a feeling.

this. today, i want this.

(from the lovely)

i believe...

in the power of music, especially in the form of mix cds.

one of the sexiest things a man can do is make me one. a legit i spent a shitload of time making this for you, rhi. and that version of the song from 1978 you mentioned liking, it's #6. that kind of mix cd.

in beers, burgers, and tater tots.

one of my favorite sounds in the world is a friend calling me rhi.

listening to country music all day on a friday really makes one think about finding a rental car and booking it to kentucky.

two things i need less of in my life: bread and cheese. truly.

two things i need more of in my life: lilacs and kissing. truly.

in only eating the frosting part of a cupcake. did it as a child, still doing it today.

in this, this, and that.

in #14. oh captain, my captain.

what i ate today: day four.

whole grain english muffin with butter and a bowl of red seedless grapes.

orange juice with vitamin d. no coffee. 

junior-sized cold corned beef with lettuce and onions.

come 2:30, 3:00 i always crave more coffee. and i was craving a coolatta. this is the smallest size. Lord!

dinner on Thursday is tricky since my class is from 5:45-9:00. i always eat something before it starts and bring snacks for the break. i had a banana. absolutely ridiculous that i had yet another sandwich, even if it was the smallest they had. bah. i had to eat something before class.

pepperoni from pizza nova after class. ahhhh. it's the best.

stumbling.

this morning while waiting for the train, i saw a butterfly struggling to get off the ground. it was very cold and windy, which made things harder for the tiny thing. i immediately thought that maybe it was hurt. i stepped towards it, bent down, and saw that it was trying, it was really friggin' trying to get off the ground. but the wind kept pushing and throwing it around. i tried to scoop it up with my newspaper, as carefully as i could, very slowly, all-the-while whispering, it's okay. but it just wouldn't sit still and let me help it. i'm trying to help you, i thought. it just kept trying and thrashing itself back and forth. trying, on its own, to fly. a young man came over and looked at it and asked me what i was doing.

i think it's hurt, i said.

i thought it was a piece of ash, he said.

no, it's a butterfly. it's hurt, i said.

we both stood there and looked at it and i kept saying come on, come on, get up.

then my train came and as it pulled out of the station i saw an old man near the elevator looking down at it. and i just let out a breath and closed my eyes and hoped it was okay.

i hope it was okay. i really hope it was able to pick itself up off the ground and fly away.

train of thought.

Meant to post this last night, but I collapsed into bed the moment I got home. 


When the bus is late, again, and when it finally comes it’s packed with people who have no bus etiquette and it stops at every corner and people do the same thing: nothing. No one moves to the back, no one offers their seat to the old women standing in front of them. And the bus slowly trudges along like it’s got all the time in the world even though you do not and it finally gets to the orange line and two girls who can’t be older than sixteen stand in front of the back door and don’t move and you know what girls, you picked the wrong day to act dumb and you say, “it would make more sense for the two of you to get off so people can exit.” And you sigh and mumble some non-Catholic words and say hi to Ken and run up the stairs because the escalator is STILL broken and you wait and wait and the train finally comes and you get on and shocker, it’s packed to the gills and women stare at your Audrey Hepburn lunch bag and you want to say, “Barnes and Noble,” but you barely had the energy to snap at those young girls five minutes prior so you close your eyes behind the sunglasses you’re wearing because you woke up with the same migraine you left work with yesterday and you think, “really, can I just get a day off from these headaches?” And you’ve taken nine Advil since you left work and finally caved after dinner and took a magic migraine pill that worked its magic for a few hours, but you woke up at 1:00 and again at 2:00 and took more Advil and had Diet Coke with your breakfast. And you get to the Clark and Lake station to transfer to the brown line and you think, “I wonder if I’ll see Greg, but it’s late and he’s probably not here,” but you run down the stairs, girl you are always running, and you see him and Ruben and you say hi and you chat and then his train comes, but Ruben doesn’t move and you say, “this is you guys.” And you’d love to pet that pup, but you know you can’t. And a minute later your train comes and you get on and settle into the window seat and you don’t understand why a person wouldn’t always want the window seat and you cross the bridge over the river and you see the LaSalle street bridge and you remember taking pictures one year ago next Monday on the day your best friends married each other and how much fun that day was. And you think about who you were a year ago and who you are a year later. And you know that’s not the same person. And every time you cross that bridge you think of all the dancing you did and how your feet hurt for almost a week, but it was worth it. 

what i ate today: day three.

everything i ate wednesday. note: not.enough.food. i was famished by the time i ate dinner with anna around 8:45.

