I just drove away some unfortunate young kids parked along the side of my parents' house.  They were just trying to get a little smoke on (I could tell by the strobing glow of the lighter).  It wasn't too many years ago that I was one of those kids trying to find a quiet, yet scenic place to throw back a couple of beers (or twelve).  Seriously, it was only like 12 years ago.  Yet, I don't want some dumb kids getting wasted outside my home.  They can go up to the spot my friends and I regularly went to park--fine.  (Which is way better than parking outside my house, even though there were a few rare times when my friends and I actually did park in the very same spot as these same kids tonight).

Anyway, I'M OLD!  I chase away young people doing young people things!!!  Oh my gawd.  I should just give up now.  Although I wouldn't be surprised to also experience some young people retribution.  We've already had our cars lightly egged one morning, and the old street-parked Stratus mysteriously (and exponentially) accumulated a mass of dings and blemishes over the year.

Damn those kids!

Gasp! I'm old.

The Stratus?  It's with God now.  Or the Saint Vincent De Paul Society.  Same difference.

The title?  Well, only God knows.

But it was sad watching that little white cloud on wheels go.  Afterall, it was my first car that was my very own.  I found myself wanting to chase down the street after it, as it was towed off to the big wrecking yard in the sky.  Like a proud parent sending her first born off to college.  Or something.  It was happy and sad all rolled into one.  And yes, I even shed a few tears.  But that was more becuase it suddenly became real--I no longer have a car.  For now.

Is that you can't find anything anymore.

Like my car title for instance.  Last week my car died in its final rattling, gurgling, smoking blaze of glory.  This week, I have made arrangements to charitably donate the pile of salvageable parts.  So I need my title to sign it over to the organization.  And I can't find it.  Anywhere.

Now I must admit, my quarters don't remotely resemble something that Peter Walsh has had a chance to give the Cleen Sweep to, but I've made some progress.  I will always have piles, but right now none of my piles seem to be holding the title to my car.  Which leads me to wonder: have I organized my way out of organization?  Is there such a thing as being too organized?

I'll let you know if and when I find my car title.

R.I.P. little white cloud on wheels (aka POS Dodge Stratus). 01.09.2008.

The holidays really threw me off this year.  I felt like I didn't stop running in the little hamster wheel that was my life.  And it made me tired.  So instead of get more sleep (who could do that?) I ate more to get my energy.  And while I tried to keep good things on hand (veggies, fruit) inevitably I found my mouth making sweet love to cookies and candies and goodies.  So all of the progress I made between October and just before the holidays is long gone down the drain.  And then some.

So this week I'm recentering my efforts.  I recommitted to eating better.  And just tonight I got in on what seems to be a trend here on the Xanga (do two Xangans a trend make?) I started my very own Couch-to-5K program.  Tonight went well.  I completed my Day 1 workout, did some stretches, and I'm looking forward to Day 2 on Saturday.  That is if I can walk in the morning.

Anyway, that's what's going on with me.  Nothing more, nothing less.

Happy New Year everybody!

I can't believe that Christmas is over.  I had planned to wring every last drop of festivity out of the holiday, but then life took hold of me and that didn't seem to happen.  Although I am proud to announce that for the first time ever, I baked my very own Christmas cookies!

Many readers may know that I much prefer to cook than to bake.  I don't have the patience for much of the precision work that baking requires.  But in an effort to be festive, I chose some recipes, recruited Fella to help me with some of that tedious precision work, and came out on the other side with three pretty delish cookies.  Cookie 1: Brown Sugar Fingers.  A shortbread made with brown sugar instead of white.  Cookie 2: "Yuletide Yummies," the third place winner of the local paper's cookie contest.  It was a two-step bar cookie that I thought was only going to be one step.  Still rather easy, but I would have preferred to dump it all in a pan at once.  But the flavors are festive with dried cranberries, dried apricots, and orange zest.  And white chocolate chunks.  Cookie 3: I can't recall the name in the cookbook, but they are like the turtle candy in cookie form.  Oh yeah, something like Chocolate Caramel Thumbprints.  Think the jam-filled thumprint cookies except the cookie has chocolate in it and is rolled in chopped pecans.  And the filling is caramel, not jam.  And then drizzle chocolate over the top in a zig-zag fashion.

Of all three cookies, I am most proud of Cookie 3.  They look pretty first class.  And my brother liked them best.  Apparently I impressed Brother with my cookie skills.  Actually, I impressed myself a little, too.

I miss the christmas music on the radio.  And my FM transmitter for my iPod decided to stop working this morning.  So I was without my own holiday tunes to take the place of those no longer playing on the radio.  It made me even more sad that Christmas is over.

But I will soldier on.  I spent most of the day planning our annual New Year's Eve party.  I like parties.

I'm dressed and ready to go.  Go where?  To the gym, of course!  But first let me eat dinner because I am starving.  And I have to put a load of laundry in.  And wait for it to finish.  While I digest dinner.  Wait, is that Alton Brown making (sorry thinlizzy17) egg nog?  I must watch!

So here I am.  Not at the gym.  I swear that come 8:30pm, I will go.  Unless my friends call.  Then I might go out.  Which is a story I will leave for another time.

I really, really wanted to get to the gym tonight.  But I've been home for a couple of hours and now I'm really cold (I know, woe is me in California).  Bottom line?  I don' wanna.  But I really, really should.  It'll warm me up, right?  And then I can take a hot shower.  Besides, it'll make me feel like I'm working towards a different state of hotness.  Right?  Riiiiiiight.

Damn, I'm lame.  But it sure feels good to be a gangsta.

*****Edit*****
I went and it was good.  Now I'm warm and worked out.  Awesome!

This evening I officially switched to my sheets to the Flannel.

Yesterday, I tried Soy Nog for the first time.

Tomorrow, we celebrate my co-worker who passed her bar exam.

Now, I'm going to get ready for bed.

Last week, the check was in the mail...because the consignment store sold my behemouth desk!!!  Hooray.

Also last week, I found my desired sofa bed being sold by someone on Craigslist.org.  And I took the aforementioned check and bought it!

Which means that we then loaded up the truck with my old twin-XL and toted it off to the dump!

So my vision is coming together.  Now I need some wine storage.  And to organize a bunch of other crap.  Then it'll all be perfect.

The end.

...making the switch to flannel sheets for the season.  But I haven't been doing well with change in the bedding department this year.  I'm pretty sure I waited too long to make the switch from flannel in the spring because I just wasn't ready yet.  Until I was.  Or maybe because it got too hot.

...being all pumpkin-ed out.  I'm not sure if I'm over compensating for the Pumpkin Spice Latte Letdown or if I'm over compensating for all the years that the only pumpkin I had was the slice of pie on Thanksgiving.  But all I know is that I am over-loading.  It's been delicious, don't get me wrong.  I just don't want to make it to pie time and not be able to stomach it at all.  So I'm entering into cut-back mode for a few weeks.

...going to bed.  Still made (I use the term "made" very loosely) with non-flannel sheets.