Hamster on a piano (eating popcorn) & other silliness

For over a month now, these ridiculous songs have been stuck in my head. Now it's your turn. Enjoy!



...eating popcorn on a pianooo.



Meow!



Boogie.



I have posted my love for spaghetti cat before.

Any favorites? :)

One Word

One word kept coming back to me today, jumpsuit. Today was my first day back at work and it was a little rough. My clothes were uncomfortable and rub up against my incisions and my abdomen and back hurt from sitting and trying to get comfortable all day. All I wanted was my navy blue jumpsuit. I spoke of it often and daydreamed about wearing it to work tomorrow.

The word exercise below was passed along to me today and I thought it was fun. Take a stab at it!

Type only one word answers! Copy and paste in my comment section or on your own blog.

1. Where is your cell phone? ear

2. Your significant other? Johnny

3. Your mother? Beautiful

4. Your father? Traveling

5. Your favorite thing? Love

6. Your dream last night? Eh

7. Your favorite drink? Tea

8. Your dream/goal? Flourish

9. The room you're in? Living

10. Your fear? Unfulfillment

11. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Goodquestionstillfiguringthatout. (I cheat!)

12. Where were you last night? Crawfordsville

13. What you're not? Idle

14. Muffins? Chocolate

15. One of your wish list items? Family

16. Where you grew up? Jersey

17. The last thing you did? Talked

18. What are you wearing? Comfies

19. Your TV? Mute

20. Your pet? Companions

21. Your computer? Hot

22. Your life? Full

23. Your mood? Achey

24. Missing someone? Always

25. Your car? Rainy

26. Something you're not wearing? Jumpsuit :(

27. Your favorite store? Banana

28. Your summer? Aqueous

29. Your favorite color? Green

30. When was the last time you laughed? Today

31. Last time you cried? Sunday

32. Four places you go over and over? Work, Indianapolis, grocery, lunch

33. Four of your favorite foods? Chocolate, pizza, fruit, cheese (I think I am part mouse!)

34. Four places you would rather be right now? Florence, Prague, New Zealand, California

35. Four people who will respond? Carolyn, Keenan, Lindsay, Kyleigh

Sans Gallbladder

I'm back, reporting to the blog sans gallbladder. Thank you all for the well wishes, calls and visits.

I woke up Friday and was ready to go. I was a bit nervous, but ready to get everything over with. I didn't get up too early because I didn't want time to sit around and feel anxious. I got into my "surgery outfit" aka my navy blue velour jumpsuit from Old Navy that I have been living in since Friday. I definitely channeling J-Lo from 2001 but I have no shame. I don't know why I waited years to get me one of these jumpsuits.

John and my dad took me over to the surgical center and I got prepped for surgery. I got hooked up to every machine imaginable and just waited for the procedure to begin. I hardly remember being knocked out, but I do remember the "martini" my anesthesiologist gave me beforehand. I didn't even know when they were knocking me out, it just happened and then I woke up in my recovery room and was struggling to comprehend the words my surgeon was using as he spoke to me. After a bit, I was able to move up and around and soon after, I headed home. I headed to bed and slept for a bit. Since then I have been up and around, but spending a lot of time resting. I am sore and do not have much energy. I'm looking forward to moving around better and feeling more like myself. Today I was allowed to shower, so that was my biggest feat which totally exhausted me. Yesterday John washed my hair in the sink, so I was able to feel clean and look presentable for a few visitors who stopped by.

I have to admit I was worried about having my dad and John take care of me because I wasn't sure about their nurse qualifications, but I have to say I couldn't have been more wrong. John has been the best caretaker and I can't thank him enough. He has been so attentive to me and knows exactly what I need and when I need it. Who knew? I think he just raised the bar big time. He even created me a 3-foot long straw, so that I could drink without straining to move too much. But his invention didn't go over to well because he forgot about the laws of suction when he placed the glass higher than my head. After the system was primed, water filled my cheeks, cascaded down my face, on my pillow and all over my shirt. We had a good laugh about that, but I couldn't really get a good belly laugh going because of all my incisions. Ouch! I have been wary of the straw since.

