This morning I had coffee instead of tea and not much breakfast. I’m considerably more wired than I usually am at this point in my day.
Today is the last day of my internship, which is both exciting and weird because this is likely the last internship I’ll ever have. Next summer means actually facing the job market. Sweet.
I’m headed home after work today to a week that will include caterers, car shopping, and going to see Tim McGraw with my grandmother. To say it will be an interesting week is an understatement.
This picture is pretty much how I feel after coffee this morning (source: here). I couldn’t bring myself to use one of Tim McGraw.
This morning, while running out the door for work, I remembered that yesterday I ran out of the tea I normally keep at my desk. Since my ability to think coherently depends on that cup of tea, I grabbed a few loose bags and headed to the bus. The first sip, however, revealed that in the morning’s haste the tea I brought to work was some sort of gross vanilla and not my usual cinnamon. I typically like vanilla, but because it wasn’t what I was accustomed to, I took it personally, like the vanilla was trying to Ruin My Life.
So. That led to a trip to the coffee shop, followed by me staring at my coffee for 5 minutes because the design on top was so amazing I didn’t really want to drink it. I tried to find a picture like it on Pinterest, found this one instead, decided that giraffes trump everything, and will hereby call it a day. Not really, because there is work to be done, but at least I no longer feel like the hot beverages in my life are conspiring against me.
In an unrelated note, ever since I found these I have been pondering whether having a Nancy Drew themed wedding would be taking my infatuation with everyone’s favorite girl detective a little too far. I could call Damin, “Ned.” We could give everyone flashlights. It would be great. Because everyone loves Nancy Drew, right?
picture source: here, via Pinterest
Today I was going to write about car shopping. And how frustrating it is. And how I could care less about car batteries but how I really should care about car batteries because apparently the older model Prius’es (Prii?) have some potential battery issues. And how this is one of the worst years to buy a used car. Ever.
But then! When searching Pinterest (love) for a picture to accompany this awesome post about car shopping I remembered what could possibly be the best car commercial of all time. This is assessment is based on my love for polar bears and my desire for the electric car to be a successful commodity (again, nerd).
And then! I found the cartoon above. And it cracked me up because I may or may not at one time or another have told my sister I was researching global warming to help the polar bears.
My love for polar bears is not your typical infatuation with a random animal. I have a connection to polar bears that stretches back to a trip to the Philadelphia zoo when I was very, very small. I was one of many children pressed up against the glass waiting for the (absent) polar bears when one of them swam straight up to me and put his paw against the glass, right where my hand was on the other side. I was chosen! The polar bear picked me! (And lest you think my childhood imagination was running amok, which is a legitimate concern, this story has been verified by my mother, who would not lie about something of this magnitude).
Obviously writing about polar bears is way more fun than writing about cars, so you can hopefully sympathize with this detour.
Cartoon from Cowbirds in Love.
Or, yay for friends working in awesome places this summer, because then you and other friends get to go visit them.
One of my favorite things about summer is that there is (usually) more time for reading. Fun reading, not the overly-dry kind that seems to be preferred by graduate school professors. But this summer I am struggling. It took several episodes of me sitting on the floor, staring listlessly at my bookshelf to reach a diagnosis. Hi, my name is Kelly, and I have a nonfiction problem.
My bookshelf is covered in nonfiction. Books checked out lately from the library? All nonfiction. I’ve read books about food policy, which I consider one of my interests (see: nerd), until my eyes cross. I’ve read about the guy with only 100 possessions, the woman who quit her job with Martha to garden, and “Bossypants” because I’m obsessed with Tina Fey. The last book I finished was about the gay couple who left their lives in the city to start a farm in upstate New York (one half of the couple was Martha’s personal physician until the economy fell, so it seems that she has inadvertently become a theme in my summer reading).
It hasn’t always been this way. I have several fiction series on my shelves, and I love Harry Potter as much as the next person. But as far as new-to-me fiction goes, my bookshelf is seriously lacking. One of my problems is that a lot of the “best”, most critically acclaimed fiction books have sad endings or are just flat out depressing (here’s looking at you, Lovely Bones). I recognize that this sadness is sometimes a realistic reflection of life, I just don’t want to read about in my spare time.
I’m thinking about petitioning Amazon to add an “exclude sad endings” feature. Until then, recommendations are most welcome. In the meantime, I will spend the rest of the week re-reading the HP series, in preparation for this.
Picture: here, via Pinterest
I am a pet person. I will talk about my cat to anyone who will listen (willingly or otherwise) and find a way to make any conversation, however irrelevant, applicable to a story about my cat (i.e. “oh you think it’s going to rain, that reminds me this thing my cat did one time…” etc.).
I long ago came to terms with the fact that not everyone is an animal person, and that talking about your cat can sometimes be construed as weird. I’m ok with that.
Last week was her 18th birthday. Approximately. My cat and her siblings were born to a stray who lived on a farm and according to my great-aunt, they were born in July. When we became adopters of said kittens, my sister and I, at the ages of 3 and 6 respectively, decided it was Very Important to know the cats’ birthday because how else would we celebrate it? Through a Very Official process we decided that their birthdays were July 1st, and my parents humored us by going along with it.
Because she lives with my parents, for most of the year I don’t see her. The picture of her here is one of my favorites, despite the fact that you can’t really see her and the picture isn’t all that great. I took this a few years ago on a weekend home from college, and it’s what I see when I visualize home; the front door, and my cat.
Happy (belated) birthday, friend.