I suck at goodbyes. And at themed blogging.

Ok, guys. I hate to do it. But I'm gonna do it.

As any creative person can tell you, not all creative projects work out.

This is one of them.

I really liked the idea of this blog, but I'm not feeling it. Maybe I'm too cynical, or too mellow, or just an ice queen, but I'm having a hard time coming up with enough things I can get that excited about. (I'm being possibly overly honest here. It sounds really bad when I say things like "Nothing makes me happy enough for this.") I can think of lots of things I'm sorta into, or that I like just fine, but not lots and lots of things I want to have babies with. That's a pretty tall order.

So I'm calling it. I feel like I should apologize to any readers I had. If by some chance you liked what you read here, I'll still be blogging over at Ridiculous Existence. Part of why I'm ending this blog, is because I feel like there's too much overlap with that blog anyway, and I've had it going for much longer, so I feel like it's got more of a leg to stand on. There will be plenty of raving about awesome things going on over there.

So thanks, to anyone who was reading. I do appreciate it, and I hope you'll come over and read Ridiculous Existence. I'll still be knitting and reading and blogging and generally wishing I could have babies with cool stuff. I hope you will, too.

How many before it's a problem?

Have I mentioned before how much I like blogs? I really like blogs. Both reading other peoples' and messing with my own.

But I worry it's becoming something of a sickness.

I just started a third blog with my best friend.

Is that bad?

I don't care. I love blogging.

I wanna have babies with blogging.

30 Days of Nonsense. In a month and a half.

I have this strange love for ridiculous things. If it's totally unnecessary, or done just for the sake of whimsy, there's a very good chance I'll like it.

And I love writing. I made my father spend a decent-sized chunk of money so that I could spend four years studying writing. I have a mostly useless degree in it. Yay liberal arts!

And to combine the two, I will once again be participating in NaNoWriMo! Hooray!

I have no idea what I'm going to write about! Hooray!

Don't care. It's fun. I'm going to have thirty days' worth of literary babies with NaNoWriMo. 50,000 words' worth of babies. In thirty days. Amazing.

I wonder what I'll end up writing about.

Obnoxiously warm fuzzies

There's a crazy amount of stuff I should be doing tonight. Probably more than I should be blogging right now, but that's a bit of a moot point, isn't it? First and foremost, I have to bake a pan of gingerbread. Not that that's a problem. If only because I'm looking forward to the smell. Which is all I will get to enjoy of it tonight.

At my new job, everybody takes turns bringing breakfast for everybody on Friday mornings. So far we've had bagels, pastries and fruit salad, and green chile breakfast burritos- twice. It's New Mexico. You can never have too many green chile breakfast burritos.

So tomorrow's my turn. I'm bringing the gingerbread, along with juice, grapes, and two sacks of apples. Not that we have that many people in the office, but not everybody likes Granny Smiths. So I got Galas, too. And after tomorrow morning, I can take the rest home and actually have some healthy snacks for once.

What's the point of all this, I don't actually hear you asking, but I'm pretending I do?

I'm happy to make breakfast for my coworkers. Because I love working there, and I love working with them. I'm incredibly lucky to have a job I love, in the city I love. I realize not everyone is this fortunate, and certainly not by the ripe old age of twenty four. I'm not in a starring role on Broadway, or editing a major magazine, or running my own crafty empire, but I'm happy. How many people can say that?

I don't really have a secret to success. I guess not settling. I've had several decent jobs, in decent cities. But it wasn't enough to stop me from saving up and moving again and again, until I feel like I got it right. I suppose my advice is to just keep trying new things, and new combinations in your life until you're happy. Not settling is a hard thing to do. Especially in an economy and job market like we have right now.

But don't give up on a chance at happiness, even if it's just as small as sharing breakfast with your coworkers.

Does it sound too much like bragging if I say I want to have babies with my life right now? I hope it only gets better and better.

Squeeee!

We're getting a kitten tomorrow.

I can't think of anything I want to have babies with right now, because I'm just so excited to get our kitten. Today we bought all the junk she'll need. Litter box, food, toys, all that stuff. And tomorrow we get kitten!

We're adopting her from the humane society. She's a black short hair, and I'm so excited! We're still trying to figure out what to name her, though. We've considered Eleanor Roosevelt, and Queen Elizabeth the first. The Boy Creature likes historical political figures. And I can't think of anything good.

