Wednesday, January 30, 2008

I love tax refunds!

Gigi and I are going to Ireland! Seriously! We got it stuck in our heads earlier today and decided to bite the bullet and just go for it. We leave next week and are going to spend another week exploring the country. So, so excited! Now, if only Gigi can find her passport before it's time to go . . . :)

Saturday, January 26, 2008

one part vodka

Julie - my super organized, in charge cousin - has done a lot of the initial party planning work. Perhaps my getting-started contribution will be to develop a new "party planner" cocktail. Hmmmmm. Yes. I like that idea. Luckily I have just the thing I need to get started on my "getting-started" drink . . . nothing like a pretty bottle of Vox waiting for you in your freezer to get your creative juices flowing:)

three (yes THREE) beef mexi-melts, please

Tonight I went to a dive bar at the edge of Dallas.

I was told by a man who asked me to two-step that if I took off my glasses and got rid of my ponytail that I would be "one sexy woman."

The next guy who shanghai-ed me into a dance said he had "a thing for girls who wore glasses."

Later in the evening I was approached by a woman on the dance floor who said "You're pregnant, right?"

Thank God for Taco Bell.

Friday, January 25, 2008

pot pies before pot heads

My beloved coffee maker and I are friends again. Turns out she just needed some loving care by way of a really dedicated and intense cleaning. My nerves were humming during the grind cycle but all went very, very well. No explosive coffee-grounds-everywhere moment, no tedious time spent removing renegade grounds from the final product. Just one exceptionally good cup of coffee.

Don't you just love the simple things in life that give you a moment of happiness that comes without a price? Actually, sometimes there is a price or consequence. But it's not always something you're necessarily obligated to pay. Know what I mean? For example, I slept in ridiculously late this morning because every time I woke I was then lulled back to sleep by the sound of rain falling outside my bedroom window. Do you know how many mornings during my life that I've had to kick myself out of bed in the morning to that same sound? When all I wanted to do was snuggle deep into my bed and enjoy the moment. Today I snuggled back in. No place I had to be. It was a gift I gave myself. You could argue that half my day is wasted and that I could have come up with a better use of my time. You could argue that I payed a price for that moment of happiness. Argue away. Because I'm not paying up. I don't have to. I've decided this morning was a freebie.

Why don't people throw dinner parties anymore? Maybe they do and I'm just not invited? Invite me! I love a good dinner party. ( Julie, I'm completely serious about co-hosting the ultimate dinner party with you soon!) Or a really fun cocktail party. Ok, maybe just parties in general? My favorite kind of party is definitely one where I am the hostess-with-the-mostess. I love entertaining people in my home. If I lived in a place bigger than a postage stamp I would throw parties every other week! Some would be super casual - chili and my mom's beer bread on a cold winter night. Some could be themed. In med school I invited all my friends over for Chicago deep dish pizza and then we walked down the street to the movie theater and watched the musical "Chicago." I know y'all wish you had been invited:) And some could be very swank and grown up - I do, after all, have my very own signature cocktail. I think this compulsion to entertain stems from throwing the best sleepovers in Warrensburg as a kid. Nat, you know it's true. Firetruck, firetruck, firetruck . . . :)

A year ago last September I went to Ville Platte,LA with Ian for the first time. The trip was memorable for many reasons but the thing that will still stick out when I'm 82 and reminiscing on my life is Miss Liz's chicken pot pie. I dream about that pot pie. Seriously. Since then I'd been able to experience it's joy many other times. After my initial introduction, Ian was then obligated to share anytime his mom sent him home with a couple of pies. But when Ian moved to Atlanta I thought my supply was cut off. You may be thinking that I'm sounding very much like an addict right now. Fine, judge me. But you've never had Miss Liz's chicken pot pie. You just don't know. Sometime during the past year Ian and I shared the pot pie experience with Gigi and she became similarly entranced. However, instead of mourning the loss of our supply line she decided to try to recreate the pie's wonder. Miss Liz was kind enough to offer her instruction and she got to work. She made two and the first was enjoyed right away. Not exactly the same (Miss Liz, you're irreplaceable!) but actually really,really good. The second we've been saving in the back of Geege's freezer. Earlier this week we decided that it was time to bring it back to life. We'd planned on consuming it last evening, necessitating freezer removal on Wednesday evening. I did not eat chicken pot pie last night. Because someone thought that a date with a boy trumped dinner preparation. Obviously, she was wrong.

