Monday, February 28, 2005

There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home….

It dribbled snow the entire time I was in Rochester, but the streets were clear and the driving just fine. But if you had asked any of the residents about the weather, they wouldn’t have even realized that there had been a bit of snow falling from the sky, a water-laden cloud must be parked over their head dumping its contents for a Rochestarian to be struck by the weather. Seriously though, when asked, residents said that they’re expecting snow on Tuesday (The cute flakes drizzling out of the sky, and icing the ground every couple of hours, didn’t count.)
The weather-necessitated, salt-laden roads, combined with the excessive canyons in every street and highway, make Rochester the perfect place to be a car dealer/mechanic. You’ll be guaranteed loads of return business. Luckily as your wheels are dipping into another portion of the earth’s crust while you’re simply trying to meet up with your friend at a local pub, you can totally rock out to an amazing radio station. 90.5, WBER, “the only station that matters”. And really they’re not just arrogant pricks, they’re damn right. (And this is coming from a former DJ.)

My family, my fam. First of all my Mom is so NOT helping with my dating prospects. She went to the bank and happened upon a grammar school classmate of mine, that was one of the rare few that actually pursued a higher education. He started quizzing her about me and then finally came out with, “So is she married?” And my lovely, darling Mom responded, “Well, she’s separated.” Um, huh? The one person that you would expect to disseminate true information, just implied that not only had I been married, but in fact, am still married and likely embroiled in some sticky, suboptimal situation. Bugger that!! I’ve never agreed to walk down the isle with ANY man. (Although my 3-yr-old keeps telling me that we’re married, and the speech bubble above my head sarcastically agrees with the truth in that statement.) But anyways, if you can’t expect that your Mom is going to exaggerate a little to make you seem like the most loveable, adorable creature floating across this earth, then who can you expect that from? At this point, I’ll just settle for the raw truth, because that would sound better than what slips out of her mouth, it seems….grumble, grumble… Maybe she was just pondering as I did, that the school mate in question had cruised though grammar school, with his forefinger deeply buried in his nose (except for when it came out to deposit his brownish-green find in his mouth.) Yow, I’m grossed out just pondering it…I must have seen that boy pick his nose hundreds of times a year, for 7 years straight.
Secondly, my family has horrible taste in restaurants. In their perfect world, they would be buffet-eatin’ daily. Having spent 2 full days in my home town, I’ve consumed food at one Chinese buffet and one buffet breakfast place. Oh, god, the grease-sins that I have committed against my insides. I’m surprised a revolt hasn’t been staged by my tummy.
And just to give you another little taste of home, the Christmas tree is still being displayed in the front enclosed porch. (Although, my Mom cutely explained that they had turned on the Christmas lights *just for me.* Whew, that had been my *major* concern; the fact that it was almost March and a Christmas tree present *at all* in the house might have escaped my notice.) Oh, and there’s only one wrecked car in the driveway, however, and to be fair, the accident that totaled it was a mere 2 weeks back.
And that there is a little sampling of my trip home. It had been avoided for the previous 4 years completely. My memory was jogged as to why, but still, quality time with my fam was worth it; I miss them already.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

I don't know *when* I'm going to die, but I do know *where*

Arrrgh! [growl of frustration]
I just returned from my walk down the block to purchase a *longer* shirt (see midriff post, yesterday). During that walk I was finally able to experimentally confirm that the most expensive county to live in, in the United States is also (drum roll, please...there's about to be some very shocking news revealed here) full of the most fucking self absorbed twits. Ok, so that's not too surprising. I would still like to present my new evidence. About a month ago, a man in an SUV making a right on red hit me and my daughter. *Lightly* hit, but I was still pretty shaken up. *Today*, a woman in an SUV came a couple of dangerous inches away from hitting me as I walked *in the pedestrian crosswalk* across the street. She started her parked vehicle and decided to pull out without, hmmm, without, I don't know, OPENING HER FUCKING EYES?! There's really no excuse! What? She needs a better view or something? She had the biggest SUV available, already! She gave me one of those pouty, "But what did I DO?" looks (which never works on other women) and when I ignored her and stomped across the street, she rolled down her window and yelled "sorry." I didn't even give her a glance. Self-involved bitch. I guess it's a good sign that I'm getting really pissed off these days at the thought of death by stupidity. And not my own stupidity, mind you.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Gates, Schmates

Gates, Schmates

I made the trek into the city this weekend to view The Gates. Simply
put, my reaction to The Gates was "I wouldn't pay $ to see it."
Luckily, *I* didn't have to.
Seriously, I think that, in order to really appreciate The Gates, they
should have built a tower to view them from above. Certainly, as you
walked beneath each one individually, it was NOT impressive; an arial
view might have made it a little bit more worthwhile.  (Although,
likely not $19 million dollars-worthwhile.)

