NPR : Coretta Scott King Honored as Civil Rights Champion

NPR : Coretta Scott King Honored as Civil Rights Champion

I just don't know...

I've come a long way, baby. When I think back to that dreary New Year's Eve and my resolution to have no resolution, I have to tell you that this is probably the farthest I've come in any year, ever. My room is still clean. I am much more organized. I almost feel like I've got it together, and let me tell you that's sort of a strange feeling for someone who has spent the majority of her life hurtling through in a chaotic blur. I hate to always quote one of my old college roommates, Reece, but he had a couple good quotes in the year we shared an apartment. One of them was, "I can't imagine you being reponsible for a child." That one makes me laugh still, because here's more than a little irony in the fact that for my career I help save childrens' lives on a regular basis, and am routinely responsible for their well-being. Yet I sort of agree with him still. I can't imagine having a child of my own. But I know that day will come, and I bet you anything I'll make a damn good mother. But I do wonder how you know when you're ready for that. Do you just start thinking about babies until it consumes your entire mind and you must produce/obtain one? Sometimes it seems like that must be the case, especially with some people I know. I really find it hard to believe that all of the sudden one day you wake up and realize that you have now reached the point where you are ready to be wholly responsible for the life of another human being. But that's what people will tell you when they have no better explanation. And I really do hate when people look at you knowingly (as in a discussion of marriage, say) and say smugly, "You'll just know." I didn't just know. And lots of people who'll tell you that will end up divorced. I hardly think, then, that they "just knew". I almost married a man who I am wholly incompatible with. It seems to me that you can create that "knowing" internally by wanting something badly enough to the point that you convince yourself of its reality. Anyway, I will spend the rest of my life trying to explain that to myself and the people who know me. It's like a big black splotch on my otherwise clean record. I screwed up in a BIG way, and I don't know if I'll ever fully understand why. But that close a call makes me distrust any internal voice that says, "Go ahead and do it, you just know it's right," because the way I see it, my right-meter must be a little off.
Anyway, only a handful of hours until I can start the rest of my life, be it in Italy or here in the lovely red America.

P.S. Did you hear Clinton's speech at the funeral of Coretta Scott King? It was really good, and it really made me wish he were back in office, especially when I compared it to Busch's humdrum typical unintelligent crap speech. Did you also notice how former President Jimmy Carter got his jab at Busch near the end of the speech? If you want to hear some of this, I've linked the page so you can find it easily and hear for yourself. Just go under Memorial Excerpts and click whichever one you want to hear first. Trust me, you'll notice the difference.

Is that a blanket on her head??

I cannot believe how fast two days off can go. What did I do? I slept in both days, but I have to say that the sleeping-in quality was far better yesterday than today. I was thinking about what made that true and I came up with the following: Yesterday the temperature in my room was just a bit on the cold side (which you know makes for better sleeping), and I had wrapped my head in a down blanket and fell into the most peaceful, lovely sleep that I have had in quite a while. A little background regarding the blanket-wrapped-head thing: Back when I lived in South City in St. Louis, Gianluca and I arrived home one day after lunch to discover that we had been broken into. The thief took some DVDs and some of my then roomate Karen's jewelry. At first, we thought it was just a random opportunistic crime. Then, after calling the SLPD, we realized it was much more than that. It turned out that the thief had hidden his own key outside our apartment, and was probably responsible for a number of suspicious happenings that we had always passed off as coincidence. The police thought that we were probably being stalked, given that the obvious theft occured on the only day that I had taken my dog Maddie to the groomer. They also thought that, given what we told them had happened thus far (i.e. suspicious nightime noises in our apartment with my dog getting upset), that this person has let himself in on numerous occasions while we were sleeping at night. Now, at the time, there were five of us roommates- myself, Karen, Gianluca, Marco, and Claudia. But Karen and I were the only occupants of the lower level apartment, and we were the only ones whose residence had been invaded on what turned out to be multiple occasions. At first, we all slept together in a couple rooms in the upstairs apartment. But Karen and I quickly realized that this could not be a permanent solution, and that we could not function in our daily lives paralyzed by fear as we were. We chose to move back downstairs (after the landlord changed the locks and barred all the basement windows). My dad even bought me window alarms for our whole apartment and the basement, a tazer, and a foghorn (why the foghorn, I'm not sure, but it sure startled us when we tested it). Our situation was not helped, however, by the fact that in the following weeks we must have called 9-1-1 at least 3 times due to suspicious sounds/events (including our apartment side door hanging wide open to the side yard after some scary noises at 3am, despite the fact that that particular lock had been changed). Anyway, that was the scariest period of my life (the second was the time period in Columbia, Missouri when my life was threatened repeatedly by some heroine addicts who were sure that I was invading their lesbian love triangle), and the only reprieves I had at the time were work and sleep. The only way I could get to sleep, however, was by wrapping my head in a blanket so that I could prevent myself from hearing every little noise and then freaking out. Ever since then, if I want to be sure of a good night's sleep, I wrap my head in a blanket and fall into a blissful state of oblivion. So now you know.
The other things I did today were to make some more yogurt (we go through it so quickly), and go to the store to buy more purse-making supplies. I also got another rental car for tomorrow and Thursday. It's nothing exciting like last time- just a small black Ford Focus, but it suits me just fine.

