Terrible Tuesdays: Four-Eyes

I have a terrible problem--I have to make a decision and I am notoriously bad at decision-making. And change. Especially when it comes to changing my appearance. (Please note I have only changed my hair one time since I was 20 and chopped it off for Locks of Love, and that was the Bang Phase of 2010. Let it be known that bangs and summer do NOT mix.)

Well, as you may or may not know, I do not have perfect vision. I have had some form of eyewear prescription since 1997, although I got contacts in college and never looked back. In fact I have only owned 3 pairs of glasses since 6th grade. Which is why a.) my current glasses are 11 years old, b.) they are outdated, and c.) I hate them with the passion of a thousand suns.

Here are my current glasses:

I can kind of see where sophomore-Natalie was coming from, I like the blue frames, but the shape is a little too mid-2000s for me. And they give me awful glasses marks. And once, when we were driving through Yellowstone on a family trip, my brother hit me across the face and these glasses CUT ME between my eyes. They will never be forgiven.

So anyway, after getting my prescription updated for the first time in 4.5 years (look away, Quinns!), I decided I should probably get new glasses that help me actually see in case I, like, need to see.

Enter Warby Parker.

I have a couple of friends who have gotten glasses from Warby Parker. Cute and stylish friends to boot. And I loved the idea of an at-home try-on without a pushy salesperson or fluorescent lights. So I online shopped, and a box was delivered chez moi this afternoon with five pairs of glasses (sans prescription) for me to try on!

Now, as I said, I need your help. I am hyper-critical of photos of myself (aren't we all), and so I can't really look at these pictures without seeing the zit on my nose, my pointy chin, and the fact that my eyes aren't symmetrical (nor are the tops of my ears). So, if you have a moment or two, please just look at this montage of photos and tell me which ones suck less. Please? I just suffered through taking like 50 pictures of myself, it's the least you can do...I mean, you're reading this, so just like...be opinionated for a sec. kthx.

First up, the contestants:

For the record, as you will see in further photos, I wrote "what's up with these names" under "Clyde," because I was attempting humor, and seriously, I feel like I'm talking about horses or pretentious private schoolers.

Next up, a straight-on shot of me in each pair, hopefully similar enough to compare the shape of the frames to the shape of my face/eyes/zit:

note--the two photos correspond so you know which frame is which

Finally, the talent round! Let's see what these puppies can do when I interject a little personality into them. Each contestant gets one basic shot, one shot with hair pulled back, and one "fun" shot. Let's see what these girls are made of!

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Ladies and gentlemen, those are our contestants! Please judge away, but in a nice tone.

THANK YOU!!

*Leave comments here or on facebook/pinterest/wherever this was linked--I'll find them!!*

Note: I am not sponsored by, nor affiliated with Warby Parker in any way, shape, or form. I'm just a customer, homie.

Terrible Tuesdays: I Need a Hobby

an early cartwheel attempt

It's funny how when you get older your idea of what constitutes "fun" changes so drastically. What was your favorite activity on a sunny afternoon when you were little? Mine, personally were:

- attempting to beat my previous record of continuous cartwheels in a row before I fell from dizziness (my best memory put that number around 35)...later this became much more dangerous as I learned how to do back handsprings
- making up sweet dances with my bffs
- building forts in the woods
- riding my "horse" (it was a beautiful bicycle with pink and green tires) named Sharon around the neighborhood

young Natalie's reaction
to my lack of hobbies

Nowadays, these are not the first things that pop into my head when I have an afternoon free. On any given day after work I am a.) napping, b.) attempting to surf the internet on my bed without falling asleep, c.) attempting to clean my room without falling asleep, or d.) eating.

My hobbies are a sorry state of affairs. It was much simpler when I lived in larger cities. In New York and Paris, the majority of my afternoons were spent just walking. I would explore nearby neighborhoods, walk along the river, try new foods, go to a free museum, etc. It was all at my fingertips, and it was the perfect combination of free, easy, and interesting. AND that 2-5 mile walk usually equally an extra pastry at the end of the day. If that isn't motivation, I don't know what is.

just a sight walking home

I guess one of the hardest parts of transitioning into adulthood is that things aren't "built-in." It's not easy or in-your-face to join clubs or teams. Gyms no longer come with your tuition, and for the first time in your life, it might be easier to just drive to the store than to find a ride or walk. Moving out of larger cities amplifies this by like a million, too. It's not like we have world-renowned art museums here in Athens. Or 3 different cool events every weekend. There are only so many neighborhoods to explore here, and if you grew up here then you've been through them all already, and probably explored several of the houses, too. I hiked all the trails in Athens a long time ago, and yes, the remnants of our fort are still behind my house.

an easy subway ride away from
my old apartment

This is a hobby; this blog is good. But I think it is time for me to get back into some of the things I used to enjoy when they were easy. Will I still like yoga if I have to pay per class? Am I that interested in photography when there aren't beautiful historical buildings surrounding me? Is it going to be fun to search for books I'm interested in, instead of having my friends lend me their new favorites?

exciting views in my current 'hood

Like I said, it's funny how we change as we get older.