Woke up with a headache=Diet Coke instead of coffee. And the good thing about pita pizzas is that you can eat them for any meal.

part 2 of breakfast: honey whole wheat bagel thin with reduced fat plain cream cheese. and more diet coke. friggin' headache. also, i'll never go back to regular bagels. they're monstrous!

  Lunch: Lean Cuisine chicken quesadilla with taco chips and mango salsa. I find that if I cut food into smaller portions, it slows me down. Then I get fuller quicker. Win win.

Rotisserie chicken and long grain and wild rice, with red pepper hummus. I always need a dip of some sort. Hummus comes through again.

The only pop I drink is Diet Coke, but my stomach hurt last night and this helped.

what i ate today: day two.

Quaker High Fiber Maple and Brown Sugar oatmeal. It's the best. I'm not a fan of the  one designed to help you lose weight. I forget the name, but the label is green. It's low in sugar and it doesn't taste too great to me.

Snacks I brought to work. I did not eat the nuts, but I counted the portion of crackers, which doubled as tortilla chips with my lunch. These nut-thins are delicious.

After I went to the gym I was hungry again so I had 1/2 cup of Kashi Go Lean.

Headache at work=need for diet pop.

Such good soup, and filling.

Those nut-thins with mango salsa from Dominick's.

Part of my lunch. I had a picnic of sorts today: nut-thins with salsa, soup, and this stuff.

Chicken noodle soup at the diner by my apartment. Regretted eating that roll.

More diet pop because the headache just didn't want to leave me alone.

I asked the waitress to only give me half the portion of fries. If it's not on the plate, I won't want it. I didn't eat the cole slaw and the lettuce was sad. Mama needed some protein after this day!

what i ate today: day one.

this is day one of my photographic food diary. this was a good day with regards to my eating choices. however, i need more fruit! i try to drink as much water as possible during the day and i always alternate water with my coffee. this is to keep me accountable. no preaching here about what YOU should eat.

1 cup of Kashi Go Lean cereal. I love this cereal so much. It looks bland, but it's not. There's a hint of sweetness. Most importantly, it's very filling, packed with fiber, and low in calories. I measure my cereal. Two words: portion control.

With breakfast, I'll have two cups of coffee. I'm trying very hard to stick to Splenda and not sugar. I use two packets. This morning, I nursed the same 1.5 cups before leaving my apartment.

Half an hour after the cereal I had a whole grain english muffin with Jif Natural peanut butter. These english muffins are delicious and only 80 calories. 

I always, ALWAYS carry snacks on me. Part of it is from being a nanny a few years ago. It's just smart to have healthy food on me so I'm not tempted to buy food I'll regret eating. I love these packets of nuts. I didn't wind up eating the yogurt today. I"m lactose intolerant, so I have to keep the dairy intake to a minimum. I also eat my cereal dry. Always have. Yes, I'm one of those people.

Stopped at Cosi for lunch. I love that so many restaurants are doing "Pick two" specials. I got a  bowl of sausage with chicken and rice soup (good) and the pesto chicken sandwich on whole grain flatbread, with sun dried tomato and lettuce (so good). The chips were kettle cooked and not horrible at 150 calories. 

I said no to chocolate twice before finally saying yes to a much-needed caffeine jolt. This is a tall iced nonfat mocha.

I drank this with my lunch. 

Dinner after yoga: pita pizzas. I eat too many of these, but I make them super healthy. I found using multigrain tortilla shells! saves a ton of calories. I usually eat two of these.

The finished product with some Italian seasoning. So good, and because the cheese isn't low-fat,  I don't need to use as much. 

a sunday, in pictures.

the start of my morning walk. today i finally asked my newspaper vendor his name. tom. 



i love this front door. note: this is not my building. not sharing that much.