So I do believe there may be no babies this week.

Just kittens. And belly scratches. And snorgles.

I'm so excited for our kitten.

Like Julia says...

Holy monkeys, it's been a crazy month. One month to the day since I moved back to New Mexico. I love this crazy place.

So at the moment my brain is a wee bit too scattered to come up with a whole, cohesive post. But I can think of one thing.

I have a full belly. Two weeks ago, we moved into our apartment. And even though there's still plenty of stuff in boxes, and we hardly have any furniture, I'm still loving it. I have a kitchen of my own again, in which I made a casserole, and tomato basil soup tonight. Earlier this week, I made meat loaf for the first time. Next week, I'm going to make gingerbread to bring into the office.

So even though it's small, and just barely adequately supplied, and it only has an electric stove (gas is sooooo much better!), I still love it.

I wanna have babies with cooking. With trying out new recipes that sound tasty, and give you a fully, happy belly, and fill your home with fantastic smells. It's so lovely.

Go cook something delicious.

The only way this day could have ended

It has been a heck of a day. Seriously. Just nonsensically insane. Monstrous ups and downs.

So to unwind, I hopped on my dad's ancient bike that he gave me. I mean it, this thing's old. He told me he rode it when he was in college. And I've now grown up and finished college. Over two years ago.

Surprisingly, other than needing a little work here and there, the bike's in pretty good condition.

After two laps in the fading sunlight around my little school's campus (the school where I now work, which, incidentally, is also my alma mater), I felt much better. Sweaty and dusty, with bike grease on my leg, but better.

I said hi to the nice lady leaving the tennis center. I saw a bunny. I scared a flock of birds, twice. I rode and gazed up at the mountains. I passed another guy on a bike who said, "Beautiful night for a ride, isn't it?"

It completely is.

I want to have babies with this night.

Saturday morning musings

Holy monkey pox, you guys, this has been a long week. It was totally kicking my butt! A lot of it had to do with the 7,000 foot change in elevation, and the rest was probably all the madness of starting a new job. It is muchly madness, indeed.

But I really do have every intention of keeping this blog at least sort of somewhat on track. I don't want to let down the four of you that have read it, and dare I say, come back for more. I live to dream.

So what am I a rabid fan of on this fine Saturday morning in the mountains? I dunno. Like I said it was a long week. A good week, but long. At least I managed to sleep in a little this morning. Lately I've been doing that thing on the weekends where my body is used to waking up at six to go to work, so it thinks there's no way I'd ever want to sleep past seven or so. Today I at least made it to eight or so. Is that sad? That eight in the morning qualifies as sleeping late?

At least I get some quiet time to myself while the Boy Creature sleeps much later. He has never suffered from the early morning affliction as I have.

So I guess here's to quiet mornings, and a peaceful bowl of Lucky Charms.

Davy Crockett, Horatio Algiers, the Donner Party

Holy salmon on a stick, it's Thursday and I haven't posted yet this week.

I'm a bad blogger.

Actually, that's not true.

I'm a fairly typical blogger, in addition to being a blogger who's in the midst of moving. I packed kitchen things today. Tomorrow I wash my sheets and towels and start on the clothes. And then I leave. Across state lines. Which, considering I'm currently in Texas, and the closest state line is a full two hours away, means this is a big move. Plus, I'm not even headed towards the state line that's closest.

But it's a move to a city I love. A city, one might even say, I want to have babies with.

So I'll catch you guys next week. When the madness has moved to a different time zone.

P.S. A thousand über cool Kat points to the person who can name the movie reference in the post title!

A different sort of delicious

Today I got my hair trimmed by the girl who always does it. I like her because she's really nice, and she's really quiet in a way that doesn't make me feel uncomfortable for being really quiet. It seems like everyone but me chats to the person cutting their hair, and I never know what to say to this near stranger who I see once maybe every two months, so I like that I don't feel awkward not talking to her. Plus, she's really good about not yanking on my hair, as I'm still tender-headed, in some weird childhood holdout of mine. Sometimes, when it's more tangly than usual, she'll even just hand me a comb and let me do it myself, which is so much better than the alternative of her having to yank on my hair, and me making her feel guilty by wincing, and me feeling guilty for making her feel guilty.