**For the record, I was in the middle of doing this post on my bed and I fell asleep. It's like sleep is gravity and I'm trying to fly or something.**

Terrible Tuesdays: Managing

Remember when I said some posts were going to be short?

My boss is out of town this week and I am the Head Honcho 'round these parts right now. Last night I went out to dinner, and then I fell asleep. I was supposed to pick up milk for the coffee shop that afternoon, but we had plenty for the next half a day, so I put it off till after dinner. Of course, how could I anticipate that I would fall asleep? (Three hours of rest the night before should have clued me in.) Luckily I have an alarm at 10pm every evening, and that roused me.

So it's 10pm, we need milk, I have to be at work in 8 hours. Wal-Mart it is. Now, if there is one thing I have learned in my adult life, it's that Wal-Mart is just the worst. Hey, Wal-mart, where are your tissues?? Not near the medicine, not near the make up, not in "Health and Beauty." No, they are by the paper towels and toilet paper. Which are all in the opposite corner of a giant store. Yeah, that makes sense.

Luckily, I have a saint of a mother, and when I called to find out if our second fridge (that's another story) had enough room to store 25 gallons of milk overnight (it does), she caught the sleep in my voice and offered to come help. We hustled into Wal-Mart, meaning business. Straight to the back, grabbed 15 whole, 10 skim (we mix them if someone asks for 2%), out of there in less than 10 minutes total. GOOD TO GO, BABY.

Fast forward to this afternoon. I worked my 9-hour shift, went to the post office (aka the other worst), and came home,  and prepared to relax, make muffuletta for Mardi Gras, and not work.

Ding ding.

Obviously text from work.

"hey...someone bought 1%, not skim"

EUGHGUGHUEEGHHGUHG.

I cursed myself for not checking labels/caps (Wal-Mart's skim milks have PINK caps, everyone else has BLUE caps), rushed to work, grabbed the milk, rushed to Wal-Mart, loaded it all in a cart, ran it inside, stood in line, asked for an exchange, grabbed another cart, rushed to the back of the store, loaded 10 skim milks, waited in line again, exchanged the stuff, went back to the milk section because we needed some more whole milk for tomorrow, looked EVERYWHERE for Clif Bars (I hate Wal-Mart), paid, drove back to work, unloaded, and...finally...finished my day. An hour and a half in total, including the convenient State Street detour they set up on my way back with the new milk.

My boss comes back tomorrow. I'm so excited, I'm delirious. The next person who looks at the harried version of me pushing a cartload of milk, and goes, "Got milk?" is going down.

Terrible Tuesdays: My Car is Stuck

snowy Toledo

Sunday was the Superbowl. You probably knew that, but I like to be clear. Sunday was also a very long day in the Life of Natalie. We were up in Toledo for a funeral this past weekend, and on Sunday, I had two sick parents, a dog with a bleeding dew claw and paranoia, a lot of cleaning to do, and a four-hour car ride. Let's also note, that this was at the end of a weekend where I felt the most like a kid I have felt in a long time. (Please note this is not anyone's fault of anything, but something about sleeping on a couch, being the only single person around, having no privacy, and not being in charge of what was happening at all will do that to a person.)

age I felt last weekend

So it was a long weekend. And when we finally got back to Athens, I felt like I had just read the most meandering novel ever. Probably we all felt like that--blurry eyes, dry mouth, a desire to crawl under the blankets but an inability to sleep....or maybe that was just me?

Anyway, I had made plans to go watch the Superbowl. And I was feeling crazy already, after being cooped up in snowy Toledo. You know when you can sort of feel the tears rising in your throat and they make no sense, so you just ignore them because all you want to feel is normal? It was sort of that feeling all day.

cooped up

We back into the driveway at home, and of course it's slippery. Dad puts the brakes on, and we decide to just haul our stuff in from there. Of course, the first thing to happen is I fall down, dropping my pillow in the snow and landing a bit hard on my right wrist. After righting myself, I proceed to almost fall 3 more times before reaching the top of the driveway. Remember the mounting frustration, and let's continue...

...we unloaded the car slowly, and I got salt all over my pants from bracing myself on the van...

...I'm getting ready to leave and my mother's sincere, good intentions confuse me, and so I become impatient and further frustrated...

...I go to put on my rubber boots and step in melted snow (from me, earlier), thus soaking my warmest socks, and requiring me to go back upstairs, get dry socks, walk in the melted snow with bare feet back to my wet boots, dry my feet and then put on the socks and boots again...

...then I realize I left my coat upstairs...

