My fabulous Christmas plans

We're off tonight to the frozen tundra known as Ohio. Chris and I are spending Christmas with his family. This is the first Christmas I've ever spent away from my family--I feel weirdly guilty about it. They live in a tiny town, so I suspect it will be four days of movies and Scrabble, which is definitely not a bad vacation. If I'm lucky, we'll get to go to the Mennonite/Amish store where I can gawk at composting toilets and those crazy Amish coming-of-age novels. If I hit the jackpot, I might encounter some Amish kids on rumspringa! Don't be jealous of my fabulous life, though. It's not becoming.

Happy holidays!

Discerning thieves

So our car is back! The San Bruno police found it parked in a residential neighborhood. The good news is that the engine and body are totally fine. The bad news is that the thieves took our after-market stereo/CD changer. In the grand scheme of things, we came out on top. Still, it feels weird to sit in the car, like it's been...violated. I know, dramatic, huh? But it feels dirty. And with good reason: it is. The thief smoked in our car, so it smells slightly of stale smoke (Marlboro Reds) and the footwell is littered with tobacco and cigarette ash. And we know the thief has a penchant for Hostess Cupcakes, as s/he left a crumpled empty package in the back seat. The worst, though, was finding an unused (we assume) needle in the glove compartment and an empty needle package in the back. So we're going with the theory that the thief traded our stereo for some smack. Is that too judgmental? I mean, it's possible that he's a diabetic who was short on cash and traded the stereo for some black market insulin. It's possible.

The really insulting part, though, is that our dear thief is a judgmental fuck. He actually went through the CDs in our CD changer, picked out the ones he wanted, and left the rest in the tape compartment between the seats. Green Day, U2, and Fur Squirrels? Why yes, please! L.A. Riots or Sunny Day Real Estate? No thanks. Like, dude, you're stealing our stereo. If I were stealing a stereo, I'm guessing I'd just grab the unit and make a run for it. Sort the details out later. But our discerning klepto actually sat there in the car, decided against three particular CDs, and neatly put them back in the car. Is he incredibly polite? Or is he just judging us and making sure we know just what he thinks of our musical tastes?

In which I veer from "la-la pretty things" to "self flagellation"

I've been sewing lately, taking these great classes at Muse Workshops. (Alas, her group classes are no more, but Shannon Hird is making patterns!) Homemade bags/purses are the theme of this year's Christmas presents, so I've been shopping for fabrics a lot lately. I'm not a "collector"--no stamps, no bottle caps, no expensive crystal objects. Actually, that's not entirely true. When I was a kid, I collected stickers, and by collected, I mean hoarding anything that had a cute picture on the front and sticky stuff on the back (bonus points for anything you could scratch'n'sniff)--I was not the most discriminating sticker connoisseur. But as I organized my fabrics last night, I realized that I had the beginnings of a minor obsession. I love pretty fabric! I also love shopping for fabric (I could easily spend a day in a single store)--wandering through the shop, eyeing all the colors, running my hands over velvets and slubby silks, pairing swatches in my mind, imagining all the things I could make from these materials. Because at its core, fabric is potential. It's not good for much just sitting there in bolts. You have unwind it, cut it, press it, and stitch it together for it to be truly useful. The same goes for yarn. I adore browsing yarn stores to look at colors and feel the textures (and then wishing, once I find the skeins of cashmere, that I could fill a bathtub with the soft yarns and dive right in). Each bundle, while pretty to look at, is just a little blob of potential, waiting for someone to come along with a picture in her head and a set of needles and able hands. (My yarn box is a testament to how much vision and time I seem to think I have. In actuality, I have little of either, so my yarn sits, sadly.)

Come to think of it, this is why I enjoy grocery shopping, especially at places like the Farmer's Market. When I see great piles of exotic vegetables, my mind races to figure out what I can do with them, how to mix them up for the greatest impact of flavors, colors, and textures. I race around, buying way too much, fretting that if I don't get this now, I'll never see it again, and that, is wasted potential.

The idea of wasted potential has been rolling around in my head lately. I sort of blew off the concept of grades in college and didn't give too much thought to my future career--I considered myself an academic rebel, but really, I was lazy. (And in retrospect? How much self-delusional spin doctoring is that? I'm lazy because I'm barely passing classes? Oh no, my friend. I am an academic rebel!) I fell into a career, in part by default, but also because I knew that my job prospects out of college were limited because of my major and grades. I mean, I love my general field, but I'm at a job I don't love (but that others might kill for), just biding my time. When it's time to move on, do I continue in a similar vein? I feel like I'm getting too old to break left and make a major change (much as this entry has gone). Sometimes, I wish I could go back and slap some sense into my 19-year-old self and tell her to give that decision more consideration and time. But I can't, so here I am, two months from a potential crossroad, not knowing what I should do. What do you think I should do?

