Meanwhile, in Embarrassing Moments in Consumerism

That last post was supposed to be slightly sarcastic, can you tell? I don't know how--since I am actually more organised now that I am an adult--deadlines still sneak up on me. So I'll be cruising through the week when holy crap, you mean that re-enacting event is this weekend and I have to bake bread tonight?! In some ways, re-enacting in late spring is easier, because the foodstuffs you can bring are limited. Dried peas, potatoes, tea, sugar...things that would have survived the winter in a cellar. And maybe an illicit box of chicken stock.

Evening programs have started up again, and I am enjoying it so far...apart from the fact that I have gained so much weight this winter that I look like a sausage stuffed into a green 'n gold casing. Now, CW tends to turn a blind eye to employees wearing their clothes places that aren't CW. Stopping by the grocery store after work, or running to the pharmacy on your break. It happens. Just don't get your clothes ratted up. So last night after work I had to run to Target. Normally I love swanning through stores in stays and buckles, but last night the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself because I had to buy a toilet plunger. While not as embarrassing as, say, a box of Depends, it is still slightly mortifying. One of my roommates has moved out, taking most of the necessary items in the house with her--like the plunger, flour, kitchen table, the key hooks and most of the dishes--but also the wireless internet router. So, not only was I swanning through Target last night in costume, with a plunger tucked under my arm, I also had to ask one of the sales clerks if he knew if this here router would work with a Mac. Arg. It reminds me of the game we used to play when I was an undergrad: "What is the strangest combination of items you can buy at Wal-Mart at two in the morning?" It would have been even funnier if I'd've remembered the third thing I wanted to get: silicone waterproofing for my shoes.

I'm not a number

Now more than ever I'm aware of the uniqueness of the human body, the one of a kindness that makes every individual a different shape. Where I work, sizes are merely numbers so you know where to hang the clothing in stock. Then they come to me, and I tailor it into a perfectly fitted garment. So I was slightly embarrassed at how excited I was to discover I'd dropped two waist sizes. I figured that Old Navy would be running small, but their size sixteen fits me. That's the first time I've gotten into a sixteen in, oh, fifteen years. It's brilliant. I celebrated by having pizza.

Yesterday was slightly frustrating though. I have been having these odd pains in my side, so I finally went to see a doctor about it. He examined me and told me he thought it might be kidney stones. I was actually slightly relieved at that diagnosis--it's better than the horrifying images of ovarian cancer I had dancing through my head--although, of course, it's far from a walk in the park. The way to find out for sure was to have an x-ray taken. To do this, I needed to trot down to another building, about a block away. When I got there, however, I discovered that they wouldn't take my insurance. The place I had to go to to get x-rays taken was all the way across town. ("Over by Wal-Mart," were her exact words, actually) By this point, however, it was about twenty after eleven, and I had told my boss I'd be in by noon. So I decided against medical attention and called a taxi to come get me. An hour later...it arrived. I was so mad at the taxi company for misleading me (they had originally said half an hour) that I forgot to put a tapestry needle under my first two buttons on my waistcoat. I'm trying to focus on the positive things about my experience, like a good doctor who listened to my thoughts, being able to get off of work and oh, how about HAVING insurance and only having to pay $15 for the whole experience.

Williamsburg is not designed for people without cars. It's just not. Things are spread out, stores are clustered into little mini-malls that all seem to have their own parking lot, divided by roads and trees. Most of the time (like this morning, when I had all the time in the world) it's fine. When I'm in my regular routine of working and coming home, I get along fine. But every time I have to do something out of my routine or I'm doing something for the first time, it seems to take three times as long as it should, and that's frustrating.

I'm not meaning to bitch about my situation here. Whining about it doesn't help anything. And besides, if it weren't for my bike, I probably wouldn't have a size sixteen waist and calf muscles that would make any fop jealous.

