Regan White's Ranting and Raving

A poem for your Thursday

I was looking through old e-mails today, and ran across this poem that was sent to me by a dear friend quite some time ago.

"Life will break you.
Nobody can protect you
from that, and living alone won't either,
for solitude will also break you
with its yearning.
You have to love.
You have to feel.
It is the reason you are here on earth.
You are here to risk your heart.
You are here to be swallowed up.
And when it happens that you are broken,
or betrayed, or left,
or hurt, or death brushes near,
let yourself sit by an apple tree
and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness.
Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could."

~ Louise Erdrich

Hooray, Lent!

The perfect caffeinated beverage

Driving home from work at 7:30 or so tonight, I wearily pondered my best course of action. I still have lots of work to complete tonight. Should I take a nap, wake up and work? Should I purchase a latte and find some fake, caffeinated energy, try to get my work done and then sleep? 

I opted first for food. Having skipped lunch today I found that Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies are a poor excuse for lunch - at least if you don't have dinner until 8 p.m. I ate greedily. I then headed out for a latte as the caffeine in espresso seems to last longer for me than with coffee.

But I got sidetracked on my way to Starbucks by a side trip to Trader Joe's. I stuffed my Trader Joe's canvas bag with the few odd things I needed and a few things I definitely didn't need but suddenly found I did - spray roses anyone? Butter chicken over basmati rice? More frozen shrimp? (I've been CRAVING shrimp lately. I wonder what the heck that even means. Am I low on mercury? Or Omega somethings? Or fishy-ness? 

I must've lost track of the time because I stumbled into Starbucks at 9:03 p.m. They used to close at 9:30 or 10. Apparently, they now close at 9. And from the looks of things, they must start cleaning the machines at 8 p.m. Jerks.

So I wandered home, more tired than ever. 

The desperation forced my hand - and my creativity - into concocting the most delicious drink I've ever enjoyed. Diet Coke with a spritz of sugar-free, coconut-flavored Torani syrup. 

Need a trip to the islands without actually going anywhere? This is the drink for you. 

I wish I could accurately describe all of its fizzy, tropical goodness. There aren't words. 

And I'm awake again. And all with zero calories (which scares me as much as it cheers me. How can I drink something that dark, sweet and tasty and not have consumed any calories? What will that do to my system?). It's too scary to contemplate. 

And so I sip. And savor. And set to work.

An all-business bunny

So I realized I've really been negligent about the blog lately. Again.

So I signed on here all ready to put in some real deep blog entry about the thoughts I've been having lately. I got sidetracked checking out new themes I could switch the page design to. Then I realized I had promised myself I'd be in bed by 11 p.m. Then I realized how many of my entries are written at 2 a.m. or later. Then I couldn't think of a relatively short, light-hearted entry that would have me signing out within a decent time frame. 

So I logged off. 

But while checking my e-mail one last time before bed I thought of the perfect entry: my recent Easter-themed purchase.

Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent is this week, my friends. (It's my favorite time of year - read facetiously - for those of you keeping score at home.) To make matters worse, I had a root canal last week that I don't think I detailed for all of you. Be thankful. In short, I have some kind of wonky, s-shaped nerve/root canal that wasn't able to be completed in one sitting. This was after I already went in to have a crown done on the tooth only to discover, as suspected, that a root canal would be needed. 

So this, essentially, will be procedure no. 3 on the same tooth in less than three weeks. 

Things could be worse. I realize that. My sister has perfect teeth, long legs and blonde body hair. Life just doesn't seem fair sometimes to the short-legged, hobbit-haired (I have a handle on it but honestly - I was at a fundraiser the other night and seriously contemplated waxing my arms until I realized what a pain in the rear it would be) and bad-of-tooth.

Anyhow, not wanting to drag the process on any longer (I had planned to have all of this knocked out before my birthday the first week of February - not realizing that once again my crappy soft teeth and s-shaped nerves would foil me again) I made my follow-up appointment with my endodontist (who I love) for Tuesday. Yes, Fat Tuesday. What a bright idea. "Yes, I'd like one Fat Tuesday milkshake and maybe a fatty, fatty yogurt since I'll be fasting tomorrow and I can only gum on soft foods. Thanks!"

Then again, the tooth work will probably make it easier to fast on Ash Wednesday. Again, I'm going straight to hell for even thinking such.

And so, provided I get all my work done tomorrow (a minor miracle) for next week's issue, I shall treat tomorrow like Fat Monday. Mondo Monday perhaps.

Anyway, I digress. The point is, Easter is nigh as evidenced by the once again color-coded, OCD-friendly aisles of Halloween candy at Wal-Mart (so super creepy) and for the Catholics out there, a heaping dose of guilt and repentance. 

Yay!

So Easter is near. And that means ... among other things ... not only Cadbury Mini Eggs (thank you, Kate, for calling me when you first saw them in stores. I'm touched I'd be your first all regarding those little life-saving confections. At least, I hope I was your first call...) but ... bunny ears. (Are you following all the parenthenticals tonight? Oh my poor brain. And yours if you're still reading.)

That's right. Bunny ears. Like my penchant for most holidays, all associated accessories and any kind of fun headgear like tiaras, bunny ears have been a longtime favorite of mine most every Easter. Perhaps it's because I had a bunny Easter costume for the first few years of my life as a toddler. Perhaps because I think I look cute as a bunny. (That's a weird comment. I'm aware.) Some people look more like cats. Others, more like monkeys. When my face doesn't look as large as Shrek's (yes, the ogre), I like to think of myself as looking like a bunny. Again, the bunny costume so young must've messed with me. 

