Love: The miracle of flight and the time saving-ness of taking an airplane to my vacation destination of choice.
Hate: The fact that to return home on Monday morning I chose the 6:00 am flight, which meant I had to wake up SEVERAL HOURS prior to that to make it to the airport. Never again.

Love: I FINALLY got my test results back for the Midterm From Hell. I got a B+!!! Cue happy dance!
Hate: That I still have one more of those Midterms From Hell to take. Grrrr.

Love: I only have 7 more weeks of my undergraduate degree. SEVEN! Squee!
Hate: I still have 7 more weeks of my undergraduate degree. I swear this semester has lasted a decade.

Love: The wonderful people on the Interwebs. I am feeling so much love and support and concern from around the world after my very distressing post from yesterday.
Hate: That one off-handed remark from a total stranger in InternetLand can make me feel like I am failing.

Love: The extensive amount of information available on the Interwebs, I have been able to find a lot of information and started a list of questions to ask my doctors.
Hate: The extensive amount of information available on the Interwebs. I have self-diagnosed approximately 23 ways that I will die in the next 3-12 months.

Love: Fall weather! Soup! Scarves! Boots! Changing leaves!
Hate: Nothing to hate here, love it all!

Love: Halloween and the idea of dressing up and throwing a party.
Hate: 95% of all costumes for women are the slutty version of something. Slutty Policewoman! Slutty Fairy Tale Character! Slutty Watermelon!* (This particular piece of outrage was spawned from an actual costume ad I saw for a Slutty Watermelon. WHAT THE HELL! Ladies, you are worth more than this. And men, if you are tempted to dress up as a Slutty Watermelon you should be advised that you are also worth more than reducing yourself to a slice of sexalicious fruit. Just, don’t.)

Love: I have found and perused the OpenCourseWare for MIT. They have put all of the content of their classes online for anyone to see, read and learn.
Hate: Until this semester is over I can’t really justify delving into any one document or class too deep because I still have a thousand pages of Marx to get through and comprehend.

Love: Learning more about economics (my major) and all the ways it can explain and detail the world in which we live. It forces you to look at things in a new perspective, from a different angle, and with a new light or statistic. Love Econ!
Hate: Karl Marx. Ugh.

Leave your loves and hates in the comments!

*Love and Hate format heisted from the lovely Janet.

I don’t wear socks. Ever. I used to have a drawer full of socks, I had patterned ones, stripey ones, ones with polka dots or flowers. I had a pile of white athletic socks (sadly,of the tube variety) as well. That doesn’t even get me started on tights! These days, I have a giant box of tights–patterned, striped, polka-dotted, or floral-print–three or four pairs of thin, wool running socks, and a dingy handful of formerly-white athletic socks I wear maybe once a month. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t wear socks. I wear heels every day to work, and while I know the hip and trendy thing these days is to wear thin, colored socks with high heels, but that is gonna be one trend I won’t be trying anytime soon. You’re probably asking me what the hell I’m doing writing a post about socks; I recall a Sex and the City episode where Carrie attempts to write a column about men as socks and it fails, dismally.  Don’t worry, this isn’t about socks. It’s about feet (far more exciting, no?).

Due to my non-sock-wearing ways my feet are exposed most of the time and I put in a lot of work to make them acceptably naked, instead of disgustingly and frighteningly naked. Now that summer weather is FINALLY here* I feel there needs to be a public reminder about foot care.

(*Those of you residing somewhere other than the Rocky Mountain West have probably had summer weather for months. We are just barely getting into regular over-70 temperatures. The ski resorts 30 minutes from my house are open for skiing until at least the 4th of July. That’s right, snow skiing.)

(Moving on.)

Problem: Smelly, summer Sandal-Foot
Solution: Wash your feet; don’t wear plastic shoes.

Presumably you are the type of person to shower every day. If your feet are out and about all day long, they’re gonna need a good scrub as well. Don’t forget to soap them up too! I have tried a couple of different foot scrubs with those little granules to help slough off dead skin, they are fine and dandy and all, but soap and water seems to work just as well for me.

