Cue: Dark Humor and Terrible Funeral Jokes

Tomorrow, my parents, religious conflicts and news broadcasts be damned, are leaving on a ten day trip to Israel.

Impeccable timing, yeah?

"Oh, don't worry," my mother assured me. "We're not going to be anywhere near Gaza. And more importantly, your father and I aren't afraid of dying. We already went over the details with your brother."

"The details of what? The trip?"

"No no, the details of what to do if we die."

"CAN WE NOT TALK ABOUT THAT?"

"Talk about what? I told him he's going to have to come claim the bodies..."

"WAIT. You did not actually talk to Paul about claiming your bodies."

"We did! And you know what he said?"

"?"

"He said we were lucky if they can find all our limbs and body parts to ship back to the United States! HA HA HA."

"So this is all a big JOKE to you people!?"

"I thought it was funny. Anyway, I instructed him to sell the house and split the profit between the four of you."

"Wait. Why do we have to sell the house?"

"Because! Who is going to be able to afford to keep it!?"

"Paul! Can't Paul and Sophie live in the house? They're looking to buy anyway!"

"Well then what about the rest of you?! You need to sell the house to get some money!"

"How much money are we talking here?"

"At least $100,000."

"I get a HUNDRED GRAND if you and dad get blown up in Israel?"

"AT LEAST! Maybe more with you know, life insurance plans and all that."

"I'd rather just keep the house, actually."

"LAURA. You guys are going to HAVE to sell the house!"

"MOM. CAN WE STOP AND THINK ABOUT THE FACT THAT WE ARE HAVING A TEN MINUTE CONVERSATION ABOUT YOU AND DAD GETTING KILLED OVERSEAS?!"

"I know. Well, sooner or later your father and I are going to die whether it's in Jerusalem or in New York, you know?"

"LA LA LA WE ARE NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION ANYMORE."

"I just want you to be prepared. I knew you would freak out like this, that's why I already went over the funeral arrangements with your brother. He's less emotional."

"I AM NOT EMOTIONAL. It's just, uh, THIS IS KIND OF A BAD TIME TO VISIT THE HOLY LAND, WOMAN. YOU GET MY DRIFT?"

"Oh please. I agree with your father."

"About WHAT?"

"About the fact that IF we die over there, it's pretty much a guaranteed express ticket to heaven. I mean, really, dying in ISRAEL? We are bypassing purgatory for SURE!"

"I'm hanging up now."

So, off they go with a church group of about twenty to visit Jerusalem and Bethlehem and the Dead Sea and all the places where holy people walked about. In case you're just tuning in, my parents are VERY INTO HOLY THINGS. And by holy things, I mean things related to Jesus.

If you think about it, I mean, it is a very cool trip. There is a ton of ancient history over there and I definitely would be interested in seeing it. It's just not on my Top Ten List of Places To Go, if you know what I'm saying. Especially not like, this week, right? This week, I would play it safe and go somewhere tame, somewhere like Delaware.

But as my mother said, they already spent the money and they planned it back over the summer and who knew it would be a bad time and what are they supposed to do? Back out in fear? The Dlug's do not back out of anything in fear. The Dlug's COMMIT, they LAUGH in the face of danger, they make JOKES ABOUT THEIR FUNERAL.

It will be the second time my mother has traveled overseas in her life, the first time being a few years ago when she attended World Youth Day in Germany. My father traveled extensively throughout Asia and Europe while he was in the army in the late '60's but I don't think he's left the country since then. They are both so incredibly excited and have been looking forward to this for months and months. It's just...uh...do you have to go now?!!?!?

They were originally planning a trip to Italy after my father's retirement but along with the retirement came cancer so, that was put off for a bit as doctors pummeled his prostate with drugs and the like. Right around the time they decided they were ready to go somewhere, the church announced this lovely pilgrimage. And so, the economy plummeted and my father remarked that the money sitting in his retirement account really wasn't doing much at all and so he took some out and away they went.

Or, away they shall go. In about twenty-four hours. Not to Italy but to Israel.

A little bit different, am I right?

I'm going to try not have a panic attack every day that they're away. I'm going to try not to run through different scenarios in my head of all the ways this trip can go horribly, horribly wrong. My parents really are genuinely thrilled about it and I'm stoked for them, for every single aspect of the trip except you know, the whole "Possibly Getting Bombed" thing.

