Television is so much fun

Is anyone else obsessed with Marvels' Agents of SHIELD right now? The show stumbled a bit in the beginning of the season, but after the events in Captain America: Winter Soldier trickled down to the show's storyline, it's been pretty awesome. With only one more episode before the season finale, the action and intrigue is really moving quickly and ferociously, finally giving me payback for sticking with it throughout the year. I find myself all kinds of eager for every week's episode, and my goodness, if this ends with some crazy, wicked cliffhanger, you all will hear me screaming on both coasts. Already, next Tuesday can't get here fast enough.

He's thinking, "Sure, she'd be great!"

So, I think I should be the person to take over The Late Late Show from Craig Ferguson when he leaves at the end of the year. I'm supremely qualified not-at-all. Well, ... in that I've no experience as a stand-up comic. But I do know how to interview people, and I can make them feel super important and like I really, really care about what they're saying. I can certainly giggle with random robots, dancing pandas, runaway horses and someone off to the right of me. Also, I'm quite good at sitting behind a desk. I can tweet and Facebook with viewers. I can fangirl all over so many different celebrities and authors, and politicians, and humanitarians, and smart girls. I also can be "controversial," you know, with my blue-leaning opinions, gay marriage support, and strong women's rights issues activism. I can be funny, CBS, I swear!
It's time for a woman to be sitting behind one of those desks on late-night television, CBS. And not some super, made-up, all-plastic girly girl, either. CBS, you need a real person. Like me. I can be funny, too!
If I can't be an astronaut, perhaps late-night talk-show host is more plausible.

Awesome camper at an awesome camp

It's so amazing, is it not, when you think you've got the entire summer all figured out, only to have a little postcard arrive in the mail to screw it all up. Some would say, sure, whatever, what kind of postcard could really do that? When it's a postcard advertising the awesome-themed summer camp program, and you're baby girl is very interested in the awesomeness, it definitely changes things. And of course, the week of the awesome camp is during a week that I've already scheduled one of her other camps. So now, the priority for tomorrow morning is scheduling the awesome camp, and rescheduling two other camps.
I can't help but complain that if the awesome camp had gotten their information out earlier, I wouldn't be having to make all these machinations. Still, the awesomeness of the awesome camp absolutely necessitates making these changes. So, while she's a happy camper right now, she'll be a happier camper tomorrow. Which is ... wait for it ... awesome.

Gotta love 50/50 hindsight, amirite?

Let's talk about today's REGRETS, shall we? I ...
REGRET my choice of the color, Iceberg Lotus, for my manicure tonight. I feel like I've got mermaid fingernails, and the color is blindingly awful. I've got seaweed, or some Disney version of a seaweed color, on the tips of my fingers, and it's crazy distracting. Of course, I'll keep them this color, because otherwise I'll never always remember that greens simply do not work on my hands.
REGRET watching Bullet to the Head, starring Sylvester Stallone and the guy from the Fast & Furious movies. It was not good, and the story was ridiculous. While I've been enjoying the resurgence of Stallone's career in regards to the Expendables movies, this was not a good example of entertainment.
REGRET finding a new delicious pizza place around the corner that is pretty inexpensive and serves really yummy garlic bread. At least Oregano's is too far from me to become a regular thing in my diet. This place may be my undoing.
REGRET not getting a Shark vacuum sooner than yesterday. That thing is frickin' awesome. My mom rocks for ordering it for me. Those little yellow palo verde tree flowers will rue the day they get brought into my house by the dogs. They get cleaned up all quick and easy now. It would have been great to have it weeks ago.
REGRET ordering the cropped and slightly pixelated photo of Sydney when I had a feeling that it wouldn't turn out too well. They really are a lost cause, sadly, and will be shredded (because I can't stand throwing away pics of my baby). I'd try again, but I really don't think any other creative cropping will make it better. Perhaps an official photo shoot by me is my best option at this point.
REGRET not starting a new book this afternoon. AGAIN.

