I’ve spent the last week and a half not eating and sleeping incessantly. Oh yes, and working. My boss is on vacation, which means I’m temporarily in charge – sort of. I mean, as much as one CAN be in charge in my work environment. If I were really in charge, I’d be kicking a few asses and taking a few names regarding a few issues. Which is neither here nor there.

I’m stressed. Stressed over the changes I’m trying to make in my life (college – yay! and EEEK!), mostly. SPSCC is taking their sweet time with my transcripts (10 business days is unreasonable when you have the attention span of a fruit fly), and I have a desperate need to know if I’m as smart as I hope I am. Or was. Or something.

Instead of dealing with my anxiety by opening my jaw and hoovering all available food in the vacinity, which by now you should all recognize as my usual coping strategy, I’ve been buying books. Seems healthy on the surface, doesn’t it? Harmless, even!

The question is, how many is too many? I want to say there’s no such thing as too many books, but I’m positive my budget would say otherwise. If I consulted my budget in this matter, which…HAH!

Let’s see. In the past month – maybe even three weeks – I’ve purchased a total of…nevermind. The actual number isn’t important. A lot, it’s safe to assume. I’ll read them all, and probably love them all. And the one from the Barnes & Noble bargain bin doesn’t count. So there.

I skipped a week or so a couple of days at the gym, which might’ve contributed to my shopping spree. I went back today, thank god, and realized that part of my exhaustion/moodiness was the result of no exercise. I’ve become dependent on it.

Despite all of my nerves and agitation, I feel pretty good. Purpose is a lovely, necessary thing to have.

I love books. I love everything about them. The way they smell, the way they feel, the sound the pages make when you turn them. Few things please me more than a lazy morning with a book in my lap and a cup of coffee in my hand.

I’m slowly building my own library. Right now it fits on the extra shelves in my living room, but someday I’d like an entire room set aside for books. My grandmother had a makeshift library in her basement, and it was my favorite room in her house (despite the cold). I’d like mine to have comfortable chairs, a fireplace, and a lot of light.

Meanwhile, e-book sales are skyrocketing. Why buy a paperback when you can download whatever you want to your Kindle? Although it’s just as expensive to download a book as it is to buy one, without the added pleasure of being able to bury your nose in the pages. I mean, I guess a person could sniff their Kindle screen, but computers don’t really have a scent.

I’m not just a lover of stories, I’m a lover of BOOKS. Actual paper and binding books. And it will break my heart when everyone has a Kindle. Barnes & Noble is already reporting a decline in sales. I worry that eventually real books will become obsolete (while environmentalists do cartwheels). And THEN what will I do?

I can tell you this much: I will not be buying a Kindle. Ever. Maybe that makes me old-fashioned or snobby or possibly even ignorant, and I don’t care.

Sixty years from now when the world looks like something from a Jetsons cartoon, I’ll be pulling a battered copy of Wuthering Heights from a shelf. And my blinds will be closed.

In keeping with my intense desire for change (despite the mind-numbing fear currently accompanying it) I’ve been thinking a lot about going back to college.

I went to college for about a year after high school and loved it. I’m enough of a nerd that studying and papers and exams made my heart happy. I quit because my financial aid dried up and I couldn’t afford to go on my own.

I’ve filled out a request for my transcripts. I’m working on the FAFSA. For the first time in a long time I have that hum under my skin, that tingling that tells me I might be doing something right for a change.

Getting a degree, despite my aspirations to be a writer, seems smart. And solid.

Of course, going back to college is a terrifying notion. I’ve been out of school for TEN YEARS. What if I’m stupid now? A brain needs as much exercise as anything else, and mine is on the chubby, couch-potato side of things. Not only that, most of the people attending will be younger than I am. A lot longer. I’m almost thirty. And I’d be starting as a freshman again – I didn’t rack up enough credits to be a sophomore, and god knows how many of my credits will even transfer.

I want this, badly. I want to do this for myself. I’m not in love with my life the way  it is now (in fact, if I could break up with my life I would). A new path is the obvious choice.

In the office earlier today:

Me: Turns on AC.
Boss: “Turn that thing off.”
Me: “It’s hot in here! Aren’t you hot?”
Boss: “I’m allergic to air conditioning.”
Me: …………
Boss: “I am.”
Me: “Uh-huh. Okay. You know it just circulates cold air, right?”
Boss: Gives me dirty look.
Me: “So you’re allergic to air? Because…that would be bad. Seeing as air? Is pretty much everywhere in the world, all the time.”
Boss: Leaves office.

