Frozen was just what I needed

Last night, I got to babysit the little girl I used to nanny.

This little girl is amazing.

She is the most confident and self-assured 10-year-old I've ever met, and it's pretty awesome.

After catching me up on her friends and things at school, naturally the topic of boys came up. She pulled out her yearbook and proudly pointed to the school photo of her latest crush.

"He's even taller than me!" she swooned.

"Dreamy!" I concurred, knowing this was no small detail as this little girl is quite tall for her age.

"So, how's your love life?" she asked me.

I sighed and told her about my Thursday breakup.

She nodded solemnly, "Well, Jenna. At least you had a man for Valentine's Day. So it wasn't a total loss."

Okay. That was a valid point.

The two of us then threw on our coats and went to catch a late evening showing of Frozen. It was my first time seeing the movie and her third.

via

I totally understand what all of the hype has been about!

The music! The heroines! The feminism!

"We don't even NEED men! We can save ourselves," I proclaimed as we left the theatre.

"Just like Anna and Elsa!" she chimed in.

Of course, we listened to "Let It Go" the entire way home.

It was probably the best way to spend a Saturday night following a breakup.

The Chronically Single Woman

So. I've been avoiding my blog today.

It may look like I've been hiding out for longer, but really, life has just been crazy busy between work, school, group projects, a new man in the picture, etc, etc.

Oh, and that last item on the above list?

That's why I've been avoiding my blog today.

Because he has already broken up with me. A mere month into our courtship.*

And to be quite honest- it hurt really badly. And it also came flying in from left field. 

We saw each other twice last weekend, and then I brought him dinner Wednesday night (sushi, no less!).

Everything was happy and great and normal when we hung out Wednesday evening. If anything, things felt better than ever. He was so appreciative of the sushi as we talked about our days and our plans for Friday night.

"What time do you leave work today?" he texted me Thursday.

It was strange for him to be texting me in the middle of the workday, but I stupidly thought that maybe he was concerned about me getting home during the impending storm or perhaps he was planning to surprise me with flowers before I rushed off to class.

I am a fool.

He called me at 4:30, and thank goodness I was catching up with one of my roommates during that time or else I would have been broken up with BEFORE CLASS! Who wants to nurse a broken heart during a three hour graduate school course?

"Sorry I couldn't talk! I'll call you after class. Is everything okay?" I texted him as I hurried to campus.

"I'll just talk to you after class. No rush," he responded.

Notably, he did not affirm that everything was okay. Because clearly, it was not.

When we finally touched base later that night, the conversation started off normally. We chatted about our days, and then I said, "So, what time do you want to do dinner tomorrow?"

Awkward pause.

"Listen, so I don't think I can hang out anymore on Friday."

"That's okay! What's going on tomorrow?" I chattered away, oblivious to what was to come. My last moments of innocence.

"I need to tell you something...it's just, I think things are moving really fast, and I need some space and time to think this all through. I don't know if I'm ready for a relationship yet."

I was speechless.

He continued on, "I think you're fantastic. There is literally nothing wrong with you.** I am afraid I'm making a huge mistake right now, but I need to do this..."

...

"...are you there?"

I was there, bloggers, but I was crying and trying to keep him from hearing. I was completely surprised this was happening, and it was painful. 

"Yes," I managed to murmur.

He continued talking, but I wasn't hearing a word. 

"Listen, I'll just talk to you later, okay?" I cut him off, my voice finding some strength. "Oh, wait. Actually, no I won't."

I pressed "End."

And then I cried for quite a bit longer.

I haven't heard from him since Thursday, and I feel pretty gutted.

To make matters worse, he had met so many of my friends, and I had told family members and coworkers about him. Just last weekend, he was over making me Valentine's dinner for goodness sake.

It's pretty humiliating, you know?

I know I'll be just fine. I always am.

But to be quite honest with you bloggers, I really thought this one was special. Something felt different this time around.

Ah, well...onward and upward, I suppose.

*I reserve the right to use the word "courtship" on this blog and pretend I live in Jane Austen's world.

**This is actually untrue (shocking, I know). 

Lamb, snow, and champagne: Valentine's Day 2014

Well bloggers, for the first time in years, I had a real life male to celebrate Valentine's Day with.