"over here, in the hydrangea bush!"



afternoon walk.

legos.

i like taking pictures of strangers.

and really good musicians playing on street corners.

i love this.

my bus guy! i pretend his name is walter. i haven't worked up the nerve to say hi. 

not a bad view while waiting for the bus.

amazing. 

carrie bradshaw bought vogue. i buy flowers. 

organic spinach and cheese ravioli. i've always preferred pasta without the sauce. worst.italian.ever.

i am determined to have a garden of my own, even if it's small.

i spend far too many sundays in this building's library, but you can't beat the view from the tenth floor.

kindness. at the dentist.

i'm thankful for the forty minutes of kindness i experienced yesterday at my dentist's office. i had to have a cavity filled, just how i want to spend my saturday afternoon. i was dreading it all day, but i woke up, somehow dragged my tired butt to spinning, which only made me more tired, came home, then went to my appointment. 


i have the most wonderful dentist in the world. no, i really do. as my name was called, i saw my regular hygienist who gave me a big hug. sandy's good like that. i walked into the exam room, took out my iPod, which they encouraged me to use from the beginning, and got in the chair. a different hygienist, laura, asked me about my weekend and told me about hers: she was going to dinner with her husband and ordering a pizza for her two sons to have during the hawks game. 


"we're gonna go to outback. we haven't been there in a while," she said.


my dentist walked in, saw my sox shirt and asked me about baseball. mind you, all this is happening while i'm getting a nice dose of nitrous. 


it means everything, everything, to sit in that chair and be taken care of. to have dr. ericson rub my arm while laura gives me the novocaine. to have laura dry my tears and put vaseline on my lips. to have dr. ericson ask me about my favorite place in the world.


"florence," i said.


"italy. ah. i went there with my husband for our twentieth anniversary. we got lost in tuscany and i said, 'well, if we have to sleep in the car, so be it," she said. 


this. this opened up my heart. 


and she didn't stop talking and neither did laura. they rubbed my hands as i blasted rihanna and kathleen edwards so i wouldn't have to hear the tools. they also gave me protective sunglasses to wear even though i always keep my eyes closed. they always tell me exactly what they're doing, which helps me to relax. then they were done and as i sat there switching from nitrous back to oxygen, bob marley came on. i remembered to breathe. and i was fine. 


even on the days when believing these words feels like a total lie, i know they aren't. i do believe these words. i believed them yesterday in that chair and i believe them right this very moment. 

on taking a breath.

i need to address something. 


when i started this blog this past december, i said i would be honest about everything. i promised to be honest about the things i choose to put on this page, both positive and horrendously negative. that hasn't changed. i'm choosing to share many things i'm going through, not all of them, but a lot. i don't regret this. sharing what i'm going through is mostly a selfish thing. i need to let go of things, secrets, fears, and wants. because it makes me feel better to talk about them, to "say" them out loud. because i know i'm not the only one going through these things. and sometimes just so i can sleep. 


but one post on a random thursday afternoon is not my whole story. it is not everything. it is one piece, please remember that. 


i used to watch "the biggest loser" and take notes. literally. i would lean forward on the couch or my chair as if looking harder and closer and squinting at the television would ensure i "got" everything about that show that was important. i wrote down the quotes on the wall. i became obsessed with weighing myself and numbers, numbers of everything. sometimes i still struggle with this, more than i would like. i compared my life to what those contestants were going through. at my worst, i weighed more than most of the women on that show. and some of the men.


it makes my body hurt to even type those words. 


i have put my body through hell. through hell. and i continue to do this to my heart. that is why i go to therapy. because i recognize that i have a problem. problems with how i see myself, how i forgive myself, how i love myself.


it is hard. sometimes it is really fucking hard to feel things. i'm training myself to feel. i've been doing it since i started therapy. it is a job. it is a job to train myself to not hide from how i feel especially on the really bad days. sometimes the last thing i want to do is sit in his office and explain why i'm crying or why i'm angry. it's easy to lie and say, "i'm fine." actually feeling things takes work. that is why people numb themselves. people will use anything to not feel things: drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling. my choice was food. 


sometimes after i post an entry like the one i posted yesterday i'll get a few texts or emails from girlfriends. "just checking in..." i love them for it, but i don't always want to talk about what i write on here. i've been told it's unfair and unrealistic of me to want it all. but i do. i've always been open about that fact. i know it's a tall order to say, "i'm posting this. i'm putting it into the universe. i'm unburdening myself of it. i love you for reading it and supporting me, but i don't want to talk about it further." but that's what i'm doing and that's what i need right now. i'm sorry because i know that's asking a lot. as much as i let people in via this blog, i still only talk about things so much. walls. lots of em'.