I am going to get back to relaxing, watching tv, and not moving around much. Thanks to everyone for thinking about me. Here are a few pictures (compliments of Keenan) from Thanksgiving with the Burkett's. I know gallbladder talk and food don't mix well, so I apologize for that. But in my world, my gallbladder, food, and everything for that matter, go hand in hand right now.

Thanksgiving dinner

All the goodies

Baby Luke has his little seat at the table
All the guests at the table looking at baby Luke!

Me and John

Me and Keenan (why hasn't anyone told me my glasses are crooked?!)

Me and Johnny again

Saturday night party...thugs and groupies?

Yes, most definitely.

Operation Whitney & The Gallbladder Diaries

My sister Kyleigh just called and said, "You haven't blogged in a month. Write a list of things that make you feel warm and fuzzy." Well, you aren't going to get that list right now, but you'll get a post. Is that okay Ky? :)

Anyway, I feel like I have been moving in fast forward and often think about posting a blog, but once at home I get wrapped up in other things. I feel like I have so much to catch you up on from horseback riding in the woods, renting a cabin with friends, girls' night out, Thanksgiving...and "Operation Whitney." No, I am not going to war, but I am getting operating on. I have a surgery this Friday and I am a bit freaked out by it all. I have to get my gallbladder taken out because it is causing problems. I've been keeping my friends updated with what I call, "The Gallbladder Diaries" but have neglected writing them down! So here goes the Cliff Notes version...

It all started a few months ago, with what I know now, a gallbladder attack. A gallbladder is one of the most painful and uncomfortable things I have ever experienced. It is completely debilitating and I never know how long it will last. The first one lasted for about three hours and was incredibly painful. It feels like an awful, dull pain right where my ribs meet. That night I tossed and turned and eventually the pain went away. I should have thought about going to the doctor then, but since it was just one night, I somewhat forgot about it...until the next attack. The next attack struck while I was driving. I was in instant pain and thought I might pass out or get sick. I just wanted to get home as soon as possible because I didn't want to be behind the wheel. I broke out into a sweat from the pain and was relieved when it didn't last hours like the one before. Now that I had two attacks, though far apart, I remembered they were very alike. I called to make an appointment with the doctor right away. Before I could get into a doctor, I had a third attack. The third wasn't that bad and John was a witness to it. He thought it was awful. Later when the pain subsided he said, "Wow. That one was really bad." I responded, "On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the worst pain, this one just was a 3."

After having a few conversations with people, including my other sister Courtney who works in medicine, I was pretty sure I had gallstones. My doctor agreed and I had to get an ultrasound. That was a weird experience because I never thought I would get one unless I was pregnant, but it was neat to see some of my organs. A few days later I found out that I have a gallstone. One gallstone. One stinkin' gallstone causing all these problems. The attacks occur when the stone gets stuck in the duct going down to to my digestive system and I get relief when it becomes dislodged. I was told surgery is the only option because my gallbladder is bad. My doctor also told me "Everyday is a gamble with my situation" and I could wind up in the ER so fast if my body tried to pass the stone. He gave me some scenario about how I could be out on a Saturday night and then BAM, attack...followed by a trip to the ER, and if I am lucky, a planned surgery...if I am not, an emergency one. Gallstones are nothing like kidney stones. I can't pass the stone or just get it removed. The fact that I have a gallstone means that I have a "bad" gallbladder. The organ isn't functioning well and allowed a stone to be created. At least the gallbladder is an organ one can live without! After coming out, it shouldn't affect me too much, but we will have to see.

I am sure you all know much more about my gallbladder (and maybe even yours) than you ever thought you would know. Be thankful for your hard-working, attack-free gallbladder! Maybe I will blog from my recovery bed? I will be relieved once this is all over.

Keeping Election Day Light

Just another reason why I love Natalie Portman...

See more Natalie Portman videos at Funny or Die

See more Natalie Portman videos at Funny or Die

Undecided

UNDECIDED

By David Sedaris, featured in The New Yorker

I don’t know that it was always this way, but, for as long as I can remember, just as we move into the final weeks of the Presidential campaign the focus shifts to the undecided voters. “Who are they?” the news anchors ask. “And how might they determine the outcome of this election?”

