Know what this blog has been good for? Writing about everything with no clear direction. I have given myself and others whiplash with all of the different things I tried to do, which is why I've decided I need a fresh start. I'll leave this blog here for the times when I feel like I need a reminder to get back on track. Plus, you never really delete your first blog, do you?*** I have more energy to write these days but there is no focus around here and it's overwhelming. When I find a place I can focus, I'll write. Until then, here are the high-lights:
My Proposal Story
Who likes Apple Pie?
Guinness Cottage Pie
For now I'll keep up with Hello Sundae on the twitters and the IGs. I changed it all back after my "identity crisis" was over, but I still fell restless and I feel like the silly screen name is just another chapter in the book, you know? Anyhoo, goodbye-not-goodbye.
***Actually, I did delete my first blog and I wish I hadn't. I wrote during a really hard time in my life and deleted it for fear that the person abusing me would find it. Looking back, I feel like pressing delete was cowardly and I should have left it for others to learn from my experience. No matter how bad I feel about deleting the blog though, I can't beat myself up for it because I have been abused enough for one life time.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Friday, August 30, 2013
Blog's still dead.
I just popped by because I had a few thoughts, but I'm not sure I want to post yet because my blog isn't pretty. I took away the old elements and posted a photo. Sure the photo is coming up on it's 1st birthday, but I was comfortable when I took it. I'm holding one of my babies and a glass of wine. There is a basket of laundry and crappy holiday decorations in the background. Homey, huh? That's really it for now. I'll look at this blog again later and decide if I'm ready to be serious.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Hey guys
This blog is a little dead and neglected, isn't it? I think I'm ready to come back. A lot hasn't happened, so there really is nothing to catch up on. Maybe a few things here and there but I'll get to those as I think of them.
Chris and I are making plans for our 1st wedding anniversary (in 1 week), so there's that.
I took a 3 week break from drinking. My liver has finished respawning (I think/hope).
Yes, I had a minor identity crisis on the twitters and IGs. I'm hello sundae again. I don't really remember why I picked this name anymore and I can't really find another one that feels like "me," so there it is. I should change my screen names to Ribbon Dancer or Cider Gal or Machine Gun Jenny. I like the last one.
In reality, I have been dealing with an existential crisis. Who isn't?! HA! But really. I'm still looking for a path in a dense forest. I see bits of light, but none bright enough to guide the way.
With that said, I don't really have a direction for this blog either. I never really did, I just tried to be everything and I didn't like anything I was doing. I like to just write, I guess. Reading a few posts back, I liked the ones where I just wrote about my day.
Speaking of days, have you been to an Old Navy for $1 flip-flop day? I was the closing manager that day. It was non-stop nuts! A dollar for flip-flops is a deal, but not for the ones we sell. Maybe the ones from 7 or 8 years ago, but not the ones we carry now.
Old vs New
Old- wider soles, wider/flexible straps, and smooth sole.
New- narrow sole, skinny/rigid straps, and a bumpy weird sole.
Another thing? Not as important because it has nothing to do with comfort, but the brown flippy is a size 7, the green one is a size 6. The only difference in the size/shape is that the green one has a rounded toe and the brown one... well look at the photo. The brown one's big toe part is about a 1/4 inch longer than the green one. That 1/4 inch would only be necessary if you have an extra long big toe.
sheesh.
Pay no mind to the state of the green flippy. It's ancient. 10 years is a long life for a pair of flip-flops. 10 years and still kickin!
One thing that hasn't changed? The "new flip-flop" smell. I love it. When asked during my interview 2 years ago why I wanted to come back to the company my answer was, "I miss the sweet smell of new flip-flops, fresh from the box." My interviewer was surprised/disgusted/frightened and I think she moved to Cali a month later because I was too insane to work with.
Tangent Alllllllllert! I clearly have strong feelings for flip-flops. Being a Floridian it isn't really that odd.
That's quite enough babble for now.
Chris and I are making plans for our 1st wedding anniversary (in 1 week), so there's that.
I took a 3 week break from drinking. My liver has finished respawning (I think/hope).
