A Reminder...

I was grocery shopping the other week, and I wandered down the household products aisle just to stand indecisively in front of the laundry detergent for a few minutes. I knew that we were almost out (so it was definitely on the list) but, as I am known to do, I couldn't decide which one to try.

I rarely stick with any one product long. In fact, I frequently change all the products in my house and toiletry cabinet. I like to switch it up and experience new things. It's nice to have a change of pace - even if that change of pace is simply switching from lilac scented to lemon scented dish detergent. Plus, I'm a total whore for new and improved packaging (yep, I'm the sucker that remarks on how cute that bottle of ketchup is - I know, LAME).

So, I was studying the different brands and checking out the options when I realized that I had actually tried most of them. I wasn't interested in any of the Tide products because Husband hates them for some reason, and I did not see anything earth-shattering happening with Cheer, so I turned my attention to one of the only brands I had not yet purchased: Gain.

I'd heard good things about Gain. The commercials boast an impressive longevity in scent, and a college friend of Husband's used to finish her laundry, hold a piece up to her face, inhale dramatically and deeply, and say "Ahhhhhhh. Gain." So, I decided, what the heck, I'll give it a shot.

Life progressed and clothing got dirty and we finally had the occasion to use the Gain several days later. Several loads of laundry, and a special wash for my favorite "napping blanket" were done without much incident (in fact, I had almost completely forgotten that I'd bought the Gain at all). I folded the laundry (because that's my job), put it away, and cuddled up on the couch with my favorite (clean!) blanket to watch some TV.

As I was sitting there, I pulled some of the blanket to my face and took in the smell. It was lovely, fresh and clean, and over the next hour or so I probably smelled the damn thing 20 times. What struck me as strange, though, was that on that 20th smell, something hit me as achingly familiar. You know that feeling? When life suddenly slaps you in the face with a memory? A memory so stowed away that it could only be convinced out with a smell or sight or incident? It was one of those moments. I smelled that blanket and WHAM. I knew there was something there to remember. Something that made me immediately feel safe, warm, and happy.

It did not come to me right away. In fact, it was not until the next night when we had finished with dinner that I finally pinpointed it.

Husband was washing the dishes (because that's his job) and I had just sat down to relax a bit. I reached over to grab my blanket, and as I wrapped its warmth up around me, the reason for the memory came rushing in so quickly that my eyes welled up with tears and my heart filled with happiness and comfort.

It was my best friend.

Her clothes. The sheets on the guest bed at her parents' house. Hugging her and being near her. She smelled like this. It was the detergent that her mother used to wash her clothes in high school. It was the smell of being close to her and seeing her everyday, and living in the same town.

So simple. And so obvious at that moment that I couldn't believe I'd ever forgotten it. So many nights I slept in the double bed in her parents' guest bedroom. So many nights as teenage girls, we'd fallen asleep with this scent all around us and talked about all the stupid, simple, teenage things that we cared about.

It sounds silly, but smelling that blanket brought her back to me for a minute. For just a minute I was 17 and I was sleeping over at my best friend's house. For just a moment I was back there in that safe little place that always calmed my teen angst and rebellion. Her home had felt like my own during those tumultuous years. Whenever I felt misunderstood, she understood me. And whenever I was scared, she comforted me. And all of that love and all of that friendship was all wrapped up in the way those sheets smelled and in the way the scent called back how I would finally drift off to sleep feeling secure again, feeling like I knew myself again, feeling at peace.

Of course, we are still best friends. But, I don't see her or speak to her all that often. There used to be a day when I never doubted that we would always be as close as we were at 17. There used to be a day when I would have laughed at the idea of not speaking to her at least twice everyday. But that day is here.

It's part of growing up, and I know that. So, the lump in my throat was brief but poignant. I love her and miss her. And I remember us then more clearly than I have in years. And I will not forget us.

Thank you, Gain. Thank you.

No Sooner Had I Promised...

... than the corporate bandwagon of my company rolled into town. Argh. There can be very little posting whilst they watch us all like this:



Suddenly I feel like a little field mouse... and a dancing monkey... a dancing field mouse-monkey.

Corporate bullshit. Love it.

For Those Having a Boring Afternoon....

I give you: Christopher Walken!



I'm peeing my pants a little. I love this man (even though he is looking rather corpse-like these days).

GOOGLY EYES! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHH!

You Heard it Here First: Everything's Bigger in Texas

Including the hangovers.

Ouch.

Free wine + Me = One hell of a good time (AKA: I got drunk). Which is fine, really. I don't go out to "party" anymore. I don't go to bars and tie one on or anything like that. I do enjoy some wine at home on a pretty regular basis, but I don't really cut totally loose all that often. So, going to a friend's wedding and getting smashed is totally ok in my book - and as far as I know I did not make an ass out of myself, which makes it all even better.

But, damn. Waking up at 6 AM the next morning for our flight was rough. After we left the hotel and were up in the great blue sky I realized that I had almost zero recollection of what I had done first thing that morning. I was just going through the motions (which, and I'm going to credit my sleepwalking habit here, I apparently do pretty well). You know, shower, brush teeth, get dressed, throw shit in bag, walk around to make sure there is not additional shit to put in bag... things like that. We made it out on time and did not forget anything - score for us.

We ate a pretty fulfilling breakfast of eggs, toast and hash browns at the airport - which, in hindsight were probably crap but they tasted like am-freaking-brosia (the nectar of the Gods - in case you did not have Greek/Roman mythology shoved down your throats at some point in time like I did). I was loving the eggs and was feeling much much better.

Then we flew.

And I thought I just might die.

