And my credit-card balance, for that matter.
Global Market is back at Target.
You see, every year, Target has to think of something to put in their "seasonal" corner between Christmas and patio furniture. Valentine's Day, while profitable in its own way, just isn't big enough to fill the void.
So last year, they did something that was apparently so successful, they're trying it again this year. They filled the space with small furniture and decor from around the world, called it Global Market, and watched Pier 1 fanatics (is there such a thing?) swoon and tell their friends.
Global Market furniture is priced about the same way as all furniture from Target - $80 for a trunk, $30 for a silky throw, $15 for, I dunno, some sort of bamboo basket. Which is, I guess, cheap for furniture, but expensive for me.
But, since it's "seasonal," in a couple of months the whole section is going to go 50 percent off so they can make room for that patio furniture. Last year when that happened, I bought, like, half of the Asia collection. This year, I'll go for the other half.
So, if you come over to my place near the end of March and discover that it is crammed with so many throw pillows and folding screens that there is actually no room for you to come inside ... now you know why.
1.11.2006
1.05.2006
Dara + Thursday = BFF
My mom saw my apartment for the first time this weekend. My dad was delivering my BRAND NEW TV!!!!, and she tagged along.
My mother has never exactly been a cat person, but when she saw Thursday for the first time since I adopted her (so, you know, the first time since she's been living unde er a porch and starving to death), it was instant love.
"That's the kitty?" she said in disbelief as the kitty under discussion jumped out of my arms and darted under the bed. "I would never have recognized her!"
While my dad and I cleared off a space on the coffee table for my BRAND NEW TV!!!!, my mom lay on the floor in my bedroom, playing a fascinating game with the under-bed cat that involved a hand put on top of a paw, then a paw put on top of a hand.
"Mommy," I called. (Yeah, I'm 24 years old and still call my mother "Mommy." Whatever.) "Can you see her?"
"We're playing a game!" my mom replied. And then:
"I miss having a pet."
I turned to my dad. "She's gonna make you get a cat."
He snorted. "Not a chance."
We'll see.
My mother has never exactly been a cat person, but when she saw Thursday for the first time since I adopted her (so, you know, the first time since she's been living unde er a porch and starving to death), it was instant love.
"That's the kitty?" she said in disbelief as the kitty under discussion jumped out of my arms and darted under the bed. "I would never have recognized her!"
While my dad and I cleared off a space on the coffee table for my BRAND NEW TV!!!!, my mom lay on the floor in my bedroom, playing a fascinating game with the under-bed cat that involved a hand put on top of a paw, then a paw put on top of a hand.
"Mommy," I called. (Yeah, I'm 24 years old and still call my mother "Mommy." Whatever.) "Can you see her?"
"We're playing a game!" my mom replied. And then:
"I miss having a pet."
I turned to my dad. "She's gonna make you get a cat."
He snorted. "Not a chance."
We'll see.
12.23.2005
I could get used to this vacation thing ...
This whole not-having-to-work thing? It's pretty alright. I'm getting some things done (although not nearly as many things as I ought, since I'm trapped in my apartment) and feeling pretty relaxed (except for the whole trapped thing.
My cat likes it too. She's pretending to ignore me while she chases a gold gift bow around the kitchen, but I can tell that deep down, she enjoys having me around.
My cat likes it too. She's pretending to ignore me while she chases a gold gift bow around the kitchen, but I can tell that deep down, she enjoys having me around.
The United States Postal Service is holding me hostage in my own home.
I'm expecting a package.
It's an important package. So important that I need it today. So important that it's being shipped through Express Mail®. (An example of the prestige of Express Mail®: it is the only type of mail that ships on federal holidays. Not that that does me any good, because I don't need this package on a federal holiday; I need it today.)
Recipients of Express Mail® have to sign for it, which is why I am sitting in my living room/moving box storage facility when I could be getting my oil changed, buying my sister's Christmas present, continuing to move things out of Leigh's house, or any of a number of other things that would require me to be elsewhere. Because I need that goddamn package today.
I'll let you know if I got it.
UPDATE. I got it! I got it! Oh, and I didn't have to sign for it - I found the precious package crammed into my mailbox with my Cinergy bill and the new Cincinnati Magazine. La-ame. But at least I was able to give my steady Eddie the gift of lower-deck Bengals tickets.
It's an important package. So important that I need it today. So important that it's being shipped through Express Mail®. (An example of the prestige of Express Mail®: it is the only type of mail that ships on federal holidays. Not that that does me any good, because I don't need this package on a federal holiday; I need it today.)
Recipients of Express Mail® have to sign for it, which is why I am sitting in my living room/moving box storage facility when I could be getting my oil changed, buying my sister's Christmas present, continuing to move things out of Leigh's house, or any of a number of other things that would require me to be elsewhere. Because I need that goddamn package today.
I'll let you know if I got it.
UPDATE. I got it! I got it! Oh, and I didn't have to sign for it - I found the precious package crammed into my mailbox with my Cinergy bill and the new Cincinnati Magazine. La-ame. But at least I was able to give my steady Eddie the gift of lower-deck Bengals tickets.
12.21.2005
The nice thing about two weeks of vacation within four weeks ...
You get a second chance to finish your vacation to-do list!
- Unpack in new apartment
- Get last traces of stuff out of Leigh's house
- Run w/ dad (again)
- Catch up on pile of magazines (Real Simple, Esquire, Cincinnati Magazine, mental_floss)
- Catch up on pile of books lent by Edmund, bought on whim at Enquirer book sale
- Catch up on pile of unwatched DVDs
- Work on pile of underplayed video games
- Finish Strength of Body, Strength of Mind
- Do Christmas shopping
- Buy light bulbs for currently darkened kitchen
- Find out more about having currently darkened TV repaired
This must all happen sometime in between these scheduled events:
- Wed. afternoon: Lunch with mom and sister, possible shopping
- Wed. evening: Harry Potter party in Amelia
- Thurs. morning: Breakfast with Neil
- Thurs. evening: Running with dad; probable family dinner
- Fri. evening (possible): Movie in Dayton with Stacie, Chele, etc.
