KirstenL4W

As I mentioned in a previous post, I grew up with your garden variety Betty Crocker 1950s Cookbook (Betty Crocker)kind of food. You know the stuff - Tuna Casserole, meatloaf, etc. But there were also some interesting variations on the norm.

I think it’s necessary to separate this post into two parts. My parents are divorced, so I grew up with not only my mom’s cooking, but also my stepmonster’s. One can cook. One only thinks she can.

My stepmonster is the one who thinks she can cook. She’s the worst kind. Her cooking is mostly edible, but that’s giving her too much praise, really. She screws up pasta. For example, she’ll cook angel hair pasta because it’s quicker, ok. Then she’ll go sit down and play a couple hands of solitaire (with a real deck of cards. No sophisticated computer games for her.) As she’s playing with herself, the pasta is boiling away. Keep in mind that angel hair pasta only takes about 3-5 minutes to cook, depending on the variety you buy. Hers? Comes out way thicker than regular spaghetti. And all the starch that cooks out of it and sits in the cooking water ends up as giant blobs of slime all over the pasta, because she doesn’t understand the concept of rinsing. I mean, if she doesn’t understand the concept of cooking time, then it’s a given that she doesn’t get everything else that comes after that.

Let’s see, what else has she messed up? Oh, speaking of cooking times, there’s the roast beef that takes 45 minutes to cook. Sure, she likes her meat rare, but the rest of us would at least like it warm in the middle. So yeah, gross. And then there’s her famous debacles:

Pot Roast - you know how when you cook a pot roast you usually put some root vegetables in the pot, like potatoes, carrots, turnips, etc? She gets tired of the same old thing. So one time there was broccoli in it. It was so nasty that the dogs wouldn’t even touch it, and these dogs ate nearly everything. My sister and I were stuck eating this crap.

Chicken Cordon Bleu - chicken breast with a stuffing of ham and cheese, usually Swiss cheese. In this case, my stepmonster decided to use Velveeta. Oh yeah. AND - it gets better - she put melted Velveeta on top of it before she put it in the oven. Do you know what happens to processed cheese product when it’s in the oven for that length of time (because she never undercooked chicken)? It turns into a plastic shell. ‘Nuff said.

Then there’s her famous food combos. My stepmonster is of the belief that all meals must include a meat, starch, and vegetable. What she doesn’t get is the whole concept of complimentary side dishes. There is one combo in particular that sticks out in my mind. (I fully expect a scathing phone call from my sister for bringing back this repressed memory.) One summer evening, dear old stephag decided to feature summer squash on the menu. Summer squash was always watery and soggy, way overcooked. That cooking time thing again. The meat has long since been forgotten, since it is not important in this equation. What is important, however, is the starch that was on the meal. It was - get ready for it - Spagettios. You read it right. My sister will tell you that summer squash and spagettios do not go together. So will my old next door neighbor, who got out his garden hose to wash all the puke out of the neighborhood, most of which landed in his yard. Nine times she puked. I don’t think my sister has had either one of those foods since.

Meals with my stepmonster weren’t all that bad. Sometimes we went out to eat. In fact, it was a regular weekend thing, so we always had that to look forward to. Also, we visited my mother on the weekends, and my mom can cook. Most of what and how I cook today comes from her, and of course my dear Gram and Grandma.

So, Mommy’s cooking. Mom has about a dozen tried and true meals that I always look forward to when she makes them. However, being blond, my mom has been known to mess things up on occasion. (No offense to blonds who would be offended by that.)

My mom’s meatloaf rocks, because she makes it like a giant Swedish meatball (my Mom’s grandparents came from Sweden, so we know how to make a real Swedish meatball). Basic meatball recipe includes finely chopped onion, salt, pepper, and allspice. One night I took a bite of the meatloaf.

“So, how is it?” Mom asked.

“Well, it’s good, but there’s a bit too much cinnamon in it,” I replied.

“What? I didn’t put any cinnamon in it. That’s allspice!” Mom took a bite, realized that it was cinnamon, and went over to the spice cabinet. She starts tearing through the carefully arranged yet overflowing cabinet to get to the designated allspice spot, where she sees… cinnamon. Well, it must be someone else’s fault, because the allspice is not where it’s supposed to be. The rant went on for awhile about this, as my human garbage disposal stepfather happily ate the cinnamon-infused meatloaf.

Another time my mom made tuna casserole. “So, how is it?” she asked. It just occurred to me that whenever my mom asks how the meal is, it must be messed up. She never asks that when everything turns out ok.

“It’s really good, Mom, but there’s not a lot of tuna in here.”

“I forgot it,” she said with a sheepish grin on her face.

Those are the two that come to mind. Luckily, my mom doesn’t make it a habit of screwing up dinner. Though she did call me last night to ask how to de-heat chili. I didn’t know, but Boyfriend did, so when I called her back to tell her she said that the chili wasn’t too hot, it was just that all the spice seemed to land on the spoon that she was stirring/tasting with. Just another blonde moment.

One of my favorite meals, though, is something that was created from a screwup of Biblical proportions. I mentioned before that my family came from Sweden. Well, Swedish cooking is rather bland, and somewhat basic. When I was in Sweden about 10 years ago now, my friend told me that a lot of stuff we take for granted now, like spaghetti, is still considered exotic cuisine, mostly by older Swedes, but it’s fairly new to Sweden. When my family came over less that 100 years ago, they’d never seen the stuff before.

One night, I believe it was one of my mom’s cousins, ate over a friend’s house and had spaghetti for the first time. The meal was described to my great-grandmother, who tried to replicate it as best she could. Pasta, hot dogs, and tomato soup. Campbell’s, straight from the can. Ok, maybe the first incarnation had ground beef in it. It’s good that way too. But hot dogs is where it’s at today, and it must be made with elbow macaroni so that it can be called by its proper name: Smiles. It is my ultimate comfort food, the one food I will eat when nothing else appeals to me.

So now you know the story of how my palate was developed. I bet my sushi post makes a lot more sense now. Boyfriend certainly is a lot more enlightened about my food cravings than he was when we first met.

Snoskred had a great post today about an internet friend who was this close to getting sucked in by a scammer. Although she didn’t lose any money, she lost her kids spots at the daycare she works at, which, as anyone who has ever dealt with daycare knows, daycare wait lists are a mile long, so if you lose your spot the kids might be in high school by the time it comes back up.

