Good: Cookie dough in the company fridge — that we’re allowed to eat!

Bad: People who call to tell you that they can’t read your email until later in the day. Then call back to say they’re on their way home to read your email. Then call back again to say they’ve read the email, and ask if you would like them to reply now, or via email.

(SERIOUSLY?)

Ugly: (As if the Bad weren’t ugly enough…) 10 pieces of cookie dough in 2 days. That’s almost a baker’s dozen in my belly!

Riley has asked me to amend the title of my previous post to read “To two of the three most important men in my life.” However, about fifteen minutes ago I was taking him out for his nightly walk when all of a sudden a round of fireworks were set off at a church festival a few blocks away. I was extremely excited and called Andy to tell him to come outside and watch. Riley was extremely terrified and ran around in circles as if Bigfoot were chasing him to catch and cook for dinner.

So I’m sorry, dear pup o’ mine, but until you are a little more man and a little less crying cowardly tail-between-the-legs baby, the post title will have to remain the same.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad! And happy birthday, Andy!

I could get really mushy about these guys, but I’ll spare everyone and just link to this great Father’s Day article that Andy sent me, written by his favorite columnist of all time, Rick Reilly.

Yes, for some reason, Homearama is one word. But with a sunset like this, do you even care?

Yeah, didn’t think so.

I had never heard of Homearama, but last weekend Andy and I were eating at Relish, and he realized that we were only a few minutes away from this year’s Cincinnati site. So after dinner we drove around for a few minutes looking for it, Andy going, “I don’t see it, look it up on the BlackBerry!” and me going, “I can’t work your stupid BlackBerry!”

With a mild case of the Grumps about to set in, we gave up and were on our way back to the freeway when we saw a sign right in front of the driveway to Relish: HOMEARAMA THIS WAY —>.

o_O

Two hours, ten houses, and $24 later, we found our new home: #2 Savoy Blanc. Not only is it LEED certified (dunno what level), but it is GORGEOUS certified too. I mean seriously, can you imagine this in your backyard?

Your backyard that also has an HD TV, a built-in grill, and an enclosable porch for winter? Also, how cool is this bar? (The real boat’s not so bad either…)

And the best part is, I think we’re really close to being able to afford it. I mean, it’s not so hard to make $2 million, right?

The other homes were nice — our 2nd fave was #1 Arreton Manor and our third fave was #8 The Artisan — but none really came close to Savoy Blanc for us. (PS: We had the same favorites in the same order. Good sign, no?) We did see some cool things to possibly incorporate into whatever house we actually DO buy in the future — which is really the point of Homearama for 99.9% of the people who attend. For example, I’d love a built-in bookcase or the AWESOME curvy wood side table below:

(I also like those flower photographs. That house had great art and furniture, but was overall too white/bright and too full of glass for me. I felt like I was going to break something.)

More Incredible Housing You Can’t Afford can be seen on my Flickr account here.

Today at lunch I heard “Stacy’s Mom” on the radio. I remember when it came out and every boy on New House 5 would belt it out at random and unfailingly inappropriate times. In line at Si Señor. On the way to calculus. During Alias. In the middle of a late-night, serious heart-to-heart conversation! And I remember how much I used to hate it. Not just the poor timing, but the song itself. I mean, seriously, it’s one thing to say someone’s a MILF, but it’s a whole other thing to write a song about it. And what about poor Stacy, huh? HUH?

Well, before I could remember any of my past indignation, I turned up the volume and began to sing along.

I won’t lie, I wasn’t in love with the excerpt of Fresh Kills that I read during the final months of the ABNA contest. But I have to admit, this guy sounds like a writer.

(Also, I’m well-aware it was only an excerpt, and one that hadn’t been through the rigors of the Penguin editors at that. I should check out the finished product and see how it compares…)

Highlights from the interview:

What made you decide to submit Fresh Kills for the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award?

I had nothing to lose. I had a new novel I’m really proud of and the contest was a way to get it in front of people. Fish won’t bite if your line ain’t in the river, you know? Do good work, get it out in the world, and amazing things can happen. I’m living proof.

What has this contest taught you so far about the life of an author?

That the life an author is a lot like the life of a baseball player. Endless work and practice in preparation for long periods of anticipation and brief moments of triumphant joy. That’s cool, though. I love baseball.

Recently things keep coming up every time I want to blog, jolting me out of whatever mood I’m in and making me rethink whatever I’m about to say. For example, yesterday I was going to blog something happy (I can’t even remember what it was anymore) and then I received a phone call that totally turned the day on its head. Without discussing the contents of the call — because part of the call involved my getting yelled at for divulging too much to people — let me just say that I am a good secret-keeper, and I try to be a good friend and listener, but I have my limits, and when I have the kinds of concerns that I currently have, I AM NOT KEEPING YOUR SECRET. But that does not give you the right to talk sh*t about my mom.

Ever.

Then today I was going to post about how much fun I had last night going out with girlfriends from work and seeing the Sex and the City movie — more on that awesomeness later — when I received a notice that my (short) short story “Chasing Trains” had been rejected by the editors at the Boston Review. Here’s the feedback:

Good writing, but ending seems a little much.