Then you’ll see this man or woman— someone, I always think, who looks very happy to be on TV. “Well, Charlie,” they say, “I’ve gone back and forth on the issues and whatnot, but I just can’t seem to make up my mind!” Some insist that there’s very little difference between candidate A and candidate B. Others claim that they’re with A on defense and health care but are leaning toward B when it comes to the economy.

I look at these people and can’t quite believe that they exist. Are they professional actors? I wonder. Or are they simply laymen who want a lot of attention?

To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”

To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.

I mean, really, what’s to be confused about?

When doubting that anyone could not know whom they’re voting for, I inevitably think back to November, 1968. Hubert Humphrey was running against Richard Nixon, and when my mother couldn’t choose between them she had me do it for her. It was crazy. One minute I was eating potato chips in front of the TV, and the next I was at the fire station, waiting with people whose kids I went to school with. When it was our turn, we were led by a woman wearing a sash to one of a half-dozen booths, the curtain of which closed after we entered.

“Go ahead,” my mother said. “Flick a switch, any switch.”

I looked at the panel in front of me.

“Start on the judges or whatever and we’ll be here all day, so just pick a President and make it fast. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Which one do you think is best?” I asked.

“I don’t have an opinion,” she told me. “That’s why I’m letting you do it. Come on, now, vote.”

I put my finger on Hubert Humphrey and then on Richard Nixon, neither of whom meant anything to me. What I most liked about democracy, at least so far, was the booth—its quiet civility, its atmosphere of importance. “Hmm,” I said, wondering how long we could stay before someone came and kicked us out.

Ideally, my mother would have waited outside, but, as she said, there was no way an unescorted eleven-year-old would be allowed to vote, or even hang out, seeing as the lines were long and the polls were open for only one day. “Will you please hurry it up?” she hissed.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have something like this in our living room?” I asked. “Maybe we could use the same curtains we have on the windows.”

“All right, that’s it.” My mother reached for Humphrey but I beat her to it, and cast our vote for Richard Nixon, who had the same last name as a man at our church. I assumed that the two were related, and only discovered afterward that I was wrong. Richard Nixon had always been Nixon, while the man at my church had shortened his name from something funnier but considerably less poster-friendly—Nickapopapopolis, maybe.

“Oh, well,” I said.

We drove back home, and when asked by my father whom she had voted for, my mother said that it was none of his business.

“What do you mean, ‘none of my business’?” he said. “I told you to vote Republican.”

“Well, maybe I did and maybe I didn’t.”

“You’re not telling me you voted for Humphrey.” He said this as if she had marched through the streets with a pan on her head.

“No,” she said. “I’m not telling you that. I’m not telling you anything. It’s private—all right? My political opinions are none of your concern.”

“What political opinions?” he said. “I’m the one who took you down to register. You didn’t even know there was an election until I told you.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.”

She turned to open a can of mushroom soup. This would be poured over pork chops and noodles and served as our dinner, casserole style. Once we’d taken our seats at the table, my parents would stop fighting directly, and continue their argument through my sisters and me. Lisa might tell a story about her day at school and, if my father said it was interesting, my mother would laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he’d say.

“Nothing. It’s just that, well, I suppose everyone has a different standard. That’s all.”

When told by my father that I was holding my fork wrong, my mother would say that I was holding it right, or right in “certain circles.”

“We don’t know how people eat the world over,” she’d say, not to him but to the buffet or the picture window, as if the statement had nothing to do with any of us.

I wasn’t looking forward to that kind of evening, and so I told my father that I had voted. “She let me,” I said. “And I picked Nixon.”

“Well, at least someone in the family has some brains.” He patted me on the shoulder and as my mother turned away I understood that I had chosen the wrong person.

I didn’t vote again until 1976, when I was nineteen and legally registered. Because I was at college out of state, I sent my ballot through the mail. The choice that year was between Jimmy Carter and Gerald Ford. Most of my friends were going for Carter, but, as an art major, I identified myself as a maverick. “That means an original,” I told my roommate. “Someone who lets the chips fall where they may.” Because I made my own rules and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of them, I decided to write in the name of Jerry Brown, who, it was rumored, liked to smoke pot. This was an issue very close to my heart—too close, obviously, as it amounted to a complete waste. Still, though, it taught me a valuable lesson: calling yourself a maverick is a sure sign that you’re not one.