Also, let’s talk about footwear for a minute, shall we?  Unnatural materials will not allow your feet to breathe. So you insist on the cheap, plastic-y footwear from [insert store of choice here]. If your feet sweat in those shoes it will either a) soak into those fibers and remain sweat-smelling forever, or b) your sweat will pool in the lowest points of the shoe, causing a big stench and forcing passers-by to hold their nose or cross to the other side of the street.  I’m not saying those $2-dollar flip-flops weren’t a good purchase, everyone needs footwear for the beach. Or for a Saturday. I’m just saying that if you wear plastic-y shoes day in and day out, those shoes will smell and then your feet will smell and no amount of washing them will undo the stench because you are putting on smelly shoes again. Do you follow? You love the plastic shoes? Fine, but your feet smell.

Problem: Cracked heels and unruly callouses.
Solution: A small, cheese-grater-like device that will scrape all that dead skin off and leave your feet smooth(er) and soft(er). 

I have ridiculously dry skin, and pretty significant callouses on my feet. Without keeping up with this one step, my feet become so rough and cracked that I will actually wear holes in my sheets. So, I am religious with the cheese-grater thingie, and a foot file to keep things tidy. My sister uses a hand-held electric sander, to each her own.

Problem: Dry, cracking feet.
Solution: Vaseline Petroleum Jelly

Out here in the desert we have serious lotion requirements. I have tried at least a dozen different brands of foot lotion, and hands down the best one is straight up Vaseline. Other products may have mint or lavender or sandalwood scents, they may promise to rid you of cracking feet. Believe me, I’ve fallen for every line in the book. But, time and time again I’ll slather on that magic foot cream only to find my feet more rough and cracked in the morning. I come back to my vat of Vaseline because it works overnight every. single. time. I have recently upgraded to the Cocoa Butter Vaseline, which doesn’t necessarily work any better, but I like the smell.

Problem: Cracked, chipping, or yellowed toenails
Solution: Toenail Polish!!

I am the type of girl who always–ALWAYS–has her toes painted. In the day and age of polish that dries in 50 seconds I see no reason not to have bare toenails. Also, I wear open-toed heels year round and, frankly, I feel naked without a bit of polish on my feet. I repaint every week or so because I don’t like chipped, cracked, or peeling polish. Does this make me high maintenance? Probably. Do I care? Not at all. (Ironic side note: I never have color on my finger nails, it kind of creeps me out. I know, I know, it seems incongruous, but that’s just how I roll around here.) I love a nice, bright red, or a dark pink for summer. But I am also starting to love tangerine and lavender shades as well.

What’s that? You don’t like color on your toes? That’s totally fine. There are a thousand different neutral colors, or even clear glosses that should suit your fancy just fine. A few weeks ago I tried a very muted cappuccino color that was quite lovely. The point is, toes are funky looking to start with and adding a little slick of polish will do wonders to your open-toed sandal-wearing summer. Mmmkay?

—

And there you have it, four easy steps for fancy feet. Now, get thee a foot scrubber, a tub of vaseline, and a new pot of polish and shine up your toes!  Rinse, and repeat until it is so cold your toes are no longer seen. Please, and thank you.

How about you?  How was your Christmas?  Any meltdowns?

A true friend will listen to you confess your really bad mistakes and leave any judgment to a shoulder shrug and a well-timed “it happens.”

She will also be your support group to prevent you from making those same mistakes again.

A true friend will let you spend the night on her couch when you just can’t stand the idea of yourself.

A true friend will sing along to 80′s love anthem‘s at the top of your lungs, complete with lotion tube microphone and an enviable shimmy.*

*For the record, I do a mean shimmy, particularly with music blasting and passers-by staring.  It is one for the record books, people.  Also, this may or may not have been the first time I have sung in public for a solid decade.  (Public is defined as anywhere outside of my shower.)

Momma Moose was perhaps 20 feet off the road the first time I saw her–I’ve never seen a Moose before and I actually thought it was a deer when we first drove past.  But logic quickly took over and told me deer are not dark blackish-brown.  Must have been a mule.  Wait.  A Mule?  Like, a donkey?  No, it wasn’t a mule.  Suddenly, it dawned on me that this was my first moose siting.  I actually squealed!

“MOOSEN!  It’s a MOOSEN!”  (If you have ever heard the Brian Regan skit about school and “moosen” you’ll understand where this came from.)

Momma Moose was very careful to keep her two babies hidden from view–they were small and light brown and quite cute.  Like an idiot, I made Handsome slow down so I could take a few pictures.  Clearly, this is not the best idea whilst there is a Momma Moose with a couple of baby Moosen around.  I don’t have any crazy Moose-attack stories, thank heavens, but I’m still excited about my Moose siting.

