I will be back soon with lots more adventures and of course, misadventures!

But lately, the clutter around me is starting to stress me out.  Maybe it’s the holidays fast approaching, and I ache for a neat house.   Or perhaps it’s the fact that I can’t see my desk… or nightstand… or bottom of the closet, any closet.  Whatever it is, the clutter around me is starting to muddle my head.

Which is never good.

Because I have enough jumble in my head as it is.  I do not need to add to it.  In any way, shape or form.

So I’m embarking on a new project.  DE-CLUTTERING.  Getting rid of crap.  Simplifying my life.  Turning over a new leaf.  Whatever you want to call it, this stuff has GOT TO GO.

What I really want to do is just haul everything to the side of the curb and let the garbage men deal with it.  But the common sense part of my head (and yes, I have one, albeit small) says “don’t do it!”  I’ve done something similar before, and it creates an insurmountable amount of chaos.

I start running around the house looking for something.  I can’t find it.  I call my parents and my friends to see if I lent it to them.  I didn’t.  I call them again to see if they have one I can borrow.  They don’t.  I run around the house again to double check.   It’s not there.  I remember I tossed it out thinking I wouldn’t need it.  I curse.  I skedaddle out to the store and buy a new one.  Life is good again.  Until the next time I’m looking for something I threw away.

Because I desperately do not want to recreate that scene again, I have decided to go about this strategically.  The only problem is that I’m strategy-less.  I think I’ve gotten in way over my head.  But alas, I’ve made the decision to de-clutter and I’m sticking to it.  I have to because let’s just face it – this ain’t working no more.

My head is entering a state of disarray just looking at that photo.   And this explains why I pick out my clothes by closing my eyes and randomly pointing.  Well, that and the fact that I’m insanely indecisive, so if I don’t randomly pick, it might be time to crawl back into my pajamas by the time I pick an outfit.

I’m attempting to find comfort in the fact that this is all going to change.  I’m going to de-clutter my closet and my desk and everything else in this house.

Ahhh, what have I gotten myself into?!?

I don’t know if I can handle it.

Maybe I will just toss everything out of the window and onto the curb.  Let someone else deal with it.  Why do I never, ever learn my lessons?  I can’t do that.  History has proven so.

I will conquer this mess, and I’m going to write about it as proof… to the world… well, mostly to myself and maybe my parents who probably won’t believe that their daughter is de-cluttering her life.

Bring it on!

At some point towards the end of the teenage years and into my earlier 20s, I convinced myself that pricey shampoo HAD to work better.  My best guess is that it was the result of a combination of reading some article in a magazine (probably titled “The Best Beauty Products” but should have been titled “The Companies Who Spend the Most Money on Product Promotion“) and being somewhat brainwashed by the hairdresser who somehow got the crazy idea that I would be open to spending more money on shampoo than on a good steak dinner.

And so I set out on a journey, a long and expensive voyage.  About six years later, 1,974 bottles of shampoo (and conditioner) stowed away and hundreds of dollars poorer, I have returned from my expedition with an astonishing discovery.

I went from this…

The shampoo that works best to tame my bird’s nest is one that costs less than $5.00!  That’s less than a value meal at McDonald’s (although much less tasty… not that I’ve ever accidentally gotten shampoo into my mouth before)

… to this.

There are some things that I don’t mind spending money on (like a good steak dinner!), but I’ve decided, once and for all, that shampoo is not one of them.

I’m so excited I can now stroll down the street without birds landing on my head.

Why?

Because I still have quite a few boxes stashed in a closet there.  Mostly books, some clothes and a large (and embarrassing) collection of plush animals.

Why?

Because isn’t that what kids do? Fill their parents’ closets with boxes so they don’t have to fill their own?

No?

Well, okay, but that’s what I do.  So the other day while I was digging through one of their 13 closets, I came across my long lost box of photos!

It was such a joyous day! And to add to my existing giddiness, there were a ton of other really cool mementos from my childhood in there.

Like this memory book from 3rd grade -

I think Seth was just being nice.  I can be a hard worker.  I’m sometimes a super smart student.  I am NOT good at math.  I don’t ever remember being good at math.  Oddly enough, I don’t ever voluntarily wearing a dress either… with flowered, puffy sleeves to boot.

And a stack of photos about as tall as I might have been in third grade -

Photos of me as a baby, as a toddler, as a kid, as a teenager… and apparently as a baby who stuck her finger in an electrical socket one too many times.

A card from the hospital where I was born -

I now see I was destined to have big feet.

My first Christmas card -

I also have about 1,928 cards from other random occasions, and to this day, I still save every card I get.

And the main reason I was in a desperate search for this box -

Lots and lots of studio photos of me as a baby.  I swear there are photos from at least every other month.   I mentioned this abundance of photos of me (in contrast to the 5 photos my parents took of my brother) to my dad.  His answer – “You were the first born.  We were very careful.  By the time, you get to the second one, you drop a carrot on the floor, you wipe it off and give it to them.”  And so there’s your welcome into my dad’s world of bluntness.  Do you think I should mention to my brother that there’s a good chance he ate dirty carrots?