There's an arctic breeze in my room

I need a really long stick, with some kind of poking mechanism, and maybe a rubber stopper, on the end of it. This creation, should it exist, will be used for the very important task of ... turning off the ceiling fan switch from bed. Right now, the fan is on because it got too warm in the bedroom, and then the air conditioner flipped on. So the fan is fanning around all kinds of refrigerated air, and it's getting too cool on my arms and neck and back. And I'm uncomfortable. But the computer is on my lap and I'm not interested in getting up. I need this fan-turner-offer to also be one of those telescoping things, so it won't have to be 10 feet long when it's resting next to me.
Now the a/c has turned off, but I still want the fan off. Where the hell is me telescoping, really long fan turning off poker? I mean, really.

F*ck off, mean girl Taylor

So what do you do, when a bitchy little girl in a second-grade class, walks up to your daughter, tells your daughter all about the plans for her great birthday party and how much fun she's going to have, and then tells your daughter that she wasn't invited. ... I mean, really. What do you do?
I get pissy on my kid's behalf, certainly. This other little girl, we'll call her TAYLOR (because that's really her name), has a history of saying not-nice things to Sydney. I've told Syd many times to just stay away from Taylor, because she's not a good friend. Good friends don't say that you're too young to be in second grade. Good friends don't argue with you about the year you were born. Good friends don't be mean. This little punk, Taylor, is not a good friend.
But apparently, Taylor went out of her way to find Sydney today, and tell her about the birthday party. Syd wasn't even playing with her; wasn't anywhere near her. And Taylor did this. Clearly, Taylor has issues of some kind. To actively look for someone just to be a fucking bitch to them? I mean, there's something not right in that head.
So, I told Sydney to just stay away from Taylor; to tell Taylor that she's just "not being nice"; and to not let Taylor bug her. Syd told me that she wasn't upset about it, and she seemed pretty cool while talking about it, but it must have bothered her a little, because she thought to tell me about it.
Brian's response, of course, was rude. My gut instinct was rude, too, though not as rude. And it's not that I don't want Sydney to be able to fight fire with fire when someone says something intended to hurt her feelings, because I do want her to. I want her to have the wit and ability to tell someone rude to fuck off. It's important that she know how to do that. But I don't think she's ready for it yet.
I suppose the best revenge is for Sydney to not even think about Taylor's birthday party this weekend, because it's way lamer than everything we're going to do, because we're awesomer than stupid Taylor and her ridiculous party.

Maybe I do want to be Martha Stewart

ITEM!: So, come to find out that the big spot on my back is, in fact, an irregular mole. And of course, that means that it needs to be cut out of my back. And the earliest appointment to take care of this SURGICAL PROCEDURE? Late June. Obviously, it's not that important. And now I look forward to the next two months of stressing about the blob on my back, and its impending removal.
ITEM!: It may be time to go ahead and get a subscription to Martha Stewart Living. I picked up the April issue of the magazine a couple weeks ago, and was charmed by its nifty tidbits, and intrigued by both the ideas inside, and the potential for creating a very real inferiority complex within me. A year's subscription is only $10, so really, there's no reason not to get it. I'm recently very into magazines that give me good ideas, so I'm looking forward to this one arriving in my mailbox every month.
ITEM!: Oliver was rocking some old-man crazy this morning, by standing out in the backyard barking at the wall of the house next door. To prove he was somewhat lucid, he stood in the shade of the fruit tree because it was all sunny and warm out. To show that he's maybe losing it, he spent a good five minutes continuously barking.
ITEM!: Cooper is visiting the groomers for the first time tomorrow morning. I know he'll be fine, but I'm stressing out a bit. I don't want him to get spooked by anything. I'll tell them to keep Ollie with him in the same space so Cooper will have some comfort there. (Ignoring that Oliver is not at all a fan of Cooper.) So, a puppy haircut and a thorough cleaning is a good thing for the little man tomorrow.
ITEM!: My new physician asked me yesterday if I got enough sleep, or if I had any trouble sleeping. It made me smile to tell her that I thoroughly enjoy sleeping, and that turning off the light, rolling over and closing my eyes ranked among the highlights of my day. Yay sleep!

