She's baaaaack (new and improved)!

So. I suppose I should start with an apology. I know there were actually a couple of you who were starting to enjoy this blog before I mysteriously disappeared for a year. What happened? A lot. But the answer the question of why I suddenly stopped blogging is simple. I started a 365 Day Self Portrait Project and got sucked into the world of flickr. My blogging continued, it just relocated to the space below my daily shots. But now that I have successfully completed the one year project, I feel it might be time to move back home to my blog. Lucky you! I may even start sharing some of my photography with you all!

So what have you all been up to? In the past year, I quit my job at the big firm in Kansas City and Fiance (you may remember him as Boyfriend - more on that later) and I moved back home to Michigan where we set up camp at my familys lake house for the summer. To describe those three months as heaven would be an understatement. By fall, Fiance and I were both once again gainfully employed, but due to the location of my job, we had to relocate into my parents' house for the time being. Right. Not so glamorous. Slightly embarassing. But financially necessary at the moment. That will be changing soon, though, as we are currently looking for our own place. You know, because it would be a little weird to come back to my parents' house and my childhood bedroom once we're married.

Which brings me to the other big news! Boyfriend finally popped the question! That's right. Your favorite thirty-something is now engaged! Could not be happier. So right now we are in the midst of planning our fall 2010 wedding. Venue, date, dress, wedding party, photographer are all taken care of. The rest...well, the rest should be fun and interesting. I'll be keeping you all posted as we go!

Also noteworthy over the past year: I've lost 31 lbs so far, and show no signs of stopping, especially not with a wedding looming on the horizon. I've started moving my photography from the purely hobby realm into the hey-this-could-actually-make-me-some-money phase. I've had a few childrens portrait sessions so far, and a pregnancy shoot lined up for next weekend. Photography is good for my soul. I'm going to need to start booking more shoots to make up for not having the daily pressure of taking a self portrait. My days already feel slightly aimless without my photography project to ground me.

Ok, enough rambling. Let this serve as my "sorry I left, but now I'm back and you know you can't stay mad at me for long" post. Let go of the frustration and let me back in! You know you've missed me!

well slap my ass and call me sally

I am so not an infomercial kind of girl.  Really, I'm not.  My entire adult life, I've been impervious to those over-the-top only-on-television offers.  Sure, I've been interested, but I've never actually let myself fall victim to what I have consistently believed are purely fraudulent claims.

I mean, let's be serious.  99.9% of those television commercials that implore you to call right away before supplies run out and you miss your only opportunity to try out the absolutely end-all-be-all for [insert absolutely necessary activity here] are complete and total scams.

Enter Smooth Away.

Oh, I'm sure many of you ladies have managed to catch the Smooth Away commercial at least once, while watching daytime or late night television.  They woo you with their claims that Smooth Away is already the most popular hair removal system in Europe (who could resist that!?), and then show you how with a few quick buffs, the darn thing simply eliminates all of your hair with no pain or razor burn.  

I know, I know, it sounds too good to be true.  But I just had to see for myself.  I mean, what woman enjoys shaving, you know?  So I caved and ordered it online.

Enter today's mail.

Smooth Away appeared at my door in a cute, little, ordinary brown shipping box.  I ripped that puppy open immediately and knew that I had to try it right away.  The only problem was that I shaved this morning.

What's a girl to do?

I tried it on the back of my left hand, that's what.  The first few swipes left me feeling conned and annoyed that I had broken my golden rule of buying obvious scam products.

The next few swipes, however, were life changing.  The damn thing actually works!  And when I say it works, I mean it has taken every fiber of my being to refrain from de-hairing both arms in the course of the last two minutes.  

I absolutely cannot wait to grow hair back on my legs to try this out properly!  If it works anywhere near as well as it did on the back of my hand and fingers, then I will never shave again.

So sorry, old hair removal bff, Mr. Razor.  Your time has come.

it's not a quarterlife crisis

It's not a quarterlife crisis.  

Been there, done that.  Struggled, searched for meaning in my life, found love, moved across the country, found bliss.

So why am I feeling those all-so-familiar feelings of confusion again?  I mean, looking at my life objectively, I've got it pretty good.  Respectable profession (we are not sharks, damnit).  Sweet, live-in boyfriend.  Cuddly pets.  Phenomenal friends.  Loving family.

But.

And there's always a but.

But what's lurking under the surface?