In the end, I'm pretty sure they will return safe and sound, right? (RIGHT!? OH MY GOD, PLEASE SAY YES?!!?!?) But if they don't, I will sell their house and collect some mad cash and throw a LAURA IS AN ORPHAN party. You should come.

In the Bleak Mid-Winter

I'm not sure which was worse--

The FOUR cellphones that rang during a performance of Equus last night, one of which rang for so long that it caused Richard Griffiths to just stop speaking and take the longest beat imaginable

OR

The one cellphone that rang during the most poignant part of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button this evening which didn't ring for quite as long because the woman ANSWERED IT AND STARTED TALKING.

You tell me.

In other news, I picked three new headshots.

This is my Go-To musical theatre headshot unless I am doing a musical where everyone dies. Then perhaps I will choose a less chipper picture:



This is the "Quirky with glasses and oh so cute you'd put her in a Tampax commercial!" Laura:



And here I am looking kind of sultry which is hilarious because WHEN DO I EVER GET CAST IN ANYTHING SULTRY?


For the record, I have never been cast in anything sultry. In fact, I believe my roommate and I were the only people in our sophomore class in college NOT to be cast in Andrew Lippa's "The Wild Party" because we were too "pure looking". We were devastated, of course, because OMG IT WAS COLLEGE and it was THE SEMESTER MUSICAL and you know, IT MEANT SO DAMN MUCH.

It ended up being the best thing for us because

1) there is a simulated sex scene at the end of the second act and my mother would have FLIPPED OUT IF SHE HAD SEEN IT OMGGGGG

and

b) The production kind of sucked.

Also, the roommate and I spent the semester getting straight A's and eating french fries while the rest of the department was on a diet, desperately trying to get in shape for the aforementioned simulated sex scene.

See? All the things you wish you knew about college theater departments, RIGHT HERE ON THIS WEBSITE.

It's so funny to me to look back and laugh at things that used to matter so incredibly much. I suppose that is a Life In General Thing and not just a College Thing. BUT OH! It was the MUSICALLLLL and everyone was in it but MEEEEEEEEE.

You'll note this is a trend.

In 6th grade, I was the only one of my friends not cast in a community theater production of "Fiddler on the Roof" and I cried into my pillow for DAYS while my mother pet my hair and tried her best to comfort me. "But sweetie, you just don't look Jewish enough..."

I'm also trying to imagine my mother saying this while trying not to laugh, which I assume is how she said it.

And my 12 year old self did not UNDERSTAND THAT. Everyone but ME. I am left BEHIND. Everyone is wanted and I AM NOT. Forget all the times that I was chosen, picked, cast. None of it mattered because EVERYONE WAS SINGING "TRADITION" AND I WAS NOT ALLOWED BECAUSE I LOOKED TOO WASPY.

I'm going to try in this new year to actually believe what my 12 year old self refused to--that 80% of this acting game has nothing to do with me. It has to do with who the director knows and what color hair the girl needs to be and whether or not I can sing a high C. All I can do is work with what I've been given, my vocal range, my height, my preparation.

The rest is out of my hands and I think that automatically relieves quite a bit of stress.

I just need to keep training, keep showing up, keep putting in the effort.

And also, KEEP LOOKING SULTRY.

Done and done.

Resolutions and Stuff

New Year's Resolutions I've Written So Far:

1. Stop cursing
2. No more plastic water bottles
3. No more popping my pimples
4. No more white flour
5. Put more money into savings each week
6. Keep a gratitude journal

So far I'm doing great with all of these things except the fucking white flour and the fucking cursing. Everything else = awesome.

1. My cursing has spun out of control. I'm not really sure why. I'm also not really sure why I care. My mom always told me that the Holy Spirit drifts away from you when your language and thoughts are vulgar or impure. She also says that it's indicative of a lot of deep-rooted anger.

I don't know what the FUCK she's talking about.

I LOVE YOU MOM.

In all seriousness, it's something I can do without and I'd like to think I'm a person who can think of better words to use than "asshat".

2. James bought me a Sigg water bottle for Christmas. This eliminates the need for plastic water bottles and so far, in 2009, I have not purchased a SINGLE ONE. Go me. The End.

3. Popping pimples...sigh. I love popping my pimples. I love popping YOUR pimples. I swear I would if you let me. PLEASE? Notice that my resolution is to stop popping mine and not yours. SEE?