There is something seriously wrong with my left upper eyelid. It has been feeling, I don't know, sort of off for the last few days. I had spent a crazy amount of time examining it in the mirror for any abnormality. I saw nothing. Was beginning to suspect that I was either 1) crazy or 2) finally succumbing to a severe case of hypochondria. But this morning I was vindicated. When I finally dragged myself out of bed I noticed that my left eye was incredibly painful and nearly swollen shut. And you know what? I was actually happy. Because, despite a previous lack of evidence, I was right. There was something wrong with my (psychic?) eyelid. Unfortunately this short lived moment of happiness came with a price that even I can't avoid: I look like I came out on the losing end of a fight. Seriously. In fact, you all should be terribly impressed with me right now. I typed this entire blog with the use of only my right eye. Wow. Maybe I am crazy after all.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Title: Gigi is a pimp.

Tonight at Karaoke Gigi started a new career as a pimp. She has decided that it is taking all together too long to get her Texas medical license. As a result, she has decided on a vocational change. And she's chosen to be a pimp.

More details to follow . . . :)

Monday, January 21, 2008

city girl gone country


Was remiss in not providing a picture of Gigi all Haller-ed up in a spare pair of gum boots:) Decided while I'm here to share some extras . . .




Happy MLK Day!

I was terribly disappointed by the lack of snow on my recent visit home. They had a pretty substantial storm shortly before my arrival. In fact the runway at KCI still showed evidence of it.

Can I digress for just a moment? There was a golf cart sized vehicle near the gate with a snowplow attached. It was, fascinatingly, snowplowing. Surely this was not the sole plow available? But it was oh-so comical to see it plowing along with miles of snow-covered runway dwarfing it even further from it's actual size:)

Maybe you had to be there?

I'll move on.

Anyway, frustrating lack of snowfall. The cold was there for portions of my trip. Which made Toastyville very welcoming! But, no snow. Then the temperature started to climb. When Geege came to visit (with visions of snow covered fields and promises of the best sledding around) the temperature actually hit 70 one afternoon. Not the Missouri winters of my childhood for sure. The advantage? Lots of great outdoor time without all the inhibiting layers.

I went fishing with my dad - nothing like eating fresh fish you just dressed and brought home! Went on some long walks, checking out all the change effecting the 'burg. Even spent a day out on the farm with my grandma, my mom, and Gigi. We hiked all over the place - to the lake, down to the branch, through the Bushwhacker's cemetery. It was a beautiful day and perfectly concluded with a impromptu weeny-roast in my parent's back yard!

Haven't posted any pics in a while so think I'll share some from that day . . .


Sunday, January 20, 2008

And Gigi said: "Sounds like a blog."

I'm getting fat, I'm unemployed, my car is dead, and I still don't have any hot water. Luckily, I have retained my sunny disposition:)

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Warning. Angry tirade below.

Last night I met up with a couple of friends I used to work with. During the course of our evening we were approached by people at the neighboring table who wanted my assistance in settling a bet. The bet? Me. Or, at least, it pertained to me. They wanted to know how old I was. I told them and apparently made the guy's night. While the girl at the table said she thought I was 25, the guy had accurately guessed 30. I was surprised. No one ever chooses 30. Whether it's because I don't look it or it's because most people know you're supposed to underestimate a woman's age out of politeness I'm not sure. Regardless, I was curious how this random guy had pegged me. So, I asked him. He said it wasn't because I looked 30 (this statement then followed by a too-little-too-late platitude about me looking like I was 22), he said I acted 30.

