ostriches, suze orman + the virgin mary

Ah, budgets. Schmudgets. We like to take the ostrich approach. What, we have no money? Again? Wha happened?

The ginormity of B's med school debt gives money that fuzzy, abstract feeling to us. If our budget were a modern art gallery, B and I might be standing in front of any given piece scratching our heads. "Yes, I think it's a dollar. No, maybe a goat? Do you see the likeness of Virgin Mary? Yeah, there's the nose, and, eh, maybe a goat? I don't know, let's go out to eat."

I don't think Suze Orman would look puzzled at our budget museum, but there would be a look. I would not let her in there, you know: I have the fear. She's on Oprah today. Reppin' the Oprah groupies, I've been checking in on her Best Life 2009 challenge thingy. Today was about finances; financial badyouknowwhat Suze said, well, a lot of things. An eight-month emergency fund, she says. Talk about overwhelming. Has she gotten tougher? Eight months of expenses? EIGHT?! What happened to three?

Recession, yo: That's a little abstract to me, too. Anyone else secretly wondering, "So how bad does it get? And what does that look like? What about people like me who think a portfolio is a place where you keep your pretty pictures? Should I be bracing myself, or is this more of a stocks and employment thing? Will this be like the depression, and what was the depression really like? How do you know when your'e in or out of one?" Man, I almost went into ostrich mode just reading this stuff online. Make it go away. After I finished breathing in an out of a paper bag, I got to thinking about her much less overwhelming baby-step challenge:

For just one day, do not spend any money on anything.
For just one week, do not use a credit card.
For just one month, do not eat out at a restaurant.

Hmph. I think I could do the first two okay, but man, I love me some eating out. Mmm, I'm thinking of spinach crepes right now from Cafe Brazil. With rosemary potatoes. And tabasco. Or, the sour creamy cheesy potatoes like my grandma makes at Thanksgiving. Oooh, or Bolsa's Twig and Branch pizza with a glass of cabernet, ah. A month?! We'll see. Clearly, I'm not committed yet.

Twitter Update: I don't get it. I just don't. What IS it?!

What is Twitter?

Why are people tweeting about Twitter? Well, don't know what it is either, but I just signed up. As far as I can tell, Twitter can wipe your you know what and help you blow your nose. People are loving it.

So, I signed up. I will let you know if it is as spiritual as they say.

Yes, I think I feel something.

वर्क आईटी.

Playing with bacteria-laden ball thingy dug up in back yard.
Ready for my close-up.

Here is my ball. Hint. Hint.

Preston doesn't get the air time he used to, now that we are a four pet (holy cow) family. We spent some quality time together outside on Saturday for a little photo shoot. He was faaabulous.

I don't know why my title is in another language. Well, now you know how to spell "work it," in whatsitscalled.

Reminds me of back in the day:
i think my dog is a hippie
morning ritual
awwww

new years in the ghettoasis

Either I'm crazy again or living on the creek must make sounds (gunfire) much louder. And by much louder, I mean, "Are you *&#$*&^ kidding me?" On New Year's Eve, you would not believe the war zone sounds. Yeah, some (most) of that is fireworks, and yeah, only a few (one) were automatic weapons (the hell?!). Come on now.

Although it would be infinitely cooler, I'm not generally the cool-who-cares girl; I'm the one sleeping on the floor of my bedroom because the bullets have less entry points in there. I'm the girl that googles 'tazers,' 'how to tell gunfire from fireworks.'

And much, much worse; it's a devastating downward spiral, really. A harrowing tale at times. Some might say in a benign way; I'm more apt to call it a rocking back and forth, beat my head against a wall, wish I could go back in time and not know kind of a way. I've been down the google image search rabbit hole hell with teratomas, parasites...Not sure where the ideas come from. Karma? The devil himself?

My neighbors were not afraid of Satan at all, it seemed. I half expected them to be out talking about what I can only assume were the Sharks and the Jets outfitted with 21st century weaponry while all the police in the town were at a convention together. Nope. No one writing panicked comments on the message board, either. Even when we did get a knock on the door, it was not for war stories. Kyle across the street brought over black eyed pea soup that would bring tears to your eyes.

Ah, another day in our ghettoasis. I love it more all the time, but it is definitely different from Uptown. And Kansas.

I still love you, Oak Cliff; but I don't have to like you sometimes.

It's my 200th post!

Meet Moses, our new roomie for the past month or so. We found him wondering through the desert. Or, in a teeny room at the Oak Cliff animal shelter. Thought he'd be a good companion for Sam. Total bff's.




Turns out, Moses is killer at Scrabble. Like me, he does better with a glass of cab. "I feel warm, kind of like a hug," he says.




Scrabble is funny. I never noticed how pretty the cat is. Is this table moving?



Dude. The room is spinning. No, really. Stay cool, man. Stay cool.




Someone hold my hair back. I'm never playing scrabble again.

get your motor runnin,' head out on the highway

I've been doing my best thinking. And I'm thinking it might be time for another solo vacation. Philadelphia this summer taught me that there is something liberating and romantic-y about traveling alone. I've done some research, and people say Amsterdam is a great place for a woman traveling alone. I've always loved Van Gogh and Anne Frank; what the heck? It also seems to have what I love about a great city...Ambiance! I like a place to walk around, get lost in, soak up. A sight or two is good for me. I'm more about the ambiance. So, Amsterdam. Super walkable, lots of English speaking going on, mid-priced hotels with decent reviews, not a bad plane ticket.

Then, I look up exactly where Amsterdam is because I'm American, making my world geography borderline sketchy. It's only a 4 hour train ride from Paris. I can't be that close to the Louvre and not go! (Especially after Lori's fab Paris post!) And, it seems I can afford about two days of mid-priced hotels in Paris. So, B and I put our heads together (By the way, we don't have any full weeks together for at least another year, or I'd invite him to this one bc it's awesome! But don't feel too sorry for him, he's spent a week in Paris and a SEMESTER in France!). In my budget (summer school teaching money, of course!), I could: fly to Paris, spend two nights soaking that up. Check out at least two or three sights, but mostly sit at cafes! Then, take the train to Amsterdam. Stay 3 or 4 nights at cute little hotel with great reviews, walk around forever. Stare at Van Gogh's work, soak up Anne Frank's beautiful energy...Go home.

But then I also thought: OR, I could just not teach summer school and have a STAYcation right here at home. I love staycations. Sometimes, a lack of schedule leaves me a little unmotivated, though. Hmmm....I have about 1 week to decide, because I think I'll buy my ticket the 1st week in Jan. Fish or cut bait, right? These are tough decisions. It's a hard knock life, Daddy Warbucks.

birding: don't hate the playa, hate the game.

Fo shizzle, yo. I've been b to the irding.

There is so a great blue heron in my back yard right now. It's huge! It's sitting on top of this dam that goes across the creek, just looking for dinner. And I still can't find my camera. I did log it in my bird book! Said bird book has 43" written beside the name great blue heron. I think this means wing span. Holy heck!

I see why old people like doing this! Give me some plaid polyester, a bird book and I'm good to go. My husband thinks he'll make a great old person; he wants to wear questionable hats and spend all morning drinking McDonald's coffee with his old man buddies. I think I might be even better! I want to be that lady who sits at rabble rousing political meetings knitting tea pot cozies (I actually do know this woman and do actually want to be her.). Then, I'll go home and "look at my birds."

This reminds me that I really want to check out the new Dallas Audobon center and also what is apparently the "largest urban hardwood forest in the country." I'm not clear on whether that's two different places or one giant nature extravaganza. Maybe if I write that down right here, I will see it and actually remember to go!