I get this from my mother. I'm not proud of it. I realize that there are going to be pimples breaking out of my pores, tempting me to do it, just squeeze! Just a little bit! And people, I JUST MAY HAVE TO DO IT. But really, I need to stop. I press my face a zillion times a day, scouring it for the slightest hint of a blemish and I guarantee you that in the process of touching my face with my OILY FINGERS all day, I am actually giving myself MORE PIMPLES than necessary.

Also, there is the tiny issue of scarring. And the fact that now that I am an old lady, I am starting to see these scars and they are not going away and OMG WHAT HAPPENED TO MY BEAUTIFUL SKINNNNNN?

Also, I am also seeing the beginnings of wrinkles. Pass me the botox. Thank you.

So, yeah. No picking. No popping. Unless it's yours. Come here, there's a nice one right there on your forehead...

4. White Flour

This one is HARD. I don't particularly care for starchy things--potatoes, pizza, breads, etc. But I am a pasta WHORE. And I'll buy brown rice pasta or whole wheat and eat it a few times and then realize "OH I FORGOT. I HATE THIS." and banish it to the back of my cabinet. I then go back to the store, load up on the Barilla (Gemelli! Mezzo Rigatoni! Thick Spaghetti!) and call it a night.

Too much pasta. Too many carbs. Must cut it down. I don't think I can eliminate white flour completely but I'd like to reduce. What is an appropriate goal here? Pasta twice a week instead of eighteen? You tell me. And I shall comply.

5. More money into savings = self-explanatory. I already logged in today and upped the ante which is pretty damn hilarious considering my pay cut. THANK YOU, ECONOMY.

6. Every night, before I go to sleep, I write down three things I'm grateful for. Things in the journal so far include:

a. eating leftover Thai food for lunch the next day
b. belting showtunes in my car
c. new green flannel sheets
d. Orbitz raspberry mint gum
e. Christmas lights still up after Christmas

Gratitude is something that I don't pay enough attention to, don't stop and think about enough. When I get into a really negative mood, gratitude is an instant mood lifter. It takes the focus away from myself and allows me to remember all that I have. It instantly makes any of my melodrama smaller and less important.

There you go. In unrelated news, I got new headshots taken yesterday. I think they came out SMASHING, don't you?


Good. Me too.

2008 Blogging Recap

Blogging shall resume on Monday with, I hope, more regularity in the new year. (HA. YEAH RIGHT.) My goal is Monday, Wednesday, Friday with possible random Tuesday/Thursday/Weekend surprises thrown in. I hope to get around to posting some resolutions along with how some of last year's resolutions turned out.

In the mean time, here's how my year went down on the blog. The below are the first bits of the first posts from every month with a link to the original entry. Enjoy!

January - "How depressed can I be with curly hair, those shoes and the best New Year's Eve to date?"

February - "There are days, whether single or dating someone, when I miss an ex-boyfriend. I feel like a freak admitting this, however, it makes sense to me..."

March - "Tonight after philosophy class, I waited for the 6 train to come to a full stop before walking through the open doors. As soon as I did, I was nearly knocked over by a strong citrus scent that was wafting towards me in a thick haze..."

April - "This is my darling friend Erica. She had too much to drink at my party on Saturday night and I took this video of her calling a boy outside the bar. This boy will not commit to her so Erica decided to make sure he knew that she 'has options' and that while she was at the bar, she was getting 'a lot of offers'..."

May - "Okay! Internet! I need your help! I am going to Italy...in...um...well...soon. Less than a week now. Shhh, don't mention it or I'm going to flip out..."

June - "So, there's that..."

July - "I wonder. How will I be treated when I'm no longer considered cute?"

August - "I just got back from a concert at Jones Beach. Maroon 5. Counting Crows. Stop making fun of me, the concert was amazing, shut up..."

September - "I accidentally got into a political discussion this weekend with my mother and grandmother. I say accidentally because a political discussion with my mother's side of the family is something I NEVER would willingly want to get into..."

October - "I was sitting at my desk at work last spring talking to my mother, the receiver clamped between my neck and shoulder as I absentmindedly organized a spreadsheet. 'So,' sighed my mother. 'Your sister's entering a beauty pageant...'"

November - "I forget things.It might be genetic, it might be a bit of early dementia, it might be genetic early dementia. Who even knows. I've been suffering my entire life..."