on my break during class last night, i opened an email from a good friend who said, "i love you. now love yourself, k?" i do love myself, i'm learning how to do that. but some days, it's the most foreign feeling. those days happen when other days pile up. just last week someone said to me, "you're falling in love with yourself right now." i love that. she's right. i am falling in love with myself right now. i'm courting myself. that is my story. it is imperative to show ourselves love, in both monumental (going to therapy) and tiny ways (getting up from my desk and walking for thirty minutes at lunch just to feel the sun on my face.) big and small and in between, we all need to show ourselves love.


how do you show yourself love?


i love myself enough to keep an appointment with jim when the last thing i want to do is take the two buses and train to go see him.


i love myself enough to listen to jim when he says, "you know what you want and more importantly what you don't want. and that is everything, rhi."


i love myself enough to say no to the boy who says careless things via text late at night. 


i love myself enough to know that i deserve a man.


i love myself enough to say no to friday night plans that may get in the way of my spinning class at 10:00 on saturday morning.


i love myself enough to say no to anything that will get in the way of feeling good.


i love myself enough to remember it's OKAY TO SAY NO.


i love myself enough to say no to a piece of pie someone gave me to say thank-you. thank you lovely person i did a tiny favor for, but i don't want that. and i didn't say no because one piece of pie is going to make or break me, but i said no because i don't want even a tiny second of feeling, "i shouldn't eat this piece of chocolate pie. i only biked x number of miles or went to the gym x number of days." that is noise and i don't want noise in my life.


i love myself enough to cook myself real food: roasted chicken with green beans, steak tacos with cilantro and onions, gnocchi with marinara. 


i love myself enough to take a hot bath and drink three glasses of wine if i want. because i don't do that every day or even every week. moderation. moderation and balance. and a little bit of indulgence.


i love myself enough to remind myself AS OFTEN AS NECESSARY that food does not control me. and even on the days it feels like it does, i will remember that it doesn't. and in the moments i don't believe or listen to myself, because 99% of life is about listening to ourselves, i will call my friends and listen to them. 


i love myself enough to go through my clothing and get rid of EVERY SINGLE THING that doesn't make me feel beautiful. "it can't just fit. it must flatter." 


i love myself enough to get rid of coats, three coats!, that don't fit and definitely don't flatter. because if you're fidgeting in a coat on the bus/train/corner and checking your reflection in every coffee shop window, that coat/shirt/dress needs to go. 


anything that makes you feel less than what you are fighting to be needs to go.

lost in the stars.

a bouquet of clumsy words: you know that place between sleep and awake where you're still dreaming but it's slowly slipping? i wish we could feel like that more often. i also wish i could click my fingers three times and be transported to anywhere i like. i wish that people didn't always say ‘just wondering’ when you both know there was a real reason behind them asking. and i wish i could get lost in the stars. listen, there's a hell of a good universe next door, let’s go.
-e.e.cummings 

remember.

remember the time i had a phone interview with a very important person to talk about a story i'm pitching to this magazine? remember when his assistant notified me at 9:00 this morning that the only time he could talk would be at 2:30 today and i had to say, "i completely understand. i'll be on a bus between appointments so i will keep it brief. i know how busy he is." remember when i called and was told he was in a meeting and would need to call back in five minutes? remember when i called back five minutes later from a packed, loud-as-hell bus just to be put on hold for five more minutes to then talk to him for seven minutes and by talk i mean i had to shout over the intercom and my fellow cell-phone wielding passengers. remember when he had a thick accent and i could hardly hear him? remember when i couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the moment as the bus made whirring/let's-lower-ourselves-to-the-ground noises and announce our presence in this depot as loudly as we can?

remember when i walked into jim's office and said, "this is my lunch" and showed him a 20 oz. bottle of diet coke and he shook his head and said, "i don't like that." and i said, "i don't either, jim, but it's been a day and it's been a week. it's not all i'll have for lunch." but it was all i had for a few hours and i started to cry as i said, "i haven't been good this week. i need balance." because that's an old pattern and i don't want it in my life.

balance. i need balance.

remember when i sat on the floor outside of the library, the only quiet place i could find, to call a female sports writer and talk to her about her job and why there is a shamefully low number of female sports writers in the city? remember when i sat there and felt both hopeful and exhausted in the same breath? remember when she said, "i don't even think about it. i'm there to do my job," and i felt proud.

but i'm angry about this. and i'm going to keep writing about it and i'm going to keep asking questions and emailing people and knocking down doors. and pissing people off because sometimes that's what i do.

remember when i wrote this just a few weeks ago? remember how i haven't been following it for shit? remember when i went to dinner on tuesday and ate too much food and felt guilt consume me the entire time i sat in a beautiful restaurant?

