Pickin'.

I've been watching American Pickers on the History Channel lately--two guys who travel the country, pouring over other people's junk in old barns and attics. "Junk," of course, is in the eye of the beholder. I am a trash-to-treasure kind of girl myself, so I appreciate that ethic.

One of the houses on my walking route was having an estate sale last weekend. On Sunday, they marked everything 50% off. I thought we should take a look; at worst, it was a chance to snoop around someone else's house, something else I enjoy.

I spied this, for $2.50.

I've been in the market for a food processor--my one-cupper is practically useless.

Is this an awesome bargain or a disgusting mistake? I can't tell if food-prep equipment is one of those things that you never should buy used--like shoes or underwear--because you don't know where it's been. I scrubbed and disinfected the daylights out of it, and though it could use some blade sharpening, it works like new. (Even if "new" was 1983.) For $2.50, I think it was worth the gamble.

Thread.

I got my eyebrows threaded yesterday, something I like to do from time to time. It's more of a shaping exercise than a plucking one. And man alive, does it hurt. But the process is fascinating enough that maybe that allays the pain a bit.

You have to admit, my eyebrow game is fierce.

What do you think of my braids? I can't remember my hair ever being long enough to pull this off. And by the way, that shirt was $4 at the Gap. My shopping game is also quite fierce these days.

Threading photo is from here.

Ghost of a chance.

While discussing with my mom potential bedroom assignments (i.e., which rooms are haunted) and where everyone is going to sleep at the cabin vacation this summer, this question was raised: do we want the place to be haunted, or don’t we?

Interesting. My best answer is: yes while I’m not there, but no while I am.

And let’s be honest: how am I going to recognize a ghostly encounter from my usual nightly tomfoolery? For Pete’s sake, last night I yelled “Get out of here!” to the people I thought had set up a table and chairs in our bedroom. So.

Noticably different.

I will admit, this will probably sound reactionary. And if I read it on someone else's blog, I might even roll my eyes a little, just a little, and think, yeah right.

Of course, this isn't someone else's blog. So don't be rolling your eyes. Play along.

I like Anthropologie, as we have established. I like the clothes, I like the housewares, I like the aesthetic. Though all I've ever bought there are tchochtskies, I like to look around and touch the pretty, overpriced dresses. I've never felt completely comfortable, though. Like people are looking at me and thinking, No way she fits in these clothes. And of course, they have long been right, but STFU anyway. I'm allowed to look and dream and buy numbered spiced jars and pretty wall hooks and whatever the hell else I want.

It's been a long while since I've been in there. Partially because I know I never really buy anything when I go, but also partly because I have always been largely ignored by the staff. No greeting, no Can I Help You. It's palpable. To me. Or maybe it's just the solipsism of the insecure--imaging everything is a personal slight. (Of course, it's not just Anthropologie that brings this out in me; it's many stores. This all just happened to go down at Anthro is all.)

So, now I'm 70 pounds lighter. I am a "normal" size. I could probably fit in the pretty, flowy $300 dresses. (OK, maybe not in the chest area, but whatever.) And when I went in there on Saturday, I was greeted and offered help by three different salespeople.

Could be totally random. Could be new training directives for better customer service. Could be any number of things, but you see how I've connected it. And I was both validated--I look normal, and therefore worthy of service!--and pissed off. I am the exact same person as I was 9 months ago.

It's confusing. Like Pretty Woman but staring Kirstie Alley.

What the world sounds like.

Since I've never had normal hearing (birth defect), I have no idea what the world actually sounds like at a normal-range hearing level. I suspect it is very loud and will cause me to want to cover my new bionic ears.

Had the hearing-aid impressions done on Friday, and I should be fitted for the hearing aids and LIVE in about 2 weeks.

All the people whose cubes are near mine and think that they barely need to whisper in order pass secrets better get ready for their worlds to get turned upside down.

Military chic or Private Benjamin?

I bought this jacket at the Gap the day after Christmas for $17.

I've been wearing it pretty nonstop, since most of my coats and jackets are now too big for me. (Which, yay.) The other day I was wearing it at work because I was freezing at my desk. When I went to the bathroom, I got a good look at myself in the mirror. And my first thought was: Good grief, I look like Private Benjamin.

There is a fine line between military-inspired and army surplus. I believe this jacket may straddle that line more than I originally thought. But let's be honest: I bought it because it was $17 and I love a bargain. I'll probably keep wearing it regardless.