I thought e-mail was supposed to be quick

I'm getting super frustrated with Best Buy Rewards right now. The platform is not being efficient and quick enough for my tastes. My profile information is out of date, and I really want to change it. I had to create an account, of course. And having created the account, I need to verify my e-mail address. Which would be easy, except the e-mail that the site just sent still hasn't arrived in my inbox. And I've been waiting for about 20 minutes. And it's getting super late, and the odds of me remembering the ridiculous password they made me create are slim to none.
It's now almost midnight, and this is the frustration I'm dealing with way too late on a Tuesday night.

I'm down to 48 minutes now

I've only got an hour and 17 minutes to eat something, before I have to fast for the rest of the night and into tomorrow morning. If I told you I was fasting to make some kind of social statement, I'd be lying. Instead, I'm fasting for blood work for my physical tomorrow.
I can't remember the last time I had an official physical. I know that ever since I started visiting a gynecologist every year, I stopped getting yearly physicals. So, that's, what, at 18? So, the last time I had a physical was when I was 17? That seems like a really long time ago. (We'll ignore the truth of that last statement.)
Am I nervous? Um, yep. Not that I have any real issues or concerns with my health, but it's all fun and games until you either get an "all clear" or a shot of bad news. I'll be nervous until I get the results, whatever they are.
An early appointment in the morning means I won't be fasting too terribly long, which is a good thing. I'm fantasizing about where I'll pick up something yummy after the appointment, and I just had a brilliant realization. The KRISPY KREME is but minutes away from the doctor's office!

Bears, bears, bears

I've decided that, officially, I don't have the emotional strength to watch nature shows/documentaries/movies or the like. We saw DisneyNature's Bears this morning, and while it was incredibly well made, it also stressed me out. The film followed a mother brown bear and her two cubs through the cubs' first year of life, showing the trials and tribulations, and cute, therein.
And while the cubs were definitely cute, the everyday peril that the mother had to protect them from was an hour-long visual heart attack for me. Certain dangers: male bears that would like to eat them; wolves that would like to eat them; rising tides that would like to drown them; and a general lack of food (that would likely starve them).
The mother bear, Sky, was the epitome of a mama bear, and was an exceptional protector. But still, there were several instances in the film where I had to remind myself, "This is a Disney movie, Kimmie. They will not show a bear cub getting eaten, or even imply that it was killed. Everyone has to make it through this. It's a Disney movie." I don't handle the truth of nature well, and this movie continued to prove that to me. So I was relieved when the film was over.
Also, it made me want to hold on to my  own baby with every ounce of strength I have, to protect her from all the dangers in the world. Next year's DisneyNature movie is about monkeys.

Saturday night non-post

Has Saturday become the night that I don't post to the blog?
I find that I'm drastically low on ideas tonight.
I still have some "work" to do for tomorrow morning's festivities, so I think I'll just put the computer away, do the stuff I need to do downstairs, and then watch this week's DaVinci's Demons before going to sleep. Sounds like a winning combination to me!

A shift in my tides

About 10 years ago, or about that, I had a radical idea to change my e-mail address. That e-mail address was the first one I ever created (on AOL no less, but soon thereafter I switched it to Yahoo!). I decided against changing it all those years ago for reasons I don't remember right now.
But as of right now, I really wish I'd changed it a decade ago. Because then I wouldn't be stressing over my desire to change the e-mail address now. It would already be done, and all would be well. But now, I'm all kinds of conflicted about this.
The conflict leads me to this question: How much of your identity can be wrapped up in a random, and silly, e-mail address you created for yourself in your early twenties?
And from there, I wonder, do I set up the new e-mail at a different host? Do I roll Gmail? Or the Apple e-mail? Or just stick with Yahoo!? I feel like I have to change the whole smash, just to cut down on any confusion.
But now, with all these considerations, I'm starting to lose my nerve again. Do I really want to go through the hassle of maturing my e-mail address, only to have to change practically everything? Or do I use this as a catalyst to just switch up my entire virtual life because of the viruses and security breaches and all that anyway? Just change the e-mail, all the usernames, and the passwords?
That seems like a lot of work, as well as a lot of ... change. Can I even keep up with that at my age? Am I too old to change all that stuff and keep my mind from exploding?
ARGH!!