December - "This morning as I was getting out of the shower, my phone rang. I let it go to voicemail as I did not recognize the number. It turned out to be a vocal coach I knew and his message essentially said that he was desperate to find a voice for a voiceover. It was for a children's toy and the role would be the voice of a carrot. Is that something I think I can do?"

Happy New Year!

Okay. So this year sucked for the most part. HOWEVER, when I was looking through all my pictures to make this video, I realized that 2008 was also full of so much joy. So, I take it back that it sucked for the most part. It sucked a lot. But not THAT much. Does this help?

HAPPY NEW YEAR.

My first resolution is finished - learn how to use iMovie. I suck at it and there's one picture that goes by really fast and some if it is blurry and WAH WAH I SUCK AT LIFE. But here you go, my first attempt.


2008 from The Spectrum on Vimeo.

Christmas Wrap Up

I am only now recovering from the holidays, if that gives you any idea of how my Christmas went. Imagine you got caught up in a tornado and some if it was fun because OOOO WINDY SWIRLY HAPPY IS THAT A FIELD OF DAISIES I AM SPINNING AROUND IN? but other parts were more like HOLY CRAP PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW, I WANT TO GET OFF THIS RIDE OR I AM GOING TO DIEEEEEE.

You get it? That was my Christmas.

I love Christmas. I do. I love the garland and the houses with the twinkly lights (though I can do without those inflatable things, dear God when did that become popular!?) and my mother's cookies and my father with his tie that lights up when you press it and giving out the gifts that I put so much of my heart into. I love seeing Tom and I love stuffing my face with my sweet potato chili and I love my annual Christmas morning run.

I love how Tom gets furious every Christmas because there's ham on the table and "WHO THE HELL EATS HAM ANYWAY?"

Apparently, not him.

And apparently, he was very excited this year when the Christmas ham neglected to make its appearance. Please excuse how asshat-ish he sounds about poor people. I promise Tom really does like the needy.


Dear Ham, I Hate You. Love, Tom. from The Spectrum on Vimeo.

I did not quite get the chance to marvel over the ham because I was doing dishes for 89% of the evening.

This is actually a total lie. It was maybe 2% but I like how genuinely annoyed I look in the video. In reality, I LIKED doing the dishes. WHAT THE F AM I TALKING ABOUT HERE?!


Laura's Christmas Duty from The Spectrum on Vimeo.

The best present I received this year was from Tom.

Tom hates his job and e-mails me throughout the day to tell me that. We also discuss auditions, boyz and what we had for lunch. You know, important things. Well, Tom decided to get all crafty this year and print out all the e-mails we sent back and forth to each other and bind them into a BOOK complete with ribbon. Cue: me bawling my eyes out.



And then also? laughing my ass off because WHY DO I KEEP TALKING ABOUT BOYS AND HOW MUCH I HATE THEM AND ALSO HOW MUCH I LOVE SOUP???

WHYYYYYYYYYYY???

I'm currently reading a fantastic memoir by Julia Blackburn and in it, she continually references her diaries and journals and faxes she writes to her friends. They contain bits of poetry and descriptive notes and haunting discoveries.

If I were to publish my 25 year old life, it would probably go something like this:

"AND THEN I WAS LIKE WHATEVER BECAUSE HE WAS BEING TOTES RIDICULOUS AND I HATE HIS ASS FACE. WHAT ARE YOU HAVING FOR LUNCH? I AM THINKING 10 VEGETABLE SOUP BECAUSE OMFG SOUPPPPPPPPPP."

Sigh. My life. So artistic, no?

In the above CHRISTMAS HAM video which will soon become famous, I have no doubt, Tom references the fact that this year, we had less people congregating on Christmas Eve. This is the evening we usually celebrate with my mother's side of the family, a huge joyous dinner with too much food to be legal and presents in piles under the tree and sometimes even carols sung in harmony around a piano. Yes, we can be THAT family.

Due to my grandfather's passing in May and the subsequent drama it created, many relatives were absent this year. I cannot fault people for isolating themselves during the holidays, for choosing to spend it alone rather than with family particularly when there are hurt feelings and misunderstandings abounding. As an introverted person, I completely relate to the need to stay away sometimes.