Friday night, Tsukasa came over to cook me dinner.

Thank goodness I wasn't the chef.

Lean Cuisines are not very romantic.

After a courageous commute in the snow (I am so le tired of this winter weather), Tsukasa was somehow still smiling and got right to work in the kitchen.

I was allowed to drink champagne and watch wedding shows on TLC as he cooked.

Lovely, lovely.

Tsukasa made us lamb, rosemary mashed potatoes, fresh green beans and mushrooms, and bread for our first Valentine's Day dinner. I baked chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

We ate dinner in the front room, with a beautiful view of the snow coming down.

As if the evening wasn't already perfect enough, Tsukasa agreed that we could watch Les Miserables together! Hugh Jackman was just pulling that giant ship into the harbor when Taylor the Tool Man called from work and said how a chandelier I liked was marked down- 75% off!

"Yes! I definitely want it," I told him eagerly. "And I have cash! I can pay you back right away!"

How exciting!

Taylor came over later, and the four of us (Taylor, Kelsey, Tsukasa, and myself) watched Modern Family and hung out and laughed and were happy and cozy.

It was the most amazing Valentine's Day I have ever had <3

Eight Hour Challenge

"I try to get eight hours of sleep every night."

This is what Tsukasa* said to me the other day.

While I proceeded to act normal, my mind was reeling.

Eight hours of sleep on a work night?

People actually get that much slumber during the week?

I have some very bad habits, bloggers.

I'm usually up until midnight or 1AM doing homework...online shopping...watching movies...reading...daydreaming...etc, etc.

I then wake up around 6AM or 7AM depending on the day.

So I average about 5-7 hours a night, which I think is fairly normal.

Tsukasa went on to tell me how he finds it easier to concentrate and focus at work when he gets eight hours.

So this week? My mission is to be in bed by 11 and see how it affects my mood, concentration...all that jazz!

Wish me luck! And sweet dreams! 

ZzZzZzZzZzZz

*This is the totally awesome guy I am dating! Eeeeep! And he's responsible and gets a good amount of sleep before work! What a catch!

Wardrobe Intervention

It was a normal Saturday afternoon.

I was eating Caramel Delights and washing them down with milk when my mom said, "I have something to tell you, but I don't want to hurt your feelings."

I assumed it was about the amount of Caramel Delights I was consuming and slowly set aside the box of Girl Scout cookies.

"Okay?" I ventured bravely, mentally preparing myself for this impending attack.

"Your wardrobe needs updating. You need to start wearing pants. Your leggings make you look childish, and you're a professional now."

Bam bam bam- she shot me down!

Just kidding.

I was apathetic.

"Uh, I'm not wearing pants," I responded, thinking this would be the end of the conversation.

My mom continued on though...and to make matters worse? My DAD jumped in on the conversation and took my mom's side!

"Et tu, Brute?" I wished to moan forlornly.

My parents kept arguing that no one else my age dresses in leggings every single day (nor do I- sometimes I wear stockings or yoga pants!), and that it's time I start wearing "jeans and shirts and scarves."

To be quite frank? I don't care that no one else wears leggings the way I do.

My wardrobe fits my style and personality. It is me, and I feel comfortable presenting myself to the world this way.

Here are some examples of the outfits I wear on a typical basis. I am lucky that my company's dress code is casual so I don't need to dress up most days.

...do any of those outfits remind of you a "kindergartener"? Hmmm?

Anyway.

I still refuse to buy a pair of jeans.

Live on, leggings!

A snowy morning in the life of an anxious person

Last night around 6PM, a powerful ice/snow/sleet storm descended upon the people of Cincinnati.

Since I was home (and safe and warm), it was positively cozy and delightful.

But this morning when the alarm went off for work?

It was not so idyllic.

I live in a neighborhood where the streets are not plowed until very late in the day, and it only took a quick glance out the window to see that the City of Cincinnati was remaining consistent with that set-up.

Our county had a Level 2 Snow Emergency, which means: Roadways are hazardous with blowing and drifting snow. Roads may also be very icy. Only those who feel it is necessary to drive should be out on the roads. Contact your employer to see if you should report to work. Motorists should use extreme caution.