Visible aging will not be tolerated

I went to the dermatologist for the first time in a long time this morning. The doctor was totally cool, and I got all checked out. Full body skin cancer check: CHECK! I had a small and specific list of issues that I wanted to have looked at, and I'm excited to say that of the four, only one was a cause for further investigation. The funky spot on my back was biopsied, and I should know what that's all about next week. But get this, the weird, light-colored thing on the bridge of my nose? It's an AGE SPOT. The f*ck you say! But yes, it's an age spot.
That's crazy talk right there. My forties are pissing me off. I continue to bear witness to my body showing signs of age. This is not cool.
"At least it's not a dark color," says the doctor. "And no one can see it, really."

Anchors drag you down, right?

So, if I could have the last two hours of my life back, I'd be a happy person. Unfortunately, I spent that time watching Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues. That is an awful movie. On like, every level. I mean, we knew it got horrible reviews and bad word of mouth. But we always give a silly movie the benefit of the doubt. This evening, I am suffering for that benevolence. I'm dumber having watched this film. I closed my eyes a few times just to try to fall asleep during it. I closed my eyes a few times just to make the pain go away.
Since watching his last few movies, I've discovered that I'm not a huge Will Farrell fan. I can't handle him in large doses, like when he stars in a movie. About the only movie I can watch him in is the original Anchorman. Beyond that, he's just too much ridiculous, and on a purely visually aesthetic angle, his messed up bottom teeth drive me crazy.
We watched it so you won't have to.

Another one bites the dust

You know how excited I get about finally achieving one of my New Year's EXPECTATIONs. And I am beside myself with the plan for tomorrow. Scheduled for the afternoon is, if you can even believe it, a windshield replacement. I finally called the insurance company on Monday. The glass company was super accommodating, and I'm going to have clean, fresh glass to look through tomorrow afternoon.
So, let's do a tally of the EXPECTATIONs met for 2014. I'll note those that have not been achieved herewith: #1 - Windshield (pending); #2 - Lose some pounds (also, sadly, pending); #3 - Books, of which I am plowing through this week for some reason (ongoing); #4 - Writing, which I'm not doing at all (failing); #5 - Credit card payoff (ongoing); #6 - Cleaning out the house, which I'm happy to say, is almost totally done (CHECK-ish); #7 - Quit the job (CHECK); #8 - Christmas tree on the curb on New Years (CHECK); #9 - Regular hiking with my kid (CHECK); #10 - Outdoor patio furniture (CHECK). From now on, I will remove #8 from my tally. It doesn't make any sense to have in this category.
As of tomorrow night, I'll be in the majority of EXPECTATIONs met, meaning more will have been achieved than have not. That's pretty exciting to me.

Strangers shouldn't text me

Why is it so creepy when you get a text that is a wrong number? Is texting so very intimate to me now that I am justified in being super uncomfortable with the wrong-number text I just received? It's from a girl in my area code who just got home, and texted someone to let them know. And she doesn't have her phone; she's using someone else's. The first text, sure, you ignore. The second one though, you kinda have to respond to, just so they know that they have the wrong number and will stop texting you. And that's what I did. I was very polite. But now I'm sitting here all nervous with butterflies that the person will text me back. Why does that make me nervous?  How weird.
But now it's been, like, 10 minutes and she hasn't texted me back. So, that's comforting.
I'm gonna go back to my book now.

I love adventuring!