I think it started in college that around Easter time someone gave me a bunny costume - nothing nasty mind you. No Playboy Bunny type nonsense. Just a headband with ears, a funny pink bowtie and a cotton tail. Over the years I've acquired a few other sets of ears. Long, pink feathered ones (one of my favorite pairs), etc. 

At the tail end (pun intended) of last week I found the perfect set for business occasions and social outings. They're a bit small (they're probably meant for children - how silly!) but they still look like rabbit ears. I checked. I feared they'd be too small and make me look like a cat. But no. Still passable as bunny.

They're you're typical white, faux fur fluffy ears attached to a matching headband. The exception? They're lined in pink and white pinstripe.

All-business bunny, baby.

I want to wear them everywhere. Thus far I've only been wearing them around the house when I'm cleaning or cooking or checking my e-mail and garbage like that. But today I walked the dogs in them. I almost wore them to Caribou Coffee. 

Kate, I can almost hear my phone ringing with you checking on me. I'd be surprised except this isn't posted yet. I give you 10 minutes past posting before you call to make sure I haven't had a stroke.

I go through cycles of being more self conscious than other times. Lately, not so much. Which is relieving. I don't know if it's the surrounding spirit of recently departed Michael Woo who, if anything, was always his own person and always, always himself or what but I feel remarkably me the past few days. (minus the cold/flu funk I'm fending off and the wretched lethargy) If feeling like myself means donning pinstriped, pink rabbit ears before we're even remotely close to Easter, I'm OK with that. 

You'd like them. Honest. I'll take a picture. And post it. Maybe by July.

Keep me in your thoughts this week. It's liable to be a crazy one.

Also, let's start counting how often I use the superlative "super." I don't exactly know where I picked it up from (but I have an inkling. Megan?). But I can't stop. Everything is "super cute," "super long," "super sad," "super funny," "super sweet," "super creepy." 

It's not bad, really - just super annoying. 

R

At last

Ahhh... so much has happened. Where to begin?

I'm 28 now.

Dear friend Alison Woo's brother, Michael, passed away at 31.

Elijah Carter Dietz was born.

Valentine's Day has come and gone. (It was a blast.)

In more recent news, I feel like I have mono. Either that or I'm coming down with a cold. Or my allergies are bad. Six of one, half a dozen of the other, really. ;)

I've been hazy and sluggish for days now. I'm only up now because I went to the gym from 9 to 10 p.m. and now I can't sleep. Typical.

I was so tired on Sunday that instead of going for a walk/run on the greenway I napped on the floor next to two open windows in the sunshine for nearly four hours. I had a pillow and blanket. And my dog. It wasn't like I was just lying on the bare floor, although that would've been amusing. It was a much-needed nap but I haven't been able to shake the lethargy. It has me in a panic for I have lots to do.

Despite the fact that the return of the cold weather has enabled me to wear some cold-weather sweaters and footwear that I've been longing to try out, Regan is eager for spring. In a big way. I'm eager for St. Patrick's Day, too - one of my favorite holidays. 

Rather, I should start listing the holidays I don't like as they are far fewer than the holidays I love. 

Presidents' Day, for one. I never have it off. I could've taken off today, I guess, but there's always too much to do. Plus, I've never been used to being anywhere that observed anything but necessary holidays. I was lucky that my college recognized Christmas as a winter break. (Although I can't complain much as the lack of observed holidays was more than made up for with a hearty Thanksgiving break that made trips home worthwhile and a matching Christmas break to boot. Then we just had to suck it up until summer.)

I could do without Flag Day. Secretary's Day seems patronizing. Although so does Boss's Day, while we're at it. Not that either one of those is really a blip on the radar. 

Columbus Day - I never really recognize that one either. Columbus was an a-hole, and that's putting it mildly. Even if his ships had some wicked good names.

The Fourth of July surprisingly isn't really one of my favorites. I love the fireworks and the fanfare and the freedom and all that, it's just never what I imagine it would or should be. New Year's is generally like that, too, although the turning over of a new year is nearly always cathartic if anticlimactic. I love hot dogs, though, and the Fourth is a wonderful excuse for those - as is New Year's if you get tiny dogs and wrap them in puff pastry for quaint little pigs in blankets. It's been too long since I laid eyes on a pig in a blanket.

I think that's it on the hated holidays list.

And now, I attempt to sleep. (made all the more difficult by the fact that today I downed my first latte in what must be more than a month - i used to have at least a latte a day. I had to break down today because I couldn't function. You know, from this mono/cold/allergy funk thing I have going on. Now between the latte and the late-night exercise, my body is humming eve if my brain and eyes are growing fuzzy again.)

Yet, sleep I must.

More soon. R

4:30 a.m. note

T-shirt I'd like to make:

"If I bought all the things that make me laugh, I'd have no money." - Marisa Bass, circa three days ago

T-shirt I will be making:

I can't tell you. It'd ruin the surprise and you might get around to making it before I do. Suffice it to say, I'd like to start a gym class around the saying AND have it be my own personal mantra. I guess the latter is more easily enacted than the former, really. I could start immediately, actually. When it comes about there will be pictures. Don't you worry.

And yes, I probably should've hit the sheets about, oh, four hours ago? At least? But I didn't feel tired yet and still had work to bang out so here we are at vampire hours knowing that when we (the royal we - me and my organs in this case) awake we'll be the worse for wear and wishing we hadn't decided to hazily blog with a few precious spare moments at 4:31 a.m.

Ah, hindsight. Ah, nauseating mornings on too-little sleep. Ah, Wednesday, Wednesday.