Since this particular scam involved the job boards (online job postings), and I have some experience in that arena, I wanted to talk about that. Not only have I searched for a job using the major job boards (Monster, CareerBuilder, etc.) but I have also worked in the recruiting industry and it was a daily task to search the boards not only for resumes but also what other jobs were available that were in our specialty.

Having been on both ends of it, I know that there are 2 likely scenarios when you post your resume online. The first one is that you apply for jobs, and a hiring authority from that company either will or won’t call you back to schedule an interview. The second thing that can happen is that you will start getting random emails from people saying that they saw your resume on (insert internet job board here) and they would like you to call to set up an interview.

How Can I Protect Myself?

When you’re looking for a job, the internet is an excellent resource, and that includes the job boards. Many legitimate employers post jobs online, so it’s worth the time to check them out. But be sure of who you’re contacting. When you read the job posting (not just the title in the results), make sure you can identify which company it’s for. The legitimate jobs will usually tell you who they are, so you can do your own research. And if you’ve never heard of them, do a search. This is useful because not only do you want to know who you are applying to, you also want to be armed with information about the company should you be called for an interview.

Also, don’t discount using a recruiter. Never pay a fee to a recruiter, but if they like you and they’re sure they can place you somewhere, they are usually specialists in their field or the industry they recruit for - even the temp agencies, who recruit for clerical, administrative, light industrial and manufacturing. If they’re advertising online, chances are they have plenty of positions, even if the particular job they listed isn’t available. (A side note about Appleone - my personal experience, and word on the street, is that they are “resume farmers.” I don’t know anyone who has had a decent experience with them.) No matter who you apply with, be sure to keep records so you can keep it all straight. If you’re hunting on the boards, chances are you’ve been putting in a lot of resumes. Being organized is a definite advantage here.

Now, since Monster and CareerBuilder, and to some extent HotJobs, are the most popular job boards out there, be aware that there are a lot of unscrupulous people out there paying the fees to be able post jobs and search resumes. There are lots and lots of work at home “opportunities” listed. These are the scams. One website I subscribe to, I’ve Tried That, makes a point of listing scams of this sort. Their viewpoint is that there are basically no legitimate work at home jobs being advertised online. If you want to work at home, there’s no easy way to do it. You must either be in a position to telecommute, or be enough of an entrepreneur to build something yourself. The rest of us are working for the man.

A special note about Craigslist: While here, too, are many legitimate job postings, there are just as many that are not. Craigslist makes it even easier for the scammers because it’s free, which is always a bonus, and it offers even greater anonymity than traditional job boards. Here’s a few ways you can find the legit jobs on Craigslist:

• The posting will list the approximate location within your metro area along the posting title. Example: Administrative Assistant (Downtown)
• The pay scale will be DOE (dependent on experience), competitive, or will give an actual dollar amount that is low to reasonable for the job.
• The job ad will list duties involved and experience needed. It might be very detailed, like you see on the big boards, or very light, like in the newspaper. Either way, the job description is not vague.

Like I said before, don’t discount the recruiters. Most of them are specialists in their fields, so they can be a valuable resource - just don’t ever pay a recruiter. Their pay should come from filling the job, not taking your resume. And if you’re still shy about the big job boards, do a search for smaller, more focused boards. If you’re in the technical/engineering field, Dice.com is the leader there. There are job boards for medical, government, banks, even temps! Do a search and see what you can come up with. I’ve also searched on the specialized job boards and found a lot less spammy job postings than the big guys.

A good job can be found through the job boards. I found my current job through CareerBuilder. I applied to a job posted by a recruiting firm (Accountants, Inc.) and was called for an interview. It’s interesting to note that I do not have an accounting background, but I found out during the interview that they will take “outside the box” job orders from established clients. I wasn’t considered for the original job posted, but a week later I was on an interview for another job, which I am still in. I’m still there on a contract basis, but the requisition was filed with HR to make me permanent, so I’m hoping for a long career here.

In Summary

• Know who you’re applying to
• Keep track of who you’ve applied to, and through what resource
• Vague job descriptions are not worth applying to. Know what job you’re applying for.
• Job salaries should be reasonable, possibly on the low side. “DOE” and “competitive” are also found in legitimate job postings.
• If it sounds too good to be true, it is!

My sister called me a little while ago. I was kinda surprised that my phone was ringing, since most of the people who call me are on the east coast, and it was well after 11pm there when she called. She was so excited, she had to call someone, and I was the only person she knew who would be awake. Just a few minutes before she called, she and her man were out on the lanai enjoying the evening when all of a sudden, the utility poles on the next street blew up, one after another all in a row. She said it was spectacular. Of course, she’s enjoying the romantic candlelight right now. Ah, the things I have to look forward to when I go to visit her for Thanksgiving.

Earlier today, I decided I was going to finally try a sandwich shop that continuously wins Best of Las Vegas awards. I saw that they had a roast beef sandwich - not a sub with au jus - so I decided to try it. I have not had a good roast beef sandwich since I was back in Massachusetts. You just can’t seem to find one once you leave Mass. And all you fast food enthusiasts out there, please don’t even suggest Arby’s. I ate there once - ONCE. They have roast beef loaf instead of the real deal. I’m all set with that. What I want is a good old fashioned roast beef sandwich.

While the sandwich I had today was far beyond Arby’s, it was not what I had expected. The meat was well done, and though I usually like my meat on the fully cooked side, there is only one way to eat roast beast: rare. Also, the meat was a bit over-seasoned, and though it was shredded, it was cut way to thick. They grilled the roll for me as I asked, but it wasn’t buttery enough. At least they had Tastykakes. Yes, I know, Tastykakes aren’t a New England thing, but gimmee a break. My mom is from New Jersey and I developed a liking for them on my many visits to the family farm.

I want a roast beef sandwich with rare roast beef, sliced on the thinnest deli slicer setting. Yes, I want my meat to be see-through. A very buttery onion roll, grilled to a light golden brown so you get a nice crunch when you take a bite. Lots of mayo. Some people like BBQ or horseradish sauce, but I like to clog my arteries. I can’t find one here. I asked a coworker today if she knew where I could find one. Since she lived in Boston for a number of years, and she’s been in town at least as long as I have, I figured that if anyone would know she would. And yet, she didn’t. Meh. I guess I need to add it to my list of foods to eat when I go back there again.