- Sat. all day: Various Christmas Eve activities
- Sun. through Mon.: Christmas in Milford and Bloomington
I forsee a week of paralysis in front of the computer, punctuated by bursts of frenzied shopping.
- Unpack in new apartment
- Get last traces of stuff out of Leigh's house
- Run w/ dad (again)
- Catch up on pile of magazines (Real Simple, Esquire, Cincinnati Magazine, mental_floss)
- Catch up on pile of books lent by Edmund, bought on whim at Enquirer book sale
- Catch up on pile of unwatched DVDs
- Work on pile of underplayed video games
- Finish Strength of Body, Strength of Mind
- Do Christmas shopping
- Buy light bulbs for currently darkened kitchen
- Find out more about having currently darkened TV repaired
This must all happen sometime in between these scheduled events:
- Wed. afternoon: Lunch with mom and sister, possible shopping
- Wed. evening: Harry Potter party in Amelia
- Thurs. morning: Breakfast with Neil
- Thurs. evening: Running with dad; probable family dinner
- Fri. evening (possible): Movie in Dayton with Stacie, Chele, etc.
- Sat. all day: Various Christmas Eve activities
- Sun. through Mon.: Christmas in Milford and Bloomington
I forsee a week of paralysis in front of the computer, punctuated by bursts of frenzied shopping.
12.14.2005
My sister is famous!
She's "reader Katie" in this Popsugar post.
Between her and Kari (here and here), it seems like everyone's a tipster these days.
Between her and Kari (here and here), it seems like everyone's a tipster these days.
12.11.2005
Cleveland: Land of Free Wi-Fi at Nice Hotels!
And here you always thought it was the Mistake on the Lake.
Yes, I'm in Cleveland again, and I am again using the hotel's wireless Internet for my own nefarious purposes.
And let me just say that the Radisson is freakin' sweet. I chose it because it was supposedly within walking distance to the arena where the concert was. Um, yes. The arena is close - so close, in fact, that the hotel's Web site includes a picture of it in its little slideshow of "here's the exterior, here's the lobby, here are the rooms with Sleep Number beds, and here's the arena which we couldn't actually fit inside the hotel, so we did the best we could." If our room were across the hall, we could probably see the tour bus or private jet or whatever U2 uses to exeunt venues. As I footed it back to the hotel afterward, darting between the participants in the traffic snarl that entangled the arena and listening to an irate prisoner in a parking garage lean on his horn, I congratulated myself on a fine choice.
Although I really should congratulate Eileen, who picked it first.
Yes, I'm in Cleveland again, and I am again using the hotel's wireless Internet for my own nefarious purposes.
And let me just say that the Radisson is freakin' sweet. I chose it because it was supposedly within walking distance to the arena where the concert was. Um, yes. The arena is close - so close, in fact, that the hotel's Web site includes a picture of it in its little slideshow of "here's the exterior, here's the lobby, here are the rooms with Sleep Number beds, and here's the arena which we couldn't actually fit inside the hotel, so we did the best we could." If our room were across the hall, we could probably see the tour bus or private jet or whatever U2 uses to exeunt venues. As I footed it back to the hotel afterward, darting between the participants in the traffic snarl that entangled the arena and listening to an irate prisoner in a parking garage lean on his horn, I congratulated myself on a fine choice.
Although I really should congratulate Eileen, who picked it first.
11.29.2005
Vacation to-do list
- Unpack in new apartment
- Catch up on pile of magazines (Real Simple, Esquire, Cincinnati Magazine, mental_floss)
- Finish Strength of Body, Strength of Mind
UPDATE: Look how much I accomplished!
11.28.2005
Thus begins a week of vacation.
To celebrate, am reading The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe in my old twin bed at my parents' house in Milford. How nostalgic!
Mr. Wufflekins came home yesterday. We hugged for about 16 hours.
PUMPKIN UPDATE: Four cups down; something like 10 to go. I've frozen most of it; the Internet told me it will keep that way "for a short time." How short is "short"?
Mr. Wufflekins came home yesterday. We hugged for about 16 hours.
PUMPKIN UPDATE: Four cups down; something like 10 to go. I've frozen most of it; the Internet told me it will keep that way "for a short time." How short is "short"?
11.22.2005
The ol' ball and chain
Edmund is gone for the week. He is spending Thanksgiving with his family in North Carolina.
It's sort of fun being a single girl again for a week. I get to sit around and veg out on the computer for hours and pack up T-shirts and kitchenware ... OK, it doesn't sound like a lot of fun. But it's kinda relaxing.
But when I get takeout for dinner by myself, I don't get showered with compliments about how I'm the best girlfriend ever for bringing over Indian food. I miss that.
Also, the kissing is nice.
It occurs to me that perhaps I should think up some sort of alias for Edmund. It seems to be the thing to do on blogs; preserving the anonymity of your significant other, regardless of whether you yourself are anonymous. Wes has Jawa Girl; Josh has Natalie Portman; Jen has Mr. Man; emma has her gentleman caller - which is what my family called Edmund before we were officially an "item," but I guess she took it first. Drat.
(I wonder if all those sites' proprietors will see that I linked to them and drop by for a visit. Hello, fellow typists!)
Anyway, I welcome any and all suggestions for an alias - preferably an embarassing one. "Mr. Wufflekins," "Schnoogy Bear" and "Honey Poo-poo Head" are front-runners right now.
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