Haywire.

That is the best word I can come up with to describe my week at work – which translated into my weeknights at home.

I’ve been running around.  In and out of meetings, putting together reports and emailing like a madwoman.  Scraping by on restless sleep.

Wednesday, I was so zonked after opening the door to my apartment and landing on my bed I could not be pried from my exhaustion.  Not the threat of a run around the park without me from C.  Not the promise of fresh air and fleeting sunshine.  I stayed in, sat on the sofa and ate the rest of the butter cream frosting I made on Sunday.  It was delicious.  Then I fell asleep watching Wife Swap at 6:25 p.m.

Yesterday morning, though, I got up in plenty of time.  I had picked out an outfit for work the night before complete with unders, stockings and boots.  I had all my accouterments ready next to the door.

Then, I couldn’t find my make-up bag.  Anywhere.

I looked in the dining room and in the kitchen and at my vanity.  I looked in bags and under beds.  To be fair, the apartment is less than 1,000 square feet, so it’s really nearly impossible to lose anything as big as a make-up case in it.  Note: nearly impossible, but still…possible.

I thought perhaps it was in my car.  So elevator to the basement garage and to my car.  No make-up bag.

Then, I called my coworker to see if it was at my desk.  Because, of course, while I was searching, seconds were ticking away on the clock and I was late to work before I even put my key in the ignition.  My coworker said she didn’t see it.

I had no choice.  I had to stop at Wal-Mart.  I seriously hate Wal-Mart (especially the one I stopped at) and visit only if it’s the one place to get something in particular I can’t find anywhere else (for a while they had Fox’s U-bet Chocolate Syrup–the only other place I knew to get it was Brooklyn).  Because of the time constraints and the fact that it’s a 24-hour store, I had to stop in.

FIFTY DOLLARS.  Yes, fifty dollars later, I walked out with a plastic bag full of cosmetics. Because, of course, once you have the blush you need a brush and once you have a brush you need some mascara.

Devastating.

 Even though at first I was prepared, my day didn’t go any better than Wednesday, or the day before that or Monday.

Meetings and project issues and blah, blah, blah and then…

I saw my very good friend/coworker, C1, walked away from my desk as I was walking toward it.

My day became brighter with his darling kitschy gift which gave me day dreams of Scarlett and Rhett and Tara.

Today, I am mobile from the dining room table and last night, found my make-up case on the desk in the guest room.  Whoops.

I’m away from Mile High this weekend in the mountains and am really looking forward to a hot tub and some girl time with M.  Weather clearing!

A co-worker of mine is in D.C. this week and sent some photos snapped on his BlackBerry to me at the office.

Cherry. Blossoms. Everywhere.  Pangs of want.

The photos threw me into a reverie and I went into my Kodak Gallery account to reminisce.

I couldn’t help but email some of those photos to C of me at the peak of the blossoms two years ago, a few months before I met him.

Even crazier, when these photos were snapped, C was living in D.C. at 13th and P.  I could have smacked right into him on the mall or on the Metro or in Federal Triangle or else that entire week…but I didn’t.  I would, however, meet him a mere two months later on a street corner in a totally different city.

I can still smell the honey of the blossoms and just loved how people were out and gobbling up ever last second of gloriousness along the Tidal Basin.

You still have time to join the party for the National Cherry Blossom Festival – it’s the centennial!  I love the story behind all 3,000 beautiful trees, a gift to the American people from Tokyo, Japan.

Tidal Basin, March 2010

Tidal Basin, March 2010

…this was the weather.

Well.  Kind of.

This was the weather.

Notice those pretty balcony rocking chairs going unloved?

Last week, after C’s busted lip and a weekend of ski happiness, we got down to business.

This is what we did…three nights in a row.

Skip a lot of blah, blah – addressing, stamping, sealing, bickering.

Then we went out on a date on Thursday night.  It was romantical and VERY necessary.

And then on Friday, I walked down the street and sent them off.

Ciao, ciao!

[This post contains graphic material.  I'll let you know when you're about to get to it.]

Since we’re getting married soon, C and I have been in well-behaved-money-saving mode for two winter seasons and have not purchased the full Colorado ski pass – which sets one adult back about $600.  Plus, there’s the drive up from Mile High (gas, time, more gas, traffic, more time) and the stress of getting back in the car at a decent hour on Saturday or Sunday so you can beat the traffic back to the city.  It’s no longer a pleasant day trip.