"the portions were small. we did not eat a lot of food."

she's right. the portions were small, but it was a hearty meal. it was a meal. and i don't allow myself things like that. and i woke up at midnight that night and felt sick to my stomach and berated myself for eating, for eating like they do in italy. slowly, with purpose, with the intent of feeding myself.

"am i ever going to be able to sit down to a meal and not be consumed by my thoughts?"

"yes, when you learn to disconnect-," jim says. i cut him off.

"disconnecting means i don't have control," i say.

"poor choice of words," he says.

remember when a week just catches up to you. when you feel a cold coming on and you have interviews and questions to type for two articles you're excited to be writing. excited and hopeful, but overwhelmed. that theme never seems to go away.

control. control. balance and control. patience and kindness and fucking forgiveness. forgive yourself, girl. no one else can do that for you. no one else. forgiveness is an act of love. listening is an act of love. listen to yourself.


"remember to breathe, rhi. just breathe."

some inspiration.

i love this.

i had the privilege of interviewing ms. schmich a few months ago. she is nothing short of lovely. i felt myself perk up, want to be a better writer, and pay more attention, after just ten minutes in her presence.

 nothing gives you a sense of control like writing things down on a legal pad.

amen.

chicago sunsets.

dear love,


i can't wait to share chicago sunsets with you. 

to come home to you and finish our days. together. 


love,
me

the violet.

the violet is a fabulous online magazine based in california. one of my essays is included on page 14. my bio is at the beginning too. i encourage you to look at the entire issue; it is stunning. i'm so flattered and honored to be a part of it!

(image: the violet)

on fighting for things.

this morning, i took my usual walk to buy the newspaper. i stopped at the drugstore. as i walked towards the shampoo aisle i saw a man lying on the floor. he looked like stanley from the office. he had collapsed in front of the photo counter. there were disposable cameras and film and pieces of paper scattered around him. his face was blue. his face was as blue as the employees' and paramedics' navy polo shirts. the woman behind the counter was standing behind him whispering to him that he would be fine. 

why aren't you on the floor with him? did someone try cpr? does he need cpr? i've taken first aid courses; why can't i remember anything? i should go to this man on the floor. i should push through the employees hovering over him doing nothing. what are they supposed to do? this man just had/is having a heart attack/stroke in front of the discount easter candy. 

this is how it goes. you see something horrible happen. it shakes you up. you hug people harder. you feel more alive. you promise yourself to be more alive. 

why do we need to be shaken up? shouldn't life itself be enough? why do we need reminders of how short our lives are? why does it take a life almost ending to remind us that ours could do the same thing at any given moment?

this is how it goes. you see something horrible happen to someone else and you immediately make it about you. 

what if i was the one lying on the floor waiting for an ambulance? waiting for medicine to shock my heart if my heart wanted to call it quits? that could be me. i could have a heart attack. i'm not good at managing my stress. what if i almost died at 7:30 on a sunday morning in a drugstore? a place full of medicine and things that heal people, all of them completely useless in that moment. dear god, please don't ever let me die alone. 

you think these things and you feel ashamed. this man was alone. the paramedics came right away. i looked at their faces, all of these men, some just young boys, some much older. none of them looked worried. i took that as a small gift. no one was yelling. there was no chaos. they got him into the ambulance. these men did their job. 

one of the young male employees who had been standing at the main entrance looking for the fire department/staring into nothing/waiting impatiently along with me for the sound of sirens bent down and picked up everything that had fallen. i should've helped him. i didn't. 

i walked next door and bought a cup of a coffee and a maple donut. i stood at the counter and debated and berated myself. for wanting a donut. rhi, if you want a maple donut once in a while, have a fucking maple donut. eat the donut without abusing yourself. you're allowed to have a donut. it's one, not a dozen. it's not a gateway to gaining back 100 pounds. eat the donut and drink your coffee and say a prayer for that man.

that's what i did.

