Hot Water Spigot:
My fancy new espresso machine can be awfully tricky. You have to tamp just right and use just the right amount of coffee and I don’t think the preset one shot button is long enough. I haven’t perfected it, yet. It’s still a work in progress. I’m sure I’ll figure it out soon enough. My espresso machine also has a hot water spigot, which I didn’t think I’d use very much–maybe warming up cups once in a while. Then I discovered that I love tea. I never did before. I didn’t hate it. That’s a lie. I hate iced tea and I hate sweet tea. They’re both gross. They’re vile. I assumed all tea was like that, but they aren’t! My favorite is Earl Grey, but I’m also a fan of mint tea. It reminds me of the mosque in Paris. I do love it there, highly suggest you go. Avoid the pastries. Bring several two euro coins. Anyway, I love the spigot on my machine, I drink tea all the time. I was told that there is a green tea and mint blend. I freaked out.
When I went to school in Paris, my class went out on this lovely dinner at a very chic restaurant. I had espresso there for the first time. I also had grapefruit for the first time. I also drank like a fish–I think I was at least 30% alcohol that evening. It was fun. I was smiling and daydreaming and then before I knew it I was twirling around in the Parvis in front of Notre Dame loving life. Turns out, I’m a happy drunk. Jessica is not like that. She’s a crier. Anyway, on New Year’s Eve, I decided to invite Jessica to a shot contest over FaceTime–technology is amazing. Jessica only had one shot to my seven, so I won. I also was drunk out of my mind. (I’d already consumed a bunch of red wine and brandy beforehand.) I just sat there laughing and smiling and trying to function. I failed miserably and went to bed. I tried to do a bit of reading, but the words weren’t properly attached to the pages. I still haven’t had a hangover, I feel like I’m missing out on something.
My Clever Paris Map:
For the longest time, I’ve wanted a large old map of Paris. There is a perfect one at Django’s in Des Moines. It was drawn in the 40s or 50s and shows each building and courtyard and tree in the city. It’s absolutely gorgeous. It hasn’t been printed in decades and copies are very hard to find. I’ve yet to find one for sale. At my father’s work, they used to sell a print of a medieval map that was cut up and framed. It was nice, too, but it was sold. Sad. I was scouring eBay for a nice map to hang up, but nothing seemed right. I was then struck by a brainwave and I looked at Google Images and told it to only show me giant results. I found one. I downloaded it, cut it up into manageable sizes, and printed twenty glossy sheets of gorgeous antique map. I’m going to be putting it up on the wall very soon. I’m in love with it.
Return of Miranda:
One of my very favorite television series is Miranda, which is shown on the BBC. Cruelly, it isn’t broadcast here in America, so I’ve been forced to rely on some devious methods to laugh. I can’t understand why it’s not shown on BBC America, it’s a genius comedy. Miranda Hart is the writer and star–she’s quirky, clumsy, tall, lovable, immature, and hilarious. She runs a joke/toy shop with her best friend and has a crush on her other best friend, Gary, who’s annoyingly handsome and is the chef at a little restaurant next door. It’s a simple comedy, but it’s one of the funniest shows I have ever seen. I recommend it so much. Finally, after a two year hiatus, the show is back and I’m in heaven.
I love everything about water. I love drinking it. I love being in it. I love being around it. I love looking at it. Everything about water delights me. Each day, I drink at least five liters of water. If I don’t, I feel parched and lethargic. I can’t wait for springtime to come back so that I can fill up the pool I’ve been slaving away over for years. This year it will hold water. I just know it will! I will swim and float and tan and soak and just be happy. Also, my urine is as pure as prehistoric Arctic ice.
Perhaps I’m weird, I know that I am, but I adore the smell of self tanning lotion. It makes me feel like I’m walking around on the beach in Florida, my tan skin gleaming in the sunlight. If I use it too often, my skin starts looking a bit jaundiced so I just apply ever few days to have a nice glow. It’s nice not being albino.
Since I now love tea, I’m trying all that I can find. I bought a mixed box of several varieties and thought that the pomegranate tea would be delicious since pomegranates are delicious. I was wrong. It’s gross. I couldn’t even swallow it. I had to spew it back into the cup and then rinse the cup several times to wash out the slight pink discoloration it left behind. Avoid pomegranate tea.
Not Enough Nor Adequate Storage For My Clothing
I now understand that I have a severe clothing addiction. I can’t stop. I have more clothes than I know what to do with. Sometimes I look in my closet and I can’t recall purchasing those that I find. I really need to do a good purge of what I have. There are things that probably don’t fit or aren’t attractive to me or make me look ugly. I’ll give them to a charity shop. Peasants should be chic, too. I bought a big wardrobe at IKEA last year and have outgrown it. I’ve got too many pants and socks and shirts and way too many pairs of underwear. Not too many, the right amount. But still, I need more hangers and space. Someday, I’ll have a chic dressing room with the walls painted in glossy black and gilded mirrors on the wall. There will be atmospheric music, a chandelier, and a chilled bottle of champagne at the ready–perhaps an elegant settee and a tasteful portrait. Something very fashion.
I’ve come to realize that this is the most awful thing in the entire world. Genocide and medical epidemics are sad, but this feeling is perhaps the most tragic in the world. You just want to sleep or sit in dark rooms and feel miserable or eat or do something absolutely mindless. That’s a complete waste of time, of course, but there’s nothing you can do. Then it goes away and you feel marvelous…always before it comes back again. I’m feeling much better than I was when I noted this down. FaceTime is good for more than shot contests. Florence can best explain:
Hatred of Working Out in Winter:
I really do love running and walking and lifting weights. I’ve turned into one of those people I used to hate. It feels good to move about and sweat a little and dream about having an enviable body. Someday soon I will, I hope, but I still have some work to do. It’s becoming more difficult because I just can’t make myself go to our gym at the other house. It’s absolutely lovely and I plan on redecorating it. Glossy black walls, black and white photographs, chevron tiled floor, maybe a chandelier. It’ll be stunning. (Glossy black walls are my new obsession, as you may well have noted.) The only bad part about it is getting there. It’s so hard to leave my warm house to cross the street and walk through the snow to the other house. When I’m there, I’m fine, it’s just those two minutes it takes to get there that are awful. I plan on going tonight, I hope I’ll convince myself to go.