On a side note, I was in the middle of composing this post, switching back and forth between tabs, and on my way back to the tab that I had my Create Post in I accidentally clicked the X to close it instead. OH NO!!!!! But I checked the menus in Firefox, and lo and behold, I came back without having to recreate my post. For those wondering, I went to History > Recently Closed Tabs. It not only brought me back to this page, but my entire post was intact! Yippee!

And time for some more pimpin’ - Zac was on tv this morning pimpin’ the hearse club. It was an interview on early morning news, and you can view it here (if you can’t see it, look for the “Get a hearse!” segment. Don’t forget to watch the video!

In other news, the winds have stopped blowing all the smoke from the California fires out to sea, and while it’s not blowing this way like it did in 2003. Back then visibility was pretty bad - less than 1/4 mile and the whole valley smelled like a big campfire. The smoke is here now, though, and my eyes are really bothering me. This picture shows the smoke coverage as of today. The air quality forecast shows a smoke advisory issued through Sunday, though in the moderate level. So we can still see where we’re going when we’re driving around, but my eyes will be feeling like this for awhile. Joy.

I could probably find some more links for you, but it’s late and I’m going to watch the news. Kevin Janison is telling us that the lack of winds is keeping the smoke here through the weekend.

Since Halloween is coming up in just one wee, and since Boyfriend’s friend Zac just finished making this video, I thought this would be the appropriate time to post the video. (It was just posted within the last few hours, and I’m taking this opportunity to do some pimpin’, but still - you’ll like it.)

And for those wondering, I have yet to ride in a hearse, but Boyfriend has one up near Zac’s house in Colorado, and I understand that it may be making a move to the desert soon. I’m sure I’ll ride in it then (in the front, you silly people). Boyfriend wants to start a hearse club here, and we know a couple people interested in it. Once the hearse gets here, the club will be easier to plan. The hearse thing is new to me, but collectible cars are not. My Dad is big on cruise nights and classic car shows, so it’s a similar culture, but without the poodle skirts.

So there ya have it - the coolest video you are ever going to see this Halloween, and I outed Boyfriend as a hearse driver (he’s not a mortician, though. I knew you were asking.)

Boyfriend returned on time Friday afternoon - actually about 10 minutes early. I was able to watch his plane land, because McCarran International Airport, the big airport with all the slot machines that is the first part of the Vegas experience for millions of tourists every year, has an observation parking lot. I’d show you on a map, but I’m not feeling very technologically savvy this evening, so I’ll tell you how to find it.

For locals:
Drive in either direction on Sunset Rd past the airport - that would be the 3-mile section between Las Vegas Blvd. and Eastern Ave. There’s only one place on the runway side of the road that you can stop at. It’s a parking lot near PT’s Pub. That’s the place I’m talking about.

For map geeks:
Go to your favorite mapping program. Search for Las Vegas Airport. Scroll around until you find the road that runs parallel to the two runways that run horizontally across your screen. That road is Sunset Rd. (BTW, this is best done in the hybrid map/satellite view.) Now, look for Escondido Street - it runs perpendicular to Sunset. Almost directly across from Escondido is a parking lot that has one long row of cars. That’s the place you’re looking for.

For airport geeks:
You can look up a map of the airport at AirNav - the airport code for Las Vegas is KLAS. Locate the 7/25 runways. You can’t see the surrounding streets on the map, but just south of the 7/25 runways, directly lined up with the A3 taxiway is the parking. Good view, eh?

So, what’s so great about looking at planes come and go?

I know some of you out there are avid plane spotters, so this is a great place to see planes close up, with only a chain-link fence to impede your view. But wait, there’s more! The tower, the one that controls takeoffs and landings on the 7/25 runways, lets you listen! They have a sign posted on the fence of that parking lot that tells you what station to tune your radio to so you can listen. It changes every now and then due to stronger signals from radio stations, but currently it’s at 101.1. You super plane geeks can determine which one of the many controllers that is from the AirNav page.

So, after my abbreviated work day (I overslept big time) and our company picnic (see, I said abbreviated!) I headed over to the parking lot and turned on the radio. I only had one thing to listen for - Boyfriend’s airline and flight number. Soon enough, I heard it. All flights coming in announce themselves, so it’s easy if you’re paying attention. I got to see Boyfriend’s flight land, taxi off the runway and all the way around the D Gates, where it disappeared from view, but only because I don’t have X-ray vision to see through the building. The gate was on the other side. But, I figured that by the time it made it to the gate, I should leave the parking lot and mosey on to the passenger pick-up area. Boyfriend still had a way to go - the 20 minute mad rush to deplane, a long walk through the terminal, a nice little tram ride, then utter chaos going through the baggage claim area towards passenger pick-up. I had plenty of time.

I got to passenger pick-up and cruised around a bit, keeping an eye out for Boyfriend. He’s pretty easy to spot. Not seeing him, and getting irritated with all the maroons driving around the parking area, I found myself a spot and walked over to the crosswalk. A quick phone call to Boyfriend revealed that he was just walking past the masses and heading towards the door, so I’d be able to see him in just a minute or two. I waited (im)patiently at the crosswalk until I was finally able to see him. Oh Happy Day!! I was thrilled to bits to have him back, and Boyfriend revealed how much he missed me too. (Awwww!) He said there was a woman sitting in the row in front of him who had hair similar to mine in color, cut, and even the amount of curl in it. He said it was tough to look at because he missed me so much. Isn’t he sweet? He’s gonna read this and get mad at me for making him out to be such a sap. Really, he’s not. He just blurts out “I love you” many times at random during the day and when I’m in another part of the house doing chores or blogging or something, he’ll come in just to give me a hug. Totally sweet, despite the very intimidating exterior.

So that’s it, Boyfriend’s back and we spent a very boring weekend doing nothing except enjoying each other’s company. And we are both very glad that we are not apart right now. Sappy, I know. Get used to it.

I used to be the epitome of independence. I did what I wanted, when I wanted. I celebrated being able to eat ice cream in my jammies and watch whatever I wanted on tv. I loved that I could come home and not have to deal with anyone else’s crap. I slept in the middle of a queen-sized bed. I had my girl beauty crap all over the bathroom and never worried about whether the toilet seat was up or down. And I did it by myself, without help. Even when the toilet overflowed or I needed something heavy moved. Anyone who’s ever lived alone as a single person knows what I’m talking about.