...after which I can't find the keys I had in my hand when the sock debacle began, and I start rummaging angrily through my giant, bottomless purse...

site of debacle, bottom right corner

...during all of which my parents are being extremely nice which just makes me feel crazier in comparison...

...so I head out to clean off my car, which means I end up with snow up my sleeve...

...and then...my car won't budge from the curb.

The wheels are spinning. I can smell hot tires. But it the pavement is clear under my car, and all my rationality is slipping away faster and faster. I am pretty sure I growled at this point, and then yanked my keys from the ignition, stomp up the driveway and wrench open the door.

Me: "SO, MY CAR IS STUCK."

Mom and Dad come to the top of the stairs.

Dad: "What?"

Me: "THE WHEELS ARE SPINNING AND IT WON'T MOVE."

Dad: "Keep the wheels strai--"

Me: "I DID THAT DON'T YOU THINK I DID THAT."

Dad: "Natalie, you don't need to get worked up like this."

Me: "I'M SORRY I'M JUST TIRED AND...AND...WAHH AHH AHHH...."

Yup, big, grown-up Natalie starts bawling. I throw my keys on the stairs and had the decency to walk away for the moment. I knew, during the moment, that I was being irrational. But it couldn't be helped. It was inevitable that I was going to cry at some point during the evening, and when my Taurus wouldn't budge, it was the end.

Luckily, my saintly mother (recognizing something in me, perhaps?), followed me out the door. She salted under my tires, and gave me a push, and I pulled out. On my way to get gas (oh, yeah, my gas light was on, which always gets me a little panicky), I kept up this awful, gulping sob noise. It was bizarre. Honestly, looking back, it's obvious that I was overstressed from the funeral, the tight quarters, and feeling a little helpless all weekend. And of course, it ended up being a nice evening, and I returned to normal fairly quickly.

Anyone else get that rising-tears-crazy feeling from time to time? Isn't it the worst? Hopefully the story I tell next Tuesday doesn't involve anymore tears!

acting normal again

Terrible Tuesdays: The Dog Park

bi-polar winter

Today it was a beautiful day in Athens, Ohio. For those of you experiencing similar weather, I gush with you about this random spring day in January! For those of you who are still perhaps frozen, I apologize and heretofore stfu.

Anyway, today I had the misfortune of working my long shift, which is open (at 6:30am) to 3pm. It's a grueling 8.5 hour workday without any breaks, sitting, or time to think. And today especially it was super fun making vast quantities of iced delicacies for the thawed masses who decided today was the day to really screw their New Year's resolutions. Luckily, we had the door open, the breeze blowing, and behind the espresso behemoth, it was probably only in the mid-80s. (Side note: I fear summer.) Obviously, as soon as I could skedaddle out of that mess, I did.

As you may or may not know, my parents spent the better part of January on a tropical cruise through the Panama Canal. Yes, I did want to kill them and steal their tickets. But that is not the point. The point is that I was left home to care for my sweet little dog, Zoe. Aside from curing me of any desire at all to acquire a puppy at this state of my life (read: the lazy state), Zoe and I also had quite the adventure figuring out a schedule that worked for both of us. She likes to wake up around 8 or 8:30; I have to be at work by 6:30 most days. She enjoys sleeping on 90%; I require my half at the absolute minimum. And she never listens (deaf dog joke!). Towards the end of our solitary confinement (ask me how guilty I felt leaving her alone all day and then ALSO going out at night), we hit upon the perfect schedule: a quick jaunt around the block before work, a fast-and-furious run at the dog park mid-afternoon, then a long and lazy walk a few hours after dinner.

Well, today it was a gorgeous day, and even though the dog-walking responsibilities are again being shared between three people, I decided we should give our old schedule a go, and Zoe and I scooted down to the West State ballfields.

Naturally, we expected some mud. And honestly, it wasn't too bad. There were a lot of larger dogs tearing up the ground, which made the squish-factor a little higher, but more dogs = more fun.

the tree line of disaster, as it shall henceforth be known

So we tiptoed in, because Zoe doesn't like to make a splash and have all the dogs on her at once. Usually that ends with her getting humped and she is no hussy. Instead, we creep in through the trees while she sniffs at every clump of grass that has ever seen the business end of a dog.

Happily, today Zoe jumped right into the mix, and after nipping a big shaggy thing who was trying to get frisky, she was leading the pack around and around and around. My dog can turn on a dime, for real. Sometimes this is bad, and she'll get knocked down by a dog less adept at the fake-outs, but usually she shakes it off.

Well today, she immediately headed for the trees on the other side and was promptly followed by her adoring fan club. Next thing I know, she's decided to *ahem* leave her mark for all to see. I sighed, because of course my dog goes number two on the other side of the park, forcing me to traipse through the muck and puddles without getting knocked over by an errant canine. I approached the tree line, and got ready to do my dog-owner duty (doody, get it??). But I was faced with a problem: the poo had disappeared.

