shopping penguin

Maybe I've been watching too much Boardwalk Empire, but I'm obsessed with this hat. I tried it in an Anthro store yesterday, and fell in love. Of course, I didn't actually buy it because I needed a second opinion, and when I showed iPhone photos of myself in the mirror wearing it to the hubs, he said he "wasn't sure." I looked at the photos and became even MORE sure I need to own it. Feel free to take this as a hint, those of you who are looking for Christmas ideas. (I also need/want a black pashmina-type scarf. This may turn into a year like the winter I spent in Ann Arbor where all my wish-list items were warmth-related: long underwear, new coat, fleecy slippers, space heater. It was a sad time in my life.)

Speaking of shopping, the hubs and I recently bought a new TV. For the three and a half years or so that we've lived together, we shared one TV. In general, it works out fine--we watch a lot of sports and a lot of HGTV, and we are both generally happy about both of those things.

However, he wants to watch hockey. And I mean, I like hockey fine, and will watch a game here or there, but do you know how much those guys play? It's a LOT. And for a LONG TIME. It's like an 18 month season of 1,000 games or something. I swear, the Blackhawks just won the Cup yesterday, and they're already 3 months into this season. ANYWAY, since my lovely husband wanted to get the Center Ice Package and watch roughly 15 hockey games every week, and I wanted to stay married to him while not subjecting myself to approximately 50 hours a week of games that often end in scores like 2-0, we bought another TV.

So while he's watching hockey in one room, I have a new and strange luxury: I can watch really whatever I want. Not that I couldn't watch sort of whatever I wanted before, but when there's another person in the equation, I at least am likely to choose to watch things they probably won't hate. It's actually a little terrifying what I will watch when left to my own devices. Now, if you'll excuse me, there are so many episodes of Real Housewives of Somewhere or Other that I really need to catch up on.

(In trying to find a video or something to make this post about shopping something other than painfully boring and self-absorbed, I ran across this:




Now, I hate/fear birds. However, I have always said penguins are the best of the birds [I think because they're flightless and therefore can't attack me from the air, plus even I can admit their babies are almost cute.] and now, I'm totally convinced. I mean, really.)

kate gets pwned.

I can't believe it's been over two months since I updated. The last two months at work have been just insane for me, and it means that on weekends and in the evenings, I either want to hang out with the hubs or just veg and not have to put together any coherent thoughts. I guess the good news about all that is that I am not worried about job security, at least not anytime soon. And given the economy at large, that's a good spot to be in.

I'm feeling a little low on creative juices, but maybe I'll return with something good soon.

my life in the city in pictures

In a thunderstorm earlier this summer, the tree in front of our house fell and totally blocked our staircase. I had to Rambo my way out to get to work in the morning.

You forget that somewhere in the Midwest can have a beach this nice. And yet, there it is. I defy you to look at Lake Michigan and not have at least a moment of thinking it's the ocean.

There were about a dozen of these tiny vintage cars parked all in a line downtown last week. No idea why.

Also in the "no idea why" category, someone threw these lovely flowers away in the garbage can outside my office building last week. Bad boyfriend trying to get back in good graces? I love that whoever threw them away did it bloom side up, though, so I could get a look.

Possibly the best dinner I've ever eaten...greek yogurt + honey + farmstand peaches, blueberries, and raspberries. Yummmm.

Shopping downtown, this couple holding hands made my heart melt.

I LOVE this series of ads for the aquarium. It really is magical.

I wanna do it 'til I can't get enough

Those of you who knew me well my 1L year--to date, the worst year of my life by far--know that this song, KC & The Sunshine Band's Boogie Shoes, in a not-totally-hyperbolic way saved my life. Studying for finals in December of 2006 (unbelievable it was that long ago) in the green-carpeted dungeon of a library, hating my life, hating myself, hating everything...I saved my sanity with that insanely catchy hook. I listened to it at least 3 times a day, a lot of days close to 20 times. That is not an exaggeration. What? It's only about a 2 minute song! It's also the song that kicked off the dancing at my wedding, after I had put on my boogie shoes.

So it is not lightly that I say that this morning, during my weekly Top 20 VH1 Countdown viewing, I thought...holy shit, who is this band, and are they seriously the second coming of KC&SSB? So I sit, transfixed by the 80s sunglasses, and 90s pop hooks, wondering. Who is it? When it got to the end and the band's name came up, I just laughed. I mean, really. Well played, young sirs.

PANTS

Here's something absurd about me, in this moment: I have no idea what size pants I wear. I mean, really. I blogged about my weight gain a bit back in January, which also happened to be right when I started work. Despite my bloggy grumblings, I did eventually find a few pairs of pants from a few gracious retailers willing to sell to my newly-WOMAN-size ass. Now, though, I've lost a pretty significant amount of weight, and really just haven't had time to go buy new pants. I am currently wearing a pair of non-stretchy dress pants that I can remove without undoing the button or zipper, which I am pretty sure is a sign of bad fit. Well, that and the fact that I have taken to pinning them before work so I don't walk around holding them up. It's only margininally effective, and creates bunching issues....from the back, I have droopy diaper syndrome, and from the front, that old enemy of Michael Kors: crazy crotch. I clearly have gone down a size. Have I gone down two? Dear lord, could I be wearing pants three sizes too large? Like my pants are the grinch's chest and I am the grinch's heart?

vacation: all I ever wanted

The hubs and I are back from an extended long weekend in sunny San Francisco. Well, the sun was intermittent, but the fun was NON-STOP. I laid in the sun. I laughed until I couldn't breathe. I smelled the salt air. I wore a sweater and a scarf on the Fourth of July and was still cold. I ate some seriously amazing food and hung out with some seriously amazing people. All in all, it was a super-fun couple of days.

I hear the train a-coming...

This evening on the train, I sat watching a dude who looked like The Sartorialist threw up all over him. I mean, seriously. With his fancy briefcase and his pants rolled just-so to reveal that he wasn't wearing any (visible) socks with his fancy shoes. Even the buttons on his blazer were fancy, in an understated Euro kind of way. I really expected him to get off the train and unlock a fancy retro bike to ride home on. But he was chewing this ENORMOUS piece of gum, and for whatever reason, I found myself unable to look away from him. It's awkward when you know you're staring and you just can't stop, you're only hoping not to get caught. I don't think Mr. Sartorialist noticed my staring--I was sitting far enough away.

I also played one of my favorite games in my head with him--the "which stop is this guy getting off at?" game. I lost today--big. I thought FOR SURE this guy was getting off at the hipsteriest stop on the line, two before my stop. When he didn't get off there (shocking!) I thought, okay, he must be a slightly poorer or grungier hipster than I thought--getting off two stops after mine. All that when, in fact, he got off at the same time I did. I couldn't believe it. I didn't see him after leaving the station, so he must have gone the other way. One of the things I love so much about this city is that I could see him again tomorrow afternoon, riding the train home. Or I could never see him again. Who knows.