Admittedly, the pictures aren't amazing, but then look what I had to work with.

Gates, Schmates

Gates, Schmates

Becky "Law-Breaker" Bumblefuck

Work was more amusing today than usual, and not just because I was extraordinarily sleep-deprived. The BAD-ASS that I am, got in trouble for an exposed midriff. Although, today was not *actually* when the infraction occurred. (I think that they've been saving up this one for a little while, like a skunked beer in the back of the fridge.) Of course, maybe I shouldn't claim that, as I am generally pretty oblivious to the state of my shirt. I can tell you that it hadn't slunk up over my eyes for example, but otherwise, it's not something I generally monitor. The funny thing is that I'm not exactly strutting my shit all over the halls, picking up the non-existent male co-workers. Rather, I sit holed up in the last office at the end of the farthest hall, plunking away at my keyboard, rarely emerging for a water break or trip to the generally nasty toilet. Maybe I entered a schizophrenic state last week and turned myself in for "yet another day of unneccessarily pale tummy in full view"; otherwise I'm kinda confused about how it was bothering anyone. I promised to "be more diligent about monitoring my shirts in the future..."

On an unrelated note, despite a covered midriff, I *must* have looked like a hobo today. Following workday close, I hoisted Noel onto my back and did the treacherous block walk. A woman expressly pulled her car over to ask if we needed a ride. I refused. I actually *like* to *walk* regularly, although I guess other people only do it in cases of hardship.

The offending midriff

originally uploaded by beckybumblefuck.

Monday, February 21, 2005

Now this is *real* science...

I am 11% White Trash.
Not at all White Trashy!
I, my friend, have class. I am so not white trash. . I am more than likely Democrat, and my place is neat, and there is a good chance I may never drink wine from a box.

Friday, February 18, 2005

I know I'll be itching before the end...

My blog has suffered from poison ivy dermatitis (well, at least my writing frequency has), and no *I'm sure* it's not contagious. Really you wouldn't want to read what I've been reading. The last sentence, that is still ringing in my ears, as well, read: "crusting plaque noted on the right breast." Come now, major eeeeehyew [Valley girl intonation]!

But I have gotten to delve into the wacky world of kook-medicine.
Check this out:
In Korea, in order to cure gastrointestinal upset or even just give an overall boost to your health, traditional folk medicine recommends ingesting lacquer. OK, so if that didn't just hit you over the head with YUCK!, let me spell it out for you. "Lacquer" is a substance used to coat wooden bowls (and other such objects) to give a shiny finish. If that didn't start your mouth buds watering, then let me just add that this tantalizing treat also contains the same substance that induces poison ivy rashes. Hmm, so you're thinking now *that's* an Excellant Idea. Why not just *eat* some plant juice that on average induces some nasty-itchy, flaming-red skin, complete with blisters when just a bit of it comes in contact with your skin. And if you were curious as to how this all goes down, it's with the aid of your favorite boiled animal: generally chicken, rabbit, or dog. For the strong of palate, the sap can also be mixed with raw egg white for consumption. If you're watching your weight, you can get your lacquer in other ways as well. Some also *inhale* the substance (which really just creates a new world of possibilities of pain and misery.) Props, for creativity're certainly thinking "outside the box." ("The box" being sanity, that is.)
And that's my report on bad medicine.
(And yes, these are published facts.)

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Things we do

Things we do

My girl, waiting for the daily, Noel-trade mark brand "ride on the broomstick."

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Oh, Canada

Poor you! I heard about your recent breakup. I know it's hard not to be with your favorite love, but don't mope, they'll be others. And hopefully by next year your love will come around. In the meantime, why not have some little flings? Hookups help to bide your time...

"The NHL season has finally been cancelled after players and owners failed to reach a last-ditch agreement."
"And the Stanley Cup - the top prize in NHL - will not be awarded for the first time since 1919, when a flu epidemic forced the finals to be called off."

Rough, definitely rough.