Anyway.

Today she used this peppermint shampoo that was amazing. First it made my scalp all tingly, and now my hair smells delicious. Can I just cancel all my plans for the evening and enjoy the smell of my hair all night instead?

This is something I never expected to say, on this blog or anywhere else, but I want to have babies with the smell of my own hair right now.

Is that weird?

Tiny Owl Adoration!

Let me begin by saying: I love the internet. I spend way too much time on it. I probably spend more time on the internet than I do anything else. Even reading and knitting these days, sad to say.

But I love it. For all the reasons all the other bloggers of the world love it. I love that there's seemingly endless resources for inspiration and entertainment and knowledge from real people from all around the world, instantly.

So I love blogs, in case you couldn't tell. It's why I have two at the moment, and have in the past come dangerously close to starting a third. I'm trying not to, even though it was a really good idea.

So today's topic is one in which I'm cheating. Sort of. I posted about her once before on my other blog. And we here in the blogosphere like to spread the love, so I'm sort of reposting. Because this chick is fantastic.

I know her as Tiny Owl Knits. I stumbled across her on Ravelry, where she has knit and designed nothing but magically gorgeous things that all make me want to invest in more yarn (but then, what doesn't?). And then I read her blog, and fell even more in love.

I want this girl's life. She's a professional singer who's gotten to do some amazing things and meet some amazing people. And she takes ballet classes. And she is hilarious. In a quirky, slightly demented way that I adore. I want her life.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I want to be this girl when I grow up.

And I want to have babies with her.

The dream team of snackage

So have you tried the new pretzel M&Ms yet? I'm thoroughly enjoying them so far. I'm not totally convinced just yet that they're worthy of fostering future generations of weird, sugary confection/human hybrids. But on the other hand, I've already gone through two of the big bags, so that's definitely a check in the yes column.

I have long lamented the sadly discontinued crispy M&Ms. They were my favorite. I ate so many. And I loved that one commercial with Patrick Warburton, when he chastised them for eating their own kind. Candy cannibalism. Hilarious.

Pretzel M&Ms are almost just like them, but with a little salty flavor thrown in. It seems like the more I eat, the more I want to eat. They're delicious little crunchy tidbits of goodness. Salty and sweet, an unstoppable combination of snacking delight.

So, I'm not sure yet, pretzel M&Ms, but I'm willing to at least flirt a little. And maybe down the road, there will be talk of babies. Signs are very good.

I'm gonna need to get another bag of those soon.

In which I take a break from my sock knitting to say...

I never promised you a rose garden.

Ok, not really. Not that I did, because I have no interest in gardening, and it's freaking hot out right now, so there's no way I'm going out there and working in the yard.

What I really was going to say was that I never promised you an objective blog. This isn't "We all agree we'd collectively like to have this thing's babies." This is "I want to have your babies." So I realize I may be alone in my love for things.

Remember when I said I was at least making some small attempt to hold the knitting obsession at bay? I lied. I can't do it.

The yarny goodness. It has me in its grasp.

But today's topic is yarny goodness tied in with drinking, so at least there's that for the rest of you. And if you're a non-drinker, non-knitter, then I don't know if we can play together.

On to the actual topic!

Who doesn't love a good drinking game? Every time Sheldon says "Bazinga," you take a drink. Stuff like that. It's fun, and if you're watching the episode with the scene in the ball pit, it's also a really good way to get really smashed, really fast.

A while back I heard of a fantastic drinking game for one of my favorite movies, "Clue." Now there's a movie I could have babies with. Madeleine Kahn alone is enough to make me squee with delight. I freaking love that movie. And now I have this drinking game. At the time, I thought it was the best drinking game I'd ever heard of. You pick a character, a weapon, and a room (Mrs. White, in the dining room, with the candlestick). And then you take a drink every time they say your character's name, go in your room, or show a close up of your weapon. Word to the wise: don't pick the hall. You'd be hammered long before they even get to the multiple endings where they're running up and down and up and down the hall, which would then kill you with alcohol poisoning. Don't. Pick. The hall.