Dumpster Diving: Varsity Team

My roommate and I were having a discussion the other night about the Single Woman’s Dilemma, which goes something like this: Should I buy nice things now, because I have no current marriage prospects and therefore no hopes of getting Nice Things via a wedding shower OR do I buy cheap things and hold out hope that I’ll be able to replace them soon when I get a man and a wedding shower?

It’s mercenary, I know, but at least I’m not the only one who’s thought that way.

For the record, if I ever get married, the only thing I want is a Kitchen Aid mixer, in eggplant. Oh, and love everlasting. Thank you.

I have no problem with cheap, if it’s good quality, which usually means that I buy stuff secondhand, and that’s fine. I have been moving a lot recently, which means that things come into my life and quickly go—by my count I’ve bought several irons, various dishes, linens, glasses, hangers, etc. Lately I’ve become more conscious of trying to stay out of the consumer culture, which means I try not to throw stuff away. This also means that recently I’ve been buying the Nice Things (like a new bed!) knowing that I’m going to hang onto it for a loooong time.

Sometimes though, you have to go cheap, like my $30 Target bookcase which still reeks of woodglue and formadahyde a week after I’ve unpacked it. I was feeling guilty as I went to throw the box away—it’s cardboard! It should be recycled!—because we have no recycling facilities onsite, but imagine my horror when I looked into the Dumpster and saw an entire set of frying pans, barely scratched, that someone had thrown away.

The horror. The horror.

Now, we have pans. We have enough frying pans that—should we choose, we could fry an entire carton of eggs, with each egg in its own special pan. We do not, however, have saucepans. But as my eyes traveled over the pile of white garbage bags and the various other items, I saw a gleaming pile of saucepans just out of reach. I could not believe it. I went back into the house and quickly made up a fishing pole, using the handle from our broom, a wire coathanger and one of my grosgrain ribbon belts, and proceeded to fish the saucepans out of the Dumpster. The first try bent the hook on the hanger straight, but with patience I managed to extract a stock pot, a medium-sized saucepan, a larger, flatter saucepan, a small saucepan, and (miracle of miracles) a vegetable steamer! Which is something I’ve been lusting for lately. Huzzah!

The reason why the hook was bent straight was made abundantly clear when I flipped over the small saucepan—these aren’t your cheap, Dollar Tree aluminum saucepans, oh no. They are heavy duty, Faberware Millenium stainless steel cookware, with the copper bottoms, heavy enough to commit murder with. They are wedding-registry worthy Nice Things. And they are all mine.

What’s a little dumpster diving and some heavy duty scrubbing?

mah pasty white legs: let me show you them

I got out the shorty jean shorts today because it's "satan's a$$" hot again and spent all day freezing in the costume shop. Figures.

But I'm quite proud of the calf muscles that are developing nicely...should I ever get into breeches and stockings, I won't need calf-padding. Oh yeah, baby, it's all me. I'm also quite proud of the fact that yesterday I pulled out onto the road, was passed by a spotty teenager on an expensive bike--and yet I managed to pull even and then leave him eating my dust, all while carrying thirty pounds of groceries on my back.

Mah legs of steel. Let me show you them.

"I just wanna update my blog quick, I wanna talk about my deodorant."

Last week I bought a deodorant bar from Lush called T'eo--for once I'm not naming inanimate objects, that's actually what it's called in the catalogue. Lush is a great store--they're totally organic and environmentally friendly, and they also have a store in Covent Garden. So one whiff sends me back to my favourite place in the world. I wanted to buy a deodorant bar because the sticks that I use normally tend to gunk up my clothes after awhile. I used a non-aerosol spray in London, but that's not available here. So I decided to try this stuff. At $7 a bar, it's an investment, but I love it. LOVE IT. T'eo looks like a little bar of chalky soap, and it smells like citrus heaven. You pat it on under the arms and it deodorizes like magic. The best part is that it also makes your room smell good!! And there's no packaging beyond the little plastic bag they give you to take it home. The woman at the store told me it should last about three or four months, but since I pat it on every chance I get (citrus heaven! heavenly!) I'll be surprised if it makes it another three weeks.

