[Priorities, mayne.]

I acknowledge that I have been failing at updating this thing lately. Basketball reasons. Also, busy being ridiculous.

See? Been busy.

[Life of a 24 year old, rapped.]

Guys.
I was wrong. (weird)

Turns out there IS a song about being 24.
And it. is. PERFECT.

Switch the pronouns and you basically have my life.

Ok, not a perfect fit, for some obvious reasons, like I'm not into yoga, and it would be a bloody Christmas miracle if I got into work 10 minutes early. And a few other reasons. But generally, yes. YES!! Watch now, please.

Mel, maybe watch this before Buddy does.

Found by Davey. Thanks guy. :)

So? Amiright, fellow and former 24 year olds?!

Also, still accepting original songs. K thanks.

[Two Tunes Tuesday: Good morning.]

Good evening. Here's "Good Morning (Pink Ganter Remix)" by William Fitzsimmons and "Girls Like You" by The Naked and Famous. My brain is a little frazzled from the last week of birthday celebrating (first Michelle, then Domineau, then me me meee), but these songs have been filling my ears nonstop. Semi-related: Celebrating my last days of being 23, I also very cheesily listened to Jimmy Eat World's "23" about a million times this weekend. (I salute the poor soul who was forced to blare it on repeat in his car on our date night.) It's a good song on its own, but it also kind of fit my year a little too perfectly. Que dramatic, no? Anyway, have searched in vain for a similarly fitting song about being 24, but such a tune seems not to exist. Can someone write me one? K thanks. In the meantime, have declared "Good Morning" to be my anthem for this year. Sweet, simple, and happy...just what any little girl's 24th* year should be. :) Love to you all from this 24 2/365 year old.

*technically, 25th. i can do math.


hd! [happy birthday.] ll

[Little lessons, lately.]

Hey hi. Have kind of neglected this masterpiece recently. Busy makin' moves, you know?

Some lessons learned, lately: 

1. Clear your search history if you've recently searched for "adult stores DC" to avoid red-faced, "It was for a bridal shower, I swear! No, really. Really!!" explanations when a guy borrows your phone at church. Yep. Just as embarrassing as it sounds. 

2. Things don't always heal. Sometimes they just scab. And then the scab gets scratched off, and you bleed, and then scab again, over and over and over again. And you go through a lot of bandaids. And you get used to the loss of blood.

3. Only go running in your neighorhood right after work if you are comfortable being seen in sweat and spandex by basically everyone you know. It's me at my best, people, so aim to be walking home from work between 5:30 and 6 for a literal hot mess sighting.

4. It is entirely possible (and right) to subsist on only Girl Scout cookies for over 24 hours. Samoas and Tagalongs, specifically. It is also possible to go through an entire sleeve of Thin Mints in the time it takes you to walk from the metro, where you purchased the cookies, to your house, two blocks away.

5. Being in bed for 17 hours straight on a rare free night will simultaneously make you feel like a princess and a schlub, and will result in a back ache and a NyQuil hangover. But nights off are good. Dating is tiring. How do you all do this all the time?? I don't get it.

6. Boys who like Star Wars as much as I do are wonderful. Gets me every. single. time.

7. Dubstep is not, in fact, a dance move. I only recently (two days ago) became cool enough to know this.

8. No matter how much mental energy you direct towards the roots of your hair, you will remain bald. Growwww. Grooowwwww!! 

9. If you wear it often enough, the roomies eventually will stop noticing the omnipresent tiara on your head, as will you.

[Grandma Katie's wedding dress.]

What do you do when you visit Grandma Katie's house? Play dress up with her 1940s wedding dress, obviously! The unbelievable thing is that when she joined in the fun herself, she was able to fit perfectly into her wedding gown from 60+ years ago. (On the other hand, I, ahem, couldn't button it up completely. Let's not talk about it.) Kelly and I loved getting to flounce around in her fragile veil, and it was so special seeing our beaming 83 year old Grammy stand next to her 20ish year old self in her wedding photo.

I was reminded of these pictures as I talked to her today and she told me the story of how she and my Grandpa Pete became engaged, as well as other pearls of Grandma wisdom. I wish I had been able to write the whole conversation down, because there were so many hilarious and wise gems, but I did manage to capture a bit of it. Here's a mix of her entertaining and serious nuggets:

{On her husband criteria} "I wanted a tall boy, who didn’t smoke, or drink. … What more could I ask? All the other Mexican boys were shrimpy! Sometimes there are nice things, sometimes there are things that you have to overlook, but Grammy was not going to overlook the height!” [Ah, the source of Milan's penchant for tall boys and referring to herself in the third person is revealed!]