But yesterday, I was listening to yet another podcast I love (this time it was The Electric Sheep, from the fabulous Hoxton Handmade). She was talking about something she heard of from yet another knitter (we're a tight group, us knitters, always passing around each other's ideas and blogs and whatnot). Said other knitter is the truly awesome Leethal, and her truly awesome idea of game knitting. It's just like drinking games, but instead of taking a shot, you do something to change your knitting. You switch colors, or switch from knit stitches to purl, or cross a cable. And it sounds like such a fantastic idea to me! I have every intention of knitting a cowl this way. I just have to pick a movie and some yarn and get knitting! I love it.

And I've veered all over the place in my enthusiasm tonight, so I'm not even sure who or what I want to have babies with, but believe me, there will be baby-making. Most likely of the drunken, yarny-goodness kind. The best kind of all.

It wasn't a rock- It was a Rock Lobster!

You know how everybody has those songs that remind them so vividly of one single time, or place, or event? Their senior prom, or this one concert or something. Well, I have whole albums like that. In the last few years, I've gone on a whole lot of road trips. Sometimes with friends, but usually by myself. I would listen to entire albums at a time, sometimes over and over.

One of the ones I listened to a ton was the B-52s best of album, Time Capsule. I love that album! And that band. I'm crazy about them. They're so weird. Song like Mesopotamia, and Quiche Lorraine, and one of my personal favorites, Rock Lobster. Yes, I said it. I adore Rock Lobster. It's so odd, and it never fails to make me smile.

But I love nearly every song of theirs. Plus, I just love them. Their quirky, kitschy style, their totally unique sound. Their solid support for gay rights (seriously). Plus, Love Shack is literally the only good karaoke experience I've ever had. Ever. Well. Out of all four of my karaoke experiences. I'm not a fan of that. But doing Love Shack with my awesome friend Baylor at a total dive of a gay bar definitely wins, hands down.

They have such fantastic lyrics, too. And such panache. No one but Fred Schneider could get away with a line like "Get on your laser, daddy, and ride... through your telescope into the night!" It's so weird, and still such a catchy song. I can't help but love them.

So here's to the best post-punk, retro-alternative, new wave pop band there ever was.

The B-52's- all of you- I want to have your babies.

The love. It cannot be held back.

Ok, first of all, go look at this. Not only is Franklin Habit a fantastic blogger- one of the best knitbloggers in my opinion- but this particular post pretty much demonstrates exactly what would have to be done to get me to willingly see a Twilight movie.

But more importantly, as far as my own post is concerned, it also demonstrates exactly how I feel about Malabrigo.

I realize that not all of my readers are going to be knitters, so I had planned to sort of reveal the all-consuming obsession slowly, but it can't be helped. I love Malabrigo.

You would too, if you felt it. Plus, the colors. Ohhh, the colors. They're so lovely. I think Velvet Grapes is my favorite. And it knits up so pretty. And so soft. And so squishy.

It's marvelous. I'm even knitting a scarf out of it right now. A scarf which I mostly cast on just because I was in the mood to be knitting with Malabrigo. I'm not even exaggerating. It's that good.

Get yourself to a yarn shop, find yourself some Malabrigo, and fondle it. Fondle the heck out of it. Because Malabrigo, I want to have your babies. Yarny, squishy, fondly marvelous Malabrigo babies.

America's favorite pastime

I was musing all day on what to post about tonight, in between bouts of bashing my head against the keyboard at work.

I still hadn't figured it out when I got home, and being home didn't make it much easier. I had my plans mostly set. Knitting (another post for another day), DVDs, food that involved as little actual cooking as possible (grilled cheese and tomato soup. Yum). And that's when it hit me.

Laziness. Oh, how I love a good, lazy evening. Or weekend, or vacation, or whatever. Staying in your pajamas until three in the afternoon, eating junk you have laying around the house that you bought almost solely for situations like these. Watching one DVD after another and getting nothing of substance done. I love it.

Especially when things are still crazy busy, and I find I need it. It balances things out.

Laziness, I want to have your babies.

Sweet, chocolatey balm for the soul

Today's subject is another one that has sort of a sub-category, as there's one particular kind that I love above all others at the moment.

Are you all familiar with Blue Bell ice cream? I'm aware that it's sort of a regional thing, even if that region has expanded a whole lot in the last few years. Luckily, I was born and raised in Texas, where it's made and available in great, delicious abundance. I never suffered a shortage of the best vanilla ice cream there ever was until I left the state for college. Which made me sad. Seriously, I was just one state over, and I'd already managed to find it on vacation in Florida by then! How does New Mexico not have Blue Bell?