Hearts and flowers on a flat-screen

So, in the wake of the week of internet dating disasters, I've been trying to get rid of my connections to For example, I started replying to emails with: "Sorry, but I've decided that the internet is not my scene for meeting boys. I'm the kind of girl that likes to hang with someone and discover why I adore them and then date. In the internet dating world, it seems like you date first, and then find reasons to adore the person later(if you are lucky to find someone great.)" Of course, the typical human response to this is, "Wait, come back!", as documented by this email response: "Awww, I kinda like you more after hearing all that..."
I even tried to cancel my membership and was thwarted by a long conversation with a woman who purportedly found her husband on match. She set up my account with another 14 days, free, saying, "I want to be your matchmaker!", and then proceeded to fudge my responses to questions. "You excercise alot, right?" Apparently my failure was all in the presentation. And for all those people that lie in their profiles, don't you feel like a bastard when the truth is quickly revealed by a rendezvous with the potential love-of-your-life? "Sorry, hun, I didn't know that they meant *recently* when they asked that excercise question."
A friend hearing the story was convinced that it was fate that my account was extended, while I support the idea that it was business. See how un-romantic I am?
I'd rather take up residence in the local library for the next decade, waiting for the man of my dreams to appear in the classic fiction section, or maybe in gardening or travel...

Monday, February 14, 2005

Political dogs

For my confused friends and family that like the current political environment, don't click here. (That will never get old, for me.)

Happy VD: Spend quality time with the one you adore...

Happy VD: Spend quality time with the one you adore...

Nothing like a nice view of Boston while cozied up to your favorite
plastic turkey. Even better, when you're reading together....
Happy Valentine's Day!

Sunday, February 13, 2005


The bastards that set the temperature on hands-free faucets to the setting: "icicle" are on my shit-list.

A pidley 2% down

And the following is a pictoral of "where I been."

create your own visited country map

I have alot more to do, before I can be called, "worldly."
(This post is my official kick-in-the-butt to apply for that cool job in the Netherlands that I spied yesterday.)


This morning I woke up to the sound of my name being whispered.
Only, when I was conscious, there was no one there.

Saturday, February 12, 2005

Hate to break the *shocking* news but....

I am nerdier than 68% of all people. Are you nerdier? Click here to find out!

Yes, I am somewhat of a nerd.

The plan

Noel peeled back my covers at 7:41am.
She started packing, got her Pink* on, and re-iterated (as she is prone to do):

"I'm going to Chicago.
You want to come *with* me?
Bring lots of money."

I'm worried that there's about to be something illegal going down.

(*Despite most of her animals and dolls remaining nameless, her favorite dress however, has been dubbed The Pink.)

A*solid* reason to avoid boys completely

Bad news really can break hearts
(and you're welcome for getting this news *before* you agree to any VD foolishness)

Friday, February 11, 2005

Too much information

I realized when I got home tonight that I had been insane this morning. For some reason it took 4! knives to make a peanut butter and fluff sandwich and a peanut butter and nutella sandwich.

I did manage to develop a positive attitude when discovering that the earrings that I had purchased last night never made it home. I told myself that they might have looked terrible anyways and had been on good sale, so no big loss.

However I do *not* have a good attitude about another situation. I wish that my left nostril would STOP spewing mucus! I've been patient, but now I'm done! It's been weeks!

cream puff on a salad

cream puff

Connecticut Cool

A List of Celebrities that have Lived or Died in Connecticut:

Arthur Miller - Roxbury, Connecticut (He had been *married* to Marilyn Monroe?!) Until today, he lived ~48 minutes from my house.

Paul Newman - Westport, Connecticut (No discounts on his sauces around here, though.)
If he rung, I could jet over to his place in under 10. (minutes)

Joann Woodward - (duh, see above)

Meryl Streep - Connecticut (but, can't be more specific, sorry)

David Letterman - New Canaan, Connecticut
Hmmm, David and I could hang after about a 20 minute drive.

Katherine Hepburn - Hartford, Connecticut
She used to live about 40 minutes away.

Woody Allen - (Although, he may have moved to NYC. It's hard to track. He's a slippery man.)
Why would I visit, anyways?

Mia Farrow - (duh, see above.)

Meg Ryan - born in Fairfield, Connecticut (I live near the epicenter of cute.)

Martha Stewart - Westport, Connnecticut (Why haven't I been housesitting?)
Her pad has *got* to be within ten minutes of my job, how perfect would that be? I'm a clean girl... ;)

The day starts with...