Less than daily, more than never

I thought about signing up for Holidailies again this year, but I don't think I'm going to do it. Chris and I will be in Ohio for Christmas and I'm not guaranteed daily Internet access there (at least not whenever I want it). And I'll be in Las Vegas for the first week of January for CES, so that's time lost there, too. But I am going to try to pull myself out of this cycle of "not posting-feeling guilty-being frozen by guilt and therefore not posting even more" and get back to writing something here at least a couple times a week. And look! Three times this week alone!
Last week, we went to Southern California to spend Thanksgiving with my family. It was one of the best visits ever, but was preceded by one of the worst nights ever. I was going to visit Shannon on Tuesday night and I needed to move the car for street cleaning anyway, so I figured I'd drive. Walked out to where I had parked the car on Sunday and ... no car. Yep, our car was thieved by thieving bitches. Naturally, I walked around for about 15 minutes, running over the past two days' events in my head and checking that Chris hadn't moved the car and forgotten to tell me. Sadly, the car is really gone. We're in limbo right now, waiting to see if SFPD will find it, and hoping we don't have to buy a new used car. On the onr hand, a four-door, automatic would be nice. On the other, this car was totally paid off and had been since before Chris and I met. It was basically a free car: 10 years old, no engine problems, needed nothing more than regular maintenance and gas. And it was little (easy to park) and a Saturn (dings? what dings?). That is to say, it was the perfect San Francisco car. Luckily, we had nothing of value in the car, other than a few CDs.

Once we wrapped our minds around that and got a rental car, we had a great four-day weekend. My sister, Stella, and I were in charge of the big dinner and if I do say so myself, we rocked it. Instead of turkey, we grilled (and by we, I mean, we ordered our dad and Chris to grill) a dozen Cornish game hens, but everything else was fairly traditional. The rest of the weekend was filled with old friends, Karaoke Revolution, drinking, and all-'round fun. Even the cats seemed to enjoy the trip, because it turns out, good suspension makes for a smoother, more comfortable ride! Who knew (aside from everybody)?!

Inappropriate!

I’m so dumb. I think it’s the weather. The gray, rainy weather makes my brain sleepy. I could barely drag myself out of bed this morning and in fact, went back to bed after being up for 5 minutes. Anyway, the brain fog made me forget to bring my sweater to work today. I have this old, black, button-down sweater that is neither stylish nor in great condition. In fact, I think it was my mom’s. I found it in my luggage after a trip to my parents’ house and just haven’t given it back. Despite its raggedy looks, I love this sweater because it’s the perfect layering piece for the office. I can wear a tank top or a short-sleeved shirt and throw on the sweater if it gets too chilly in the office. It’s like the perfect sweatshirt you wear around the house all winter, only a little nicer.

This morning, I put on a sleeveless shirt, with the intention of putting on the sweater at work. I have this Mr. Rogers-like routine where I get to my desk, peel off my jacket, and pull on the sweater (I generally don’t change my shoes, though). I got to work today, shrugged out of the jacket…and realized that I’d forgotten to shove the sweater in my bag. (I don’t wear it to work because the combination of the puffy jacket plus the sweater plus the humid, stuffy bus is just too much to bear. I am a little princess-y when it comes to comfort.) So do I sit here without sleeves while it’s 50 degrees outside? Clearly, it’s not 50 degrees inside, but I feel silly because this shirt is definitely not weather appropriate and I love to laugh at girls who wear skimpy outfits in freezing conditions in order to look hot, not realizing they actually look stupid. And it really is too cold inside for sleeveless tops. Or do I go ahead and wear my puffy jacket all day at my desk, which also looks dumb and like I’m waiting for my chance to escape out the door (which, duh, I totally am, but I don’t need for everyone to know that). Bah, I think I lose either way.

Edited to add: I...did something...to my problem, but I think saying that I solved the problem is giving me too much credit. During lunch, I ran down to Jeremy's, the little used/overstock store down the street. Jeremy's is not "used" as in Salvation Army or Goodwill. It is "used" as in Ralph Lauren, Ferragamo, and Kate Spade. So a lot of their stuff is very, very expensive, despite having been both pre-owned and pre-worn. I just wanted a little sweater-thingy that wasn't too expensive or too ugly. Heh. Um...I'm now wearing a mustard yellow, long-sleeved cardigan sweater with snap buttons down the front and ribbed cuffs on the sleeve, a ribbed collar, and ribbed hip area. It's a little too big and it's totally unflattering...but! it was only $20. Yes, I paid $20 for ugly, but when I had those twenty dollars, I also had a choice between freezing or broiling at my desk. Now, I'm am down $20 but I am also down sweatiness and up warm arms. Still, I think I will stash this in my desk drawer at the end of the day and it will be my official "I forgot my regular, decent-looking sweater and now I must wear this $20 knit monstrosity like a hairshirt to punish myself" sweater.