Because of the difficulty I had living with someone, or as I liked to call it, “preferring to live alone”, my old roommate told me that I would never be able to have a successful relationship. I told her that I lived with her out of financial necessity, not because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. And just because she annoyed the hell out of me didn’t mean that every single person on the planet would meet the same fate should the ever live with me.

Enter Boyfriend. We hit it off right away, I moved in even though I was scared about that big step. Even then, I held back, and my fear of being heartbroken manifested itself in my thinking that I needed to go home to the east coast, and that I wasn’t cut out for being in a relationship. Boyfriend was patient and helped me through that. Now, things are blissful. Seriously blissful. So blissful that it would make you sick if I started describing in detail how happy I am with Boyfriend. And though it may seem like I’m pouting about him being on his business trip and away from me, I find myself lost without him. Case in point: this morning I overslept for work. He doesn’t get me up for work, in fact he’s still snoring away when I leave in the morning. But rather than not wanting my alarm to wake him, I thought I’d take advantage of not having to be courteous in the morning and hit the snooze button. Except the snooze button was too busy snoozing and I ended up being 45 minutes late for work. So by not having him here, not having anyone that I want to be courteous for and not disturb, I overslept for work.

I’m not a totally inept co-dependent now. I just feel that without him here with me, a major part is missing. The bed is too big. The apartment is too quiet. It’s not right. Before I met him, I pretty much had myself convinced that I was going to be the little old woman who always lived independently. At least I didn’t have a cat, because that lonely old woman was not me. Being part of a pair is. Boyfriend comes home tomorrow, and I will feel complete again.

I really appreciate everyone’s feedback about some of the content in my sidebar. I’m glad that not only do you like what I’ve got here on my blog, but that I’m not seriously offending anyone with some of my innocently placed sidebar eye candy. I’m not so totally wrapped up in what people think about my blog, but if something small like that really bothers people, I will definitely consider changing it.

In other news, I am alone tonite. All by my lonesome, with no one to hold me. Boyfriend had go go on a business trip to a place with trees and mountains and rain. Lots of rain. He was so not thrilled about having to go, since he’s covering someone else’s vacation while his stuff gets all backed up at home. Sure makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it? So I dropped him off at the airport this morning on my way to work and will pick him up on my way home from work Friday. I have two whole nights by myself to hog the bed, snore, fart, burp, pick my nose, and do all those other things that I do when he’s around. Only it won’t be as much fun.

I read a post over at A Byootaful Life about why the bloggers, Katie and Puddy, might not like your blog. The reasons listed are more focused towards personal blogs, so I took an interest. On points #1-6, I’m definitely not guilty. On point #7 though, I am guilty. It says, “7. You Have Those Freaky Things on the Sidebar that Say Where I’m From”. I have that. I always thought it was kinda cool. I’m not so much into checking my stats regularly, so I don’t always know where you’re from, but I’m on my blog’s main page way more often that Google Analytics, and I have a pretty decent interest in geography, so I liked this feature.

Here’s what I have in the “About You” section on my left sidebar:

My stat counter. That stays, and it’s going to hit 10,000 sometime. I’d be a lot further along but for some reason my old stat counter quit on me and I had to get a new one. I now suspect it had to do with upgrading to what was formerly known as Blogger Beta and making my template beta-compliant. Same thing happened with my Google Analytics, which I recently discovered. Oh well. But I still want to watch that number grow.

A little blurb from IP2 Location. It’s a script that gets info from your IP address to show your location. I’m at home right now, and it says “Great, now people from LAS VEGAS are stalking me! Powered by IP2Location.com.” Depending on how Cox may be routing my connection, it might say HENDERSON and I’ve even seen it say NORTH LAS VEGAS even though I am nowhere near NLV. So, it does only show your location to you, because it doesn’t collect stats and I only ever see Las Vegas, Henderson or NLV. I am thinking of chucking this, but it has more to do with the script, and I am aware that I have a few scripts running, so if anyone has issues with any of them, please let me know.

ClustrMaps. I like seeing the map fill up with red dots. I was sorely disappointed when it reset itself to zero after a year had passed, as I was on my way and really wanted to see just one giant red blob. That sort of burst my map bubble, but it’s still there because I don’t dislike it enough to get rid of it.

10 Latest Visitor from MapStats. I do believe that this section in particular is what Katie was talking about. I like it, since it’s that whole geography/map geek thing going on again, but I can certainly understand where some people might be freaked out by it.

I don’t have a MyBlogLog visitor thingy or any of its lookalikes that show recent visitors - even though it’s a social networking thing that could be valuable to blog traffic, I just don’t care for looking at them. Not sure why, perhaps that one is just a bit too personal for me. On the other hand, knowing that one of my latest vistors is from Las Vegas could mean that I’ve read my own blog, or Boyfriend has, or a coworker, or a blogging friend that lives here in town but whom I’ve never met. So what do you think? Do any of these things freak you out? Let me know - let me know your thoughts on this and on sidebar content in general.

I went into work today feeling pretty much the same way I felt when I left Friday, except I was a lot more tired. I obviously was not wanting to be there. My brain kept spinning all day, trying to get through my mindless busy work and not have the day last 80 hours. I kept coming back to crafting. When I go into a craft store, I am drawn to the papers. There are such beautiful scrapbook papers, along with all sorts of other bits and bobs that go along with it. I love the handmade papers especially. But I don’t want to scrap. First of all, everyone else is doing it, and second of all, I prefer to display my photos in a more streamlined, less cute manner. Sorry for all you people who love scrapping and cute stuff, but it’s just not me, nor is jumping on the bandwagon. So while I don’t want to create scrapbook pages, I do see a lot of value in the items sold in the scrap stores.

What I have been drawn to in particular, for a long time, is collage. I love how a collage can have so many facets to it, that you can look at it over and over again and still keep discovering new aspects of it. But there’s only so much one can do on a flat surface, and I’d want to do something a bit more interesting in addition to more 2-dimensional things. So that brings me to assemblage art. - basically, collage in 3-D. If you’re looking for examples of it, you can also look up altered art or mixed media. Now this stuff can be interesting. It can also be very garish - does anyone remember the large doll wall art piece that Phoebe had on Friends? Yeah, I’m not looking to go there. But I want to do something. I love collecting little pieces of things, thinking that I could do something with them someday, though I’ve really curbed this habit because I never knew what to do with these things or where to put them in the meantime. But I want to create.