A sea-gull almost touched down on my head today.
It happened on the block that smelled like marshmallow fluff last week.
The same block that I was almost ticketed at.
It's a strange area.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

VD preparations (no, this is not an ointment)

You know I just went to dip my hand into a jar of conversational candy hearts and came out *two* times in a row with unreadable ones. The theory was that the first one said "rear". The second one had only a syllable written on it so there was not even enough letters in a configuration to make a word, and therefore no theory as to what *that* was trying to tell me. After a little grumbling, I realized that I *had* picked the right hearts though. They didn't communicate anything to me.
Non-communication is my world. I'm guilty of that daily.

But, while we're on VD, as many affectionately call Valentine's Day, Noel and I will be ramping up to create a whirlwind of lovely, sparkly cards tonight. Or, Noel will be glued to the TV for a showing of Finding Nemo (the movie currently in favor), while I sourly sit by myself pasting glitter on cards, trying to convince Noel that she's missing a good time and should in fact be helping her Mom.

A way with words

The quote of this week goes to M who sagely notes:
"You think that you're over someone, that you've moved on, and then one morning you wake up and you're on the floor, in a ball, crying."

Oh and as an addendum to my picture of Chicago although the title amused myself, it may have invoked some confusion that I'd like to clear up. I am in fact NOT over any of the *residents* of Chicago, just in case anyone chose to interpret my title that way....
Oh, and officially: I'm giving up Lent for Lent this year.

New Slang

It's been raining since yesterday evening. This morning it looks like the onset of dusk.
I feel sad.

(gold teeth and the curse for this town were all in my mouth)

Yes, in fact I've done *everything * that you're not supposed to do for Chinese New Year's...I've washed my hair, I've cleaned the floor, I've cried. Apparently this indicates that the year of the rooster will have no good luck, as I've washed it all away. It will be filled with tears, as that is how it began. But once again, as is always true for Becky Bumblefuck, I've had a part in making it this way.

(and if you'd a took to me like the gull takes to the wind)

I think I'm finally making a full circle back to my childhood self. Back then I'd only be either happy or sad. Then pretty much all of my 20's, I was a fiesty girl, mad at the world for the unfairness of life, always looking for balance, for equality. I think that I'm just tired of that. I can't expend all this energy being frustrated with things that don't work in my favor, when seemingly the rest of the world has it better: more love, more sex, more money, more.

(well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree and i'd a danced like the queen of the eyesores)

And thanks to the Shins for the lovely lyrics and for creating a song that has had 24/7 airplay in my head for the last week.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

The Allure of Blogging

I have an excellent incentive to do more work, less blogging *right* in plain view to ameliorate the reading and writing of poison ivy. It's this glistening, edemic penis, and really it's not swollen in the *right* way and it's far from a turn-on. The picture's pretty yucky, in fact, but I refuse to cover it until I finish slogging through the very lengthy and informative article that's also in front of me.
Obviously, it's not completely working, or this post would never exist....

Cheeky girl

Cheeky girl

Noel says to me, "I have a mustache."
Um, yeah if mustache=a drippy chocolate beard, then yes, you DO have a mustache.

This morning the *first* words to leave her mouth were, "I want to
touch the spinning wheel."
Well, there's 2 things that you can derive from that statement.
a.) She has been watching too much Sleeping Beauty (Time for an
emergency trip to Toys R Us...I need to stock up on more matchbox cars
and dump trucks, to overthrow the princess movement...)
b.) She's a cheeky babe. Because there are really only 2 lessons that
you can derive from Sleeping Beauty: First of all, *Don't* touch the
spinning wheel! and secondly, Just be beautiful and your prince will
come. I'm really hoping that only the first lesson will stick, as the
second lesson is well, fucking worthless.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

I'm totally *over*, I've moved on.

I'm totally *over*, I've moved on.

Self-induced head pain

So last night my head hurt. I consider it my own fault, although I was not able to isolate the source of the problem. The main factors being considered are the long, very depressing documentary: Stevie (complete with an un-happy ending and whipped cream, to top off the over 2 hours of viewing) or the pig-tails. Those rubber bands in your hair can just yank somethin' terrible...

Today's Nuggets

Apparently CA (gotta-love those West-Coasters) proposed the eradication of poison oak by goat. They wanted to sick a flock of poison-oak-lovin' goats on the state to *eat* all of the rash-inducing weeds. This was in 1994; some higher-up must have vetoed it.
In other trivia, honey produced from poison ivy flowers is tastier. And no, it doesn't make you itchy, either (I *knew* you were going to ask that.)

