The Eternal Optimist

While I can be somewhat cynical, I realized this weekend that deep down inside I'm still at least part optimist. I'm reminded of that line in Hitch where she's 'a realist masquerading as a cynic who is secretly an optimist'. I'd typically choose the word realist for myself, but on Sunday I rediscovered my inner optimist.

I had an impressive pile of ironing accumulating, so Sunday afternoon I settled in for some quality time with my midget-sized ironing board and Cinderella (the animated version). Twelve shirts, three skirts and four pairs of slacks later I watched Cinderella cling blissfully to the prince just after they fell in love during a single moonlit dance. (On a realistic note, I'd personally want to at least see how the guy fares in daylight before expressing the sentiment - but apparently Prince Charming was just THAT good.) The clock tolls twelve, and she completely freaks out - at which point I think WAIT! If the guy's TRULY in love with you, he won't CARE that in about thirty seconds you'll be transformed back into the scullery maid and your servants are about to undergo some horrifyingly freakish conversion! JUST STAY THERE! Spare yourself the angst of being locked in the west tower while your one chance at happiness rests in the hands of 2 mice...one of which is arguably mentally delayed!

I've only seen the movie about a zillion times, yet there I sat...unable to iron o(r move for that matter) willing Cinderella to explain herself to the Prince with everything in me. I watched and hoped she'd wise up before fleeing down those stairs. (Without tripping, by the way. In glass heels. Had this been my fairy tale I'd have lost the slipper, tumbled down 3 flights and broken a leg before hobbling home. The girl's talented.)

I guess the upside to becoming so emotionally invested in a fairy tale is that I ultimately get to witness the happy ending and celebrate all over again with her.

I'm such a dork.

The ironing still isn't complete, but the pile has been reduced to a manageable height. With that admission I'm off to check some more things off of my 'to do' list before I lose all motivation. Happy Tuesday!

Dear 2009

So far I am not a fan.

Yours Truly,
Stacie

Karma's A Bitch

The biggest I know, as a matter of fact.

I took off on Christmas Eve to travel home. Just a few days after publishing that last blog, I found myself in the security line at DIA...wishing that people traveling with children under age 8 were required to fly a designated airline. Or at least stand in their own security queue.

Anyhow, I managed to maneuver myself into a line that was blissfully child free, only to get held up behind a woman who set the metal detector off 5 times. Each time she'd lift her arms, look around, go back and try again. She finally lifted her sweater enough to reveal an ass COVERED in rhinestones. It looked like someone had taken a Bedazzler and gone to town on her pockets. Part of me stared lasers through the back of her head.....and the rest of me tried to rationalize with the violent part, reasoning that it was really my own fault. Had I not vented about that VERY thing 2 days prior, she would have worn perfectly normal jeans. Karma...

Aside from the screaming children seated in front of, behind and across the aisle from me, the flight was relatively uneventful. (I won't even get started on the kids...) Suffice it to say that our descent began just as I was considering clawing my eyes out with the swizzle stick from my bloody mary. Once we were close enough to make out the mutlicolored irrigation circles I started to get excited. Being back in West Texas is comforting in a way that is impossible to grasp unless you've spent time there. Miranda Lambert got it right when she penned the lyrics 'The Texas sky's the biggest one I've seen...' At first glance, the scattered pumpjacks on empty pastures and fields of red sand (seasonally white with cotton) don't really seem impressive. It actually earned me the nickname "Desert Wasteland Girl" from a few friends. However, there's something about the sky that makes you feel like you can breathe again. (As long as we're not having a dirt storm)

In any case, it was good to be home. It was even better to be with family and to get to see a few friends and (of course) the boy with whom I spend essentially all of my free time on the phone. :) Christmas was pleasant, and it was time to come back all too soon. Thankfully, I had a travel companion to keep me occupied on the trip. As an added bonus, I ran in to my good friend Christie in the Dallas-Love Airport while we were making our connection. I actually sort-of hijacked her plane...but that's another story, and I've already spewed way too much on here for today.

Happy New Year!