Adding to the inspiration are beautiful pieces that my imaginary internet friends like to create - such as the Convergence that Crowjoy has on her Etsy shop or the Midnight Moon Pendant that Pollyhyper created. I’m not so much into creating jewelry, I just don’t have the patience needed for crafting on such a small scale, but it just gives you an idea of all the possibilities. So I figured, perhaps I should try to make a few things, give them as gifts, and see where it goes from there. At worst, a couple people have some, um, lovely tchotchke handmade by moi. If all goes well it might spur me to put more time into my creations and even open an Etsy shop. But I shouldn’t get too far ahead of myself. One thing at a time.

Once the thought of doing a few of these for gifts and seeing how it goes from there got into my head, I was a lot calmer. There’s no guarantee for success, but it gives me a creative outlet. Don’t get me wrong - I love my blog, but it’s not exactly a tangible thing. And you may have noticed that I really enjoy participating in mix CD exchanges, and that’s satisfying, but not on the same level. So crafty it is.

I bought a book and a couple things after work today - some stickers and a sheet of scrap paper - to start implementing the ideas I had in my head. For my lab rats, I have two specific people in mind, and two very different themes, as these two people are on completely opposite ends of the spectrum as far as where their interests lie. It should be fun, and if the ideas work out the way I want them to and I end up with a completed object, I’ll be sure to post photos so everyone can check them out.

Thursday was Boyfriend’s birthday. He thinks he’s old, but really, he’s not, so he just needs to get over that. Anyway, I was absolutely forbidden to tell any of our friends that his birthday was coming up. He did not want a big deal made and did not want to be surprised. Well, I got around that, and without breaking any laws that he set for me. Hahahahahahahaha!

I may have mentioned that Boyfriend’s ex-gf was instrumental in getting us together. We are all friends, so that made it easy to plan things behind his back. A little over a month ago, we were all at a party and I had some time to chat with her. I asked her if she knew when Boyfriend’s birthday was, and she gave me the date, so I knew she had the right answer. I then told her that I was under no circumstances allowed to tell anyone about it. She got that ear-to-ear shit-eating grin on her face and said she had it covered. Ha! Now I was able to make a big deal about it without breaking any rules or doing much of anything in the way of planning. I knew the rest of our friends would run away with it, because that’s the kind of pals they are.

As for a more private celebration, I new there had to be a gift. I had a few ideas of what to get him, but wasn’t having much luck finding what I wanted. No worries, it still leaves me ideas for the holidays. Anyway, I was just checking one last store at the mall when I found a Pouring Shield for the Kitchen-Aid mixer. Boyfriend has a Kitchen-Aid, which if any of you have used one is the greatest stand mixer ever. Boyfriend likes to bake, but makes a horrible mess because food is always flying out of the bowl. The pouring shield prevents this, so his gift ended up being one of those utilitarian things that makes (my) life easier. (I’m the one who does the cleaning, but let me tell you, cleaning up last night after he made cookies was much less of an ordeal than cleaning up after he made pie a few weeks ago.)

Now don’t go thinking that I’m the kind of girlfriend who gifts The Greatest Boyfriend of All Time with a little hunk of plastic and calls it good. Oh, no. No, the next part of his gift was designed to make him deliriously happy. Since they say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, I took him out for dinner.

Before I go any further, let me tell you a few things about Boyfriend and me. I am from New England - suburban, bordering on rural. Adventurous eating is something that is just not done where I come from. I have an aunt and uncle who travel quite a bit and they eat weird stuff when they travel, and my step dad is known in the family to be a human garbage disposal. But other than that, our diets are really quite basic - the All-American, 1950’s Betty Crocker cookbook kinds of diets. Boyfriend, on the other hand, is from California. He eats weird stuff like avocados and sushi and other weird California stuff. So finding a happy medium is not always easy when either one of us is craving food from our respective back home area. Boyfriend thinks I don’t try enough new things (read: stuff he likes), but he’s slowly coming to the realization that I am one of the most adventurous eaters in my family and is starting to cut me some slack.

Back to dinner out. In the ultimate sacrifice of making my man happy on his birthday, I decided that I was going to choke down a piece of fish bait take him out for sushi. Boyfriend loves sushi, whereas I, coming from Massachusetts in particular, believe that there are only 2 ways to eat fish: beer-battered, deep fried and covered in ketchup, or baked/broiled/fried with lots of breadcrumbs and butter on the top. Either way it is served with a potato of some sort - either fries or baked/mashed. But do note that the fish is COOKED in both circumstances. Cooked in normal ingredients. Sushi, as most of you probably know, is raw fish wrapped in rice and seaweed and stuffed with other weird stuff like avocado, which seems to be in every freaking different kind of sushi there is. But no matter, it was going to make him happy for me to try it, so that is what I was going to do.

I was going to do a bit of a fake out on him by parking in the Red Lobster parking lot, which is next door to the fish bait sushi place that Boyfriend has mentioned. But before we got there, he figured it out, so dammit, fake-out cancelled. No matter. I had already done some reconnaissance on the place and saw that they had teriyaki bowls, so I would still have something to eat. We got there, sat down, and Boyfriend started going over the menu with me. There are some varieties that have cooked seafood in them, which was good since I am still completely repulsed by the thought of eating raw seafood. To me it’s on par with eating raw chicken or pork, so that was a no-go. Boyfriend selected some with cooked crab in it. Not a huge fan of crab on its own, but I suppose if I had committed to this, then that was it.

Let me tell you something else about sushi. When it arrives at your table, it is cut into bit-sized pieces. Well, bite-sized if you have a ginormous mouth like say, Julia Roberts, or you have a flip-top head like that cartoon guy in the Reach Toothbrush commercial. I do not have a huge mouth (no comments from the peanut gallery, please. I am talking about physical size here.) When I was getting braces on at the ripe old age of 16, I had to have not only my 4 wisdom teeth pulled, but also all 4 of my first bicuspids removed to make it all fit properly. My mouth is small. Individual pieces of sushi are not. They are not dainty, like the tiny 1-inch petit-fours you see on fancy dessert plates. No, they are huge 2-inch diameter rolls that are 1-inch high. How does one delicately shove it all in their mouth at one time? I didn’t want to appear that I was spewing sushi all over the table for any reason. I wanted to be polite and eat it all and actually have it go down. The giant piece was not going to do, so I cut it in half. I put it on my fork (because by now it would have fallen apart had I attempted to use chopsticks), and held it in front of my face for about 10 minutes before I finally got up the nerve to just shove it in.

