I don’t know why I like She & Him so much. It’s not as if I sit around obsessing about their music or anything, it’s a little too basic and cheerful for that. But it’s still nice to play in the background while I edit all day. It’s also nice that I have a penchant for playing albums all the way through over and over again until I’m completely sick of them. Because NPR is streaming the new album until its release date and odds are I’ll get sick of this in time to avoid buying in. May got no monies for new music these days!

This video is so cutesy is actually grosses me out a little. Still like it though!

p.s. Why do YouTube videos refuse to embed these days? It’s making me crazy!


I just got sucked into a vortex of Twilight news on OH NO THEY DIDNT. I am 27. It’s a little sick.

Why is there no Big Love tag on that site? It’s always filed under “television,” which is a tad on the vague side. I don’t have quite enough dedication to come through every post with that tag. This crowd — unsurprisingly — is very prolific.

I might top off this scintillating afternoon with a couple kiwis and a second cup of coffee. Crazy crazy!

I feel so off today. It’s been the craziest week, working 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. or later each day. And not for nothing — I got some great news at work this week about upcoming projects.

But I’m tired. Most weekdays, I’m in bed by 10 p.m. and up and at’em at 5:45 a.m. Not so this week. Bed somehow deluded me until at least 11 each night. Oh well. This is what weekends are for, I guess.

The wedding flower estimate arrived last night. Almost $3,000! It seems like so much money for freaking flowers. Then again, I’m really invested in the idea of flowers at the reception. It’s just a tall, stark, masculine room where the reception is being held. I’d really like to give the room  a more natural atmosphere, and the flowers will help.


Yesterday I stopped writing because, well, let’s face it, the above paragraphs are boring. I’m trying not to stress out at all about publishing anything dull because the point is just to write anything and get it out there, but still, I’m a little bothered.

Why do I only read blogs of women my age or within a ten-year radius (in either direction)? I don’t read any male bloggers, and I don’t read any bloggers (that I’m aware of) that are older than 40 or younger than 20. I’m the same way with novels. Generally, I read books by women about women. Primarily, I’m interested in protagonists who are children or whose ages range up to about 35. Women older than that are OK, but generally I wait for my mother to lend with those. If there’s a male character that plays a large role in an ensemble piece, I’ll still read the book, but generally won’t enjoy his plots.

For a long time I never thought consciously about this. I just bought what I liked to read and carried on with life. But lately I’ve noticed myself scanning the author’s name before picking a novel up in a store or the library and actually putting down books because they deal with too many male characters.

To be honest, I don’t even know what men blog about! I have no idea. What goes on in their heads that they feel the need to publish? Any male blogger I’ve accidentally stumbled across has a niche blog, not a personal blog. And the fact of the matter is that I don’t care either way!

Skeptical of my new haircut. Suspect it makes my hair look thinner than it is.

Obsessed with my new sweater:

Wore it with heels and skinny jeans and Bang-Up Bob Mark called it “effortlessly chic.” Neither of those words has ever applied to me before. First thing I’ve bought at the Gap in ages. Well done, Gap!

Exhausted thinking about tomorrow. Gym at 5:45 a.m. and it’s all nonstop from there.

Stuffed after a 3 lbs. salad from Whole Foods. I need to lay off the croutons.

My crazy hair.


For a while now I’ve noticed that I’m shedding, um, the hair of my head. Like a lot. It was only really noticeable because I kept getting angry at how gross the bathroom floor was and hauling the vacuum cleaner around the apartment like a crazy woman. Now I’m pretty sure I can actually see it on my head. Well, lack of it. My hair seems so thin! I have a hair appointment tomorrow. I must ask Bang-Up Bob Mark what he thinks! He’ll be honest.

Going back to my poor thinning hair: I’m pretty sure it’s because I’ve lost a bunch of weight. Not tens of pounds or anything, but … some weight. Enough so that none of my work pants fit all of a sudden. And I’m swimming in my very expensive bras. And I’m carpeting the bathroom linoleum with my hair.

