Things that make me happy

1. Boy's head on my lap as he reads non-fiction and ignores the fact that I'm watching One Tree Hill
2. Wine class, even when I'm stuffed up and want sleep
3. Cheesies
4. The fact that I enjoy my job so much that I apparently can't take a full sick day off... instead I slept until I couldn't sleep anymore and came in for a half day
5. A boss (but not my boss) coming to me to ask me to keep an eye on certain news developments on Twitter, since I'm "in the loop with these things"

I get homesick and whiny when I'm suffering the plague

"You can kiss your family and friends goodbye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you." Frederick Beuchner

RIP Bea Arthur

When to give in. When to give up.

I used to be an idealist. I believed that in the end everything works out for the best. I believed that good things come to those who wait. I believed that everyone could be good, you just had to give them the chance. I believed that good ideas achieve good results.

Now? I'm much more cynical. 

I like to think that I'm a realist. I trained myself to be. I was aware of my airy-fairy unicorns-and-rainbows type of thinking (blame the small town if you want). I looked for dissenting opinion on issues I cared about (from my cynical friend, the rich Alberta boy down the street in university with a life totally opposite from my own, and the Globe and Mail). And in the end, it grounded me. I learned to fully investigate my ideas and beliefs. Though really, it could also be the philosophy minor speaking.

Sometimes I feel like I'm surrounded by those idealists still. The ones with big goals, but who care more about the fluffy, feel-good stuff and gloss over the details. When I ask questions I get "so and so is working on it" or "don't worry, this event will be awesome" instead of real answers. I know that my opinions are unpopular, and as a result they make me unpopular. It doesn't go unnoticed that I was the last person to be invited for drinks. More as a courtesy than legitimate invitation.

I feel like people think they're doing more than they really are. I feel like by merely talking about things here and there, they can justify not actually doing that which is discussed. I feel myself getting more and more frustrated and angry with every new task that's thrown upon my shoulders. I feel more irate after every meeting. I reign in the need to strangle those who claim that they don't have enough to do. I nearly punch them in the neck when I ask them to do something for me and they come back with "oh, you would ask me to do that, wouldn't you?" before they decline. "Anything but that."

But how much is too much?

How do you know when to give up on the good intentions that brought you here in the first place? When do you disassociate yourself with something you believe in, merely because you find it makes you a bad person in every aspect of your life?

As life gets busier, I find myself looking forward to the excuses. Maybe that's enough.

Easy baking with Alana

Hi! My name is Alana and I blog over at The Good Girl Gone Blog. I'm so delighted to be here. Thanks for having me!

The fab-tastic Elle and I were going back and forth trying to figure out a theme to write about for the 20SB blog swap. We discussed writing about our respective homelands, I'm American and she's Canadian, but then decided against it. (Note: I found this awesome Canadian site when researching non-Canadian material for this post!) We eventually agreed to write random blog posts.

To be honest, I had no clue what to write about until I started talking with my awesome roommate about our favorite childhood toys. We discussed crayons, creepy crawlers and eventually, the Easy Bake Oven! Whoever figured out that you can cook an entire (miniature) cake with a light bulb was pretty darn smart! (Do they give out Nobel prizes to toy designers? If so, this guy/girl or the person who invented Bop It should totally win!)

I think I had this one back in the '90s! (Wow, I'm trying to make myself sound old. I'm not actually old.)

I don't remember when I got my EBO, but I'm pretty sure it was either a Hanukkah or birthday gift. It was kept in the basement near the computers and a bunch of other toys. I remember making a mess all over the countertop everytime I ripped open the little cake mixes. They smelled so delicious! I used to wash the tiny dishes and utensils in the utility sink in my dad's work room. Classy, I know.

I loved making the adorable little yellow and chocolate cakes, but hated waiting for them to cook. Why couldn't the light bulb work faster? I used to sit in front of my EBO in pure anticipation, waiting for that tiny little cake to come out the other side of the oven. Even when the cake was ready, I had to wait for it to cool before icing it and then eating it. Patience is not one of my stronger qualities...you can ask my parents. As a result, I'm pretty sure I used to burn my fingers. A lot.

The cakes of course tasted delicious...but were soooo small! It took forever to make them...and then they were gone in approximately 8.5 seconds!

I can't wait to have a real kitchen this summer where I can make cakes in a non-light bulb operated oven that serve more than one person. Plus, my best friend, Becca, got me this adorable apron for my birthday. I can't wait to wear it in my very own (ish...) kitchen!

Anyone want to come over for cupcakes and tea?

Technically, today is 20-Something Bloggers' Blog Swap Day. Since I fail to live by the rules, the lovely Alana at The Good Girl Gone Blog and I will be trading spaces on Friday. Be excited.

Also, you should check out Alana's blog today for some neat enviro-conscious items to help you celebrate Earth Day everyday.

Me, I promise to keep on the Boy about the importance of recycling. It's something I plan to implement with the Beginning of Cohabitation, coming soon.

"A part of you has grown in me, together forever shall we be, never apart, maybe in distance, but not in heart."

Dear Kiki,

You're pretty precious here, with your chubbalicious little cheeks and the coveralls with the crotch at your knees. Part of me will always remember you this way.

We haven't always been the best of friends, or even the best of sisters, but I want you to know that today, your twenty-second birthday, I'm thinking of you.

It's hard to believe how much you've grown up. It seems like when I went away to university almost seven years ago, you were going to stay my very young, very innocent, sister forever. Oh how the times have changed.

Though we're not always the best of friends, I want you to know that I try to protect you because you remind me of me. It hurts to see you make the same mistakes that I did, even though I understand why you have made them. I want you to see what a beautiful, smart (yes, you are), special girl you are. I want you to be able to see that no matter what boys tell you.

I'm glad that you're working hard, and that you've found a boy you like to be with and who thinks the world of you. I'm happy for you. And I hope that you crazy kids have a fantastic time at the concert I'm sending you tickets for. Promise to have a drink and think of me... the old times sneaking out the window of your room and taking long walks down the back country roads in our pajamas (and hiding in the ditches whenever we saw headlights).

I understand you, and you, me. My life is better with you in it.

Happy birthday, dear Kiki.

"Sisterhood is a messy, fragmentary, ambiguous thing, an indiscriminate jumble of love, hate, amity, enmity, to be teased out bit by bit." Penelope Farmer