And lastly, an envelope stuffed full of ticket stubs -

To everything.  Basketball games, tourist-y attractions at Niagara Falls, theme parks, tourist-y attractions like caves, movie stubs, tourist-y attractions like train rides… yes, we did a lot of tourist-y things as a family, but hey, I’m not complaining.  And… a ticket stub to ‘America’s Sexiest Bachelor’ show at MGM Grand?!?!?  One, I went to this as a teenager…. no wonder not all is right in my head now.  Two, when, who, what, where are they doing this again?!

Heyyyy mommm, what’s up?  I’m just chillin’, thinkin’ about catchin’ some ZZZs. (And yes, this is totally how Kritter would talk… well, at least in my slightly messed up head)

I’m realllllly tired… from all the work I’ve been doin’.  Ya know, the laser chasin’, twisty tie kickin’, tuna munchin’ and nappin’ I’ve been doin’.

Soooo… ummm, ya think I can get some privacy?   It’s kinda hard to sleep when you’re sittin’ here, starin’ at me, blindin’ me with your camera.  There’s no way I’ll fall asleep.

*Five minutes later*

Finally, I’m asleep.  Dreamin’ about rainbows and unicorns… or tuna and catnip.

Are you sure to want to knock on this door?

Are you positive?  This is the crazy house.

Weird people live here. People who do this to their car…

And do this to their cheese…

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

They eat sandwiches.  I wonder what’s really in them.

People who want you to think they’re eating soup but really, they’re not.

They try to cover it up by doing this with their cheese.

But don’t fall for it.  I mean it.  Why would you believe these strangers?  They do this to their cats…

Oh wait… you just wanted some candy. Well, why didn’t you just say so?

Help yourself!  Just don’t take too many pixie sticks or else Frankie’s “hair” will be all gone.

Trick or treat!  Hope ya’ll come back again, ya hear!

Seriously… come back, please.  This is not the creepy residence.  I promise.

Wait until Christmas.  Then you can judge me!

Boil sausage and pasta.  You can use any kind of sausage.  This time I’m using andouille, but I’ve used cheddar and hot links in the past.   Drain both.

Combine 1 cup of chicken broth, 2 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar, red pepper flakes and parsley flakes.  Bring to a boil and throw the sausage in there.

Combine sausage/sauce mix with pasta.  You can add more or less red pepper flakes depending on how spicy you want it.

I like to add vegetables in with mine.  I heat up the veggies in a steamer bag and then throw them on top.  I’m a broccoli lover, but you can substitute broccoli with just about any other veggie.

My headless nature is why I need a new photographer.

My lovely drawing and an attempt at planning ahead. Art is so not my thing.

And there you have it!  A birthday cookie for (of?) the Element.  There were a few lessons learned from this -

1.  Get a new photographer.  Boys are only focused on two things – the food and ahem… I think you can figure out the other one.

2.  Art is not my thing.

3.  Decorating cookies is not my thing.

4.  Being a cookie monster and eating myself into a cookie coma IS my thing!

Because that’s exactly what happened to me today.  I get in my car after picking up some craft supplies, look down to stick the key in the ignition, look back up and spot a grocery cart flying straight towards my car from the other end of the parking lot at a bajillion miles an hour.

Seriously… it was a bajillion miles an hour.  I scientifically measured it.

Okay, I didn’t but still it was rushing fast towards my car.  I didn’t have time to jump out of the car and stop it.  It hit my car – making enough noise to wake the dead… or at least some very heavy sleepers.  I winced, cowered, cringed, grimaced and cursed all at the same time.

I scrambled out, taking a quick glance around to make sure there weren’t any more stray carts zooming towards the car… or worse… my butt.

I was sure there’d be a huge dent in the front of my car.  At least a good size chunk of paint missing.  I slowly creeped around to the bumper, hesitantly glanced at it and that’s when I remembered!

My bumper has plastic panels!  And they were all in one piece.  No dents.  No scratches.  No cracks.  Just a nice layer of dust (but of course, that’s my fault for not washing my car in who knows how many months).

Without the plastic panels, I’m positive there would have been a sizable crater on the front of my car.  The plastic panels save the day!

Setting out on foot to see the sights of Denver.

Whoa, that’s a tall building!

And two very shiny buildings!

The state capitol – I have a bit of an obsession with state capitols, so true to character, I proceeded to take 9,827 photos of it… and I was the only one out there with a camera!  Boy, did I feel out of place.  But hey, what’s new?

10,973 shots later.   Hey, be happy I only made you look at a few of them.

Aww man, I’m starting to get hungry out here.

And I’m a little lost.  Where am I?  Why do I have no sense of direction?  Where are my pants?!

Maybe this dude knows… Nope, he didn’t.