I got ready for work as usual and headed out to the garage. My anxiety only grew when I realized that there was a such a thick layer of ice that my weight didn't even penetrate the snow!

And I am no small human being.

I started the trusty Corolla and put the car in reverse.

Except nothing happened.

It hit the snow and couldn't break through.

The next twenty minutes were spent shoveling, hopping back in the Corolla to see if I could make it through, shoveling again, etc.

Finally, I was able to move and escape the confines of my driveway. I eased on to the street and thought, "Result! Hurrah! Off to work I go. I am so rugged!"

Stupid, unplowed street

Yet even in a lower gear, my Corolla was having a nearly impossible time braking, and that is a very, very scary feeling.

After the third time getting my car temporarily stuck in the deep snow (having only moved about 100 feet), I decided it to turn around and head back home.

...only to get stuck trying to pull into my driveway.

My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding as I tried to maneuver my car out of the street.

Nothing was working though so I had to get out and start shoveling ice aside and pushing.

Which is very out of character for me.

But when your car is stuck and you're about to cause a huge traffic jam (right outside your house no less), choices are indeed limited.

Even though I got my car unstuck (all by myself, thank you!) and am now safe inside my house, I feel absolutely horrible for having to miss work today.

My dad called and made me feel even worse.

I know he didn't mean to make me feel bad, but the last thing I needed to hear was someone second-guessing my decision when I was already feeling bad about it.

I so wish I could just accept the fact that I tried really hard to get to work this morning but ultimately decided it was unsafe. I wish I could just accept that this was the best decision in that moment and enjoy the rest of my vacation day.

Instead, I am spending my time worrying that people at work will think I'm lazy, dramatic, or a bad teammate.

Oh, what I would give to be a less anxious person.

This is my first adult snow day, and it is kind of awful.

52 Questions: I am giving up.

So...I was looking ahead at the "52 Question" prompts coming up, and to be quite honest?

I didn't feel like answering any of them.

So anyway, it was a lovely four weeks of this challenge, but I'm backing out gracefully.

So this post isn't totally pointless, here is a crazy adorable photo of Eleanor May.

Eeeeeep! Her paw looks like a giant cotton ball!

Hope everyone is having a marvelous Tuesday! :)

The most perfect ME Day!

Last Friday, I was supposed to make the drive up to Chicago to see my friend, Becca, perform in a community theatre production of Spring Awakening.

I hadn't been to Chicago in two years (which is insane!), and it had almost been two years since I had even seen Becca!

I was very much looking forward to my weekend in the Windy City.

Unfortunately, winter weather popped up on the weekend's forecast and after consulting both my parents and Becca, everyone agreed it was probably not such a wise idea for me to drive those five hours alone through potentially inclement weather.

I was disappointed but determined to still enjoy my day off of work.

So that next day, I had the most fantastic "me" day ever. It was my first time being off work with no certain purpose. You know, I wasn't traveling somewhere or off for some sort of event...I was just off. And it was crazy awesome.

At 9am, I woke up sans alarm. I took a long shower and chose a cute outfit for the day before heading to my favorite mall.

At the mall, I leisurely strolled through all of my favorite shops. I didn't rush myself at all, and I found some really neat things!

Anthropologie: Peacock plate and bowl (I love the look of mismatched dinnerware!)
Sephora: Laura Mercier Mineral Powder and Benefit Boi-ing Concealer (I would look like a monster without these two essentials)
The Gap: A sweater for Mum!
Francesca's Collections: Eeeep! Such fun jewelry finds! I have such a weakness for watch, and I couldn't pass up either of these!

There are STARS in the face of the left one! And there is an elephant on the face of the right one. Très awesome.

After all of that cardio, I had really built up an appetite so lunch became next on my agenda.

I enjoyed California and Spicy Tuna Rolls (the latter was  bit subpar) at a nearby sushi restaurant while I read Hyperbole and a Half.

Marvelous, marvelous.

As I was leaving the restaurant, I received a text from Mr. First Date asking me on a second date!

Result! Hurrah!