I wonder if, in the end, the undecideds aren’t the biggest pessimists of all. Here they could order the airline chicken, but, then again, hmm. “Isn’t that adding an extra step?” they ask themselves. “If it’s all going to be chewed up and swallowed, why not cut to the chase, and go with the platter of shit?”

Ah, though, that’s where the broken glass comes in.

The Best of Bloomington

I know I have been MIA on the blog scene and I apologize. I don't have any really good reasons as to why, but camera did break (it is off getting fixed and I brought out the old one this weekend) and I am still fighting off a sickness I got a month ago. Yuck! That sickness actually was quite debilitating for some time. All I did was go to work and crash when I got home. After a good dose of antibiotics, I am almost back to my old self.

Anyway, my sickness lifted just in time to enjoy a wonderful weekend in Bloomington. This weekend was perfect. The weather, the entertainment options, and the feeling that fall is starting to settle in made me happy. Saturday morning John and I went to the farmer's market. The farmer's market is one of my favorite places in Bloomington because it is filled with delicious fresh foods, beautiful colors, and happy people. I love knowing I am buying and supporting local growers and love to see what everyone has each time I go. There are always amazing flower stands and great entertainers dancing or making music. This weekend there was a free apple tasting tent. We must have tried at least 30 kinds of apples! I have never tried so many variations! I'm not sure if I will ever view apples the same. John and I loved tasting them and discussing which were our favorites...if I could only remember now. We felt pretty rushed through the apple line, so it was a grab-and-go tasting! Each time I go to the market, it is a unique experience and there are always some lovely, simple surprises. As you can tell, I love it.

Flowers at the market

Look at those yummy 'maters!

Some of our favorite guys taking a break from their music. The drummer uses a suitecase as a drum!

Pretty flowers

Jack-Be-Littles

Some interesting dancers. John claims he seriously would want to join, but I think I could call his bluff by handing over the club sign-up papers!

Entrance to the apple tasting booth. I love the idea of "Slow Food!"

Apple tastin'

John, with his inquisitive mind, went behind the kettle corn stand to have "equipment talk" with the kettle man

The most amazing cheese. Ever.

In the afternoon, John and I checked out a local park that I live by and I shot some photos of fall settling in.

John walking across the dam

Waterfall of fall leaves

Love and nature

Can you find John?

Saturday night, John and I had dinner at The Trojan Horse. John recently mentioned in an all- too-casual-way that he had never been there. We enjoyed tasty saganaki and he loved his first experience there. I am still amazed that he never ate there in his years at IU and since I have been back. Downtown Bloomington was hopping this weekend because of the Lotus Festival. This festival brings world music and art from all over the world to Bloomington. It is amazing. The tickets are a bit expensive, but they get you into every event. John and I decided to skip the tickets, enjoy walking around downtown, and try to catch whatever we could that was happening in the outside venues. I was really excited about one of the artists in particular, Sogbety Diomande’s West African Drum and Dance Company. They are from Cote d'Ivoire and were fascinating to watch. The beating of the drums, the dancing, the costumes, and the man who busted out the craziest moves on stilts was truly stunning.

The African dancers and the man on stilts below

The Lotus Festival logo reflected on Bloomington brick

On Sunday John and I dined outside at The Irish Lion, checked out a blown glass pumpkin patch, enjoyed some delicious wine (Camelot Mead) at Oliver Winery, and finished up the weekend watching Burn After Reading. The fall air is definitely starting to settle in and I am trying to enjoy the beautiful show the trees give each year - they always seem to turn so quickly.

John enjoying a beer at Irish Lion

Crazy Horse and Irish Lion, two of my favorite places

My kind of pumpkin patch - blown glass!

At the winery (I recently got my hair cut and I shouldn't have chosen today to not do my hair, but whatever.)

Yummers

The view from our wine drinking post

The bees love the honey in the Camelot Mead!