Yes, I had a minor identity crisis on the twitters and IGs. I'm hello sundae again. I don't really remember why I picked this name anymore and I can't really find another one that feels like "me," so there it is. I should change my screen names to Ribbon Dancer or Cider Gal or Machine Gun Jenny. I like the last one.
In reality, I have been dealing with an existential crisis. Who isn't?! HA! But really. I'm still looking for a path in a dense forest. I see bits of light, but none bright enough to guide the way.
With that said, I don't really have a direction for this blog either. I never really did, I just tried to be everything and I didn't like anything I was doing. I like to just write, I guess. Reading a few posts back, I liked the ones where I just wrote about my day.
Speaking of days, have you been to an Old Navy for $1 flip-flop day? I was the closing manager that day. It was non-stop nuts! A dollar for flip-flops is a deal, but not for the ones we sell. Maybe the ones from 7 or 8 years ago, but not the ones we carry now.
Old vs New
Old- wider soles, wider/flexible straps, and smooth sole.
New- narrow sole, skinny/rigid straps, and a bumpy weird sole.
Another thing? Not as important because it has nothing to do with comfort, but the brown flippy is a size 7, the green one is a size 6. The only difference in the size/shape is that the green one has a rounded toe and the brown one... well look at the photo. The brown one's big toe part is about a 1/4 inch longer than the green one. That 1/4 inch would only be necessary if you have an extra long big toe.
sheesh.
Pay no mind to the state of the green flippy. It's ancient. 10 years is a long life for a pair of flip-flops. 10 years and still kickin!
One thing that hasn't changed? The "new flip-flop" smell. I love it. When asked during my interview 2 years ago why I wanted to come back to the company my answer was, "I miss the sweet smell of new flip-flops, fresh from the box." My interviewer was surprised/disgusted/frightened and I think she moved to Cali a month later because I was too insane to work with.
Tangent Alllllllllert! I clearly have strong feelings for flip-flops. Being a Floridian it isn't really that odd.
That's quite enough babble for now.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Almost a week later...
I made it! I made it through Black Friday and I am alive! Generally, I work later on in the day on Black Friday, when all the crazies are sleeping. This was my first time ever working in the AM hours when the store first opens.
Yes. I barfed.
Not gonna lie, I had an anxiety attack in the bathroom after watching people run into the mall from the safety of the second floor of my store.
After I shakily emerged from the bathroom, I was surprised at how nice the customers that I came in contact with were. I don't particularly want to dwell on the negatives because we would all have flashbacks.
I was only in the store for 2 hours after it opened because the rest of my shift was spent working the previous evening on Thanksgiving... putting up the sale signs for the crazies. I spent those two hours walking around helping customers while twisting, stretching, and wrapping a flannel scarf around my hands.
I should have bought that scarf, I think it may be lucky.
All in all it went well, but next year there will be whiskey. I mean gooooood whiskey.
Yes. I barfed.
Not gonna lie, I had an anxiety attack in the bathroom after watching people run into the mall from the safety of the second floor of my store.
After I shakily emerged from the bathroom, I was surprised at how nice the customers that I came in contact with were. I don't particularly want to dwell on the negatives because we would all have flashbacks.
I was only in the store for 2 hours after it opened because the rest of my shift was spent working the previous evening on Thanksgiving... putting up the sale signs for the crazies. I spent those two hours walking around helping customers while twisting, stretching, and wrapping a flannel scarf around my hands.
I should have bought that scarf, I think it may be lucky.
All in all it went well, but next year there will be whiskey. I mean gooooood whiskey.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
November already?
Here we go, it's been over a month. Over half of that time was spent without a laptop charger. No laptop means no blogging. I'm not a fan of blogging from my phone and I kept getting error codes on the iPad.
These excuses stink.
As soon as I realized that one of my wee beasties devoured my laptop cord, dozens of post ideas flooded my brain. I even started dreaming vividly again.... book writing vividly. My book files are only saved on my laptop. I think my brain is telling me that my mind races faster and more creatively without the internet killing off brain cells before they have become useful. Thank goodness I don't have a facebook! I think my brain cells would go even faster...