A small reminder: Friday will be the first day of the rest of my settled life, whether the decision turns out that I am going, or that I am staying here in the U.S. I cannot wait...

Newest Handbag Addition

And here's tonight's creation:

The San Jose is our clutch. This particular clutch has an exterior fabric of black denim with a slight sheen and a band of fun silky retro floral pattern in bright pink, baby blue, royal blue, black, white, and lime green. The interior is lined with the same retro print.

Visas, Politics, and Handbags

I have decided that at the end of this week if there has been no decision made by the consulate in Chicago regarding my visa status, I will voluntarily relinquish my scholarship. I have made this decision for a number of reasons. The first is that I will simply have run out of time. I am already missing the language training in Florence, Italy that was supposed to preced my participation in the masters program in Italy. I feel like I need that training in order to be able to fully participate in the learning of the material (as opposed to spending the majority of the time just trying to understand what's being said). The language training started on the 1st of this month. But let's say that I am able to deal with the language issues on my own. The next problem I face is the visa processing time. It can take two weeks to get a visa from the time you actually get to the consulate's office. Even if I get to Chicago next Monday (so on the 13th), I may not physically have the visa until the 21st). The program starts on the 27th. Let's say I receive the visa on the 21st and will be leaving on the 23rd. I will arrive on the 24th, and only have 2 days to settle in in a foreign country before I am expected to start classes. Not to mention the fact that I will have to begin attending rotary functions and fulfilling my obligations to them. It will be very difficult time-wise, language-wise, emotionally, and logistically. It would definitely test my personal limits on a number of different fronts, but I am willing to try as long as I have a decision by this Friday. After that, I refuse on the grounds that it is difficult enough to move to a foreign country in such an impromtu way with no language preparation, let alone try to play "catch-up" at school. So we'll see what this Friday brings.

Did you guys get a chance to listen to the congressional hearings on the Busch administration's domestic surveillance program? I thought it was very, very interesting and would like to know what everyone else thought about it.

Yesterday saw the completion of the first reversible evening handbag of Studio 310 (my mom and I have started our own little custom handbag line for those of you who aren't aware). This new bag is in addition to the clutch (non-reversible) that was created over the weekend. I will post photos of both, but please remember that these are only the prototypes. As it stands, I am the pre-construction designer and the supply shopper, and my mom is the construction designer and seamstress. What does that mean? It means that I come up with a bag design (after researching what's "in" and taking into account our abilities) and then I go out and choose coordinating fabrics and materials. I help create a pattern, and then I cut the fabric and hand it over to my mom. She then (having approved and or/modified the pattern) takes then takes the fabric to the machine and, after ironing out various difficulties, sews the bag. Afterward, we both play inspector and decide what needs changed, added, etc. Then we have a prototype from which to make additional bags (much easier to make the next bag since we the have a functional pattern). We are naming our bags after cities/places whose character and ambiance they reflect (names of these two are pending). The result is:


The Savannah is our evening wristlet. The exterior body is a sophisticated sage green and linen stripe with a slight sheen to it. The contrasting stripe is done in an elegant sage green and linen diamond pattern with a matching wrist strap. The interior is lined with a pretty taupe silk. It has a zipper closure.

The East Hampton is our reversible handbag. It is large enough to accomodate keys, money and credit cards, a few makeup items, and a cell phone. The fabric shown is a classic light brick red diamond pattern withdark cream center dots. The handles are black basket weave pattern with taupe and rust colored dots. The closure is a black grosgain ribbon. The reversible interior is a black background with a cream and red floral. It is shown below:

We are awaiting our tags, but once we have them all our bags will carry this small logo:

So that's what I've been up to lately. More to follow later...