Wahhhh, I’m getting so famished that I’m starting to pace up and down the street, and the world is looking topsy-turvy.

Aha!  The tall building is back.   I must be getting close.

Woohoo!  The hotel!  I’m no longer lost.  I do have a sense of direction… but I still can’t find my pants.

And of course, the reasons for going to Denver in the first place -

BEFORE

AFTER

Looking put-together and classy after a half marathon is not one of my strengths.  Actually I’m not sure looking put-together and classy is EVER one of my strengths, but alas, that’s a story for another day.

I see a squirrel scamper down from a tree.  Nothing new.  Less than 15 minutes ago, I saw two of them running around doing some kind of mating dance.  These squirrels here in Denver are crazy.

So this squirrel starts burrowing in a pile of leaves.  He doesn’t even notice that I’m there watching him.  Being the dork I am, I decide I want a photo of this.  I hurriedly whip my camera out and snap – this is what I got…

He flashed me!

Either that he’s doing an uncanny impersonation of Kevin from Home Alone.

The last thing the bugs see flash before their beady, squinty, little eyes is this.   Poor fellas.

Imagine my joy when I found this plastered to the Element the other day… not one but TWO bugs smushed together.

Warning: picture below not for those with a faint heart… or a fear of bugs… or the easily squeamished (is that a word?)

See, told you it was’t pretty!

And yet… it kind of is, in the weirdest way possible.  But then again, I don’t mind  bugs.  I want a pet tarantula for crying out loud.  Pft, two dead bugs splattered together is nothing.

Oh my gosh, WAIT!

Did one of their legs just twitch in front of me?

Oh my god!  Take the picture and move!  Move, move, move!  Hurry!  The leg is still twitching! Run for your life!  I bet it’s got a machine gun… and a sword… and this is all just a trick! And I can’t believe I fell for it!  I think it sees me!  I swear it’s waving its little twiggy leg at me!  Run, run, run!

Okay, so I apparently can only handle dead bugs.  Shssh, don’t tell anyone about my breakdown.  Please!  Please don’t tell anyone I scrambled out of there, tripped over the doorstep, dove under the covers and waited and waited and waited.  This only means one thing… war!

And the pride and joy of finishing is everlasting.

Almost three days after the completion of my first half-marathon, in many ways, I’m still in pain, but it’s a reminder that the human body is remarkably strong and enduring.

Disclaimer:  If you’re looking for an expert opinion on wine, you won’t find it here.  If you want me to tell you if something about the varietal or the region it hails from, I can assure you that I probably cannot assist you.  If you want to know what foods to pair it with, again, I cannot help because there’s a good chance I’m drinking mine with Taco Bell or mac and cheese.  I, however, am open to learning (hence the “Complete Idiot’s Guide to Wine Basics” I checked out from the library) and listening to your insights.

This week I’ve got The Big Kahuna Cabernet Sauvignon Shiraz.  Try saying that ten times fast.  I spotted The Big Kahuna in the weekly Fresh & Easy ad.  It was priced at $2.99, and I was convinced that it was a typo and was supposed to be $12.99 because these days you can barely get a soda for $3.00.

Alas, it really was $2.99 and supposedly a Fresh & Easy customer favorite.  For that price, I couldn’t pass it up.

I was pleasantly surprised.  I expected to end up with that scrunched-up-nose–stick-your-tongue-out–buggy-eyes look, the one I make frequently when I drink wine.  I might have stuck my tongue out, but I was able to refrain from scrunching up my nose.

Anyways, I have no aversion to flying.  It doesn’t scare me.  It’s actually quite the opposite.  I love taking off and landing; turbulence is sort of fun.  I love sitting in the window seat and looking through the window excitedly pointing out everything like a five year old.

My only problem with flying is that I get restless and bored easily.  I know.  What’s new?   It’s not like a road trip where you can dance and sing while driving.   I tried the dancing through the aisles on a plane once, and it was not well received by my fellow passengers and definitely not by the staff.  Likewise, I’ve also tried singing at the top of my lungs and got collective “boos” from everyone within earshot… including birds flying in the sky (I don’t know.  Do birds even fly that high?).

As a result of my short attention span, I’m always forced to find something to keep me occupied during a flight.   And that’s exactly where my first thought went when I saw this book -

Where’s Waldo – The Ultimate Travel Collection!

It sends me through nostalgia-land.  I have flashbacks of my childhood when we poured over Where’s Waldo books in school.  Some kids hollering in triumph when they found Waldo.  Other kids insisting silence while they continued to look for the hidden red and white stripes clothed fellow.  (Myself?  I was usually in the latter group.)

I apparently have no care if I look like an eight year old walking through the airport carrying this book.

Mostly because it’s awesome!

That one should keep me busy for awhile.

Tomorrow my fellow fliers can thank Waldo for keeping me quiet.  They can thank him for sparing them the once in a lifetime chance to hear me sing or dance… or sing and dance.  It’s their loss… really… perhaps hearing loss.