Gooo Sabres!

Oh man.

Have you ever been so excited you wanted to tell EVERYONE about how excited you are but everyone hates hockey? Yeah.

That's what it's like being super excited for the Sabres/Bruins game tomorrow but everyone hates hockey.

Bah. I don't care. At the Garden. In the nosebleeds. With beer. AND POPCORN. It will be awesome. I hope the Sabres destroy Boston, but I'll be happy with an overtime win too.

Change

Yes we can.

I am PERFECTLY CALM

Eesh.

The economy, and by that I mean my bank accounts, are failing.
The election is stressing me out.
It's not quite 5pm and FREAKIN DARK OUTSIDE
All my evenings this week will be spent alone.

Solution? Distraction! Here's a cute article that has nothing to do with current events.
What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage

And countdown 5 days to Sabres/Bruins game. Let's go Buffalo...

BOO!

Happy Halloween!
House is all ready for Kara's arrival! I wonder if I'd ever clean if I didn't have house guests?

Not that I enjoy living in squalor, I just need a good swift kick in the butt to tidy up, and the desire to make visitors cozy and comfy is exactly that.

As for the rest of the time...poor Boyfriend, he thinks that my addiction to books and my hoarding of every scrap of paper I ever write upon/receive means I'm unorganized. It doesn't help that every morning the bedroom has signs of my first, second, and third outfit tries (usually reverting back to the first) strewn about the floor.

I dropped some cash at the Publick House Provisions and my eyes were bigger than my biceps...I ended up waddling back home with a six pack and goodies (Chouffe! Unibroue! and CHEEEEESE I can't remember the name of but is oooo so tasty!) plus the groceries I'd already picked up.

I'm almost done with We Were the Mulvaneys and oy is this a heartbreaking story. Can't believe it's taken me so long to get through it but I've been pretty busy and a lot of my down time has been spent knitting (and tearing apart and REknitting) for a coworker's baby shower gift. And I started writing a bit on my own this week and remembered how much I miss my workshops and late afternoon storytime at Tufts...

For now I'll settle for some ghost stories. I can't wait to dress up as Marilyn (Boyfriend is Andy Warhol, get it?!) and get Kara Jessica Rabbit-ed up...

I'll take Pumpkins for 600, Alec.

PumpkinFest was AMAZING. Pics posted on FB for the curious.

And we made cider Sunday which was equally amazing - our freezer now holds 8 quarts of the delicious stuff. We picked the apples, chucked the rotten ones, washed them, ground them up, and pressed them. About two and a half hours later (from trees to the pressing process in the driveway) we'd make nearly 6 gallons, only about 3 of which were really drinkable from sweet apples - the rest was just too tart and will go toward cooking cider or vinegar.

We also now have a leg of lamb in our freezer, which I will periodically think about and vow to learn to cook, but mostly I'll just take it out and look at it, and pray to Shari Lewis to forgive me.

My hand still hurts from cranking the grinder.

Last night Mr. Man and I went to trivia and even though his coworkers crashed and are idiots, it was exciting to *gasp!* go out on a weeknight!

Tomorrow will be the best Friday ever...field trip to the museum at work, and Halloween, and...KARA'S COMING!


more animals

Cheese and vodka. And then some more.

The Great Pumpkin

So last night I threw a temper tantrum. The general gist was "but I don't wanna go to work in the morning" - not for any job satisfaction reason, in fact, I quite love my job.

But I just hate my morning routine - up at 6:15 and to the gym, showered and ready and out the door by 8:20, 8:30 at the latest. The obvious solution is to get to the gym AFTER work but then I have all day to talk myself out of going instead of a few bleary moments before I wrestle with my sports bra. Once I'm inside that thing, I HAVE to go to the gym. It's like hand cuffs, or like I'm Frodo with that darned ring. Spandex will make you do crazy things.

Some good news...I'm headed to Keene this weekend with Mr. Boyfriend and our friend Tony the Tiger for the Pumpkin Festival! It will be AWESOME and I want to carve a killer jack-o-lantern. I found a pattern for a Roy Lichtenstein-esque damsel, and maybe I'll carve something about the election on a partner pumpkin so she looks all fretful about Republicans. Heh. I also found an Obama print for Mr. Man, but Tony will have to provide his own McCain pattern, I ain't supportin' that one. Find them here.

I'm always super psyched for Pumpkin Fest and to see the ridiculous lengths people go to for the sake of gourd decoration. The organizers set up all the lit jack-o-lanterns on three or four story risers and it's even better than fireworks since it lasts all evening. Plus, there is ALWAYS at least one marriage proposal spelled out in the pumpkins somewhere, and someday I hope to spy the lucky proposal recipient flip out. But it would be kind of tough to hide 15+ pumpkins.

Ah, the promise of all the cider and pumpkin themed treats, plus the donuts and beer...keeping me going until Friday!

the agony and the irony

Argh, I have schlepped to the copy place thrice in two days. I don't like it. It gave me an excuse to go to Au Bon Pain though...which I got a little too excited about and now I have Wrap-Consumption Remorse and will probably break my roll-y chair. Hm. I will just pretend I ate a salad. There, I feel much better.

The T ride today did give me a bit of time to do so some interesting people watching, I saw a middle aged overweight man wearing a wizard hat and reading - Harry Potter? No, Run Rabbit Run. Of course Harry Potter, Prisoner of Azkaban.

But there was a little baby staring at me the WHOLE RIDE from Arlington. It's like this hostile thing - the baby is staring at you and everyone is all cooing "Awwwww little Caleb/Ethan/Gavin finds you fascinating!" but you HAVE to look back and smile the entire time or else the whole train thinks you're a baby hating monster. His giant extended family (taking the baby for a Tuesday T ride with ma, pop, gramma, and grandpa? woo-ee!) thought it was a hoot but in my head I was all Mark Wahlberg-like "Why you gotta stare at me baby? I'm not kiddin around this is serious."

Argh. Say hi to your mother for me.