Internet boys

Internet dating, boy it blows. You just can't get to know someone by
the web. And trying to meet up with them after some lame, futile tries
at establishing familiarity between emails and a phone conversation or
2, makes me uncomfortable. No, downright squeemish, in fact. And
along with that theme, the first boy I met with must have found me to
be completely neurotic. I arrived to drink at a bar on a Sunday
afternoon, covered with red splotches on my chest. In part my skin
breakout was induced by the past hour that I'd spent faking
precalculus ability for a poor highschool girl; in part it was induced
by the situation at hand. I found the "meet the random guy at a bar
scenario" to be quite unnerving.

I had actually put some effort into *that* attempt at meeting a boy,
from there it's been steadily downhill. The next guy that I met with
had been pestering me to meet, but I had a bad feeling about it.
Nothing terrible, like he was going to beat me, but just the ole'
usual bored-out-of-my-mind scenario. Well, it happened as I predicted
and what's more: I was attracted to that guy as much as I am a wet
booger. So, guy number #3. At this point I was putting next to no
effort into the rendezvous. I mean, I showered (but then again, I do
do that regularly), but I brought my girl with me. It made it less
date-like, which I was happy with. And overall I had a good time. We
ate Thai food and browsed the excellent Yale Natural history museum.
But then upon arriving back at my house, Noel began running around in
a manner that required attention, and then my mailbox fell off the
house. It certainly ruined the moment, if there was going to be one.
And that was the end of that.
But maybe today's my lucky day...I was just "winked" at by a southern
boy who lists some of his favorite activities, including mudding.
Maybe he's the one... ;)

The Neighborhood Jesus

The Neighborhood Jesus

I'm a fortunate girl. Jesus has made ready access to his place for
me, by locating it right down the street. I'm generally reminded of
his presence by a couple neon signs, although he does have limited
hours, and I cannot get access to his place at times that would be
more useful for me. Like say, 7pm on a Sunday night: no dice. But
then again Jesus only stocks some mediocre potato-chip brands, a
limited selection of chocolate, and a couple of soft drinks, so he
doesn't necessarily carry anything that I wanted anyway. I guess it's
nice of him to be so close by, but sometimes the constant presence
might be termed overbearing.

Monday, February 07, 2005

Blog request: This one goes out to Sarah...

Apparently our urges to stalk powerful and sexy people are not unique. Macaque monkeys do the same, in an experiment where they were able to trade juice to view a lady monkey's hindquarters or a superior guy's image. Maybe they're trying to stay hip to the fashion trends or discover which girls may be up for some play? Anyways, doesn't this somehow justify purchasing the latest copy of the Enquirer or the Daily Mirror on our way through the check-out line? Anyways, I love proof that humans' have inflated egos, when we stake claims that our rationality puts us so far above all animals. Really, what we call "reason" is just "good spin" for why we do the things we *want* to do: the things that many other animals want to do, as well.

Sunday, February 06, 2005

Lovers in Kyoto, at crossroads

Getting worse

I'm getting worse.
I feel better by telling myself lies.

I've been listening to the Shins. I'm seeing meaning in places where I
shouldn't be...
Somehow just discovering that I adore the Shins, then finding them on my
computer in M's folder means that I had so much, but didn't realize
all that I had...  Maybe it's true.  But it does not matter now.

I started feeling worse than awful by pondering M in his new apartment
with furniture belonging to his cute internet friend...reading my
messages and thinking that I had gone insane...or maybe not even
getting the messages because he had been partying with friends, with
girls.. So I lied to myself.  I told myself that he
hadn't responded because he had gotten my message and got into his car
to immediately drive to me...

Last night I was dying thinking about walking on streets with him in
Kyoto.  He told me on the dark street next to the river that
his experience in Japan was made complete
by falling in love with me there....I was thinking about crying on the train as it
left the station to take me away; looking back as M put
on his ipod and looked away.  He told me later that he was not sad because he
was so sure of us....But, he took so long to get to me.  He was gone in
Japan, in Russia for *so* long.  And I was sad and struggling in the
meantime...missing him, trying to get settled in a new place with
Noel.  I would look up at the sky and miss him and think of him on the
other side of the world and feel hopeful.  But I hardened myself to survive.  I told
myself that I could handle it all, but then when he came, I couldn't
integrate him.  I was so used to pushing myself, to dealing with
everything with a set jaw, to making it on my own.  But independant
girl *really* wanted to be taken care of.  In Japan, he took care of
me, and that's what I wanted (want).

