I’m the type of person who can read the same book over and over again. I first read “The Little House” books when I was seven. I read them every year through my teens. I was busy with other books for a long time but recently have come back to them. I’ve read them annually for the past 3 or 4 years.

I sometimes read so fast that I don’t remember character names or plotlines 24 hours after I finish the book. I’m completely engrossed while I read the book and then my brain dumps the information shortly thereafter.

Strangely enough, I can read 3 or 4 books at the same time. I never thought the habit was odd until a friend called me out. He thinks this habit means I’m certifiably insane. Hopping between several different types of book, depending on my mood, suits me fine.

I’m deep into winter burrowing mode and just found Shelfari. I’ve got a lot of work to do to catalogue my book reading conquests.

What are your book habits? Do you read much? Can you read your favorites over and over? Are you insane and able to read multiple books at one time?

What the hell? This is a mess!

And who the hell needs 800 twist ties??!?!!

ahhhh, all better now.

Driving from Cleveland Friday afternoon was fun.  Really wet snow started to fall when we were about an hour outside our destination.  I wasn’t worried because none of the snow was sticking to the roads.  We exited the thruway and got on one of several back roads.  Each road was successively more remote and more snow covered.   We were driving towards the “sticks” and it was a classically  hilly and the roads were curvy and fun.  It got more and more treacherous as we drove.  We noticed a few cars stranded on the roadsides and I decided to slow it down a bit.

We got to the campground office to check in.  There was already about 4 inches of snow on the ground!  Luckily, the rest of our friends made it to the  campground at about the same time.  So, we were all safe, all there and the partying could commence.   It snowed consistently all night and into the next morning.

We woke up to this.

snOMG, is this gorgeous or what?

Our other parties who were set to arrive on Saturday morning didn’t make it.  They were snowed in.   If we needed to go anywhere, I guess we were snowed in too.

Proof we got a ton of snow?

(yes, I’m blogging about laundry)

This particular laundramat is huge, clean and 10 minutes from my house.

Two rules:
• never go to this laundramat at night
• never go to this laundramat on the weekend, if you can help it

If you have to break these two rules, God help you. Does the phrase, “Oh the Humanity!” mean anything to you?

I think it’s some kind of franchise as the signage is great. It’s actually really awesome.

The coffee? Par for the course.

You know the lull between wash begin & end? Great time for reflection, doing that there Sudoku or just watching it all happen.

Or you could sink  your hard earned quarters into their games.

My mind always wanders back to college days when a bi-weekly laundry trip was a necessity.  And somewhat of a ritual.
My girlfriend, The Hammer, and I would saddle up in her huge red car. We’d storm the laundramat, filling 15 or 20 washers with all our disgusting college worn laundry. I hate to state the obvious here, but we needed barrels full of quarters.  As soon as the laundry was started, we’d dash off to the McDonald’s down the street.  Through the drive through for Dt. Cokes and Cheeseburgers.  And then back to start the drying/folding process.

We were a well oiled machine. The Hammer was better oiled than me.  I had to step up my folding efficiency just to hang with her. Thanks, Hammer for teaching me how to fold and sort laundry. Now if I can just find someone to actually put my laundry away.

If you don’t know what it means….

too bad.

Because if I told you, I’d have to kill you.

Well most of every day, I’m telling myself I recovered from the insanity of December.  Telling myself to get the Hell Over It.  It’s been a month already…what the hell’s wrong with me.  Sometimes when the morning starts out gray and I’m feeling groggy, well, I tell myself I’m not over it yet.

Mostly I’m over it though.  I know, you’re confused.

Well my friends.  I’m over it.  I can tell myself this as much as I want but…

I have  lovely, smart, creative, delightful girlfriends who let me know.  I know I’m over it because what they’ve gone through in the last year?  Their shit?  Well my shit?  It pales in comparison.

So, my girls are getting their groove back on.  One needs an awesome new outfit to help turn her around.  Like an outfit that’s not jeans and a baggy sweater.  Something cute.  Something sorta sexy.  Something that might make her husband come court her again.  Yep, that kind of an outfit.

Another girl needs to start reconnecting.  Hanging with her people more face to face.  Grooving, sharing, listening to music.  Going out of the house for something more than groceries.  You know…going out and seeing what the world is doing.

Another girl needs to start reconnecting too.  She ’s looking for a new job.  She doesn’t have a job now.  She needs to find her old friends and reconnect.  Then see if the old friends have some connecting they can do for her.  To help her find her new, perfect job.

Sound familiar?  Yeah, it all sounds real familiar to me.  I need my girls.  I need the support and friendship to make me feel good.  To tell me I’m smart and funny and cute.  And I need my girls so I can tell them the same.

I love my girlfriends and the power and hope and fun we can provide for each other.

miked is funny as hell and he’s smart.  He has two rules:   his word on the correct answer is always final and he will never play the video portion of the quiz twice.  If those aren’t his two rules, I guess I’m screwed.

I used to go to the Pub Quiz with my neighbor and other friends a couple of years ago.  Due to logistics and crazy schedules, we stopped going.

Tonite was the first night we’ve been to Pub Quiz in about 2 years.  It was a blast.  We killed in the first 4 rounds, unfortunately we sucked in the rest of the 6 rounds.  But we had a hell of a good time.

Just for the record, I rocked with the answers Holden Caulfield, Emma, The Great Depression and Tony the Tiger.  The other ones?  I sucked.

Thanks to my fine neighbor Jenny and her friend Gerry.

See you next month!

What’s a King Cake? It has everything to do with Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday. It’s a traditional sweet pastry dough cake with yummy pecan, brown sugar filling. A small baby doll is hidden in the cake. The person who eats the piece of cake containing the baby doll gets to make the cake the next year.

Guess who found the King Cake Baby last year?

It should end up looking something like this.

If it’s anything close to this pretty, I promise to give you a little peek later this week. Wish me luck!

My granmother was bothered that I was reading it. She said something about “bad language”. Funny, she had no Idea I could already talk like a sailor.

Grandma probably didn’t like the idea of my mom reading it in the early 60’s. Thanks for writing it Mr. Salinger. Thanks mom, for breaking in grandma.

Oooh, and I think I need to read it again.

Rest in peace, Mr. Salinger.

It was 1 am. We needed a few “road pops” for the ride to Parma and back.

We needed a Growler from Great Lakes Brewing Company. A Growler full of tasty beer was exactly what we needed.

We also decided that the growler would become “community property” between our nearest neighbors.

I’m going to need to fill it up in anticipation of our Groundhog Weekend celebration.