It was not terrible. It wasn’t great, either. The crab meat was a bit overwhelming, and the rest of it didn’t leave much of an impression on me either way. Boyfriend had a look on his face that was mostly amused and of course totally in love with me for doing this for him. I finished chewing it and chased it with large amounts of Diet Coke, and ate some teriyaki, which, by the way, was really not that good. After a short time I finally got up the nerve to try the other half. This one didn’t have as much crab meat in it, so I thought it would be easier, but no, I was wrong. This one had a giant blob of cream cheese in it. Have I mentioned that I hate cream cheese? So this piece was worse because of that vile, tangy substance gluing itself to the deepest reaches of my mouth and refusing to budge. A refill on my Diet Coke finally fixed that.

The rest of the evening was really awesome, since it was more natural and I really had nothing to do with it (other than putting the pieces in place that allowed the cat to let itself out of the bag). We met our friends at our usual Thursday night gathering. There were a lot more people there than usual, and the vibe was really great, which is just not something that can be planned. One of our friends brought a cake, a delicious black forest cake, and we talked and laughed and had a great time. I really couldn’t have done a better job, because like I said, the vibe of the evening was really natural. On the way home I told Boyfriend how I got Ms. X in on it, and he was quite impressed with my sneaky, devious nature while still following his wishes.

So that was it - I ate sushi, and it wasn’t terrible. Boyfriend thinks I like it, because he says my face gave me away. I wouldn’t go that far. I might try it again, perhaps in a better quality place that has really good teriyaki, but I can assure you, like all Asian and Asian-inspired foods, it will not be something that I crave. But I ate it, and I did it because I love my Boyfriend and wanted him to have the bestest birthday ever. I don’t know if it was the best birthday ever, but he did say that it was a very good birthday, so mission accomplished.

An extremely inebriated me, courtesy of Boyfriend’s birthday present of Grey Goose Vodka. Boyfriend keeps laughing at me for some odd reason. Anyway…

I went into work feeling pretty good today. First of all, it’s Friday, so that in itself is a good thing. Plus, I was still high from the success of Boyfriend’s birthday celebration last night. Yes, his birthday was yesterday, but I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. I still managed to pull it off. I’ll detail that in another post, though - hopefully tomorrow.

Anyway, I’m at work, doing the menial shit that I do, and something happens to burst my bubble. On the one hand, I like my job because I do mindless busy work all day. I’m very good at mindless busy work, and it’s very low stress. On the other hand, I have to deal with my superiors who I feel don’t really know my full value. I am constantly questioned about how much work I have to do and how I’m keeping up with it. Here’s a hint - my inbox is empty. I always have things that people ask for - if I couldn’t produce these things, I wouldn’t be doing my job. It’s that simple. My desk is not a mess. So what’s the problem? Apparently, because I am in a clerical position, I am not supposed to have an IQ of over 80. Now, I’ve not been professionally evaluated, but various online quizzes, both simple and in-depth, put my IQ at around 125. So it’s not that I’m overqualified for my job. Well, maybe just a little bit. But I’m way over intelligent for my job. This is where the problem lies.

I have never really been in a job that I haven’t done extremely well at. But I also haven’t really been in a job that I’ve been really passionate about. Talking with most people, Boyfriend included, I get the idea that it doesn’t matter so much about what the job is or how much I like it, as long as the paycheck has lots of zeros on it I should be happy. Well, that’s not me. I want enough to pay the bills, sure, and enough to do a few things outside of work that I want to do, like eat and maybe buy a CD once in awhile, but the paycheck is not what I live for. Think about it. If I’m going to spend most of my waking time working, shouldn’t I enjoy that work? Shouldn’t I get some sort of satisfaction from that job beyond my bank deposits? I think so. So why is it that despite the fact that I am good at nearly everything I have tried thus far, I do not like most of it?

Take retail, for example. Retail jobs vary wildly in what is being sold and the clientele that the product or service is being sold to. I know that I do not care at all for commission positions. No matter how much I like the product, knowing that there are quotas that I need to meet kind of kill the passion for me. But knowing my product, knowing it well and enjoying it to some degree are all things I like, as are making the customer happy with that knowledge. But everyone knows that retail hours suck, as does the pay. Unless you are in management, in which case you get much better money and way more regular hours, but you don’t get to work with the customers as much unless you are the last ditch effort to placate them. So that kills retail for the most part.

I got burned out on retail, so I decided to get into office work. I started with a temp agency and kinda floated my way around the admin assistant world, where I still wander aimlessly. I like admin work to a certain degree. I like being the indespensible person who is the “glue that holds the office together.” (I think one of my old bosses said that once, when I worked for a graphic design firm.) I like being the one, a la Jennifer on WKRP in Cincinnati, who doesn’t seem to do much of anything but has the office totally fall apart when not there.

I also noticed that I like being in a somewhat creative environment, which allows me to be my regular wacky (though somewhat closeted wacky) self. I wrote about more creative desires a few months back. My feelings haven’t changed much. I still have very creative inspirations, however pent-up they may be. I have creative desires, though I don’t know much what I want to do with them. I like fabrics, because it’s a very tactile thing. I would love to sew my own clothes and have everyone ask who the designer is - not be that person who looks so obvious that they only know one pattern when they sew their own stuff. I like paper crafts - not scrapbookking so much, because those who know me know how I feel about jumping on the popularity bandwagon. I feel more drawn to cardmaking and collage stuff. I like little bits and bobs, and scraps of stuff and imagining how they will all go together - and this is where I get stuck. I can’t quite seem to turn the ideas that are in my head into a tangible object that someone might actually want, and maybe, just maybe, even want to pay money for.

Right now I am working in the finance department of a big company, whose name and industry shall remain nameless for the sake of my job security. I am a clerk. Myself and one other clerk that I work closely with are the lowest common denominators in the entire finance department, as far as I can tell. Everyone else does actual finance stuff. I am still there on a temp-to-perm basis, and going perm would be nice. The company has good benefits of which I would like to take advantage. They have educational reimbursement, and ever since the hell of setting up a company in Quickbooks, like I did in my previous job despite the lack of any accounting education or real experience, I found that accounting would be a safe and practical vocation to get into. So the plan is to stay where I’m at, get shit on daily, and eventually get hired so I can actually take advantage of their benefits. I’ll get my accounting degree on their dime, already have my foot in the door and be friends with everyone in the department so I can learn as much as possible, and then, um, do something with the degree. Not sure yet. Accounting bored me silly in college, but that was all classroom and no practical experience. Now I find I am good at it when I can put it into practice, and like it ok, but there are so many facets to accounting. Cost? A/P? A/R? Corporate taxes? Personal taxes? Audit? Revenue? General Ledger? Which one do I choose and why? Do I fall into one because the job is offered or will one of those actually hit me in the head and say, “Hey, shithead, THIS is the facet of the accounting world that you will excel at, be deliriously happy at, and make lots of money at!” I just don’t see that happening. So how do I get myself psyched up for that kind of career?