*****     *****     *****

I also went to a Monastery over the weekend–I didn’t even know there was a monastery in Utah.

Tucked away in northern Utah, 20 minutes off of state route 167 in Huntsville these monks work and pray and chant and make creamed honey and delicious jam.  I’m sure they do more than that–but in my short visit that was all I experienced.  I took quite  a few pictures here–but I somehow feel funny posting them all over the internet.

I browsed the bookstore and picked up some of their famous honey, listened to their chanting in the church, and was generally impressed by their very dedicated way of life.

*****     *****     *****

I went mountain biking for the first time on Saturday and I have the palm-sized bruise on my calf to prove it.  This was the result of my flying head-over-handle bars and simultaneously catching my left calf on something pokey–like a spoke or a chain do-hickey or something.

By Sunday afternoon I was still sore and the bruise was blossoming into something quite nasty-looking, I will refrain from posting pictures because they even creep me out.  Today my purpley-black bruise is considerably lightened and not nearly so painful due to some home-remedy action.  Vinegar, the wonder-drug.  Yesterday afternoon I soaked a small washcloth in white distilled vinegar and held it in place on my calf with a few layers of plastic wrap.  It smelled badly, but after a few hours my bruise looked much much better.  Vinegar…who knew?

Also, my first post is up on Very Bookish.  Read along with me in The Elegance of the Hedgehog.

What?  That shouldn’t surprise you!  I can call shoe trends and, on occassion, reality TV winners…but I can’t call an entire election.   So, instead of yapping about the results and how I may or may not move to Canada Mexico, allow me to share my favorite tidbits of election season.

My landlord supports Obama, and the 4-foot by 12-foot banner on the lawn lets everyone who drives past, or even does a fly-by in a helicopter, know where his loyalties lie.

Less than 3 blocks up the street is the Utah Obama Campaign Headquarters.  I think they took over an abandoned funeral home to set up shop and have had parties and campaigning going on for months.  Perhaps my landlord could have helped them out with their signage though.  Their banner, taped to the inside of the window, consists of six 8.5″x11″ pieces of white paper with “Obama Headquarters” handwritten in bubble letters–bubble letters, people–that look like they are sliding right off the bottom corner.  I’m talking about a serious downwards slant, a good 30 degree slant, at least.  Handwriting detectives would let you know that whoever wrote that sign was seriously depressed…even though they are trying to hide it by writing in bubble letters.

Over the weekend I was in an adjacent county hanging out with Handsome–he lives a solid 43 miles South of me–and I was reading over the fliers and pamphlets that arrived at his house.  I can’t vote for any of those individuals, but reading their qualifications and self-professed strengths was both horrifying and hysterical.  Now, as Red State, U.S.A, that particular county has the label of Reddest County, Red State, U.S.A.  That being said, I was floored by the bad grammar that existed on every single Republican flier.  These shiny, expensive, full-color pages were full of incomplete sentences, sentences ending in prepositions, misspelled words and sentences that had too many filler words.  Appalling!  Despite campaign tactics, it is probably safe to say that Republicans will win the majority of races down south, but at least the Democrats have the sense to hire a proof-reader.

It is officially Fall, snow has fallen in thick blankets on the mountains and there is a definite crisp in the air.  I am actually considering closing my bedroom window–which has been open since February.  It’s time to up the ante a bit and break out my Fall Cleaning Skillz.

First order of business, rearrange the furniture, and revamp by bedroom.  It’s time to change the lime-green polka dots to something deep and red and fabulous.

Secondly, I need to get started on my Mission: Put Together crusade. I have taken photos of several M:PT outfits, but I need to upload them to Flickr and figure out what I’m going to wear this week.

Thirdly, my apartment is in desperate need of a really good cleaning.  I hope that by the week’s end it will smell like orange hardwood floor cleaner and cinnamon. 

With the cold I am craving all sorts of cold-weather food.  Like soup, and slow-cooker goodness, and homemade bread–even though I’ve never actually attempted homemade bread.  It’s time to get back to the kitchen.

And lastly, I need to get my lazy self out and running again.  I can no longer use the “it’s too late” excuse, I get off work at 3:00.  I can no longer use the “it’s too hot” excuse, there is snow on the mountains.  I can no longer use the “my body still hurts”, because THANKFULLY I have a clean bill of health from both my physical therapist and my chiropractor.  Six months, people.  It took me six months and about a hundred doctor’s appointments to finally get back to feeling good after my car accident.  Gaaaah!