Later that same night I was asked (by the same random guy) how come I didn't have a boyfriend. This question was quickly followed by a "I mean, you're a doctor." Just who was feeding this guy all his information anyway? Lynette? You talk way too much sweetie.

Still later that night (I really need to start going to bed at 10pm) "Random" made another appearance to offer me his phone number in case I might want to enjoy his company at a later time.

Yeah.

Right.

Let me begin my tiradal response to the evening's activities by asking "What the HELL did he mean when he said I acted 30?" How does one act 30? Most often when someone refers to a person acting a certain age it is not of a complimentary nature. For example: Stop that, you're acting 12. Or: Come on, you're acting like you're 72 or something. You know what I mean. Acting 30? Umph. (Polly: please insert your own audio here, it's your signature response!)

And, the boyfriend question? I hate, hate, HATE that question. I mean, come on. Do people really expect you to have an answer to that? Something like, "Well I did until yesterday but then I had to kill him because he kept asking me stupid questions." Why? Buddy, I don't know why. But thanks for highlighting it for me. Oh and P.S.? What the hell does me being a doctor have to do with it?

So, thanks so much Mr Random for the super-appealing offer for more stimulating conversation with you. But I think I'll pass. I'm just too busy right now. Why, with all my acting 30 and working on Mission: Nab a boyfriend, how could I possibly find the time?

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Better, much better.

Last night at Karaoke I partied like a wedding singer.

The evening was actually devoid of any singing by me (long story but will summarize by saying that the Karaoke guy HATES me) but more importantly it lacked any all-out-rockstar-mode antics.

So, partying like a wedding singer. I think it may be a little more my style these days. I think it may fit into the "Year of Amy" . . .

Monday, January 14, 2008

Guess I'll be looking for inspiration elsewhere.

I know y'all have been on the edge of your seats . . .

I chose "Berry, Berry Broadway" and I must say, my toes look fabulous! However, as I can't claim to have any Broadway-ready singing or dancing skills, I don't think I've found any vocational assistance. Well, maybe next color . . . :)

Perhaps, it's a process of elimination.

Well, I'm back. It was easy to convince myself that the 2 weeks I spent in Missouri with my family was a much needed and deserved vacation. It's a lot harder to make that ring true now that I'm back in Dallas. Really going to need to do something productive soon in regards to finding gainful employment . . .

Shortly after my arrival back in TX I dressed myself up and went to a small party thrown in my honor by the ICU nurses at Mecca Mansfield. We drank, we danced, we sang off key at a really rowdy piano bar. We partied, as they say, like rockstars. The next day I was horribly hungover. That hangover, sadly, continued into the next day as well. I'm blaming severe dehydration and overall exhaustion from my recent trip. Regardless, have decided that 2008 will NOT be the "Year of Amy partying like a rockstar."

This morning I woke energized and ready to take on my day. And a steaming hot shower was exactly what I needed to wash away the weekend's inactivity. One problem. No hot water. Not kidding. Nice, huh? But, not insurmountable. Occasionally I can do without the hot and embrace the cold but this was just not one of those mornings. I decided instead to take a bath with water heated in my tea kettle. Again, not kidding. It took several trips but I felt very self-sufficient, very early-American-pioneer-woman. The bath is over, the water less than hot but more than cold. And I'm clean. I think. Remembering why I prefer showers. Decided that 2008 is DEFINITELY not the "Year of Amy reverting to a more simple and primitive lifestyle."

It's ok, we're only 2 weeks in. Plenty of time to figure out what this year will bring. In the meantime, pretty sure the "Year of Amy" includes pedicures. So I'm off. Maybe OPI has a new color that will bring inspiration. I'll keep you posted:)

Sunday, January 6, 2008

You're invited . . .

It started out just like any other Saturday. There was coffee, there was the paper. I even got a quick morning walk in. Then the preparations began. Because this Saturday was special. Not your typical weekend at all. I was to be the co-hostess of a very unique event. Along with my 4 year old niece I was throwing a rain party.