I then traveled onward to HomeGoods where I purchased a basket for storing my handbags and more clothes hangers. Boring but necessary.

When I arrived home, I got right to work sweeping and dusting my room. I also washed all of my bedding- very ambitious, I know.

I finished up my chores in perfect time to get ready for my second date. I chose to wear a classic gray dress and leggings with my favorite coral coat. I also took Newspaper Clutch out for the first time!

Mr. First Date picked me up for dinner at 5:30. He looked so handsome wearing a crisp button-up, and he even opened the car door for me.

Swoon city.

We went to a restaurant downtown where we ordered wine flights and, once again, talked so much that we forgot to even order dinner!

We then chose our own bottle of wine to take home and went to my place where we watched Modern Family (Mr. First Date confessed he had never seen the show, and it seemed necessary to change that immediately).

It was the most perfect day.

And to think it all began with some inclement weather in Chicago!

Sometimes, I am really quite keen on you, Mother Nature.

A new man for the new year

Wednesday evening, I had a first date.

I wore a simple black dress with pearl accessories.

I also made sure to swap out my Ugg boots and giant parka for a red peacoat and flats right before I went inside.

I didn't want to botch up my first impression (and God knows I didn't want him to assume I actually enjoy wearing Uggs [I actually hate the look of Uggs, but I realize their necessity when we're experiencing a -25 degree windchill and all]).

We met at Whole Foods and both got coffee drinks.

I chose a raspberry latte, and he ordered a decaf coffee. He paid for both, and I thought that was very thoughtful and gentlemanly.

We sat at one of the hightop tables and jumped right into conversation. The two of us couldn't seem to stop talking!

He was sweet, interesting, intelligent, and had a great sense of humor.

He also had giant brown eyes and dark hair.

I was feeling quite smitten.

"Whoa! It's 9:30," he marveled,  when the two of us finally took a pause in the conversation two and a half hours later. "I'm starving. I actually didn't eat dinner tonight."

"Me neither!" I replied, my own stomach growling.

Our coffee date then turned into a late dinner date, and it couldn't have been any more perfect.

We went to a nearby restaurant and asked the hostess when they closed for the evening.

"We actually close at 10, but we're always here for about an hour cleaning up anyway. Take a seat, and we'll serve you, no problem!" she smiled, leading us to a cozy booth.

How kind is that?

I ordered a Reuben, and Mr. First Date had a blue cheese burger. I only ate half since we were (once again) spending too much time talking.

The server boxed up my leftovers, and of course, I forgot them at the table.

You know, as I literally always do.

Mr. First Date then walked me to my car and gave me a hug.

It was a really wonderful evening, and I am happy to report that we have already had a second date a mere two days later (which was somehow even better than the first)!

Stay posted, bloggers! I think good things are to come!

Moustache Mayhem

Last Wednesday morning was a frazzled one to say the least.

Since I had a first date that evening, I took extra care getting ready for work.

Everything was going fine until I opened my leggings drawer and realized I only had two clean pairs left- one with a tiny hole in the thigh and one with giant hearts on the knees.

Did I want to look like a hobo? Or an overeager creep?

I chose hobo.

I then fished for a black Sharpie in my desk drawer and artfully "filled in" the hole by drawing on my leg.

It wasn't perfect and it certainly wasn't classy, but it would have to do.

After a brief setback featuring a lost garage door opener, I was finally in my car and ready to get to work!

"Huh," I said, as I noticed something brown above my lip while looking in the rearview mirror. "That's strange. I haven't even eaten anything yet."

I rubbed at the spot.

Except it wasn't coming off.

Because guess what it was, bloggers?

"I HAVE A MOUSTACHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I shouted, my heart pounding and tears welling up in my eyes.

Was this my future? Was I going to be a bearded lady?

I leapt out of my car and bounded up the stairs to my bedroom where I desperately searched for a pair of tweezers.

I then sat in my driveway for ten minutes plucking and contemplating how this could have happened to me.

Oh, the agony.

I had multiple coworkers inspect my face with any other signs of a moustache in addition to redness from the tweezers. They all said it looked normal and fine.

But I am still keeping a close eye on the situation.

I don't need a side gig as "The Bearded Lady" anytime soon.