ITEM!: Family Adventure Day returned to our calendar, with a trip up north to Tonto Natural Bridge State Park outside of Payson. The hike down to the pools beneath the bridge is totally awesome. The tunnel below is beyond awesome, and we had a blast exploring the area. I always enjoy it when one of my random ideas actually pans out into a decent family outing.
ITEM!: What good is it, really, to be sleeping with a dentist, when I still have to floss out my own teeth in search of the random irritant? I've got an inflamed gum line now, which was all kinds of bloody when I was messing with it, and now it's just super sensitive. The dentist I sleep with was asleep on the sofa downstairs, and made himself deaf to the process I was involved in. Now, with the cleverly hidden popcorn piece gone, I can begin the healing process having performed the dentistry solo.
ITEM!: I started a new book this evening. Having finally cracked the spine on Haunting Jordan while Brian was watching ridiculous movies, I feel good about it. A new author and a new book series? Good things.
ITEM!: So, Family Adventure Day + new book + un-popcorned gums = a pretty perfect Sunday.

A low tolerance for more kids than mine

Sometimes, you have to do something truly horrendous to yourself, in order to reassure yourself of the life choices you've made.
Today, I did just that.
Today, I chaperoned a second-grade field trip to the botanical gardens.
If you can believe it, I've been getting a lot of static lately from my daughter because she doesn't have a sister to play with at home. She's become adept at pouting about it. In fact, she asked me recently if there was "an orphanage or something nearby so we can go adopt a sister" for her. Like orphanages have storefronts set up in malls, or like all we have to do is go into a place and pick someone to bring home. I've tolerated these conversations well, but when they're over, I find myself wondering what our lives would be like if we did have another baby in the house. That mindset is exactly the reason why today's field trip was miraculous.
Hey! Guess what! I'm frickin' crazy happy to only have one kid to deal with day in and day out. With more than one child, they pick on each other, hurt each other's feelings, push and pull, and are super loud to compete for attention. News flash: when you only have one kid, they can't mess around with anyone else, so it's quieter. They can't hurt someone or bug them just to be difficult, so it's quieter. They already have all your attention, so it's quieter.
Also, let's give a self-congratulatory shout out to the fact that my kid is a girl. Boys are so ... boyish. They're running, kicking stuff, standing where they shouldn't, talking too much and not listening, and trying to catch the butterflies even after they'd been told a hundred times to not try to touch the butterflies.
Tonight, my body is exhausted from having to deal with more than once child for an extended amount of time. My throat hurts from calling names all morning. My shoulders are sunburned (not the children's faults, but still, I'm uncomfortable). My ears aren't ringing anymore, but I still have the memory. And more importantly, my resolve is beyond fortified that I did the absolute right thing for my own sanity in having the one child.
And the day was all worth it because my child thought the entire field trip was boring.

Natural sugar is okay ... like in FRUIT

Check the headline on Yahoo! tonight:
My Family Stopped Eating Sugar for a Year and This is What Happened
... We'd cut out anything with an added sweetener, be it table sugar, honey, molasses, maple syrup, agave or fruit juice. We also excluded anything made with fake sugar or sugar alcohols. Unless the sweetness was attached to its original source (e.g., a piece of fruit), we didn't eat it. ...
While I applaud this mother for taking her family's health and well-being to task regarding the sugar, I would not be able to do this. Sure, once you get through the first few days, it probably gets easier. And I imagine it becomes a game at some point, finding food to eat that doesn't have all the added sugar.
... Once we started looking we found sugar in the most amazing places: tortillas, sausages, chicken broth, salad dressing, cold cuts, crackers, mayonnaise, bacon, bread, and even baby food. ...
I think I'd be afraid to find out what random stuff, beyond crackers and tortillas, has added sugar. And then all the stuff we know has sugar? Like brownies, cookies, and chocolate candy. That stuff is very important to us. Also, what about holidays? I think there's be a revolt in my house if there was no holiday candy around.
... We get sick less and get well faster. Much to my surprise, after our no-sugar life, we all feel healthier and stronger. ...
Yeah, that sounds great, but are you happy? I doubt it.