I read at Aurelius’s New Direction today a post entitled What’s Your Specialty? I swear, someone out there is reading my mind, or at least living a parallel life to mine. I have not specialized in anything. I started working retail because that’s what most kids in high school and college do to earn some cash. It was ok, and I stayed at it even after I graduated college. College, by the way, was a study in existence rather that goal-achieving. I started out as a candidate for an assiociate’s degree in interior design, based on my monthly spending on interior decorating magazines and books and lack of spending on fashion magazines. I drank too much first semsester and stumbled around a bit. Second semester, I decided to major in the only class I passed - business. Small business management, to be exact. Good skills to have, if you know what kind of business you want to run. But along with business came balance sheet and accounting stuff that I couldn’t grasp as long as it was conceptual and not practical. So after bullshitting my way through an English Lit final, I convinced myself along with the professor that I wanted to be an English teacher. I finished up my last two semester of the two-year college as a Liberal Arts major, transferred to a four-year school as a double English/education major, and all of a sudden - I felt like I was in the wrong life. So very wrong, it was overwhelming and my life had taken on this echo-like outside looking in feeling, like I had been reincarnated in the wrong life. So I quit school and continued on with my supermarket retail life.

Now, where was I? Oh yeah. How the hell do you people do it, day in and day out? Are you passionate about your jobs, or more passionate about the paychecks? I have a theory that people who bring home the bacon in a big way do actually really like what they do. Either that or they like being a miserable, backstabbing ass just so they can get ahead in whatever their mind determines to be ahead, but that’s not me. I want to be happy. I just haven’t figured out how to do that, at least career-wise, without losing what I already have. I can’t afford to take a step backwards. I still have bills to pay. I want to really enjoy my time at work as much as I enjoy my time off work, and I don’t want to do that with any mind-numbing, zen like exercises that my Dad taught me, the same ones he uses to deal with my stepmother and other idiots in his life. No, I want organic on the job happiness, enough of a paycheck to live off of and be able to adequately enjoy my off time, and perhaps another drink.

If you are a list freak, check out 1001 Lists You Must Read Before You Die.

Inspired by a thread at ADL.

In the past year, I have made a bunch of good friends. I got in a wreck and got a new car, experienced the misery that is a cast to fix a broken bone. I met my premature niece, who decided to make her grand entrance two months early, but when I was relatively nearby. I changed jobs a few times and got into one I like, and most importantly I met and moved in with the most wonderful, awesomely best man in the world.

In the past 2 days, on the other hand, I have not been feeling too well. I think I’ve been having a very low grade but persistent upper respiratory infection. Driving over the Sierras last week brought hellish pain to my ears, which is a bit unusual, and today I’ve been having slight bouts of dizziness. I left work early and slept most of the day. The slight stuffiness, fatigue and such I can deal with, the dizziness and ear pain that make me take unpaid time off from work - not so much. OTC decongestants have been helping, and hopefully it goes away soon.

Why is it that when you have a vacation, the week after is total crap? I mean, I didn’t have a totally crappy week (except for the damn soda explosion), but it wasn’t very satisfying personally. Monday after work I slept, because I was dead tired and needed a nap. Boyfriend and I couldn’t get our groove on as far as food goes, so we didn’t eat all that well. And Friday, of all nights, I was dead by 9pm. Nine! I was snoring on the sofa way to early for a Friday night.

The weekend was better. Saturday I finally got some stuff unpacked. Remember, I move in with Boyfriend back in May, but I never unpacked most of it because I had a few issues to work through and it was just too freaking hot. Who wants to schlep boxes up the stairs when it’s 115F outside? Not I. So they sat, until yesterday. I brought up some more clothes, all my hangers to hang them on, my file cabinet so I can clean off my desk, my candles (which somehow survived being in the garage in that heat), one box of stuff for my desk, which actually gets stored in a cabinet I have, along with my other bed pillow and my blanket that I like to use when I get a bit chilly. Not a lot of stuff in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a start. For starters, the bedroom closet now looks like I live here. And while I was downstairs I re-organized the rest of the boxes so that like items are together. I have 5 boxes of books, which are easy to unpack once I actually get them up the stairs, and there’s a bunch of kitchen stuff. Boyfriend and I have to go through that, go through his, and pick out the best of the best. Other things, like decor, just aren’t getting unpacked as long as we live in this tiny apartment.

Today, after a long, leisurely brunch with some friends, Boyfriend and I took a quick look at a new housing development. They’re all over town, so it’s easy to find one. We didn’t really like the layouts of the homes we viewed, except one, but that particular builder used some materials we thought were inferior. It did give us a chance to talk about what we wanted in a house, and it was exhilarating to know that for over 95% of it, we are on the same page. So buying a house, while not immediately in the future, is a goal that we both have. This tiny apartment will not suffice forever.

As it is now 11pm and I seem to have lost an hour (more or less) surfing the web and catching up with all your posts, I’ll leave you all for now. I hope to be back sometime this week for more fun in the life of me.

It is way too late to put together a proper blog post, but I do want to let you know that despite the lack of comments from me on your blogs, I have read them and am finally caught up. I love my vacations, but I need some decompression time before going back to work. It’s that much harder to get anything done when I see 80 new posts in my reader.

My sister sent me pictures of the baby. She turns 1 in exactly a month, but the pictures are older, since she’s been meaning to send me some for awhile now. And the pics are all close-ups of the baby’s face, so other than a 4×6 photo of my niece’s face, I have no idea what she looks like. When I go to visit at Thanksgiving, I’ll bring my camera (not the lovely one that Boyfriend has) and try to teach my sister the artistic merits of perspective.

And taking a weekend off apparently means I have two extra loads of laundry to do, even though we didn’t use any more clothing than usual, but I now have twice as much laundry. Whatever. I just need to fold what’s done and get it off the bed so I can go to bed. I’m tired now. Good night.