Not much has happened over the last month. Work has gotten busier, which is good. More customers equal more hours to give associates equals more people on the sales floor. Think of that next time you're in a store and can't find anyone to help you. If business is sucking, everyone suffers. I overheard a woman bitching about the size of the line at work last night. Her solution? "They need to hire more people!" There were 3 registers open and only 2 people in the actual line ahead of the grouchy customer. End work rant.
Sometimes I really wish I could live tweet a typical shift at work.
Also, my blog looks like crap. I can finally work on that now. I have the entire weekend off work.
These excuses stink.
As soon as I realized that one of my wee beasties devoured my laptop cord, dozens of post ideas flooded my brain. I even started dreaming vividly again.... book writing vividly. My book files are only saved on my laptop. I think my brain is telling me that my mind races faster and more creatively without the internet killing off brain cells before they have become useful. Thank goodness I don't have a facebook! I think my brain cells would go even faster...
Not much has happened over the last month. Work has gotten busier, which is good. More customers equal more hours to give associates equals more people on the sales floor. Think of that next time you're in a store and can't find anyone to help you. If business is sucking, everyone suffers. I overheard a woman bitching about the size of the line at work last night. Her solution? "They need to hire more people!" There were 3 registers open and only 2 people in the actual line ahead of the grouchy customer. End work rant.
Sometimes I really wish I could live tweet a typical shift at work.
Also, my blog looks like crap. I can finally work on that now. I have the entire weekend off work.
Happy Veteran's Day to me.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Obsessed Woman
Last post? About my hair. Half of my tweets over the last 2 months? My hair. Instagram? My dog and my hair.
You know, the more I look at it, the more frustrated I get. I had it cut on a Wednesday and went back in the following day to have the cut fixed. Looking back, I was an idiot. I shouldn't have had to go back a second time. I also probably should not have gone back to the same person. What part of "short pixie" was I unclear about? I even had photos! Sure, my hair has never been this short, but that doesn't mean I need to look like Kris Jenner/ Willem Defoe while I'm deciding if short is for me. I'm pretty sure I decided what I wanted before walking into the salon.
My hair is difficult to style at this awkward-ass length! I want my hair to be cute and actually look like a pixie, like this little lady right here. I found her how-to-style video on youtube and I just can't wait to have my mop fixed. Until then, I'm just googling away at ways to do my hair in the morning so it doesn't look like I have an old lady-too-blind-to-see-her-terrible-hair hair cut.
You know, the more I look at it, the more frustrated I get. I had it cut on a Wednesday and went back in the following day to have the cut fixed. Looking back, I was an idiot. I shouldn't have had to go back a second time. I also probably should not have gone back to the same person. What part of "short pixie" was I unclear about? I even had photos! Sure, my hair has never been this short, but that doesn't mean I need to look like Kris Jenner/ Willem Defoe while I'm deciding if short is for me. I'm pretty sure I decided what I wanted before walking into the salon.
My hair is difficult to style at this awkward-ass length! I want my hair to be cute and actually look like a pixie, like this little lady right here. I found her how-to-style video on youtube and I just can't wait to have my mop fixed. Until then, I'm just googling away at ways to do my hair in the morning so it doesn't look like I have an old lady-too-blind-to-see-her-terrible-hair hair cut.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Fickle Pixie
So far, it seems as though I have only been writing every two weeks or so. I'd like to change that. I'd like to say that I will write more, but I am fickle as hell.
Recently I've been writing about my day to day, and since I haven't missed a day being alive, I really have no excuse for not writing something at least every other day for each day I am breathing. Still following along? Here is the most recent of my adventures:
I am a cutter. A hair cutter, that is. Over the last eight or nine years, as soon as the going gets tough, I get to cutting..... my hair. The first few times I went to a salon. I played it safe with a shoulder length, layered cut. I felt free! As free as my hair as Gaga would say.
My second semester at USF (Jan. '11) I got a little ballsy. One night after watching Cabaret I found myself in the bathroom with scissors gettin' my Liza on. I hacked off my own long hair! Long, like past my shoulder blades, long. I wanted to cut off more! For the next few days after Chris helped me even out the super blunt bob I gave myself, I had this incredibly strong urge to dig out the clippers and get my Britney on. I was stressed, depressed, and I started gaining the "Freshman 15" in my junior year of college.