Why did he write so many things about how even my faults were perfect, about how I
was the center of his universe, about how he loved me?  He would
always sign "Love M", even when we were mad at each other.  Why did he
tell me things would be OK, that it would work out, that I would be beautiful when I was old and grey?  
Why did he dance with me the day he left me?

How will I ever believe any of these beautiful words from any other
lips?  How will I ever trust?  I don't think that I can ever trust
again.  And trust had been given so meagerly before, as it was...

Friday, February 04, 2005

A run-in with nature

Did I *ever* mention that I am a card-carrying, gold member of the Kodak Seat Belt Society? And I have had this membership since, mmmm, 'bout 1987, I'd say. A solid *18* years of membership in this society. In fact, I'm inclined to say that I was one of the first members to be inducted, even. (And my parents have a plaque with the *entire* family's picture on there to prove it...well, except for the youngest sister who wasn't even born until the 90's.) Anyways, focus...
So how did we deserve such an honorable designation? Well, straight up, we hit a bear. Actually 3 bears to be precise: a Mom and her 2 cubs. It was a dark night and we were on a very curvy highway taking us through Allegany county of PA, and my dad just couldn't see that the dark shapes in the night were bears...
Anyways, everyone was OK, bears and all. There was a dent left in the fender as a memento, but the bears just ambled off and as previously suggested, our seat belts kept us from
being catapaulted. The park rangers said that they would keep an eye out for them, but surmised that the bears were fine. And that was my early lesson on wearing seat belts. Most normal people do that sorta thing with deer; we were too good for that.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Bubbletea bound

Chinese New Year's is more imminent that I had imagined; so I decided that my lust for bubbletea must be satisfied in celebration of the holiday and I found a nice website that promised to deliver some to my home. Oooo, the thought of those yummy, sedimented "bubbles" at the bottom of a fruity little drink had me all excited as I pushed the "calculate my order" button. Well, shockingly, my order price suddenly took on an extra Alexander Hamilton and I was all in a huff. How dare they make money off of shipping fees? And for straws and powder, no much can that weigh? A solid half pound, altogether? I've noticed the annoying trend where companies seemingly offer a good deal and then just as you're about to close the transaction, you find an extra hefty-fee has magically been tacked on. Bugger-it-all, I say. I'll be obviously making a trip to NYC this weekend, to satisfy my craving for bubbletea, it seems-uh, no *I'm* not stubborn, at all. (And HOW can little Champaign, IL outclass CT by actually having 3 (THREE, mind you!) bubbletea houses, while there is not a single one to be found in my new place of residence? Bugger-that, as well!)

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

pictoral evidence of exploits in Boston

pictoral evidence of exploits in Boston

The first picture was taken before the snow, but after consuming the
yummiest of desserts.
The second picture was taken during the snow. Which was lovely.
The third was the aftermath.

pictoral evidence of exploits in Boston

pictoral evidence of exploits in Boston

The first picture was taken before the snow, but after consuming the
yummiest of desserts.
The second picture was taken during the snow. Which was lovely.
The third was the aftermath.

pictoral evidence of exploits in Boston

pictoral evidence of exploits in Boston

The first picture was taken before the snow, but after consuming the
yummiest of desserts.
The second picture was taken during the snow. Which was lovely.
The third was the aftermath.

ominous signs

ominous signs

I fell in love with a book recently. It was the kind of read that I
felt sad half way through, knowing that my relationship with this book
would soon be over. It was the kind of book where you mourned reading
its last word, as if a close friend had just moved and there won't be
any more quality time spent in their presence.
Having said that, I highly recommend "Devil in the White City." It's
the true story of the 1893 Chicago World's Fair juxtaposed with the
story of the serial killer who murdered upwards of 200 people, many of
them female fairgoers. The serial killer part, of course creeped me
out. It started musings of things that could have happened in my
dark, ominous, stale basement; hence the photograph of one corner of
my basement taken at 5:45am this morning. (I couldn't sleep and got
tired of eyeballing the ceiling.)
(Note: NONE of the sharp objects, *including the shovel* were
planted...this is exactly how I found my basement when I moved in.)