Bloggedy, blog, blog, blog

A couple randoms in regards to the blog. I have:
REMOVED Hart of Dixie from my TV watching widget there on the left. This show has become so comically ridiculous that I can't even watch it anymore. I'm fast-forwarding through each episode, and lately, can't even find a character or plot that's worth slowing down to watch. This has been the case for the last four or five episodes, and I don't think it will magically get better. So, it is removed from the DVR list. I have no guilt.
ADDED Captain America: The Winter Soldier to the movies I've watched widget. Brian and I saw it this morning, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I mean, we all know that I'm addicted to the Marvel stuff, and this movie is another point of obsession. I will see it again some time in the next week or so, though no one will know the day. I'm looking forward to it.
ADDED and REMOVED a book that I downloaded onto my Nook, because I bought it and then read it within a couple days. I know I always say this, but now I'm all excited to read something else. It's awesome because soon it'll be time to create the Summer Reading List, and I'm pretty sure there is a book or two on my current list that were on last year's list (read with sarcasm).
REREAD all the posts from the second half of last year because reasons. And I've come to realize that this blog is the best journal I could ever have created. I wonder how my conversations with Sydney will go when she discovers it. I wonder if I'll enjoy writing it in another seven or 10 years. Jeez, I wonder when/if I'll stop writing it. I'm gonna be, like, 92 years old, sitting in my reclining bed, with a pillow behind my back (just like now), and typing on a laptop (just like now), eloquently bitching about the burned tater tots served for lunch that day. I'll probably also have to pee, as I do now, and will rush to finish that night's post. Funny thought: the posts will be written earlier in the day, of course, since my bedtime will be significantly earlier than midnight.

But then I wouldn't have any radio

I'm gonna finish this book tonight, so I'll catch you all tomorrow.
But first, that picture. It looks totally crowded, right? Yikes.
I'm reminded of elephants and other large animals surrounded by flies, and how they're constantly swatting at the buzzing creatures. This seems like the planet needs a long tail or something, to get the bugs away.

It's sad when a favored author dies

Whenever I land on the Barnes & Noble web site, after I've done the searching that I clicked there to do, I always do searches for my favorite authors. I check for any upcoming books from them, and note the future release date on my calendar (NERD!). One of my faves, Elizabeth Peters, writes a series of books about an early-1900s-era Egyptologist, Amelia Peabody, and her husband, Radcliffe Emerson. They are primarily mysteries, but Peters' grasp of Egyptology has always intrigued me. Peabody and Emerson squabble, are stubborn, love each other immensely, and are always having an adventure. They have a son, Ramses, who, through the course of the books, grows up to be quite swoon-worthy, and eventually falls in love, marries, and has children, and they all have adventures themselves.
Peters is always the first author I check out on my random hunts. Yesterday, B&N had nothing upcoming for her, even though the last book came out a couple years ago, which is the usual time frame between tomes. So, I made the extra three-click effort to go to the author's web site. Peters' real name is Barbara Mertz, and she's written so many books under both those names and even another pen name, as well. Her web site is well cared for, and is usually quite up-to-date.
Sadly, the last time the site had been updated was in August last year: with a couple paragraphs thanking all Peters/Mertz's loyal fans for their outpouring of love and support after the passing of Mertz earlier that month. ... Damn. ... She was 85 years old, and had a very full and engaging life, and loved her readers, and adored her characters, and blah, blah, blah. I'm super sad that she's gone. Selfishly, sure, I want to know what happens next. But mainly I'm sad because I always feel like it's such a waste of knowledge when someone is no longer a resource for others. I'll hope that she'd imparted as much of her wisdom as she could, but the fear that hers is a voice lost forever is real.
Also, I'm totally jealous that she had more than one idea that turned into several series of books, and I wish I could do that. The Mummy Case, above, is the first book in the Amelia Peabody series that I read, and even though it was a few books deep into the story, I fell in love. I quickly picked up all the preceding volumes, and then was voracious about reading them, and all the books that followed. I'm going to miss reading more about Peabody and Emerson, and Ramses and Nefret. I'll console myself with re-reading the Peabody books in my library ... for the hundredth time.

