Ipod Baby!!

My brand new, very first, ipod classic just arrived today. YIPPEE!!!!

I've already synced it up with my computer's itunes, corrected the gross error of transferring only Act I of Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog, and may have even squeed once or twice. In a professional capacity, natch.

Now I realize that in today's electronic global marketplace, this is probably like saying I've just discovered that there's this new mechanical thing and when you pick it up and dial a number, it allows you to speak to other people clear across town - across the world even! While my writing friends and colleagues are debating the merits of Kindle versus the Sony Reader, I'm just giddy over my run-of-the-mill ipod.

Understand that while I am Gadget Girl, I am not the sort of woman who eagerly plops down hundreds of hard earned dollars on the Next New Thing. Mostly because there's always a better version of That Thing mere months down the road. But really because there always seems to be exponentially better things to plop that money on - like rent and food and petrol. There are easily a dozen different internal justifications I have to endure to allow an indulgence of this level. Imagine what subconscious machinations it took for me to purchase my laptop!

It helps that I (effectively) didn't pay for the ipod.

Thanks to a gift card from my company for my 5 year anniversary, my Christmas gift from my Dad and Judy, my old friend's apple discount, and my sister's Christmas gift generosity - possibly fueled by a latent desire to shut me up and just get the damn thing already! - it's a done deal. (See - self-justification in just four easy steps!)

The snazzy darling finally arrived this morning along with my dark red (but of course!) iskin and complete with personal engraving, which reads "Your Name Is Music. And I Will Sing." I'm listening to my man Van crooned down the electronic pathways this very moment. Yes indeed, it is a very Sweet Thing.

What's something you finally allowed yourself to indulge in? Do you have personal hoops to jump through before you allow yourself (or your SO) to purchase something special?

Not a Domestic Goddess

It's not a revelation that I am not a domestic goddess. Well, not a revelation to me. Or to anyone who's actual seen my apartment. Nonetheless, there comes a time when even I have to step up and - gulp - do housework. I fail to understand why this has to be on my holiday weekend, but I imagine it has more to do with finally having the time than not being able to live with the dirt and cat fur anymore.

My Thanksgiving weekend was full with a capital F. T-day morning was spent being lazy before heading to my boss' for her usual awesome spread and cast of thousands. This is also where I discovered heretofore unknown mad skillz on the drums as I kicked serious ass on the Rock Band video game. Friday was the traditional trip to PA to visit grandparents - a long, late day with lots of driving, dodgy diner food, an overly warm apartment and the all important nap via recliner. I did get the chance to surf web sites with my grandfather as we searched for info on the aircraft carrier he served on in WW II. One of the sites had the boatswain's (or something like that) whistle that I could play for him. Ninety-year-old man grinning like a kid - priceless.

Saturday was shopping with Mom as we used up her birthday gift cards. Shopping with my mother is a trial to be endured with good supportive shoes, full mental/emotional armor, and a loaded flask. Sadly, I was sans flask. This is a woman who shops when she can barely walk - when I can barely walk. But I persevered, through Target, an abortive attempt at Walmart, and a successful if rude experience at Sears Hardware. Now, of course, about half of the stuff has to be returned/exchanged.

I then lost the battle against a live Christmas tree (my new furniture!!) and spent 10 cold minutes at the Lion's Club tree lot explaining to Mom that the happy, nearly 7 foot Douglas Fir she wanted would fail to fit under our 6 and a bit foot ceiling. We wound up with a 5 1/2 foot Canaan fir that is happy enough, I promise. Once home, I dragged the enormous Christmas decoration box out of the inferno that is my laundry/storage room, only to discover that I no longer owned a tree stand. Moving casualty. So off to Walgreens I went, tree still affixed to the roof of my car, like the Grinch and his sleigh only no Max.

And then came a frustrating hour setting the tree up.

How successful was I at this?

It tilts.

But so does my apartment, so really, from the right angle, it's actually straight.

Polish logic.

Sunday, I played hooky from church (yes, I know, I'm going to hell on an express elevator) and cleaned like a madwoman. This included installation of the new kitchen curtains (gift cards!) complete with hardware, a process that included creative swearing (why be dull?) mismeasurements, unscrewing the screws I just screwed (?) remeasuring, rescrewing...did I mention I'm not a domestic goddess?

On the plus side? Kitchen now looks bee-u-ti-ful.

I had planned to write this weekend, to clean things up for a submission, but Mice and Men have nothing on me for plans gone awry. It was 6pm Sunday night, back spasming, belly growling, before I was able to light my eucalyptus candle and set up my personal tea pot and matching cup and saucer with tasty Vanilla Carmel tea - all necessary elements for my muse to flow. Which she kind of did...but mostly didn't.

And yet? Still better than living in Weehawken.

How was your Thanksgiving - relaxing or fulfilling - or both?