I’m sad about my poor abandoned pants and really sad about my hair, but this isn’t really a development that’s freaking me out much. It’s hard to shake the notion that losing weight is a good thing. Ever since I gained 20 pounds in grad school, I’ve freaked out about losing weight. So for five years, basically, I’ve routinely lost my shit about extra cookies here and a couple beers there. I did Weight Watchers (it worked), I went vegan (it worked even better) and about eighteen months ago, I realized I was perfectly happy with my weight where it was, somewhere around 128-130. My pants fit, I didn’t want to cry when I looked in the mirror, and I couldn’t feel my stomach overlapping my jeans when I was driving.

Then I got engaged, oh, two months ago? Nine weeks? And I don’t know what happened then. I went home to my parents’ house for the holidays, fully expecting to put on five pounds of cookie weight and fully expecting it to fall off in the two week following the holidays. But that didn’t happen. I ate the cookies … I lost a couple pounds. Then I came back to D.C., and I ate some more cookies and some toast and drank some wine … and I lost a couple more pounds.

That’s not to say that those are all the things I was eating and drinking. I’m generally a pretty clean eater and what happened over Christmas is that I realized I didn’t have to eat as cleanly as I had been. In fact, when I ate a little more crap … I lost a little more weight. I’ve been going to the gym six days a week as usual. Nothing excessive, just 45 minutes on a combination of cardio machines or a 4-mile run. Lifting or yoga a couple times a week.

Since I got engaged on Dec. 19, I’ve lost ten pounds. And I won’t lie, part of me feels a little giddy when I step on that scale and see a number in the teens. I haven’t seen that since college.

But I also know that when your hair is falling out due to weight loss, you’re probably not in a great place. I know that I have a history of making not so awesome choices about my body. I know I get carried away by numbers. And more surely than any of that, I know that 119 pounds is not sustainable for me. Part of me wants to put on five pounds immediately and just try to hover there, pretending this never happened. Because if I’m here for a while and I get comfortable? I’m going to freak out when I do eventually put on a couple pounds.

The best thing I’ve seen all weekend:

It gets particularly awesome 56 seconds in. Even if you’re at work and can’t hear it, it’s worth playing for the visuals alone.

Waking up really late drives me crazy. It’s not just the “losing three hours of the day” thing that drives me nuts, but when I wake up on the weekends, I don’t feel like my day has actually started until after I’ve gone to the gym. And if I don’t wake up until 10 a.m.? And I want a cup of coffee? And maybe some oatmeal? And then I need to digest before I go to the gym? And when I get back from the gym and I have to shower? That means my Saturday really doesn’t start until 2 p.m. It’s March, so that gives me about four hours of daylight. At the most.

What’s worse is when you go through all that, with your sleeping in and all, and then your body has the audacity to go and get SLEEPY on you at 8 p.m. Seriously. I think my body is confused. Feeding it chocolate-covered peanut butter pretzels for dinner probably didn’t do much for my energy levels, but still. Am miffed. All I really managed to do today was go to Trader Joe’s (where I went crazy with impulse buys and spent more than $100 to replenish my empty-except-for-condiments fridge) and the gas station before watching really bad TV with Kel for a couple hours.

I seriously debated getting into bed at 9 p.m. but felt lame, so I drank a cup of coffee. I’m awake now, but barely functioning. Maybe I’ll read for a while. The new Kate Atkinson is so good it’s making me crazy. I saved it all week long while I was in San Francisco for work so I’d have something to look forward to this weekend while Adam is DJing. NOW IS THE TIME.

p.s. Also making me crazy is the new Basia Bulat album. “Walk You Down” is my favorite, although this versions starts very abruptly. Unfortunately live video of her new album is hard to come by and also, apparently, un-embeddable. Thanks, YouTube.