For starters, I'm still questioning my choice of professions.  I still don't love what I do.  And it's not that I just don't love it.  I don't even like it.  I still question daily whether I should have gotten my teaching degree and pursued a career in education.  It doesn't help that with the current economic downturn, work has slowed down considerably.  Oh right, and then there's that minor detail that I was asked to switch from a salaried position to an hourly position a few months back.  

On paper it worked out to a better deal, since I was already getting paid less than a starting-salary for the same work as everyone else.  On paper, I stood to make more going hourly.  

But.

And there's always a but.

But I didn't factor in the possibility of work slowing down to a near standstill and not being able to bill enough hours monthly to even carry the same paycheck as I had been earning at my sub-starting-salary pay.  Not that I really had a choice.  Because with the economic downturn, came the very real possibility of lay offs (rumor has it, there have already been a handful out of our main office).  And being low on the totem pole, I was essentially told that it would be my head on the block if I didn't switch to hourly.  Point taken.

But.

And there's always a but.

But am I any safer now?  Am I in any better position?  Sure, it took the target off my back for a while.  But with work slowing down the way it has (and not just for me), who are they going to look to eliminate when they realize there's still more fat that needs to be cut away?  

It's not that I would really mind being laid off.  I am, after all, frantically trying to find a job back in my home state.  We want to move home, after all.  My boyfriend has finished up with the degree that was the catalyst for our move in the first place.  And he's still working the same temporary internship job he had during classes.  (See: next to no income.)  We want to move home so that we can settle in, put down roots, start saving up money, get married and start a family.

But.

And there's always a but.

But so far, despite numerous great leads, no jobs have materialized.  Which is depressing in and of itself, really, but is compounded by the fact that our income is shriveling to nothing before our eyes, our current jobs aren't necessarily the most secure, and "home" is seeing the worst economy in the nation.  

So what next?  Do I continue to beat down doors to find a job in my field wherever I can?  Or do I take the opportunity to make a change in direction and pursue a further degree in education?  Can I even afford to do that?  After all, unless my boyfriend finds a great paying job soon, I'm pretty much going to remain in the role of necessary-bread-winner.  At least for now.  And it's not like I have any savings to fall back on.  

So right now I spend my days idly dreaming of nontraditional ways to make a living.  Preparing myself for what's starting to feel like an inevitable period of unemployment lurking on the horizon.  How can I use my specialized knowledge to better my position?  What specialized knowledge do I even possess?  And why can't I be artistic like some of my closest friends so that I could go into the graphic design business?  Or go into the anything design business, making a living by creating things that make people ooh and ahh?  Or better yet, can't I just be a stay-at-home mom?  Spending my days dealing with the endless trials and challenges of raising children?  Of course, that first requires a ring and a wedding, which first require well-paying jobs so that we can move.  

It's not a quarterlife crisis.  It's not a crisis.  

But.

And there's always a but.

It's just not very fun.

if you ever need help reaching an itch on your back...

Ok, this is just frightening.  Why, oh why would anyone want the record for longest nails in the first place?  Just look at this lady!  She's a freak show!  

If you ask me, this car crash was a blessing in disguise.  I mean, how could she possibly function normally?  Did she have someone feeding and bathing her?  She certainly couldn't have...serviced herself or others.  What kind of existence could she have had for the past thirty years?

And exactly how does one decide to go for a record like this?  I mean, my nails rarely make it past the tips of my fingers due to a horrific habit of gnawing on them to abate stress.  But the few instances when I got acrylics, I was barely functional.  Surely having 30 foot long fingernails is rather restrictive.  

Seriously, though?  She looks like a scary old witch.  I think it's the combination of the bleached out skank hair with the nails that does it.  Remind me to never, never let myself look like this when I get old.

and while we're on the topic...

Right.  So I feel it only appropriate since I posted earlier today about one half of my twin fears (that being aliens, of course), that I now address the second half.  

The scary, scary ocean.

For as long as I remember, I've been afraid of fish.  Even tiny ones.  It's not a crippling fear, really.  At least not in fresh water.  I mean, my family has a cottage on a lake and I've always enjoyed swimming there.  Sure, when we had the raft, I would carefully note the pirhanas (see: minnows) circling the raft, waiting for me to dive in, and I would gather all of my courage and swim like hell for shore.  And yeah, when I went snorkeling with my dad in Hawaii, I did kind of snap at the snorkel rental guy when he offered to sell us fish food.  But seriously?  I don't need to carry chum into the water with me and hope for the best.  You know what I mean?  And ok, so when we did get into the ocean on said snorkeling trip, and I happened to look over my shoulder and see about a thousand great white sharks (see: ocean minnows) right on my tail, following me, I did almost drown my dad, trying to get myself to safety.  