You may not be familiar with this particular brand of party. That's ok, it was new to me too. I'd like to be able to blame its birth on niece Jacelynn. But apparently it was actually my idea. I've no clue from where it stemmed and unfortunately, despite my outward confidence, had absolutely no clue what it should entail.

What exactly were we hoping to accomplish? Were we hosting a thanksgiving for a recent downpour? It hadn't rained since I'd been home. Were we hoping to dance our way into a much needed storm? It's supposed to rain early next week. Or, were we simply celebrating the idea of rain? Yeah, maybe I could work with that.

So we cut out very abstract raindrops and decorated them with baby blue ribbon. We invited our guests and asked them all to bring/wear some kind of rain paraphernalia. I created a variety of different sandwiches and made them into the shape of a raindrop that actually more closely resembled a rain puddle according to my niece. I found some rain-inspired music on my ipod but was unsuccessful with locating my old Blame it on the Rain cassette single that I'm convinced still exists somewhere in my parent's basement. We picked out blue plates and glasses and offered everyone liquid refreshments to accompany their themed sandwiches. And then, we had ourselves a rain party.

Friday, January 4, 2008

I really hate dial-up.

I forgot -

2008, I welcome you! Seriously. I think this is going to be my year. The Year of Amy. Doesn't have as nice of a ring as "the year of the beard" but maybe I can work on a snazzier title. Regardless, I feel good things are coming. Of course, I am currently unemployed. But, money isn't everything and work will find me. I have great friends, a wonderful family, and about 82% of my health. So I'll deplete my savings, work on becoming a healthier and happier me, and try to save the planet one plastic bag at a time. Planning on having some fun in the process:) You obviously can't see me right now, but I'm rubbing my hands together in gleeful anticipation. Can't wait to get started!

I hate dial-up.

I'm just a little more than pissed off. It started out as vaguely annoyed but, unfortunately, it's progressed to a feeling that is difficult to shrug off. And thus, I'm going to use my blog to once again vent re: the wrongs of the world.

Mizzou should have been invited to a BCS bowl game. They weren't.

They were invited to the Cotton Bowl which they conquered quite nicely, embarrassing the Hogs a bit in the process. But, the Cotton Bowl is not a BCS bowl.

OU was invited to the Fiesta Bowl. A BCS bowl where they very satisfyingly got their heads handed to them by West Virginia. Both teams belonged there and (mostly) because of the end result (Go Mountaineers!), I'm very ok with this year's Fiesta Bowl.

Hawaii and Georgia both got invites to the Sugar Bowl. And although I unsuccessfully rooted for Hawaii, I wasn't mad at Georgia for coming out on top. They earned both their invite and their win.

I'll admit that I slept through most of the Rose Bowl. But USC certainly earned their spot and I have absolutely nothing against Illinois.

My problem lies with the Orange Bowl. Virginia Tech, I don't understand your mascot (anyone?) and I'm super sorry about your loss. But, you deserved your trip to Miami and I hope y'all had fun. KU, what they hell were you doing there? I just don't understand your presence at a BCS bowl. And no one has been able to explain it to me. It's not that you haven't had a good season. Y'all have actually been fun to watch. Despite the traditional MU-KU rivalry that I was raised on, I've never had anything against a Jayhawk. Unless, of course, you were playing the Tigers. But what the HELL? You finished 2 spots below Missouri in the final BCS standings and we beat you out of the Big 12 North title. So, why did you end up in Florida? And, yes. You won last night. But get over it. Seriously. You never should have been there in the first place. But keep the party going if that's what you want. Just know that I know. And all of the Show Me State knows. And, we don't forget.

So, I'm pissed and I'm planning on staying that way for a while longer. Probably won't put it aside until the 'Boys start their playoff run. But, it's all good. In fact, it's kinda great. Because, as my dad pointed out, it's a lot more fun to get worked up over college football than to live in a constant state of anger related to a hellish work situation. A lot more fun. Plus, with football there's Bud Light. And, that's always fun . . . :)