Don’t worry, I won’t be getting fired. My boss loves me, despite my smart-assed nature. And my tendency to point out the obvious. Maybe I should have made him feel a bit better by suggesting dust or pollen as a reasonable alternative? Nah.

I went to the library today in search of more reading material (because really, there can never be enough) and found a book called I’m No Monster: The Horrifying True Story of Josef Fritzl, by Stefanie Marsh & Bojan Pancevski. Actually I found several, but when I slid that one across the counter the librarian looked up with alarm on her face and said, “I should warn you – only four people have checked out this book, and three brought it back without finishing it. Apparently the things he did are just awful, and very detailed.”

If you know me, you know I was indulging in a mental eye-roll. First: I have never NOT finished a book. Ever. I’m incapable. Second, she just gave a mild case of curiosity a big boost. I HAVE to know what’s in that book, and right away.

Other books I checked out:
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert M. Pirsig
Shattered Silence – The Untold Story of a Serial Killer’s Daughter, by Melissa G. Moore & M. Bridget Cook
Tears in the Darkness: The Story of the Bataan Death March and it’s Aftermath, by Michael Norman & Elizabeth M. Norman

I might’ve been in a slightly morbid frame of mind while I was looking. What memorable books have you read lately?

I’ll be at the lake for the next couple of days, spending quality time with my sister, her husband, and hopefully a pair of skis. Oh, and the Marine.

For those of you who don’t remember, a brief history: Smoking hot Marine recently out of service also happens to be good friends with my sister’s husband. We spent time together. We flirted. We went on one fabulous date. I was dying for him to kiss me, but NO. Which is fine, because I would’ve been breaking my first-date rule anyway. He was sweet, funny, HOT, and interested. And then he blew me off after I bought a new sweater for our second date (in retrospect, it was probably best, as that sweater wasn’t quite as flattering as I initially believed). Then he blew me off again. Then, there was a THIRD blowing off. So I said to my sister, “Screw the Marine.” Sadly, the statement was metaphorical.

And now he and his equally foxy brother are planning to go camping with us. With them, really, but I’ll be there too. So US. All of us, together. With fewer clothes on than usual.

WORSE, much worse, is that my body is not as bikini-ready as I’ve been hoping, largely (a key word, that) due to my consumption of, oh, every edible thing to cross my path. So maybe the Marine will think he isn’t missing much, which HE IS.

The important thing is confidence, yes? (And appropriate grooming). So I’ll just make sure to be happy and stick my butt out a lot.

I got to plant my clumps of raspberries today, and all the digging and arranging and covering put me in a VERY summery frame of mind. The sun was beaming down, tempered by a nice breeze. My spirits soared. (On the other hand, I could have just been riding high on fatty goodness from the cheeseburger I ate for breakfast. Yes, BREAKFAST. Today I wanted a bad cholesterol fix more than a flat stomach).

My time outdoors in the complete lack of snow put me in the mood to wear a dress. So I did. A pretty, airy blue sun dress that stops at my knees. It’s flattering and cute. Unless, of course, there’s a couple of stray officers nearby when you stand up to put paperwork away, and one of the aforementioned officers politely points out that the static from the STUPID office chair has caused the dress to hike up so far that your lacy pink panties are clearly visible.

In which case I think it’s safe to say that the dress is less flattering and more humiliating. I turned various shades of red and yanked it down as far as I could while making a rapid escape to the ladies room, where I hid for about ten minutes muttering under my breath about the indignities of goddamn dresses, and WHY did I wear a dress anyway? I’m not a dress person, or a skirt person. I’m a tomboy – and clearly there’s a great reason why.

It’s true that I talked about wanting to show off my new & improved tush, but I had a specific time and place picked out and was also planning on helping myself to some liquor beforehand. I cannot BELIEVE my co-workers saw my UNDERPANTS.

At least I didn’t wear a thong.

I went to visit a friend in Billings for the weekend (it was her birthday), and I got a chance to make my first loaf of bread from scratch. I’d been wanting to try it for a while, and she had all the ingredients scattered throughout her kitchen, so we set to work.