Listen, I know what my dog's crap looks like. She somehow poops 2-5 times a day, and it is distinctive. I do NOT want to describe it on my pretty little blog, but believe you me, there was no Zoe poop by the tree line. I looked everywhere, including the soles of my shoes. Zoe had moved on with her pack, and I saw a couple of them doing that big stretch-and-kick thing you see cats doing to "hide" their business. Which led me to thinking...

I know a couple disgusting dogs. They eat things they should not eat. They have lived under my roof; I know these truths self-evidently. It's gross. And I had a sneaking suspicion that one of Zoe's gang maybe liked her rear-end deposit a little too much, if you catch my drift. Dogs are fun.

she was just chilling the whole time

And then I was met with a conundrum: I was still with an empty Kroger bag. All the owners had seen my dog's awkward squat; they knew what had happened. Not picking up after your dog is cause for SERIOUS confrontation and ostracizing. I was suddenly nervous--even if another dog HAD enjoyed an afternoon snack just now, how could I prove it? Maybe I was just a lazy kid/college student/person who refused to pick up after their dog! Maybe they were all talking about how I hadn't picked anything up yet! I was about to have to discuss my dog's pooping habits and how I very clearly knew that her bits and pieces were NOT by the tree!

So what do I do? Like any sane, non-confrontational person, I waved my dog over and made a big show of asked her where she left her goodies. When she didn't reply, I made an obvious attempt at searching the premises, before stuffing the still-empty bag in my pocket. Then, I skirted the edges of the park, keeping out of the mud, and away from anyone who didn't have four legs. And finally, after 10 minutes, I made a big show of "TIME TO GO" and we clipped the leash and fairly skipped out of the park. No one said a word. But that doesn't mean they weren't judging me as a bad dog-owner. Can I ever show my face again?? (I hope so, because as we were leaving there was a TINY puppy arriving and I cursed the dog that ate my dog's poop.)

And that, my friends, is the awkward case of the missing dog crap. And just another lovely story of my life. You're welcome.

this is her "wtf is wrong with you,
do your job" face...so sweet

And now, Terrible Tuesdays can go nowhere but up...because how could I possible go lower than a story about poop?

Terrible Tuesdays

Hey remember when I wrote in this thing?

....right.

So I've decided I'm going to start doing some weekly feature-type situations, where I post regularly on a certain subject every week. A lot of successful blogs (by successful, I mean interesting, hilarious, and cool) that I read tend to do this. It definitely gives a somewhat random blog a bit more structure...plus it gives you readers something AWESOME to look forward to! Like Postsecret on Sundays, except probably not like that at all. Like the idea of Postsecret. It'll probably execute more like...drinking too much on a Friday: disastrous, but predictable.

The first weekly feature (oh, there may be TWO or THREE eventually!) I have decided to implement, which I think goes along with the original intent of the blog quite nicely, is called Terrible Tuesdays. On Tuesday, I will tell you a real-life story of something tragically preventable and altogether completely ridiculous that happened to me in the past week, in horrifying detail. I call it Terrible Tuesdays, not because I am a pessimist or anything, but because I am an alliterator...an alliterarian...an allitigator. Because I like alliteration.

Well look at that! This means I have to post tomorrow. Are you excited? It could be something astonishingly cringeworthy, like when I completely didn't recognize someone from high school on Friday and instead ignored said person because I thought I didn't know them, only to realize I had causally dated them in high school. I dated around two people in high school. YEAH. Or maybe it will be a slow-motion breakdown of the time I gently set two glass shelves in a sink of soapy water to sanitize, only for one of them to shatter in the sink. Or maybe it will be a poetic muse on the fact that I have been "cleaning my room" for around 6 hours today and there is still a decorated, tinsel Christmas tree in my room. If you guys like this feature then maybe...maybe, someday, you will get to see the instructional "Wobble" dance video I made as an early wedding present for my friends.

Oh, it's gonna be good.

(FYI, some posts will probably just be a ridiculous photo of me. Like the one below.)

just pretending to sleep, while standing up in my kitchen...average night

See you tomorrow!

Midwestern Blogging

Hi friends! In an effort to emerse myself more into the blogging world, I'm going to be joining up with some other awesome Midwestern lady bloggers in a collaboration of sorts. Even though LA and New York are the blogging hot spots of the moment, there are a ton of cool blogs written by people just like me(!) nearby. I'm excited to learn more about promoting my blog and how to focus my writing and content into something perhaps a little more marketable. It's a new step for me, and so I'm just saying...watch this space!!

The mastermind behind all this is La Petite Fashionista up in Wisconsin. Check her out! And don't worry--I will keep you abreast of all newness in my blogging world, and I will definitely link to my work elsewhere (like on the Midwest Style Blog).