No more fantastic desserts, please

And then there was another delicious dessert creation for me to love: the Dairy Queen Blizzard in a Waffle Cone.
Dairy Queen has been spending its money on a wonderful media blitz, and the subject is the new waffle cone. I hadn't noticed. Brian, thank goodness, did notice, and the advertising had the desired affect. "Kimmie, we gotta go to Dairy Queen and get one of these." Don't ask me twice; I am a huge fan of both waffle cones and strawberry Blizzards. Combine them, and I am a happy, happy girl. Make them the dinner entree, and its a perfect Sunday night.
Of course, I probably should not have tried something I knew would be awesome. It has become a gastronomical crutch already. I can't wait to have another one.

New battery and mother are doing fine

I spent more than an hour without my phone today, and it felt weird, and unsettling, and isolating. My hands were twitchy, you guys, and I wish I could say that I was exaggerating.
I took my phone into Apple for a new battery this morning (the original one was being all kinds of wonky, and we discovered that it needed replacing), and it took them an hour to install the new one. So you know, I was totally happy that the best way for me to kill an hour without any technology was right across the street: Barnes & Noble. I mean, if I have to waste an hour waiting for something, my favorite bookstore is the place to do it. I set out to the store happily, but then realize that I had no means of telling time without the phone. I couldn't call Mom and talk with her as I was walking across the street. And then, once in the store, I didn't have a camera to take pictures of book covers I wanted to get for my Nook. And I had no notes function to write anything down, so I had to scramble for a piece of paper and scribble tiny on it. And then, I had no way to take a picture of the lady with the awful outfit, who was in line ahead of me. I swear, it was anarchy and chaos in my head.
What could I do? Well, I did exactly what I meant to do, I wandered through every book section, and ended up spending well more than the hour I needed. But I had to ask someone what the time was. And then I had to not be able to check Facebook or Twitter while I was waiting for the phone to be returned to me. Jeez, what did I ever do before I had an iPhone? Besides be sure to wear a watch ...

Not-at-all-scary zombie nightmares

I'm rewatching the season finale of The Walking Dead right now. I always end up watching the last episode at some point during the following week, and I've got this one going as I blog.
Interestingly, Sydney was my sleeping partner last night because she had a nightmare ... about zombies. More interesting than that, it wasn't about Walking Dead zombies (which sometimes give me nightmares) at all. No, Sydney's scary zombies are from the game, Plants vs. Zombies, commonly found on smartphones. Her friend Carson was playing the game ... last summer ... and showed it to her, for all of five minutes. And from that, nightmares and an irrational fear of zombies was born.
They're not even "real" zombies, but cartoon zombies. I know this for a fact because I ask, and she tells me. Also, because I'm super, super careful that she never catches a glimpse of The Walking Dead, since that might make her head explode in zombie fear. If she ever sees those guys, she'll be sleeping with me well into high school.

Carbs are an awesome thing, with coffee

In a continuation of my previous post about "Complaining and Getting a Positive Result," I can now tell you that Mom's latest reason for action has yielded a change. Her obsessive and vocal opposition to Starbucks' new pastries, and the company's removal of her favorite snack, has helped raise the volume on the complaints. And in response to those complaints, Starbucks will begin selling their banana bread, pumpkin bread, and iced lemon bread again, as well as other pastries and snacks.
Mom is, understandably, very excited about this. After all, she was having issues with a lack of pumpkin bread in her life. I'll admit to being happy to see iced lemon loaf behind the glass again, and am eager to enjoy it soon.

We celebrate the Easter Bunny here

And so begins the season of eating Palmers' chocolate bunnies. All my rabbits are out and being decorative; all the carrots are placed strategically; and all the chickies are adorable. Also, there is an overabundance of pastel.
I eat the little chocolate bunnies, the Baby Binks. Because in my mind, they're the smallest, and therefore, contain a lot fewer calories. And I can eat them without feeling totally sick, or guilty enough to purge. And they only cost a dollar. It's like, totally guilt-laden, fewer-calorie, cheap-chocolate goodness that's only available for a few weeks a year (thank goodness).