Alayna lost her grandmother one year ago this past November and this Christmas, her family rented a cabin in Branson, Missouri. There are over twenty of them, I believe, all together in one place for five days. Now, the thought of all that time sequestered with my family is enough to make me write another tornado metaphor so I'll spare you but the point is that when I heard this, I thought, "Oh. That is how a healthy family grieves." They get together and cry and laugh and celebrate a new tradition, acknowledging the passing of a loved one.

An aunt of mine turned to me on Christmas Eve and remarked how difficult it was to be without her father. I can't begin to imagine what Christmas will be like after my father dies because just a two second dwelling on that thought results in streams of tears. I hugged her and I know she reads this blog so I don't mean to offend her with what I'm about to say but that moment was the first time all evening I noticed my grandfather wasn't there. I suppose Christmas had its odd moments because so many of my relatives were affected by an absence that I hadn't even been aware of.

Sad, isn't it?

Does that make me a bad person?

I can't tell.

Probably.

There's also lots of conflict with my grandmother and it's maddening and confusing but at the heart of it, so sad. It is odd to live your life without a person and then suddenly attempt to adjust to their presence, especially when nothing is really known about them. I'm aware enough to realize that she is trying to make up for lost time but the thing about lost time is that it is lost. And can't be recovered.

I'm also put off this holiday season by the startling realization that people my age get married. That always confuses me. I'm all, AREN'T YOU TOO YOUNG FOR THAT? DID YOU ASK YOUR PARENTS? ISN'T IT ILLEGAL?

But suddenly, as if it's some disease I might catch, engagement is spreading. I thought I'd have at least ten years before that started, living in New York City and all. We take our sweet time with that kind of thing, don't ya know. But lo and behold, everyone decided to propose this Christmas and it seemed to rock me not because I'm all WHAT ABOUT ME? but because I'm all IF THAT EVER HAPPENS TO ME I WILL KILL MYSELF.

Note to self: please talk to therapist about irrational fear of marriage.

I'm not afraid. It's just that when people get engaged, they tend to get married and that means they pair off and it ceases to become "going to lunch with Nancy" but instead morphs into "going to lunch with Nancy and Phil."

Note: I do not know any Nancy's or Phil's, but you get my point.

Sometimes when I'm around too many couples, a bubble burps out of my chest at the thought that in ten, twenty, thirty years, I will STILL be having brunch on the Upper West Side with all these couples and I will STILL be alone, the hilarious goofy single weirdo that keeps everyone entertained and helps steer the discussion away from boring things like silverware and coffeemakers. HEY HEY GUYS! I'LL BE HERE ALL WEEK! You all go home to your spouses and I will just...well...who knows? Walk around talking to myself like a homeless person! BUT BOY WAS THAT BRUNCH GOOD.

It sucks sometimes, yes? Growing up and stuff?

Holidays mark that in a very distinct way. They dutifully mark "I Am Older This Year" whereas in the middle of February say or the beginning of August, I don't necessarily notice how fast time is passing and how fast other people are moving ahead of me. Sometimes I feel like I'm swimming in a pool that goes on and on and everyone is Michael Phelps and I am some weird girl doing a backfloat, spitting water into the air like a whale. And then some buzzer sounds and the race is over and I'm startled out of my backfloat and everyone is all "WHY DIDN'T YOU RACE?" And I am all "Because the ceiling tiles looked interesting."

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, a lovely occasion and a beautiful day where I will probably post a video I made on iMovie which sums up 2008. The video is happy and awesome even though 2008 sucked the big one. But I don't have any pictures of it sucking. Why is that? I need to take more pictures of myself having a bad day. Instead, it is a somewhat lame but upbeat movie of happiness and joy and unicorns.

Okay, no unicorns. But you have to wait until tomorrow to see it.

I have no plans for the celebration tomorrow though I've been invited to quite a few soirees. I think it's supposed to snow and if I had to sit and think, long and hard about what exactly I want to do tomorrow night, none of the options include "PARTY" or "SWANKY HOTEL" or "BAR HOPPING". Actually the only option that sounds good to me is "Thai food" and "Bed at 9 PM".

Is that old or what? Shouldn't I be married or something?

I hope everyone is as excited as I am to ring in 2009. From here, I believe everything can only go up and whether I'm out on the town or snuggled under the covers, I am wishing you all a very happy new year.