{On not being embraced by her future mother-in-law} “I had heard through the grapevine that his mother didn’t want him to marry me because I had been in the sanitarium for TB…but I didn’t even have TB, I just went there for the shot! Furthermore, I wasn’t a good Catholic. So I gave back the ring. And told him it wasn’t going to work, and that he needed to find a good Catholic girl. He thought, and thought, and thought…and then he gave me back the ring. 'My mother’s not marrying you,' he said. 'I am.' And that felt soo good. Standing up. That’s the thing that fortifies the feelings…the 'I want you, nothing else matters here.'" [Grandpa Pete...ballerr!!!]

{On spending time apart} "Too much togetherness is just like having too much sugar. Too much candy. Too much pan mexicano!" [Pan Mexicano = Mexican pastries or sweet bread.] 

{On her current dating life} "I have a dinner date tomorrow night. I hope Ralph doesn’t rain check. He says, “Could I have a raincheck?” I’ve had so much rain, there are storms! One month he had eight of them. Eight!!" [I HEAR you, sista!]

_____________

Ah, Grammy....ever the classic. Funny to see how the times change, but whether you're 20 years old in the 1940s, 23 years old in 2011, or 83 years old in 2011, the daily struggles, hopes, and dreams of a girl remain the same.

[Sunday Cooking. Or, My Arteries Cried.]

She's at it again!

Sorry I'm getting all Julie and Julia on you, but actually I'm kinda not because I told you last time this was going to become a more regular thang...

This Sunday's breakfast was a Spanish Tortilla (or torta), which is pretty similar to an omelette, but often served as a dinner dish. I wasn't sure Chad could handle eggs for dinner, so I made it for breakfast instead, and modified it so that it was more potatoe-y, less vegetable-y. I may have accidentally skipped a step, resulting in a slightly *ahem* well done exterior...but it was basically still delicious, so we survived.

Dinner, like every other Chad/Milan activity, was just going to be the two of us. Simple dinner of fettuccine Alfredo and grilled asparagus with hollandaise sauce. In a panic-inducing (but ultimately happy) turn of events, Chad's kitchen was a madhouse at dinner time, with roommate Ben making his own dinner on the counter with his girlfriend, and roommate Tanner and friend Meredith beginning to cook their dinner as well. I openly admitted that I was terrified of cooking in front of other girls--my trusty kitchen assistant Chad is even more clueless in the kitchen than I am, so I'm rarely embarrassed when I don't know how to do something, like saute vegetables--but other girls?? Yikes! I was completely overwhelmed with all the people and cooking going on--as a new cooker, I typically require absolute peace and quiet in the kitchen--but eventually the kitchen calmed down, and I was left with just Tanner and Meredith (obviously Chad was nowhere in sight). My arteries cried when I poured the heavy cream into my pasta, mixed in a whole cup of cheese, and melted an entire cube of butter into four egg yolks for the hollandaise sauce... When it became clear that Tanner and Meredith's meal was somewhat doomed, we pooled resources and they tossed their breaded chicken into my pasta. I was really self conscious of the fact that I was suddenly cooking for five people (the four of us plus Chad's cousin). I've never cooked for any one other than Chad, and he's an easy audience because whatever the outcome of my cooking attempts, he'll tell me it's amazing, and I'll believe him because I want to. In the end everything turned out okay. Doubting Tanner enjoyed the suspect combination of hollandaise sauce and asparagus, and picky Chad loved that I made something creamy and artery clogging for once. Meredith, despite being four years my junior, was obviously a million times more comfortable in the kitchen, and her help with the asparagus was much appreciated (and needed).

Lessons learned:

1. Don't forget that you're boiling something, because it will boil down to nothing and leave a nasty stain on the pot. Amateur mistake.

2. If boys are going to sit back and let you cook the meals, they need to be Pavlov-ed into automatically doing the dishes.

3. Hollandaise sauce is not that hard to make, even for a novice like me.

4. Read all the directions on the recipe. So you don't miss a crucial step and burn the tortilla. Oh.

Most importantly...

5. Don't inhale vinegar steam. Seriously. WORST. EXPERIENCE. EVER.

Okay. That's all. On to the next meal...

[Eat like you're in your 20s.]

Various meals I have eaten this week:

Dinner: Hot dog.

Lunch: Pizza + donut.

Dinner: Chinese takeout.

Breakfast: Three (okay four) handfuls of Reeses Pieces.

Lunch: Goldfish.

Dinner: Hot dog, ice cream, and fries from Shake Shack.

Lunch: Small salad + a large side of Chex Mix.

Dinner: Nachos + vanilla wafers + late night Krispy Kreme donut. (Happy National Donut Day yesterday!)

Breakfast: Krispy Kreme donut again.

At least this morning I sent Chad off to work with a donut AND two vitamins. And, as evidenced by the photo, I brought Shake Shack to his office when he had to work late this week. No one can say I don't take care of my man...