We look forward to reading more.

Doh.

It’s not bad, but it’s also not a request for publication. And I was a little surprised by the comment about the ending, seeing as that was more or less the point of the story. Or maybe more accurately, it was the seed that germinated in my mind and inspired me to write the piece. So I guess I’m a little attached to it…

Sigh.

But it could have been worse — like, “Holy crap, woman, you really think you’re going to be a writer? HAHAHAHAHA” — so I’m actually feeling pretty encouraged. And even if that last line is a canned response, I’ll take it! Because goodness knows I’m not done submitting to them.

–

(Now for the originally scheduled awesomeness.)

In keeping with my inability to like things that other people like, I never really got into Sex and the City. Too much sex, too much pink, too much hype. And way too over-the-top clothes.

So after I blindly accepted my coworkers’ invitation to join their Girls’ Night Out, and then a month later asked what we’d actually be doing, and they replied, “Going to see the Sex and the City movie!” I have to admit, I hesitated. Did I really want to pay the outrageous theater prices to see SATC when I could see Kung Fu Panda instead? Was the possibility of getting to know my coworkers better worth suffering through two hours of crazy fashion and penis jokes? (YES.) Couldn’t I be doing something more fun and productive at home instead?

Okay, first of all, note to self: SHUT UP, SNOB.

Second, SATC rocked.

I’ve only seen like 1.5 episodes of the show, but I had no problem getting into the characters’ lives or personalities. The opening montage established their background info beautifully, and the actresses were so convincing, even when they were borderline caricature, that I felt like I was watching parts of their real lives. I think the best aspect was that the movie ebbed and flowed naturally, the way life does, and it spoke much more to the friendship between the four women than to their relationships with (stupid) men.

And Jennifer Hudson had an adorable cameo role!

In order, these were my favorite moments:

(Partial spoilers from here on out — including the link later — so beware!)

• #3:
  Carrie’s impromptu fashion show in her closet, during which the other three girls voted “Take” or “Toss” on each item. Mostly hideous clothes, but such a cute little scene of their fun friendship.
• #2:
  Carrie and Big in bed teasing each other about library books and glasses and other inane, real life-y things.
• #1:
  Charlotte screaming, “No. NO!” at Big right after Carrie beats him with her bouquet. The emotion on Kristin Davis’ face literally brought me to tears. In that moment, she wasn’t Kristin Davis pretending to be Charlotte. She WAS Charlotte, defending her best friend from the man who broke her heart.

Seriously, a great movie. Probably not for guys (unless they want to get laid), but for girls who feel passionately about their friends? It’s a must-see.

(If you’re more conservative, you should be prepared to shield your eyes from the nudity. Oh the nudity.)

Based on how much I love this movie, I’m considering watching all six seasons of the show. But, to ensure that Andy won’t kill me for it, I think I’ll treat it as a reward for meeting my writing goals once I go part-time. Like, an episode a day as long as I write at least X hours or at least X hundred words. That’s fair, right?

I thought so.

One last thing about SATC, and then I’ll shut up: I think it’s hilarious that the movie references a book that everyone now wants to buy even though it doesn’t exist. Too bad they didn’t say it was written by me!

From A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf:

For masterpieces are not single and solitary births; they are the outcome of many years of thinking in common, of thinking by the body of the people, so that the experience of the mass is behind one single voice.

(Thanks to Mengfei for giving me this book. Woolf is hard to read, but given the number of Post-It flags sticking out from the pages, I’d say this is worth it.)

Thanks to everyone for your support yesterday. Sometimes I feel like a self-centered moron for getting so overwhelmed by my problems, which I know are tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Like a cobweb in the middle of the dark, dank, rancid, rat-infested attic of the world’s issues.

I’m lucky, and I know it.

So I let myself have one bad day, and now I’m determined not to wallow. Last night I watched Wednesday’s episode of So You Think You Can Dance and then ran around the backyard with Riley. After accidentally sloshing through some mud and then coming down wrong on my knee, I decided to just sit on the ground and watch while Riley sniffed and chewed on the grass.

I didn’t come up with any magical solutions by looking at the sky or the trees or the old couple walking down the street. But I did find peace.

Dear Universe,

Is there some kind of rule, like, we’re not allowed to have all our sh*t together at one time? Because sometimes it seems like you are monitoring everyone and going, “Oh, you fixed that part of your life? Here, then let me mess this part up for you. You need more to do. More challenges! They build character.”

Frankly, Universe, I’m a little tired of building character right now. Couldn’t we do it, like, a few times a year, instead of continuously? Or could you at least cut me some slack for a couple weeks? Because I’d really like to get up after sleeping for eight hours and feel rested. And I’d like to look forward to my day, instead of wishing it were the evening already so I could just go home and curl up with my dog and a good book. And it might be nice not to worry about whether or not everyone can see the tears I’m desperately trying to hold back. Yeah, that’d be lovely.

So, Universe, if you could work on that, I’d really appreciate it. Let me know what you’d like in return, and I’ll do my best.

Thanks so much,
Kristan