That Kind of Day

The winter has officially begun in New York City, a milestone marked by a blanket of snow and ice that is currently covering everything. Alayna and I sidestepped quite a few puddles of slush last night on our way to see "Slumdog Millionaire". I suppose in most other places, inches and inches of snow requires people to stay inside and not go anywhere due to slick roads. Manhattan doesn't seem to shut down like that as subways are rarely affected by snow and it seemed perfectly natural to head out into the winter night.

I found out late yesterday afternoon that I was relieved of twin duty this weekend, a notification I always find bittersweet because while it's a free Saturday, I really, really miss the boys. I got over that pretty quickly when I realized all the things people can accomplish on the weekends. It is CRAZY, are you telling me that people have Saturdays and Sundays off all the time!? Like, more than a few times a year!?!? THAT IS INSANE I TELL YOU.

I started out as a Saturday/weekday evening babysitter for Owen and River in the September of '05 and after my children's theatre tour in '06, due to a variety of circumstances, I became their full-time nanny, Satudays included. That lasted until October of last year when they started pre-school and I began temping. From then on, I saw them only on Saturday afternoons/evenings. And so, in the past three and a half years that I've been with them, I've taken less then ten Saturdays off.

I have obviously grown accustomed to working a six day work week, so having two days off in a row feels abnormal at this point. Last night, on my way home from the movies, I was brainstorming all the things I could do. Paint my windowsill! Iron all my clothes! Clean out the refrigerator! Make some soup from scratch! Organize my bookshelf according to the Dewey Decimal system!!

THE POSSIBILITIES! Endless, I tell you!!

I find it ironic that when I have an extra day off, I quickly scurry around figuring out ways to fill it up so that I don't "waste it". It's as if I need to combine every activity I've ever thought of into one small day so that it will count. Count towards WHAT exactly? I have no idea.

When I catch myself being like this, very typically Aries, attempting to take on ten times more than is humanly possible, I try to take a step back and prioritize. What would REALLY make me happy? Sure, I could bust out some paint and an iron and go grocery shopping and scrape off my car. I could race around making social plans for tonight, I could go into the city and take a dance class or hike to the gym, you know, something AMAZING, something that would MEAN SOMETHING.

Or I could take a breath and remove the word "should" from my vocabulary.

This is what I have done so far:

woke up at 11 am.
ate a bowl of cereal.
put a few CD's into the stereo and pressed RANDOM, then PLAY. (Nickel Creek's first album, original cast recording of Spring Awakening, Whitney Houston's Greatest Hits Disc 1, Sarah McLachlan's "Wintersong", and a mix CD I found this morning from undergrad entitled "DECEMBER 04").
got my ass kicked for 27 minutes by Jillian Michaels.
swept and mopped the kitchen floor.
did the dishes.
cleaned the entire bathroom.
ate a bowl of pasta leftover from dinner with Alayna.
began a blog.
made a pot of decaf caramel coffee.
took a shower.
got back into my pajamas.
put on a face mask.
took the nailpolish off my toes.
stared at my computer screen.
made this list.
changed my blogger profile picture.

It is now 3:17 pm and while my overachieving self would say that list SUCKS BALLS, I will say that that list is what I felt like doing. I didn't feel obligated to do a single task. (Not even clean the bathroom...I have an unhealthy obsession with cleaning stuff.) I feel insanely happy today. I wonder if it's because I have allowed myself to just go with it and do whatever because newsflash: THAT IS WHAT NORMAL PEOPLE DO ON SATURDAYS. People who know how to RELAX and TAKE IT EASY, two phrases that never enter my vocabulary, ever.

I believe I will spend the rest of the day memorizing a monologue for graduate school auditions and attempting to find two others, the dreaded Shakespeares. AHHHHHHH. Granted, these things must be done but will also give me joy because HA! CREATIVE ACTING STUFF. How fulfilling!! Not a bad way to spend a snowy Saturday, reading plays and making notes and finding characters. I think I can deal.

Tonight, I might treat myself to a Weeds marathon. Or a trip to Target for a few remaining ingredients for some Christmas gifts. I need to stop buying people presents. It is getting out of control. I would take a picture of the mountains underneath our small Charlie Brown tree but I'm too embarrassed. Talk about WASTEFUL. Yowsas.

Anyway, this update has been brought to you by a girl who's learning how to enjoy a weekend. A girl, who, the older she gets, realizes how much she likes spending time with herself. Stomping through snow in Manhattan or sipping a mug of coffee in Queens, hanging out alone is actually cheerfully good company.