Right now, I kind of feel like I’m in the second category.  Only the insanity is more of a repetitive nature, and less of a chaotic type scenario.  Although, really, there is a bit of chaos thrown in for, what, good measure?  Fun?  Kicks?  I don’t know.  (Does any of this make sense?)

Since returning from Hawaii life has fallen into the sort of routine I haven’t had for months, and after quickly getting the hang of all the new bits, I have sort of gone into an auto-pilot type mentality.

I wake up every morning by 5:30–shockingly, this has not been as difficult as I initially thought–and groggily get dressed and put on some makeup.  I generally don’t remember any of this as I am still half-asleep.

I grab my lunch from the fridge and leave home by 6:10 am, and if we’re being completely honest I don’t remember a thing from the time my seat-warmer heats up until I pull into the parking lot at work.  Radio, traffic (not much of this at o-dark-hundred), landmarks…it all mushes into a blur that ends with fluorescent office lighting.

Work is repetitive, mindless, and generally stress-free.  This is a first for me, and while I sometimes yearn for a more exciting job, at least I don’t ever, EVER have to take work–or work-related stress–home with me.  For now, the trade-off is worth it.

Before I know it I’m eating my lunch, generally outside on the office patio which overlooks a golf course with beautiful mountain peaks in the background.  This part I remember, it’s usually the best part of my day.

The afternoon flies by quickly, I leave work and go to a local high school where I coach a competitive Shakespeare team.  There will be more of this later.  The Shakespeare stuff is a ton of fun, but still can fall into the “repetitive” category.  I am in charge of 5 pieces, scenes & monologues, that are being rehearsed for a competition in October.  The kids are great and the pieces are interesting, but rehearsal is rehearsal…practice until perfect.

I am typically getting home around 8:30 or 9:00 every night, eat some kind of dinner, scrape together a lunch for the next day, lounge in the shower and curl up in bed. 

I haven’t been leaving comments on blogs (I have been reading!  Google Reader isn’t banned at work, but blogspot, wordpress, typepad and facebook are taboo under the corporate handbook), I haven’t been writing on my own blog (clearly), I haven’t been talking to friends or family or anything.

Honestly, it feels a little weird.  Going from a summer of absolutely nothing to do to this jam-packed schedule has been quite the adjustment; I really don’t think I am well-adjusted yet.  The Shakespeare stuff will be done by early October, and I am hoping to have some time to myself again. 

The break will come soon enough, for now I’m enjoying staying busy, however routine it may become, I am happy.

For the last 3 months I have been jobless.  What, you didn’t know?  That’s because I didn’t want to announce it, and I kept assuming that any day now I’d get that job offer–any job offer.  It has a lot to do with a massive car accident, still being relatively new at the company.  They technically didn’t do anything illegal, but–in my opinion–my former boss was downright unethical.  Unemployment is alright, for a minute.  But weeks on end of scouring Monster.com (and every other possible employment site) gets really old, REALLY fast.  I’m done being unemployed.  D-U-N. 

Which brings me to my next announcement, I finally got a new job!  It’s nothing spectacular and by no means a dream position, but it will pay the rent and the insurance and the car payment and what-have-you, so I’m pretty excited about the whole thing.  I start on Aug. 11 and will have a bit of an adjustment.  My shift is from 6:30 am to 3…yes, that’s right, 6:30.  I don’t remember the last time I was up at 6:30, let alone at work.  We’ll see how long I can last without collapsing out of exhaustion.

I need a vacation.  I realize I’ve had weeks of “free time”, but I need a real vacation.  One where I don’t have to worry, or stress, or freak out about anything other than what time the hotel stops serving breakfast and whether or not the beach is right outside my door or across the street.  I am very much looking forward to a nice break like that.  At this point I don’t know when I’ll be going on said vacation, but for my own sanity’s sake, I hope it’s soon.

This weekend I will have a little break, Handsome and I are heading up to Seattle to visit his family.  I am so excited it’s a bit embarrassing.  But we unemployed people have to focus on the little things in order to not tear our hair out, and right now I’m very much looking forward to a weekend in the Emerald City.  It will be awesome, and considerably cooler, and I get to hang out with Handsome non-stop for a couple of days.  And I can stop worrying about finding a job and just relax and enjoy the weekend.

What are you looking forward to right now?