I Firmly Believe

...that glitter eyeshadow should not be worn past a certain age. For me, that age was about fifteen. And that's being generous. I'm not talking about anything that the word 'shimmer' might describe. I'm talking chunky, glittery eyeshadow. The type that comes in those $5.00 halloween clown kits and makes you look as though you just crawled out of a heap of kindergarteners armed with rubber cement and sparkly plastic sprinkles. All costumes aside, what is it about glitter that makes someone think it belongs on their eyes? Isn't that dangerous? One stray flake and your retinas are toast! I could only consider it attractive if your intent is to catch a Bass. Just plunge your head about a foot beneath the surface and you'd easily be mistaken for a fishing lure. It's probably an unrecognized genius fishing strategy.

I feel similarly about pants with words like 'hot' or 'sexy' plastered across the butt. ESPECIALLY in rhinestones. Or rhinestones in general, for that matter. I'm just not a fan -- I don't think it sends a good message. I've got my own ideas about what I think it says about a person and I can't imagine that anyone would willingly send any part of that to the general public....especially via their own ass.

Eggnog Latte

Coffee and I have an interesting relationship. I rarely drink it, so when I do it has the intended effect. After lunch today I was so sleepy that the likelihood of falling asleep on an open box of pipette tips had me conjuring images of the various honeycomb patterns such an incident might transfer to my forehead. I was caught up on my work, and decided that sampling the new holiday variety latte wouldn't be a bad idea......although it probably wasn't exactly a good idea, either. Sometimes coffee works a little too well with me. Especially when the coffee is eggnog flavored and I suck three quarters of it down in about five minutes. Then my body gets all hyped and my mind starts making leapfrog jumps from one thought to the next at ninety eight thousand miles an hour. Today matters were complicated by the fact that I had very little to do this afternoon.

Without work to keep my brain occupied I found myself locked in on Sesame Street. I work with a man who bears a striking resemblance to the Count. One of my coworkers actually made this observation a while back but it resurfaced this afternoon in my caffeine induced state. His native language is Arabic, so I think it would be great to see how much his accent and delivery of the "one two three, one two three..." line would contribute to the persona. While I'm on it, that has got to have been the easiest/most entertaining job ever. Being a Sesame Street character. Awesome. This thought then led to a mental perusal of the entire Sesame Street cast looking for an identity to match each of the people I work with. I didn't have much success, with the exception of Norm. Although his appearance isn't too terribly similar, Norm reminds me of Oscar the Grouch. ESPECIALLY when he's wearing one of those green paper lab coats and peering at me over the top rim of his glasses. Perhaps if I could get a picture of him on one of those Magna Doodles, then draw in a unibrow and cover his male pattern baldness with some fuzzy green magnetic shavings... Yes. Brilliant.

I then remembered watching Sesame Street when I had my tonsils taken out in the hospital. I shared a room with a kid who always had a red Kool-Ade mustache. Kool-Ade has kind of been ruined for me since coming to work here. Well, the red kind anyway - which is the only kind I ever liked. I sit next to a big plastic jug of blood waste every day that looks just like a big plastic jug of Kool-Ade. Except I know better. And it has floaties. Just ruined it for you too, didn't I?

Speaking of drinks, where is my eggnog flavored liquid crack? I wanted to suck down the last quarter and see what depths my delirium could reach before 4:30. It's in my boss's office....where he's having a meeting with a sales rep of some sort. Boo.

I then wondered what my boss might think if he knew how I was spending my time on the clock. To be fair, I'd been caught up on all of my work all day. AND spent two hours researching work-related information. Maybe he'd still be perturbed. Maybe he'd simply wonder why all of my excellent references failed to mention my severe hyperactivity and apparent lack of anything that might resemble an attention span.

Maybe I'll stick to plain ol' sugar from now on, unless I really need it.

*Sigh* Oh KAY

So maybe I lied. I'm on my way out to Boulder with a friend for lunch and shopping. I'll TRY to be good, but there are no guarantees. They have a Peppercorn and home grown spice shop and all kinds of cute jewelery, for Pete's sake! Cut me some slack!

Maybe I'll have some fun hippie sightings. More to come...

Paper and Ribbon

I love Christmas. My bank account does NOT love Christmas. However, I have sworn that (aside from the 3 stocking stuffers I have yet to purchase) I am FINISHED Christmas shopping! I'm not allowed to spend any more money. Besides, I don't think I can fit any more boxes in my suitcase when I fly back home for the holidays.

I wrapped the last of my gifts last night and they're sitting all shiny and beautiful under the tree, absorbing the magic of Christmas untill the 25th!

Happy holiday season!!