5am Cookies? Nom Nom Nzzzzzzz

Surprisingly, throughout my process of packing, bubble wrapping, sorting, taping, folding and sobbing  cleaning, I found something really effective to distract myself while still doing work.

I decided that rather than pack, I'd bake my mom cookies.

Starting at 4 in the morning.

And not because I was "rising and shining" early, but because my bedtime has been falling around 6am for the past several nights.

Now, this happens to be one thing I didn't research about moving or packing, but I can only ASSUME that my baking cookies TOTALLY helps my cause, and somehow helps me pack.

Right?

Maybe?

Also... I totally need to blog about the award bestowed upon me by Keith in my next post, because it's late and I have to check on my cookies.

I also want to write a few Olympic posts... As in, I made some serious self discoveries while watching sports, and I think Oliver Pistorius in one amazing athlete, and genuine gentleman.

Please tell me you saw him run? He really is an icon on and off the track.

Oliver Pistorius just blew my mind today. I hope he is proud. You know, of his accomplishment, not about blowing my mind. [image VIA]

I'm in the most respectful kind of awe, ever. (Because talking to your mom on the phone for 12 minutes straight about Pistorius' awesomeness is apparently ALSO helpful when it comes to not packing).

______

Pin It Now!

Classy Blogging

You know your blog is classic, classy and well written when people are arriving via Google Images after searching for "the+ass+band+will+play+a+song+of+farts+to+celebrate+your+failure".

Yep.

I've made it. Big Time. Obviously.


Also? Cleaning your back yard of dog poop in the dark of night with a gardening shovel, plastic bag and flashlight is never a good idea, kids. NEVER.

Three items and two hands.


Keepin' it classy...

______

Pin It Now!

Whoever said "change is good" clearly doesn't have an anxiety disorder...

So.

Yeah.

"Change Is Good".

Whoever made that line up was entirely misquoted. They incorrectly spell the word "terrifying" with the letters G - O - O - D.

An obvious oversight.

Want me to sob heartily but silently, alone, in the bathroom stall at a strange airport?
Introduce change. (And perhaps allow me to grab the REAL large yogurt container from the fridge, instead of the OLD large yogurt container that is holding my leftover quinoa bean salad [intended to be my gluten-free meal on the flight back to Toronto]. And let me get stopped at security. And let the words "quinoa" and "beans" escape my mind, so I look extremely suspect and unable to explain to the agent why I was honestly not trying to smuggle 475mL of liquid-yogurt through airport security. Let the agent warn me, give me a once over, and shake his head in disgust as he throws out the real yogurt intended for my husband. Perhaps also be added to the no-fly list).

Want me to hold my body more rigid with tension than a CSI corpse while holding my breath, for hours at a time?
Introduce change. (And throw in driving someone else's car with super soft brakes into the mix, just to heighten the fear factor.)

Want me to re-assess everything I have ever owned, forcing emotionally-charged decision after decision, donating, tossing and packing things?
Introduce change. (And then get the hell outta Dodge, because someone is going to get hurt).

Want me to drive like a 90-year old woman with cataracts on strange, new roads?
Introduce change. (You know, maybe this one isn't such a bad idea. The slow part, not the cataracts part).

 
Stephanie, I'd like you to meet fetal position.
Fetal Position? Here, please let me introduce you to Stephanie.
I think you two will get along swimmingly.


___________

Pin It Now!