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

Because I care about you guys so much and will forsake my own dignity to protect you:

DO NOT take the recommended dosage of the fiber supplement Ultra Fiber! I think the manufacturers are trying to amuse themselves at our expense. Thankfully, I was cautious and took only 2 tablets once per day (instead of the recommended 4 tablets 3 times per day) and I assure you, that was more than sufficient.

And you know perfectly well what I mean.

What's she driving now??

C'mon guys, try to guess. I bet you can't. But I'll give you a hint: you will see me coming from a long way away. And you'll probably hear me, too. Oh, forget it- I'll just tell you.

Here's my new ride:

For $23 a day you can rent this monster from Enterprise (but first: are you crazy? the gas mileage sucks!). Anyway, since I have no car, I am forced to rent in order to get to/from work. It's expensive, it's a hassle, and I am reaching my "I am totally fed up with this crap" point at an alarming speed. How fast is that? Well, it's a little faster than the speed at which this truck will plow you over on the road because I didn't see you because I am too high off the ground.

You know how they say that it takes 2 weeks for form a new habit? Well, I am one day closer to reaching the 2 week mark for being a clean freak {refer to post 1.22.06 for a full discussion}. I bet that's something you never thought you'd hear from ME with my 25 year history of disorganized clutter. I am becoming a clean freak, and I have 2 ways to prove it. Last night as I was snuggling down under my covers in bed, I realized that I had left my socks on the floor. It troubled me so much that I had to get up and put them in my hamper before I could go to sleep. Seriously, this has never happened to me before. The second proof is a photo I took today randomly (as in, I did NOT prepare for this picture- I just went upstairs and this is what I saw):

Do you see? Not a clutter in sight. Only 5 more days until this way of living is a confirmed habit. And since I work all day tomorrow and all day Thursday, the opportunity to slip up is even less. And Friday I have a wedding to go to. And then Sunday I'll be antiquing in St. Charles. So really that leaves just Saturday. I can manage one piddly day, don't you think?

Now, if you don't mind, I have socks that need mated.

Yours truly,

Ms. Don't Mess With Me, I'm Cleaning

Or it could be the flu...

It turns out I still have the ability to deal with my stressful life. It's just that I'm dealing with it while I'm hugging a toilet seat and puking my guts out. Because I had the stomach flu, not an ulcer. I have not eaten anything now for three days, yet at 5 am this morning my body was able to find the tiny sip of milkshake I'd taken last night and expel it with the force of a nuclear bomb.

This afternoon, though, I feel much better- in fact, I am doing laundry and some light cleaning- trying to get rid of the sick feel everything has after you've been down for a few days. I have even taken a couple bites of chicken, though I may regret that later.

Other than being a little paler and a bit shaky, I don't have anything new to report. I hope your weekend was better than mine.

My Big Fat Italian Ulcer

I was officially accepted into the masters program at the University of Genova. Now you know.

It seems, however, that I will not be going despite that fact. Why is that, you ask?

Italy does not want me there. Or, to be more precise, the Italians at the consulate's office in Chicago do not want me there. I will not bore you with details. If you'd like to call and protest on my behalf, please call Mr. DeCaro at 312-467-1550. Just mention my name, wait for the snickering laughter to subside, and then begin your protest. However, I suggest that you give it a few days before you try, as I am hopeful that perhaps they will reconsider.

I was wondering today why in the last couple days I have recently lost my appetite and have been eating so little. My stomach has been churning away, intermittently bestowing upon me stabbing, crampy pain, and waves of nausea. Now I know why- the stress of this whole ordeal has finally caught up to me and my body is practically screaming, "enough already!!" So maybe it's time for me to listen.

I have a plan, though. If they truly refuse to give me a visa, I plan to send the consulate's office in Chicago a greeting card. I will send them one for every major holiday, and maybe even some minor ones. I will thank them again and again for being so helpful, and I will do this for the rest of my life. I may even make them a photo card for each Christmas, just so they can have a face to put with the name. I'll probably be holding an Italian flag in the photo to remind them what an Italian patriot I am. Some cards may contain letters telling them what I've been up to, and how the year has gone. But every card will thank them profusely for their help and support in my visa issues. I will also tell them that should they ever need help in the St. Louis area to please contact me and I will be as much assistance to them as they were to me. I will sign the card, "Yours fondly, Laura Kuchnicki".