Of course, to add to those up front costs, there is also the meals and the inevitable apres ski beer(s).  Add to that, the guilt of not going up to the resorts every weekend and using the heck out of the pass after you’ve spent a fortune on it.  I’m one of those who, at the end of the season, likes to sit back and say, “Gee whiz!  I skied 38 times this season.  That’s $15.79 per day!  I rock.”

What we did this year was purchase a four-pack of ski passes to Winter Park and spend two full weekends skiing and staying overnight in town.  We used the last two passes last weekend and had two very good days (considering the weather has been warm and lovely and it’s almost a crying shame to leave the city when the parks are filling up with hipsters rocking hula hoops and happy running dogs and quilts and picnics).  I’m becoming more comfortable with bumps and C took me down one of his favorite runs on Mary Jane – Outhouse.  It’s a vertical black (black diamond to you East Coast skiers).  I made it down with C ahead of me and just as I was about to come off the run onto more flat snow, I watched him fly off an icy patch and yard sale.

Both skis and one pole flew off into oblivion.  He landed…on his face.

We wear helmets in Colorado.  This is a good thing.

[Graphic reading ahead.]

When I got to him, he’d picked up his head and was running his tongue along his bloody teeth.  The good news here is that he was licking his teeth and they were still attached.  I mentioned we’re getting married this summer, right?

“Is it bad?”  C asked me as I brought his skis back to him.

“It’s less bad and more bad ass,” I explained.

He was happy with that.  I was happy his teeth weren’t loose and his head wasn’t broken.

I love this boy and want to keep him in tip-top shape.

Anyway, the point of this story is that my graceful, back-country skiing soon-to-be fell on a black run and I did not.

This is a photo I found of Outhouse on the interwebs. Good thing I didn’t see this before I agreed to ski it.

I was lucky to graduate from college with a full time job.  Different times, different place.

That full time job started in the spring, just as the over-sized everyday satchel came back into fashion.  I bought myself an XOXO faux pink leather satchel and it quickly became my one and only.  It was a purse for big girls.  Big girls with full time jobs and leases on their own apartments (hence the faux pink leather).

It came with me everywhere.

I worked at a TV news station nightside, which, on the east coast means the hours were from 2 p.m. until you get to leave.  Generally, if the scanners weren’t going crazy and a high rise wasn’t burning down or there wasn’t a homicide in Schenectady, that meant you could leave after the 11 p.m. news went off the air.

Nice job, everyone, let’s go get drinks on Lark Street.

Fabulous.  Let me grab my big girl pink purse.

It came with me to Washington, D.C., to Indianapolis, back and forth to Brooklyn, to the New York State Fair in Syracuse and down the Cape quite a few times.

The satchel has since been sent to Goodwill.  I regret it to this day.

The end.

Kind of.

Do you Etsy?  I don’t.  I browse but have never posted or purchased.

That may change because this week I saw this bag on another blog I read.  Floored.

This is like the professional version of my big girl purse.

I think I’m old enough to handle real pink leather now.

I adore it.  And I have a birthday coming up.

Cheers!

For me, the most difficult part of mobile work days at home is keeping my hand OUT of the fridge.

It’s a HUGE challenge.

While I’m on a conference call, I may make myself a chocolate milk or whip up some brownies.  Seriously.

Thankfully, I only work at home at most once a week or I’d be 700 pounds.

Today, I decided to try a little treat I picked up at Cost Plus World Market last week during their rug sale.  World Market has all sorts of global treats – including Dr. Oetcker’s Mug Cake.  It’s from Canada, but that counts as global.

So I made it for lunch today.  I went to spin class this morning.  So that makes it okay to have chocolate mug cake for lunch.

It took two ingredients to complete this very complicated recipe–butter, for the inside of the mug and five tablespoons milk.  I used skim.  It most likely cancels out some calories.

Stir until well-blended.  That’s a  little baby rubber spatula.  They’re great for getting the last bit of mayo out of the jar and they are just adorable.  Smooch.

Microwave for one minute 15 seconds.

It boiled over but isn’t that just so pretty and delicious looking?

It didn’t exactly look like the cake on the box.  But I’m cool with that.

Yummy.

I thought it could have used a bit more sweet.

And.  It would have been more beautiful once I sprinkled the powdered sugar, but I had already taken two chomps, so it looks a tad uneven.

I rate it a 3.5 out of 5.

It’s a definite high five satisfy to a chocolate craving.