I couldn't find Bella earlier this afternoon. I was looking all around and finally saw her move and she was inside John's travel bag. At the time she was curled up inside so I was very surprised once I found her!

I hope this gives you a good taste of what I have been up to and what a wonderful place Bloomington is this time of year!

The best thing since sliced bread?

Video for a new pitch at work....thoughts?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uY_RduZpQ3c

My very simple pleasure

Tonight and I made dinner and was pretty much giddy about using my corn cob holders. I have used corn cob holders my whole life and loved them. I've never known a time to eat corn at home without using them. My mom used to ask me if I needed them because others in my family would do without them, but I did need them. They made me so happy. I don't know why, but I think it goes back to not liking my fingers to be sticky, but I love how cute they look and how well they work. They simply make me happy.

Now that I don't live at home, I realized I needed some corn cob holders and I saw some at the store recently. Tonight, I cooked my corn and pushed the corn cob holders into the sides of the corn. I picked up the corn and enjoyed the delicious taste of summer, while reminiscing about summers past. Why does a little piece of plastic shaped like corn make me so happy? I am not quite sure. They have been a constant in my life and only come out once a year - summertime. Maybe it's the memories associated with these cheap pieces of plastic. It makes me feel like a kid all over again and I am flooded with wonderful memories.

Simply delicious. Simply happy.

Spaghetti Cat Makes Me Feel Better

I've been in a funk lately and one of the things that brings a smile to my face this week is "Spaghetti Cat." This cat is so darn cute and the cat's rise to fame is so random and hilarious.

Watch and see.



"Spaghetti Cat, fresh off his whirlwind tour of the Internet, stops by the Soup...."

Movies that make you cry

I just found a listing of movies that make you cry and I think I cried in all of them. I cried watching a DVR-ed Oprah today. Like seriously cried. But it was legitimately heartbreaking...I'm not sure if this movie list is.

I'll share the list I found and see if anyone else has cried their way through these movies.

The Lion King

Not 100% sure if I cried, but I do remember it came out in December while I was in 5th grade. I wore this hideous (then cool) two-piece running suit. Is that what we called them?

Steel Magnolias
This movie practically raised me. I watched it a million times and cried every viewing. Who knew I was such a mature 7-year old?

P.S. I Love You
Have refused to see it thus far because it looks too sad. Practically would cry when the previews aired on TV.

My Girl
Bawwwwwwl everytime.

A Walk to Remember
Actually, I am not sure if I even remember crying in this one. But I probably did.

The Notebook
Totally cried.

IU: The Fountain of Youth?

First I knew I was old when I referred to them as "kids." Am I that old that I call college students kids? Yes, somehow I crossed over the bridge of no return and forever separated myself from the youthful, carefree, kids. I even caught myself calling them that earlier and quickly tried to correct myself, only to say it hours later.

There are a few things I can do to deal with this situation.

1) Accept that I have officially converted to being an adult.

2) Cover up my verbal slip and refer to everyone as kids. I could go to work and in meetings say, "How many kids are coming to this meeting?" or "I'll email the kids about this estimate."

3) Get a job at a daycare.

4) Apply to be an undergrad again.

After deep consideration, I decided choice number 2, 3, and 4 won't really do much for me. Number 1 is something I will have to work through.

As the 40,000 "kids" arrive in Bloomington, I feel them closing in on my world. Just in recent days, the traffic has increased and stores and restaurants are filled with students. I have been avoiding Target for this very reason. I was advised not to go right now because of its insanity. I will try to stay away as long as I can, but how long can one hold out on Target?

Another thing, the "kids" are almost the reason this very post was not written. I have a confession...I don't exactly "purchase" internet. Usually when I arrive home, my computer just hooks up to the internet. I don't ask questions, but I like it. But now, not so much. My apartment complex isn't really a place for undergrads, but I think returning grad students have sucked my internet connection dry and I am not happy about it.

