I'm jonesing for world's worst blog titles.

I'm linking up with Hallie at Moxie Wife  because I can definitely share with you Five of my Favorite things!


2. Oranges
One time, my sophomore year in college, I ate like 7 oranges in one sitting. I love oranges. I love them so much that my PIN number for my debit card used to be the grocery code for oranges (4012). I changed it so you can't steal my card anymore...

And jokes on you because I have no money. Yay!

But I've been eating them like mad because I'm psychologically convinced I'm getting better because of them. Double yay.

3. This commercial

The tears I cry.


4. This magic potion lotion 
In case you missed my riveting post yesterday about coconut oil, I was rubbing it on my chapped nose in hopes that it would calm my red skin. It didn't.
BUT my mother has some fancy Mary Kay purple gunk lotion in this fancy little tub and I've been using it and it's magical. Like rubbing silk on my nose, but better because it also it moisturizing (and I hate that word, so you know I mean it). It's apparently really expensive so I should definitely be using less of it.

Sorry, Mom.

basically a QVC level foto

5. Wes Anderson


Fair warning: it's a little inaprops.

Anderson is a weird, weird man but I love his movies because they always have Bill Murray in them. And I get the idea that Anderson just makes movies so that he can invite all his friends to come over and hang out with him.

Anyway, I'm going to see this because I love all the people who are in it (everyone is in it).

I hope you are having a kickin' Wednesday. Go over to Hallie's blog to check out more exciting favorites and to add your own.

Peace.

I'm numbering this because I'm assuming I will write many more posts with this title.

Planning ahead.

I saw Swan Lake on St. Valentine's day! The whole night was crazy and stressful and I felt like such a mom. Our group was 13 (!!) strong and we all had to get on the city bus and ride into downtown Pittsburgh and then find the theater. Also, one of the students, Alex, was talking to another student about her birthday and she said, "Date, Month, 1995".

1995.

I don't even remember what the date and the month were because I was shocked at how recent that sounded. 1995? I mean, I was born in '90 so I'm not that much older than her, but 5 whole years seems like a lot.

Essentially there were a lot of freshman in the group and, God bless freshman, but they were all just flirting the whole time. Like, poking and hair pulling. For real. So by the end of the night they were all calling me "Mom" but whatever I just care about their hearts and their souls and no one died.

But the ballet was beautiful and it was great to hang out with more students and get face time with some of the more elusive ones.

My only issue with the ballet was that the bad guy, Von Rothbart looked like Greg from the Old Gregg youtube video. He's like swamp monster...the video is inapprops so don't watch it.

Old Gregg:




Von Rothbart (this is from the NY performance, the PA one didn't have horns, he had a ginger mane):

To Do Updates
A little while back I posted a To Do post and now I'm going to update you all because I need some accountability in my life.

1. Stop being afraid of St. Therese
This one is hard. The good news is that she is everywhere. And a student (Alex, born in 1995) will occasionally text me St. T quotes, which is nice and thoughtful and makes me cry because I'm a big fat sap.

2. CHARTING
So, I'm doing this! I've only missed one day of taking my temperature. Also, to clarify, you don't have to take your temperature vaginally which, for some reason, I thought you had to! So once I read that orally is fine then I jumped all over this charting train. I'm sure you all already knew that, but, whatever I didn't.

3. Planking
Booo. So I haven't been doing a good job with this. I blame it on my own lack of self control and maybe the worst cramps I've ever had. But, I'm through that so now it's back to planking.

4. Cook things
I baked bread! I'm also going to be more adventurous in the future so get excited.

Have a great Monday!

Excuse me while I rejoice heartily in the fact that January is over.

It's not that January is an objectively terrible month but I'm just glad it is over. Moving and starting a new job is hard, but I feel like the first month doing something new is the hardest and now it can just be smooth sailing.

Yeah, right.

Also, February is a little baby month so I have no qualms about taking it down. Furthermore, hoping that it will continue to get warmer so our pipes don't freeze again because nothing is more fun than diarrhea and a lack of running water. TMI? Nah, we're close.

Let me regale you with a story about something mundane that I will make 100% more dramatic than it needs to be.

Get excited, these are they kind of riveting posts you can expect from me.

In Pittsburgh, you can purchase a residential parking permit which allows you to park on certain streets. Parallel park, might I add. So I was using a guest pass, apparently it expired, I received three tickets for $45 a pop and decided I needed my own.

So after extensive googling (not extensive enough, this is called foreshadowing) I used my off-morning this past Monday to drive downtown (!!!) to get a parking permit.

I'm from Lincoln, NE and our downtown is essentially a 10x10 square city block. Pittsburgh is a major city. I parked a million miles away, plugged an over-priced parking meter, and hoofed it to the County Building.

Also it was a balmy 9 degrees.

So I arrive at the County building and it looks like a scene from Law and Order, or the scene in The Dark Knight Rises when Bane is standing in front of a non-descriptive government building: business people milling around, everyone is smoking cigarettes, everyone has a manila folder, everyone looks harried.

Looooong story only a little bit short, I went to three (3) separate buildings and none of them sold parking permits. I finally discovered I was 5 blocks too far west (thanks, Google Maps) and finally found the correct building. Of course I bust in, feeling accomplished, ready to kiss the earth and the woman at the front desk tells me the registration for my car is expired.

Sigh.

I hoof it back to my car, find the current one (apparently I'm a glove box hoarder) and get a parking permit. Gleefully, the woman informs me that this one is only good until April.

Oh, but come April I will demolish getting a new permit.

Big city living.

Thanks for being here.