Confessions of a Clutterer

Ok, I admit it: I thought I had a serious problem- I accumulate junk faster than any other human being on the face of the planet. Every single solitary foot of my living space has clutter/junk/trash in it. It builds up to the point of driving me out of the space because I can no longer comfortably physically fit in there. It becomes unsightly, chaotic, and just plain hazardous- three weeks ago, I fell so hard on a piece of slippery junk (I think it was a bowl) that I had a terrible headache and was nauseated for 2 days. It's been particularly bad lately. Gianluca said something wise a while back that concerned me- he said he thinks being messy on the outside is a good indication to what's inside. Remembering that today, I panicked a bit and did some reading. I have to say, I have terrible news for you all: Gianluca was right, but it's all your fault:

"The condition of cluttering is the act of expressing outwardly what is going on inside the body. Clutterers hide behind clutter to keep from dealing with the people in their lives, and can sometimes use the clutter as a way of totally isolating themselves from family or friends."

I evidently do not like you guys and do not want to be around you or deal with you, so I am constantly building physical barriers out of junk to keep you away. But to my dismay, you get through anyway! Every once in a while I lose my senses (probably out of hopeless desperation) and have a major cleaning spree and destroy all my progress. Naturally, then, I have to start over from ground zero (and let me tell you that accumulating that much stuff in such a disorderly manner is no small feat). If I were smart I would just avoid you, but somehow filling rooms with junk is more fulfilling for me.

It feels so good to have finally gotten to the bottom of this.

Homemade Yogurt Recipe

Homemade Yogurt Recipe

Yogurt and Durangos

Boy, it's been a few days, huh? Sorry about the lag in posting lately- I've been busy. I know some of you are wondering how the "set-up" date with Amy's friend Kevin went. It didn't. We didn't do it for some very good reasons, and that's really all I can say about it. I am happy, though, as this has left me open to develop yet another off-the-wall hobby: yogurt-making. I don't mean the frozen kind, I mean like the Dannon and Yoplait kind- only better. That's right- I have lost the Durango, but gained the ability to create professional quality yogurt. It is so easy that I cannot believe I've never done it before. I'll show you a picture of one of my first batches. They turned out so perfectly that I considered giving up nursing and becoming a professional yogurt maker. I'd probably make more money that way.

You see how beautiful they are? I am so proud of them. At night, I tuck them in at bedtime like this:

Ok, not really. This is how you get the yogurt precursor to "set" into what we know as yogurt. A heating pad, some blankets, and a little TLC are all it takes. I gave Tiffany a jar of my vanilla yogurt- she'll have to post her opinion after she has an adequate sampling period. The best thing is you can make it how you like it (mine is fat free and sugar free)- whole milk, skim milk, tons of sugar, no sugar, whatever flavor you want, etc., and you know what's in it. No preservatives, additives, or anything. I'll post the recipe in a separate link-post just in case I've inspired you to try it (let me know how yours turned out if you do). Anyway, so that's the new "hobby" I've picked up. (I did get up at 2:00 am two nights in a row to check on them, though)

The other newsworthy item is that, as I mentioned, John (Tiffany's fiance) picked up the Durango, so it is officially out of my possession now. Here's John, smiling and happy with his new friend. I think the Durango almost looks happy, too:

So I am officially without a car of my own. Thanks to my best Italian friend (Gianluca), I do have a car to drive, though, at least until I find out whether I'm going to Italy or not. Enjoy your truck, John! :)

By popular demand: Meet the Other Sister

Okay, well only one demand really (hmm, wonder who?) It's about time I introduced my youngest sister, Ann. Here she is:

Ann is 24 years old, a fellow MU alumnus (school of Journalism), and is currently an account executive at Moosylvania Marketing. I chose this photo because the look on my nephew's face is the look on the face of lots of guys when they see her- she's very attractive, and damned photogenic. One of the reasons I love her is that despite the fact that she could probably choose any guy she pleases, she has a very funny dating track record which includes several Canadians, some overly schmoopy fellows, and one guy who lived with my parents for a while. Why does that endear her to me, you ask? Because she's obviously looking for more than appearances, and that's sort of what she's all about- character. When my sister Jennifer, my mother, and I are sitting around being catty about something, Ann will be the one to change the subject. She is my younger sister, but if I need someone to just listen to me and then offer sound advice, she's it. I can't explain that really- there's a certain advice giving/listening quality she has that lends itself very nicely to particular situations, and makes a person feel like they've really been heard. She is fiercely loyal to her friends and family- you'll find no better back-up anywhere. My mom always says that I stress her out because I worry her so much (with my misfortunate and chaotic life)- she never says that about Ann. In fact, no one worries about Ann. Why is that? She's got it together. She's intelligent, ambitious, creative, fun, and a great planner (she plans the majority of our family vacations). Sure, she takes 2 full hours to get ready to go somewhere, but when she arrives she is polished and prepared in every sense of the word. And I love her because she still needs her big sister sometimes (me, not Jennifer)- whenever she has a health scare, she calls me to find out whether she should panic or not. And although she rolls her eyes and sighs because I am so ridiculous, she still lets me talk her into things- just ask her about mineral makeup.

P.S. You know how I hate to work three in a row? The PICU called this morning and I'm "at home" today because the unit is pretty slow. So I'll only have to work 2 in a row- very manageable. That's why I'm posting this early- I was already up and ready when they called.

It's a small world after all...

As always, my time off flew by and I am preparing myself to work three in a row. I dread three in a row because by the end of it I am completely useless for an entire day. It's the combination of the stress of the job, all the driving time to and from work, and the lack of sleep I get in those three days. Anyway, I'm not looking forward to it at all although I'm sure that once I'm there, things will be fine.

Saturday's meeting with Amy was really nice- I think we talked for 2 1/2 hours or something. She showed me a picture of her friend Kevin (who she wants to set me up with), and we set a tentative plan to go out as a group this Friday at In-Cahoots (a country bar complete with mechanical bull). I'm not a big country fan, but Andrea met her husband at a place like that, so who knows?

This is a picture of Amy at Aroma's, so you can have a face to go with the name:

(See how much she loves Aroma's too?)

A couple interesting things occurred during our little visit. Would you believe that (unbeknownst to me) I already knew the people that owned my newly found, favorite coffeeshop? This makes twice now that I've known people that owned a coffeeshop I frequented, because you'll recall that last time I entered a coffeeshop in Alton (Meridian Coffee House), I realized it was owned by a girl I had gone to high school with. Anyway, so the barista looked familiar to me every time, but I couldn't place him. His wife, however, recognized me immediately- she and her husband used to own a pet sitting business that I used frequently for my dog Maddie. So we got to talking and she was telling me how she wants to put together a brochure on the history of the building, and then Amy piped up and told her that I am a good writer and before you knew it I was agreeing to do the brochure myself (research, writing, and all). So we'll see how that goes. I'm sure it's not paid, but maybe I'll get some free coffee out of the deal, and it's bound to be good experience. Anyway, as always, I'll keep you posted.

Now playing: Meet the Sister (well, one of them)...

It's a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning, and I find myself again at my table at Aroma's. Ahead of me today is a visit with Amy, Trader Joe's (my favorite grocery store), and an evening at my sister's house. Since a number of you will have never met my sister, allow me to introduce her:

This is my sister Jennifer, and that is no beer bong she's holding. It's a kids' toy that she was waving really hard in a circle while laughing and trying to talk through it. I chose this photo because it sort of illustrates what I'm about to tell you. Anyone who knows her knows how fun she is. Have you ever seen a 31 year old get really excited to go sledding after a good snowfall? Well, my sister Jennifer gets more than just excited. She strategizes about it- like thinking about how many times she'll be able to go down the hill and in what fashion (so that she is able to plan the most efficient sledding event possible). Then, after planning for and thinking of all the possible outcomes (including the quality of the snow, the material of the particular sled she is using, and the best time of day to approach the hill) , she approaches the event with all the enthusiasm and liveliness of a five year old. She'll get all dressed up so that every inch of her skin is covered (you can sled more if you conserve your heat energy, she theorizes) except the tops of her red cheeks and her eyes, which absolutely glow with the excitement of the prospect of having possibly the best sledding outing to date. Though she is so swathed in clothing that she can barely walk, there is always a certain bounce in her waddle on the way to the sledding hill. Then, with the precision of a cardiac surgeon, she arranges herself on the sled just so. Then, since at this point moving would destroy what she believes to be her aerodynamic positioning, she usually will ask her husband Carey to give her the push-off, along with careful and detailed instructions not to push too hard or shove her so that she becomes airborne. This she does with the seriousness of a funeral home director. Then, he'll push her off and down the hill she'll go. To anyone observing, it will be a nondescript trip. But to Jennifer, it is the flight of a millenium. The sled will bounce a couple times, and it will appear that she is on the brink of a wipeout, but by some miracle she will manage to remain upright on her sled. Then her sled finally crawls to a stop, and she lumbers off of it with complete lack of grace (due, I'm sure, only to the extra 50 pounds of clothing she is wearing) and, completely unabashed, she begins her trek back up the hill, breathless and grinning from ear to ear. The whole way up, you can tell she is planning the next trip down, which is sure to include several minute corrections that she has determined will make all the difference in the next ride. But with her this approach is not just limited to sledding; instead, this is how she approaches her entire life, and it is one of the reasons that she will always be one of my favorite people. She has the capability and intelligence of an adult combined with the excitement and silliness of a kid. It's quite a combination, and the next time we go sledding, feel free to come along to witness her at her best- I'm sure she could teach you a thing or two about proper sledding mechanics along the way.