Today I met a friend at Starbucks and I couldn't even find a parking space because there were "kids" and their little cars everywhere. I luckily found a place not too far away, but it was almost like a walk of shame to Starbucks. I passed students partying outside at Kilroys, underagers eating outside at The Noodle Company, and trendy young guys exiting Urban Outfitters with bags I am sure were filled with graphic tee's. I kept my head down and tried not to make my work heels click too loud on the sidewalk. I didn't want to attract attention to myself and make the young ones think, "Is that a grad student? Nah, she looks too old." I know I don't really look much older than probably half of the college crowd, but I know inside that I am older. It is like a scarlet letter branded to my non-collegiate work-wear.

Before I arrived at Starbucks I passed an IU college clothing store and you know what was in the window? Class of 2020 t-shirts. What. 2020? It honestly stopped me in my tracks as I stared with big eyes and my mouth open wide looking through the window. 2020? I thought, "Wait, what year is it? 2008. Right? Yeah, 2008." Wait, pause, think. "The class starting now is class of 2012. My brain is going to explode. Why are their shirts for 2020?" (Side note: these weren't little kid shirts either, which added to my confusion.) I walked away dumbfounded.

I hope to get through these next few weeks without feeling awkwardly old. Maybe I will have to hit up Target in the morning, you know none of the kids will be there in the early hours. Ha, I'll show them! At least I got that one on them, which is just another supporting point of why I feel old. I get up early.

If kitty potty training was an event in the olympics...

Diego and Bella would win gold! Well, actually Bella would win gold and Diego, silver. The kitties have been doing a wonderful job with their new potty training routine and I am very happy about it. It hasn't been a complete walk in the park, but I am seeing improvement and I couldn't be happier about it. We are still on stage 1, but Diego has been accident-free for one week now! This is HUGE! I was feeling a bit discouraged when he had a few accidents and my sister offered advice like, "Maybe he doesn't want to be a CitiKitty?" This might be funny to her, but I am going to try ever trick in the book before I give up on him.

I am a bit nervous to move on to stage 2, so I might give it another day or two and then move on. I will be happy when this whole process is over. For a while there, I felt like I was duking it out with a toddler who didn't want to behave. Right now I feel proud of their progress and I hope it continues to move in a positive direction!

Here are some photos of the All-Star kitties.

Bella and Diego during their sleepy college days.

Not only is she pretty, she is soon-to-be potty trained.

Diego visiting with his "Aunt Tiffy" this summer. Diego doesn't look too excited to see his old college roomie, but he was. His excitement doesn't really come across in photos.

Juan Pablo Wants Some Crackers...

Here is a quick video from the cocktail hour at Tasha and JP's wedding.



Disclaimer: I do not speak Spanish. Therefore, I hope whatever Nathan says in the end of this video is blog appropriate. Can anyone enlighten me?

Life Through My Shutter

I have created a website to share all my photos with my friends and family. To gain access, you must become a member (free!). I decided to make this "member only" so I can share all my photos with friends and not creeps from around the world. :) Anyway, I encourage and invite you all to check it out because I will keep it updated with lots of fun photos of my own.

http://lifethroughmyshutter.shutterfly.com/

Felicitaciones!

I have been recovering from my long weekend in Florida celebrating Tasha and Juan Pablo's (JP) wedding! I had such a wonderful time and it was hard to leave. It was so fun to bring together lots of families, cultures, and friends! JP's family traveled from Argentina and Peru and all the other guests were from all over the country. Tasha and I spoke about how unique it was going to be to have everyone important their lives in one room. It was truly an honor to be involved in their wedding day. To me, Tasha is like a sister and I am so glad she is married to a man whom we all adore. Congratulations and lots of love to you both!

The same darn bird that hangs out at the hotel is still there from May when he terrorized all of us on the patio each day! It was raining that morning and he was not happy, so he stood outside the door. (I must admit, I was a bit happy to see the little annoying guy again.)

John and I at the "Welcoming Dinner" with all the guests!

Mandy and I being sassy, post getting our make-up done (sans the nasty lip stuff - that came later).

Aren't they beautiful?

Artistic shot of the wedding party

Bride and Groom

Beautiful girls! Carolina (JP's sister) and Mandy

Kyleigh, Mandy, and me.

Tasha and JP during the ceremony. Most likely, I had tears streaming down my face in this moment.

The sand ceremony...combining sand from their homelands.