going to do next??!" "Uh- lose another ten?"

Monday, February 1, 2010

Picture this, if you will...

You're in a wonderful relationship and about to start getting your Master's degree. Then BAM! someone offers you an interview for a job six hours away. Now if this had happened eight months ago, it would've been perfect. But you had already settled on a decision to finish school and grew to really appreciate it. Look forward to it, even. Now let's consider the options.

A) You blow off the interview
B) You accept the interview and get the job
C) You accept the interview and don't get the job
D) You hide under the blankets and attempt to break the world record for the longest nap.

Here's how the options will play out.

Option A. You will feel bad for closing the door to a possible contact and like an overall lazy person who is scared to death of change.
Option B. You will have to have a seriously long talk with your boyfriend. Is it worth it for him to quit his job and move with you? Can he get a job down there? Do you even want to live down there? Would you prefer to live closer to your loved ones? Is the salary worth putting your Master's on hold? Pretty much Option B opens up a disgusting amount of Yes or No questions that I, I mean, you really don't want to answer.
Option C. Rejection sucks. One more "No, thank you" might plummet you into the pit of despair with no hopes of return. You won't want to go get your Master's. You won't want to work on your relationship. You won't want to go to work. And your world will fall apart. (Ok- maybe that's the worst case scenario).
Option D. Where's bad?