My Bathroom, Myself

If the way you decorate your home is an expression of your personality, then surely the way you keep your home speaks volumes about you. After all, mama always said "actions speak louder than words" (one day, I will blog about the WWIII caliber fights this phrase caused the Nelson household back in the day). So, when I tell you that I'm an "organized mess" or that "it looks cluttered, but I know where everything is," you should accept it. Because if you were to see my bathroom right now, you would surely think I am a slob.  I swear I'm not. I clean the kitchen on the regular. I organize my books, papers, and other junk religiously. And then there's my bathroom. My deep, dark secret bathroom. It, I'm ashamed to admit, looks like this:

I do have an excuse, though (of course I do). This is it:

Her name is Liza Jane Minnelli Nelson. I know, Jane is not the actual Liza's middle name (it's May, in case you were wondering), but saying "Liza Jane" is just so much more fun, so Liza Jane Minnelli Nelson she is.

The above is obviously Liza May. I just love her and Cabaret, but that's another blog for another day. This is about the bathroom. Basically, it looks like the day after 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina had an awful, hugely devastating love child. It's just....eww. Allow me to attempt to keep you as a friend explain.  Liza is a kitten. Now, she is a very sweet kitten -- very cuddly, will fall asleep in your arms like a baby, purrs incessantly. But, she's a kitten. She wants to be all up in our business all the time. She scratches everything. For a brief moment, she had fleas. All of this adds up to a considerable amount of time in the bathroom for sweet little Liza Jane (see how much fun that was?). So, my bathroom has been destroyed. And sometimes trying to fix it just seems so....pointless. But today, I did pick up all the Q-Tips, the torn up toilet paper, the random pills (Liza opened a child proof pill bottle, I think she has magical powers). I put all the perfume bottles upright, picked up all the towels (which, after I hang up, Liza pulls down to use as a bed), and cleaned the floor.  See:

Maybe cleaning will happen tomorrow. I predict it will happen much later than that.

Tonight, I opted to have fun. See:

It's (the beginnings of) our "House Divided" wreath (type thing) that we're making for game day, which is, thankfully and finally, this Saturday! WAR DAMN EAGLE!

Also, there's this project.

I'm thinking of going back and making crossing on the diagonal with the black ribbon. I haven't really decided yet. I've had my jewelry on that board for months, but just now got around to painting it.

Well, I just blogged about my cat. I now predict that I will die alone.

It's Blog Design and I Helped!

So, I've been playing around with my blog's design today. Because, you know, that's super important.  I know very little nothing about fancy template designs, websites, html, java script (?), or anything else remotely related  to computers (in fact, I'm not convinced all of those things I listed actually exist).  I can, however, follow directions. And that's where The Cutest Blog on the Block comes in (here).

This site makes your blog dreams possible with minimal headache. And if anyone was going to get pissed at a website, throw things, and possibly break their laptop in half, it was going to be me. And seeing as how I'm using my laptop to write this, it is still very much intact (you know, like Will and Jada's marriage).

In other news, I am hopelessly obsessed with Pinterest. Seriously. Click on that link and be wowed horrified by how much I use it.  And then follow me and help me feed my delusion.

We Can Dance If You Want To

I have a confession to make. I have a deep secret that needs revealing.

I want to be a ballerina. Well, I want to learn ballet.

Here's something that's not a secret: I don't particularly like working out. I think I need a workout with a purpose. I think maybe I just want an excuse to wear a tutu. Obviously, this is kind of ridiculous. But I've done more ridiculous things before, so I think I'm just going to go for it.

I took ballet for about 5 minutes in 1991. By 5 minutes, I mean just long enough to order all different kinds of shoes, but not long enough for them to arrive and be used. I had quit before the proper equipment came in. This short-lived time in ballet was a small break from gymnastics.  Gymnastics was fast-paced, challenging, loud, energetic, and, most of all, fun. Ballet was slow, steady, quiet, and, worst of all, boring. At least to my 8 year old mind it was. I can remember thinking, Why did I leave gymnastics for this? Don't worry, 8 year old me, you'll go back and you'll compete and you'll win. I quit ballet, tap, etc. before I had time to realize that it probably wasn't as boring as I initially thought. And anyway, I was still convinced I could be an Olympic gymnast at that time (it never hurts to dream, right?)

I had some great friends growing up who were dancers. I was secretly jealous of them. Dance was so beautiful, graceful, sensual, heartbreaking, passionate. It required discipline and control. Couldn't I have been a dancer, too?

Maybe I romanticize ballet because I didn't stick with it.

Maybe I need something to distract me.

Maybe it really is about the tutu.

We Shall Meet in the Place Where There is No Darkness

Sunday is a day for reading, writing, crossword puzzles, coffee, and afternoon naps.  Today's reading project is a reread: George Orwell's 1984. 

It has been at least 11 or so years since I have read this book. A staple of high school reading lists,  1984 was named one of the 100 best English language books of the 20th century. It is a book I remember enjoying, but I couldn't remember exactly why.  Solution? Reread the book (as if you have to twist my arm to get me to reread books).

I'm not very far into my reread, only 30 pages or so. But I've already been sucked back into this intriguing and uncomfortable world. Surrounded by the ideas of newspeak, doublethink, Thought Police, "child heroes," and the Ministry of Peace, I find that I remember what it was like to read this dystopian novel for the first time. I find as a read that I must always ask myself, What if I lived in the world of this book? This is one of the more intriguing worlds to try to inhabit in literature (for me, at least).  And even though I know exactly how this book ends (spoiler alert: He loves Big Brother), this is a book I think I will reread again and again.

On an unrelated, but equally amazing note, TCM's Summer Under the Stars features a different star every day in August. Today is Cary Grant and The Philadelphia Story and North by Northwest come on today. I think you know where you can find me.

A Separate Address

I've decided to separate my blog into two blogs. The old blog is still active and will be a place for me to fill friends in on me and B and our lives. This blog will be more for my thoughts, recipes, crafts, etc....basically anything else. I publish the link to my blog a lot of places and have decided to keep my personal life and my child's life out of the more public blog. Come read me here and continue to read me there.

Love as always,
Bets