I've gotten off track.

This ice cream is crazy good stuff. If you can get some, go get some right now. If you can't, go book a plane ticket to Texas. Anywhere in Texas.

In all honesty, I fully believe that their Homemade Vanilla is the best vanilla ice cream on the planet. It's the only vanilla ice cream I actually willingly eat as is, because most vanilla is - brace yourself- boring. Bet you didn't see that opinion coming. But not this vanilla. It's so wonderful.

It's not my favorite flavor of theirs, though. My favorite flavor used to be Chocolate Covered Cherries. It was chocolate ice cream with a fudge swirl and these little chocolate covered cherry candy things, not that they contained actual cherries or anything. But it was delicious. And I haven't seen it in years. I think they discontinued it, which sort of breaks my heart.

But lo- there is a new flavor called Groom's Cake, which comes remarkably close to it. Close enough that it's my new favorite. It's chocolate ice cream with a strawberry swirl, brownie bits (which I guess are supposed to be cake, but they seem awfully brownie to me), and heart-shaped chocolate covered strawberry candy things.

It's like they're saying, sorry we took away the cherry things, Kat, since we know you like cherry better, but here- have some cake (brownie) bits to sweeten the deal.

Which works for me. It's so yummy. And since this week has actually stepped up its efforts to chew up my soul and spit it out into the depths of the Bog of Eternal Stench, I plan to go have some right now.

With that, I will just say, Blue Bell Groom's Cake, and indeed Blue Bell in general, I want to have your babies.

Deep fried, starchy nectar of the gods

Can I just say that today can bite me?

It kinda tried to eat my soul. I fought it off with a brownie, and then pasta-roni, and then ice cream, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs. I think I won.

When I interviewed for the job I have now, they made a point of asking how I deal with stress, because as I was assured, it is a stressful job. I've been there for three months now, and I can confidently say, boy, they weren't kidding. I think at the time, I said something about that I think I handle it well, having been the kind of person who's always busy and therefore good at time management and blah blah blah...

What I should have said is french fries. French fries are how I deal with stress.

I believe that french fries are one of this world's perfect foods, when made right. Not too overdone, all brown and crunchy. But not limp, either, all soggy and kinda mushy inside. They have to be hot and crisp, with just the right blend of salt and pepper, though I would never turn away a good seasoned fry.

I'll take a fry in just about any form. Wedges, shoestring, curly. I must admit that I seriously considered devoting an entire post solely to the waffle fry. It's the only thing at Chik-Fil-A that keeps me coming back. Their chicken is just chicken, and their lemonade could be just a tad sweeter for my taste, but oh, those waffle fries. They work their magic on me every time. I think it's something about there being all that extra surface area to hang on to enough salt and pepper. Something like that.

Plus, they go with so much, and can be eaten almost anywhere. I'm a fan of the in-car french fries. There have been patricularly wretched days when I have left the office, swung in the McDonald's drive through, and wolfed them all down by the time I get home. And by the time I'm down to just the ones that fell out and are lurking in the bottom of the bag, things seem better. French fries can help almost any bad day.

But whatever the shape or environment or choice of condiment, french fries, I want to have your babies.

Post, the first

The first thing you need to know is that I'm addicted to podcasts.

After two years of working unfathomingly boring, tedious desk jobs, pushing around ones and zeroes, how could I not? They are the only things saving what little sanity I have left. And there's not much. This, you will come to know.

Recently, my former favorite podcast came to an abrupt and slightly overdramatic end. It was called Lime and Violet. Don't bother looking for it, because part of the drama was that they pulled all their episodes. But trust me, they were great.

But I have wasted no time mourning! Lime and Violet has been replaced. By a little show called How Much Do We Love.

How much, indeed.

I'm crazy about this podcast. I wish I'd thought of it first. But you know how they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? I don't, because I'm a writer, and I have to make at least a token effort towards outsmarting cliches. But some people say that. Certainly not me, or any of the people I hang out with.

But it wouldn't go amiss to say that podcast pretty much directly and singlehandedly inspired this blog.

How Much Do We Love- I want to have your babies.