Samio is here--we just had a midnight diner run (not such a good idea since I had pasta and veg for dinner--overfull belly panda is not a happy panda) and now she's working her way through "The Onion's Year End Wrap Up" while I sing the praises of T'eo.

An Act of Incredible Hubris

Some of you have been asking. And, since this blog is all about me, me, me! (when it's not about Nelson) here it is: mah wish list. If you are shaking your head in disgust at my incredible act of hubris, then feel free to read no further. If you're thinking "at last, her birthday is coming up" read on.

Beethoven's symphonies

Sewing machine

Harry Potter 5 on DVD

"Sweeney Todd" the movie soundtrack (available Dec. 18th!)

Black trouser socks

A backpack (small but sturdy)

Nice-smelling lotion (Bigelows #5 lemon-verbena from Bath & Body Works)

Blank journals

Black, waterproof, no heels, knee-high, appropriate for winter leather boots (size nine)

Scarves

This t-shirt

A yoga mat

A kitten

The Horatio Hornblower books and DVDs

Plane tickets to London

Okay, it's a much longer list when it's all written out like that. Er. But everyone's got a list, right? Right?

Nicki Buys a Suit

I finally had to buy a suit, so I wandered down to Sears today and found one on sale (woo). I was extra excited because the coat was only a size 18, but the shirt I tried on was a 16/18 which means that I am officially the smallest I've been since I was about, oh, thirteen. I would be more excited, but I'm exhausted because I have been exercising every day for the last week. (not in a compulsive anorexic way. In a "I paid a lot of money for a one-week gym membership and I'm going to feel really guilty if I don't use it" way)

My friend also pointed out to me that I'm walking like a duck, so I finally admitted that my awesome Gola shoes were little better than pieces of construction paper, support-wise. Even if they are trendy and European. I am sad to see them go.

something old, something new....

When I went home for the wedding last week, I brought back a stack of Queen CDs, intending to put them on my iPod--imagine my distress then when I opened the (empty) cases, and remembered years ago that I had put all the Cds into my "Star Wars" CD sleeve for easy carrying. Durr. The only CD that actually made it down was Freddie Mercury's "Mr. Bad Guy" which is apparently dedicated to my roommate. ("This album is dedicated to cat lovers everywhere. SCREW EVERYONE ELSE." Aw, Freddie.) The only reason I wanted this CD is for the last song that is for breakup artists everywhere:

"So tonight just love me like there's no tomorrow
Hold me in your arms/tell me you mean it.
This is our last good-bye,
And very soon it will be over.
So today just love me like there's no tomorrow."

Which is SO APPALLINGLY PERFECT.

I also brought my bike down (thanks, Dad!) and yesterday I biked up to Evanston which is probably about ten ass-numbing miles north of here. I love Evanston. It's so pretty with the old houses and the private beaches. I'm still nervous about left-turns in the city, but I'm getting the hang of it--now if I can just increase my speed enough to keep up with the fancy racers that keep passing me, I'll be happy.

And then, after I got back yesterday, my roommate and I went shopping at the Brown Elephant, which is the bst thriftstore ever. It's this huge old dancehall full of clothes and furniture and home furnishings--when hipsters clean house, this is where they send stuff, which is why I own clothes from Old Navy and mugs from Crate & Barrel. I was looking for something I could keep my (rapidly dwindling) supply of 1886 tea in, and I ended up buying a cruet in the shape of the Eiffel Tower and a desk. Whoo! I was so excited when I saw this desk--it is exactly the style I want my future home to be decorated in. Of course, it matches absolutely NOTHING else in my life right now (did they even have Aerobeds in the Late Empire period?) but it's wide enough I can put my books along the back and get them off the ground, and finally my statue of "the David" doesn't look ridiculous because he's standing demurely on a piece of real furniture. Whoo. Now all that remains is to sit down and WRITE SOMETHING.