Since then, I've been trimming, snipping, and secretly (not so secret anymore, huh Jonesy?) cutting my own hair. I have avoided the salon chair because I have been too stressed to entrust another person with the one thing in my life that I have felt in control of for the last few years. I always tell the story of when my little brother angrily shaved his eye brows off after being stung by a cat fish (we're a bunch of crazies in my family) and how we were worried about what he'd save off after being hit by a car on his bicycle two weeks later.
I have come to the realization that (hair)cutting must run in my family.
Now before any of you "professionals" start in on me about why I should not cut MY own hair, let me just stop you in your tracks. Italics mean business, Did you seeeeee them? My own hair. I grow it, wash it, brush, and style it the best I can. I can cut it if I want to. Sure you may do a better job at the end of the day, but if you're also any better at doing dishes than the average Joe, than I have a sink full of them for you. Email me for my home address. Besides, it's not like I'm trying to remove my own appendix.
So without further ado, I have come here to say that I sat in a salon chair. I wanted my hair gone, but not Crazy Britney gone (I love you Brit). I walked out of there with a longish pixie cut. I'm not entirely happy with it, but I'm feeling confident enough to go to a more competent hair dresser to have it cut the way I envision it.
PS Stano cut his hair off after being scraped off the side of the road, but very badly. He tried to give himself a mohawk, but it was so bad he wouldn't come out of the bathroom. His mother called and asked me to come over and talk to him. He let me in the bathroom and I "fixed it" and he felt better. He ended the day with a blue mohawk, perched on the right side of his noggin.
Recently I've been writing about my day to day, and since I haven't missed a day being alive, I really have no excuse for not writing something at least every other day for each day I am breathing. Still following along? Here is the most recent of my adventures:
I am a cutter. A hair cutter, that is. Over the last eight or nine years, as soon as the going gets tough, I get to cutting..... my hair. The first few times I went to a salon. I played it safe with a shoulder length, layered cut. I felt free! As free as my hair as Gaga would say.
My second semester at USF (Jan. '11) I got a little ballsy. One night after watching Cabaret I found myself in the bathroom with scissors gettin' my Liza on. I hacked off my own long hair! Long, like past my shoulder blades, long. I wanted to cut off more! For the next few days after Chris helped me even out the super blunt bob I gave myself, I had this incredibly strong urge to dig out the clippers and get my Britney on. I was stressed, depressed, and I started gaining the "Freshman 15" in my junior year of college.
Since then, I've been trimming, snipping, and secretly (not so secret anymore, huh Jonesy?) cutting my own hair. I have avoided the salon chair because I have been too stressed to entrust another person with the one thing in my life that I have felt in control of for the last few years. I always tell the story of when my little brother angrily shaved his eye brows off after being stung by a cat fish (we're a bunch of crazies in my family) and how we were worried about what he'd save off after being hit by a car on his bicycle two weeks later.
I have come to the realization that (hair)cutting must run in my family.
Now before any of you "professionals" start in on me about why I should not cut MY own hair, let me just stop you in your tracks. Italics mean business, Did you seeeeee them? My own hair. I grow it, wash it, brush, and style it the best I can. I can cut it if I want to. Sure you may do a better job at the end of the day, but if you're also any better at doing dishes than the average Joe, than I have a sink full of them for you. Email me for my home address. Besides, it's not like I'm trying to remove my own appendix.
So without further ado, I have come here to say that I sat in a salon chair. I wanted my hair gone, but not Crazy Britney gone (I love you Brit). I walked out of there with a longish pixie cut. I'm not entirely happy with it, but I'm feeling confident enough to go to a more competent hair dresser to have it cut the way I envision it.
PS Stano cut his hair off after being scraped off the side of the road, but very badly. He tried to give himself a mohawk, but it was so bad he wouldn't come out of the bathroom. His mother called and asked me to come over and talk to him. He let me in the bathroom and I "fixed it" and he felt better. He ended the day with a blue mohawk, perched on the right side of his noggin.
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