before i started graduate school i was in a bad place, in every sense of the word. last night, i dreamt i was back in that place. the place before i came to stay with anna and kevin while looking for apartments, when i had two roommates who were becoming my family, family to have dinners with and talk with and say goodnight to, people to brush teeth with over the bathroom sink as a cat slithered between our feet. before starting school and a new job. before starting therapy.


i woke up half a dozen times last night. i awoke with a heaviness on my heart. i'm doing everything in my power to put those days behind me. 

as trite as it sounds, these two things, a bad dream and seeing that man on the floor, have been a wake-up call. to remember that as terrifying as it is, i am the only person capable of helping myself succeed, of staying afloat, and of never going back to that place again. i have come too far to go back there. i will take these two signs from the universe, two not-so-gentle reminders to keep pushing and to keep fighting for my happiness. for my life. good things happen to people who fight for them. don't forget that, rhi. 

time.

sitting in a chair while you get your hair cut gives you plenty of time to think. you sit and you look at yourself in the mirror. you have no other choice. a mirror is there. of course you're going to look.  

you think this cut makes my face look thinner. you smile and think my face looks thinner. it's a small victory and you need it. you snatch it before it leaves your mind.

the girl turns the chair and the light looks different and your face looks different and you think of how much time you spend looking in mirrors. what are you looking for?

you think about the things you want to write about. 

it's a long list.

you think about gratitude, how much of it you have to put into the universe.

for friends who show up with wine, black blazers, and leftovers. friends who pour that third glass of wine and who know when to start pouring water. who hug, and know when to be the last to let go. who make you feel calm within five seconds. who help you laugh at yourself, always with love at the root. who keep you honest and humble.

for friends who tell you in the middle of the night "nothing you can do will change how much i love you." and when you cry they get up from the other side of your lovely little white-tiled kitchen table and hold you.

for baseball. sweet, delicious, infuriating, hope-infusing baseball. finally. 

for the fact that this song is an anthem of your life. and when you hear these three strong women you feel fourteen years-old again. you don't mind that one bit.

 

you think about numbers, the logistics of what you need to be doing this tuesday, this week, this spring. for someone who hates math, you have an obsession with numbers. 

you think of the number on the scale last week-how it didn't piss you off, but it didn't make you content and you wonder what content will feel like because that feeling comes and goes and when it comes it really is wonderful. you think about how you are going to continue to allow yourself that feeling. contentment.

you think of the miles you complete in a 60-minute spin class. you think of the fact that you won't get on a bike with a broken timer. you check the timer two dozen times during the class. at least 20 miles last week, 23 this week. you need to stop doing that. these are things you need to stop doing.

you get up from the chair and feel beautiful. you feel the lightness that comes from having your hair cut. the lightness of letting things go.

sometimes i don't feel like i started living until i began therapy, two years ago next month. a part of me feels like i wasted a decent portion of the prior twenty-five years of my life. 

i no longer have time to waste. 

i don't have time to waste on bad friendships, bad relationships, or people who are bad for my soul. i don't have time for cruelty, tardiness, or apathy.

i don't have time for bad kissing. i don't have time for boys who speak poorly of women. i don’t have time for boys. period.

i don't have time for men who aren't up for a challenge.

i don't have time for people who make me tired. i'm tired enough. i have no desire to feel like i'm still in high school. i don't understand those who do. 

i am always in a hurry: on the train, at work, on a bike. everything can be done better and faster. every.single.thing.

but it takes time to organize these feelings and girl, you’ve got a million. and there’s nothing wrong with that.

you’re done apologizing for all of them.

parts of my weekend, in pictures.

post-spinning class drive down lake shore drive. 

you know you babysit some great kids when they beg, beg, to stay up late and read/be read to on a saturday night. 

went to lunch with my good friend cristina at sweet maple cafe on friday. she took these four pictures. 

i fell in love with sweet maple cafe the first time i went. billie holiday was playing and they had ginger ale on the menu. i was hooked. and then i had their food. lord. 

i believe in the church of baseball. 

it's amazing how happy a $6 pair of sunglasses can make me. 

saw this at jewel this morning. it pissed me off. 

my neighbors have this lovely balcony. i've been here over a year and a half and i have never seen them on it.  odd.  

sometimes i eat dessert before dinner. frozen yogurt. yes, please. 

obsessed. 

presents from my landlord. i'm a lucky gal.