Area Man Perpetually In Process Of Buying Or Selling Car | The Onion - America's Finest News Source

Area Man Perpetually In Process Of Buying Or Selling Car The Onion - America's Finest News Source

At last, I've found my soul mate....

On the question of happiness...

I’ve spent a bit of time lately thinking about what might make me happy in life. It’s not so deep a question as it may first appear. It’s actually pretty simple, at least in my case. Since there’s no single answer, this question becomes a sort of dynamic inquiry which changes from hour to hour, day to day, year to year. For example, had you asked me yesterday at work (when I was operating on approximately 4 hours of sleep) what would make me happy, I would have answered very quickly, “Going home and going to sleep.” Yet by the time I got home yesterday, happiness had changed into a couple hours of downtime and a hot bath. When I was in college, happiness was graduating, a real job, and no homework. After college, happiness was being in college. So I was thinking about this and I decided that part of what I’m lacking right now is a more permanent goal to ensure that I am happy in this life. I need to start thinking long-term, in other words. Sure, a cappuccino and a table at Aroma’s is happiness to me and probably always will be, but it’s not the sort of thing that can keep me happy for a lifetime. So what is, then? I have come up with the following:

1. Winning a multi-million dollar lottery


2. Finding the person that would marry me (and happily so, I might add) and vice versa


3. moving to a better city

#1: Winning a multi-million dollar lottery
It’s not that I think money equals happiness, but money certainly does equal opportunity. And opportunity to do whatever I want without limitations would definitely make me happy. For example, in my case, the following scenarios could only improve my life (the following are only examples, and in no way represent the only possible scenarios that such money could bring to me):
I could build, decorate, and own my own house(s)
If I wrecked my car on a Thursday, I could buy a new one a couple hours later
I could travel wherever and whenever I wanted
I would always choose private businesses over large corporations even though it costs more to do that
I could have as many horses as I want
I would become quadrilingual (English, Italian, Spanish, and French)
I would take voice lessons
I would have a personal assistant to pay all my bills, remind me of my appointments and engagements, and keep my life organized
I would go skiing. All the time.
I could pay someone to play with my hair to put me to sleep each night
I would have a personal masseuse

#2: Finding the person that would happily marry me and vice versa
You know how something can happen to you, and depending on who you’re with at the time it could be good or bad? I think when you marry well, that’s probably the case. I’m sure that out there is someone who has the ability to make me laugh, make me think, and make me happy despite all the misfortune that comes my way.

#3: Moving to a better city
I don’t know what I’m looking for in a city, but I know it’s out there and that finding it will significantly increase my happiness quotient. I figure that if I am not married within the next couple years (thereby satisfying #2), I will start moving around until I find that mecca of a city I desire. It’s not just the city that I’m wanting, but instead a kind of lifestyle that I can’t seem to achieve here in the Midwest. I guess it boils down to the fact that if I’m not settled down, then I want to be as free as possible and see/do all the things that you can’t do when you’re committed to someone else.

So what's the conclusion? I guess I need to start playing the lottery, dating a bunch, and traveling so I know where to go when the dating and lottery-playing don't work out.

Damien Rice: "Volcano"

The Bread Is Famously Good, but It Killed McDonald's - New York Times

The Bread Is Famously Good, but It Killed McDonald's - New York Times

I had to laugh when I read this...it is so typically Italian, and illustrates part of the reason I love them so much!

Go Italy!