First of all, FUN. After you add all the initial ingredients and stir, it becomes like Play Doh for adults! It’s lumpy and sticky and let me just back pedal before I start to seem like a total nerd (too late? okay, then). Ta-da:

Let’s take a moment and gawk at how incredibly manly my arms look in that photo. Moving on.

It tastes as good as it looks, despite the fact that it fell quite a bit and ended up being rather dense. The effort was satisfying, anyway, and I can’t wait until I get good enough to try wheat bread.

Okay, clearly healthy eating has become a central theme in my life. I want to be fit and strong. I want to shave a couple of points from my BMI, so that I fall within the appropriate range (I’m 5’3, and currently 26.6). I’d really enjoy looking hot in my bikini come summertime, and possibly swaggering around to a song that makes me feel way cooler than I actually am.

That said, I need more fiber in my diet. You would think fruits and veggies on a daily basis, coupled with a supplement, would be enough to provide me with adequate fiber levels. Your thinking would be wrong. Apparently my body is fiber-resistant or something.

In my search for fiber-rich foods, I stumbled across quinoa (pronounced keen-wah, which – seriously? pssh.  i was walking around thinking it was pronounced like it sounds, kwin-oh-ah. hooked on phonics worked for me!). Anyway, while I’ve never had it, I understand it’s comparable to couscous, which I love. I found a couple of tasty looking recipes to try, hopefully with my guinea pig sister. Here they are: Quinoa, Corn, & Tomato Salad with Chive-Infused Oil & Quinoa Tabbouleh.

Truthfully I have no idea what tabbouleh is, but it looks completely delicious. I love to try new recipes! And…now I’m hungry.

When I was little, watching movies was a family affair. We piled onto the couch (or my Mom’s bed) and ate pizza and drank Hawaiian Punch. Most of the movies were great, but I remember a couple supposedly designed for children that gave me really bad dreams. Such as:

The Wizard of Oz. I know, I know, it’s a classic – but forget the Wicked Witch of the West or the flying monkeys, I absolutely hated the idea of being lost! As if some never-ending yellow brick road was in any way comforting?  Or a bunch of singing munchkins evidently hyped up on sugar (or CRACK)? Or the mighty Oz? AS IF. Nothing about that movie was remotely appealing to me.

Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure. Let’s face it, Pee-Wee was probably the creepiest element in that movie. That laughter! His voice was disturbing. Whenever he talked I cringed. And LARGE MARGE?! I still have involuntary wariness where truckers are concerned. This is one Tim Burton movie that actually managed to scare me.

Lastly, and I KNOW I’m going to catch flack for this, but: E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial. Aliens just give me the willies, no matter HOW apparently cuddly and friendly they might be. Aliens = BADNESS. (Side note: I loved Independence Day).

Are there any kid movies that you watched that made you hide under the covers? Or perhaps drag a sleeping bag into your Mom’s room so you could bunk on the floor next to the bed? Please share.

The new year, summarized:

* I’ve been completely obsessed with The Millennium series by Stieg Larsson. I read “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” and then instantly moved on to the second book, and after finishing that in less than a day was outraged to discover that the third installment isn’t expected until May 25th of this year. I want an advance copy!

* I’ve been working out pretty regularly, which is a nice change from my usual couch-potato habits. I’m alternating cardio and weight training, which is slowly toning various parts. The number on the scale stubbornly remains the same, but I LOOK tighter, which makes me want to bend over in various public places. Kidding. (Sort of).

* It’s been snowing nonstop for about two days, and this morning I was mildly worried about being able to get out of my driveway without the aid of a plow. Fortunately I made it to the post office and the library with minimal fuss, and my neighbor mentioned using his four wheeler to clear my driveway tomorrow. Whew.

* We hired a new employee at my office, who will hopefully turn out better than the last one – not that it would be hard, considering what a waste of valuable oxygen HE is. Another body also means that my body can be in places OTHER than the office in the near future.

* I’ve been inexplicably lonely. So lonely that I’ve gone out of my way to be around people I usually don’t even like. Some people are better than no people, right? Or at least that seems to be my attitude in the last week or so. Normally I enjoy my own company, and can stay indoors for hours with a book or a blank Word document, but suddenly I find myself searching for companionship. I don’t really like it.

How is everyone else’s year going?