So yeah, it's a manageable fear.

But when I read stories like this one, it just reaffirms that my fear is valid.  There are scary ass creatures swimming in those waters.  Creatures that don't need to come up for air like we do.  Creatures we don't fully understand.  Creatures that can strike without you even knowing they're below you.  And yes, even creatures, deep down in the depths, that you couldn't even imagine in your wildest dreams.  

My favorite part of the article, incidentally, is the warning at the very end.  Kudos to those good folks, trying to keep the fools safe.  And so subtle.

Update: apparently they have now revised the article by removing my favorite part at the end.  Sadness.

where's my blankie?

There are a few basic truths that have followed me around for as long as I can remember.  One, I believe the ocean is a terrifying haven for monsters we have yet to even discover.  And two, aliens scare the living shit out of me.  

It's true.  

When I was around eleven or twelve, I went to see a movie called Fire in the Sky with a friend of mine.  Scariest movie I've ever seen.  To this day, I can't think about that movie without shuddering and getting the heebie-jeebies.  It caused nightmares for close to a year.  And in all likelihood, now that I've mentioned it, I'll probably wind up having nightmares again.  

I mean, how arrogant do you have to be to make a claim that we are the only intelligent life in the universe?  We can't even see 99% of the universe with our strongest telescopes.  How could you possibly know that we're the only ones out there?

Anyway, I digress.  Aliens are some scary business.  Don't get me started on the movie Signs.  I saw it in my twenties and I still freak myself out, thinking I see that alien standing on the roof across the street from my house at night.  Way too real.  

So when I was perusing the daily news online, you can imagine my horror at finding a story about a UFO spotting in broad daylight in England.  I know the video could be better, but seriously?  What. Is. That. Scary. Ass. Thing????

showdown of the century

I'm currently entertaining myself by watching a very interesting situation unfold.

I should give you a little background to get you up to speed.  My dog is quite possibly the most well-behaved dog in history.  It's true.  I wasn't really aware of this fact until I started taking him out in public.  First to a company softball game where he patiently let a coworker's toddler son tug on his fur quite forcefully.  Then to a friend's house where instead of bullying her tiny dogs, he let them chase him around the room before sitting quietly next to me, waiting for them to be disciplined for their bad behavior.  Point is, he's a good boy.  He really is.  

But over the past month or two, he's been developing a really annoying habit.  He's barking.  Indoors!  Now, I'm sure most dog owners would give me a big "Well no shit! He's a dog!" response to this predicament.  But honestly, he's never been like this before.  When we first got him as a puppy, we lived in an apartment.  Then we moved into a townhouse with neighbors on both sides.  He wasn't allowed to get loud because we didn't want to be those people with the noisy dog who never shut up.  Granted, we now live in a fully detached house, but I still don't want him thinking he can just go barking his sweet little head off in order to get attention.  That's not how we roll in this house.

Back to the present.  My dog has been fed, he's gone outside and fully emptied his bladder and, well, the other side.  He has no reason to be barking.  He has no immediate needs that must be taken care of to require such noisy demands. And he's driving me crazy.  

Enter my cat.

In the past fifteen minutes, my cat has taken it upon himself to silence the dog. It's like he finally reached his limit and just could not or would not take it any longer.  So now I get to watch while the cat stalks and hunts the dog.  He hides just outside a doorway and when the dog starts to bark, he jumps around the door frame, hisses and swats him on the nose.  The dog runs and hides for a couple minutes, then slowly and sheepishly starts walking around, looking for the cat.  When he spots him, he keeps his eye on him and gives him a wide berth as he makes his way over to me.  The cat sits there, staring him down, and waits.  Sure enough, before long, the dog gets cocky again and tries barking and walking around like he owns the place.  The cat jumps out at him, hisses and swats him in the nose.  Again.  The dog runs and hides.  Again. Repeat that sequence about five times and you've got some serious hilarity.

Thank you, cat.  You are a very good kitty.  Make sure to keep him under control during LOST tonight, ok?