Boyfriend and I left the house as soon as I got home from work Friday. We had already packed, and since we are getting really good at this last minute road trip stuff, we didn’t have any running around to do (well, except for food - Boyfriend didn’t really eat lunch). By the time we make it out of Las Vegas Friday afternoon rush hour traffic, it’s a bit after 5pm. Not bad at all.

We started heading up US-95 towards Reno. Now, once you get past the turnoff for Pahrump, it’s a 2-lane highway all the way to Reno. All 300 or so miles. And there’s little else. A few towns here and there, not exactly large towns either. Since I started driving, and I hate driving that kind of road in the dark, Boyfriend and I switched seats at Goldfield. But before we did that, we managed to get a great view of the road at sunset:

Last time we drove US 95, it was on the way back from San Francisco, taking the scenic route through the Sierras and Reno. It was a dark night with no moon, and the narrow, unlit, 2-lane highway was scary, for me at least. The big black void was too much for me, since I couldn’t see a damn thing beyond my headlights. And beautiful Walker Lake? At least on this most recent trip we had a nearly full moon, and I could see the water just fine.

The Reno area was a lot colder than the weather we left in Las Vegas. It was in the 30s and threatening to snow. So much so that Boyfriend was worried about our trip over the Sierras the next day. I-80 in California has this silly little thing that if there’s snow on the ground, regardless of road conditions, all vehicles must chain up. Lucky for us, the snow moved out and it all disappeared, so no chains required.

In Reno, Boyfriend made reservations at the Peppermill Reno. I don’t know what, if any, preconceived notions any of you might have about Vegas, at least those who haven’t been here. The Peppermill is Tacky Vegas personified. Mirrored ceilings in the casino, colorful neon everywhere, and a tackfully decorated room with not one but two rows of strip lights circling the room. The wallpaper was something out of a vintage 70s floral collection, and the wall behind the bed was encased in a mirror with a smoky tint to it:

Saturday saw us out on the road a bit early to drive 1 hour back towards Vegas to Fallon, so Boyfriend could do a work thingy, then back to Reno for another work thingy. The Reno one pissed him off because the person was late and kept giving Boyfriend the run around. But work stuff got done, then we were on our way to San Francisco. We stayed in the same hotel as last time, due to its proximity to both the city and the ease at which we could get out of the city. But I can’t leave the Peppermill without telling you all about one more super tacky thing we saw - a car at the valet. A Porsche at the valet. A Smurf-blue Porsche at the valet. Not really the right color for a car of that caliber. But it seemed to fit in there just fine.

We went to meet some of Boyfriend’s Silly Little Game friends for dinner. I’d met one of them before, so it was a comfortable evening - none of that awkward “OMG what if his friends don’t like me” stuff. Been there, done that. Instead, it was some awkward “what if I don’t like it” out to eat stuff. We went to the famed Benihana restaurant. We’ve all seen it in the movies - it’s the place where you sit at a table with a bunch of people you don’t know and the chef shows off while cooking your food right there at the table.

Now, those who know me know that I am one of the pickiest people alive when it comes to what I’ll eat. In foreign cuisines, I’ll usually pick out one or maybe two things that I can tolerate and stick with those. I don’t do fungus, and I most definitely don’t do cold fish, especially if it’s raw. So no sushi. Just - no. Gross. I can’t even stomach the thought of uncooked seafood passing my lips. Just not gonna happen. So, I know Boyfriend, who thinks I need to open my mind when it come to cuisine, really wants me to try sushi. Too bad everyone else scarfed it down before I had a chance to muster up the courage. Ha ha you! The rest of the meal, on the other hand, was excellent. The chef was supposed to put on a fancy show out of cooking our food, but with our reservations being at 9pm, he was all out of personality by then, so we got excellent food with a lackluster show. There is so much food! Japanese onion soup, which was yummy (I waded my way around the mushrooms in it), fried rice, shrimp appetizers which were excellent even though I rarely like shrimp, then the meal. I got the Filet Mignon and lobster. OMG. Just OMG. It was that good. Top it all off with some Japanese style grilled onions and zucchini, and wow. And zucchini is another one of those things that I rarely like.

Sunday we wanted to be out at a reasonable hour, since we planned on driving down the coast before heading back. California Highway 1 has got to be one of the most scenic roads I have ever been on. A bit harrowing to drive in sections, but if you can have someone else drive while you look, it’s awesome. Thanks to my wonderful, awesome, most wicked bestest Boyfriend in all the land, I got my fill of Pacific coast scenery. We passed over the famous Bixby Bridge, took some photos, and started to head home after we got down past San Simeon somewhere. This is where the adventure truly began. But first, some scenery:

That’s the Bixby Creek Bridge taken from afar. The best pics are taken from out on the water, but we couldn’t drive there, obviously. Anyway, the adventure part. After we got out of the winding road area in Big Sur, I drove for awhile. Not very long though. Our GPS unit was going to help us get home on the quickest route possible. It routed me through a town, I missed a stop sign but didn’t get caught, and started following the directions. Until I saw a sign indicating that the next services were 84 miles away and I had a quarter tank of gas left. I didn’t recall seeing gas stations in the tiny town we just passed, so Boyfriend asked GPS where the nearest one was. That thing is pretty nifty. Except when it gets you lost. That thing led us down California Highway 229.

Now, let me tell you a few things about CA 229. It is not a highway. It is not a way at all, really. It is a one lane - ONE! - road that twists and turns its way past some ranches, until it finally opens up into a two lane road and brings you to another rural road somewhere. California wanted it to feel special so it gave the road some state money and a special number. Back where I come from these are called back roads, and they know to stay the fuck off of your road map. They know better. California highways, on the other hand, are all self-important, trying to bolster up the little guy and give it way more self-esteem than it should have. And they end up getting you lost.

The GPS had us turn off CA 229, onto some other road, then had us make a left onto some dirt road, where there was supposed to be a Texaco station on the corner. Maybe 75 years ago, but not today. Boyfriend laughed, but I was close to tears. It was so funny in a way that’s really not. Luckily, once we tore the GPS a new anoos and asked for a different gas station, it got us out of the middle of nowhere and to a gas station. Once we fueled up, the rest of the trip was long, dark, and uneventful. We arrived home at 12:30am, where I proceeded to collapse into bed, only to wake up 4 hours later for work.