Southwest (which, please don't get me wrong, they are definitely my favorite airline) does not have any direct flights from Dallas to Chicago. And that blows. Both there and back we had to do a short layover where we sat on the plane and waited for the new passengers to come aboard before continuing on. Fine, I don't mind waiting. it was the whole "let's take off and land TWICE" thing that made me want to toss my proverbial cookies all over the place.

Like this:



Cute, eh?

But, we made it without incident, ordered a big pizza (which I ate most of - regrettably) and then proceeded to partake in our individual relaxation activities. Husband played his computer game, and I laid, sloth-like, on the couch and watched the Golden Girls.

Bliss.

Next weekend, project "let's clean out the garage so that it can fit both our cars" and project "let's clean up our dirty ass house" commence. Spring cleaning has never seen a fury for cleanliness like the one currently residing in the depths of my gut. I will conquer all disorganized closets and scour each surface. Even the dogs will be getting makeovers (ok, they're just getting an overdue grooming out of the way). The goal is that by Sunday evening I will be able to sit down and victoriously look upon my spotless home and well-manicured pups, smile with the deepest sense of satisfaction and then lament the loss of my weekend to chores - which will, let's face it, inevitably happen.

More on this later. And more from this corner of the blogosphere tomorrow.

PS: I'm going to try to be more diligent about posting more frequently. I know how disappointing it is for all 7 of you to come over here and find nothing new. Don't you fret my dears, I'm on it.

On it, I am.

Blech.

I just got back from the dentist. I left work and used my lunch break to get my teeth drilled.

It was awful.

Even with today's modern technology, getting your teeth drilled is still fucking horrible (sorry for the profanity, but I still can't feel my lower jaw or tongue and it's pissing me off).

I immediately came to my desk, logged into You Tube, and found this video:




Dirty bastards.

Texas, Here I Come!

Watch out Dallas, TX!

I will be prowling your streets by this time tomorrow, and I know how to prowl... believe me.

Anybody know anything good to do in Dallas besides eating? I've been trying to find an activity to keep Husband and I occupied whilst we wait for our friend's rehearsal dinner to begin. We are slackers (it's true) so by the time we booked our flight all the good ones were gone, and we ended up on a 7 AM flight. Ouch. That means a 4 AM wake-up call and a 10:40 AM arrival in Dallas, so we have, oh, about 8.5 hours to kill before the dinner is underway.

I looked up tickets to go to Six Flags down there, but we really don't have enough time to spend 2 hours waiting for a rollercoaster that will probably end up sucking to then wait two more hours for a second potentially sucky coaster... it would hardly be worth our $60.

Then I thought, Hey! We could go to a museum or something. And I found this one:

Yep. It's the Cockroach Hall of Fame! Which, in spite of what you may immediately think, I think sounds AWESOME! However, it's in Plano, TX - which doesn't sound awesome. So, I kept looking and I found something called the:

THE CONSPIRACY MUSEUM

Which, HOLY HELL, sounds rad! It should also sound extremely fitting for those of you who have the pleasure of knowing Husband - because he's TOTALLY into that stuff. But (and it is with a heavy heart I inform you of this) The Conspiracy Museum has been closed. Bummer.

So, I'm kind of stuck! No cockroaches, no conspiracies. What are a couple of kids supposed to do!? Yeah, yeah, yeah they do have other museums of the more average variety, and there's an aquarium that we might check out, but we're from Chicago! We've got all that stuff right here! I want to do something that is quintessentially Dallas-ish.

I guess for the time being we will just plan on walking around and looking at stuff. Fun. But the wedding that we are going there to attend should be tons of fun, so it will more than make up for a couple of hours of blah.

Hopefully I'll have some interesting stories to share on Monday when we return from our mini-vacation to the warmer climates of Texas. At the very least I'll have a rockin' wedding recap and an airline tale or two (because something's always happening at the airport).

Here's wishing you all a great weekend. I'll catch you on the flipside!

Weekend Update

Happy Monday, suckas!

I am in an unfathomably good mood today, which is totally bizarre considering that when I woke up this morning I considered breaking my own arm to avoid having to come into work. Ok, I wouldn't really break my own arm because that would involve having some crazy-ass level of determination that I do not possess. Quite honestly, if the zombie plague ever comes, I will be one of the first to die - and most likely it will be because I will just stand still and scream until I'm eaten - just to get it over with, you know?

Anyway, I'm glad to be alive and not plagued by zombies or anything of that sort. This weekend was rad for many reasons too, so that is another contributor to my zest for being zesty.

Husband is awesome and he painted our bedroom and bathroom this weekend. It's blue, and I L-O-V-E it. I promise I will try to post a picture of it so you can all be inspired by his painting talents. So, I was a happy homemaker and I went to Target (pronounced tar-jay (say it like you're French but avoid becoming conceited over your worldliness, please)) and had a grand ole time picking out a couple of new accoutrements (also pronounced like a fancy frenchie) for our boudoir (God, I am ROCKING the french today) - well actually, most of the time I was restraining myself from purchasing EVERY knick-knack in the damn place because everything is completely adorable (God! I love Target). I mean, there were at least 10 bowls and/or glass thingees that I HAD TO HAVE. Of course, I forced myself to pick just two... so I did. But then, I found this:

OH.

MY.

GOD.

This is the best thing I have ever SEEN! So, I quickly threw one of my selected items back on the shelf and lovingly carried this completely useless fish-shaped vase straight to the checkout line. I'm freaking nuts about it.

But, I also have no freaking clue what I'm going to do with the thing. I don't care though. It's cool and it's mine and I'm thrilled. Hoot!

God, I'm shallow.