Visions of a random Saturday night.

It was such a night that I went to bed without washing my face for the first time since I don't know when.
Sometimes you just need to let go like that.


{There is always someone's day of birth on the marquee of Rocky's.}


{Here's hoping we really will be saved, Lord knows we need it.}


{Lionshead number ????}


{Fuzzy jacket linings are always irresistible.}


{Artistic shot of a merch table, or just drunken camera angle? I'll never tell ...}


{First of two car bombs, before ...}


{ ... First of two car bombs, after.}


{In a diner that has diner wallpaper. Bizarro world!}


{If the walls of this diner could talk, clearly they'd sing.}


{That would eventually go on my cheeseburger and fries at 3 a.m.-ish.}

Fin.

Conquering my Everest.

Last night, I took a walk in the gorgeous weather.
Instead of doing the loop around the school like usual, I decided to do my two mile loop through my 'hood.

Said loop includes starting off with a massive hill at the end of my street (the very reason for the regularity of trekking around the nice flat school/track area).
This hill has always been a vicious foe, thanks to its veritable steepness.

What would ensue was shortness of breath, sparks flashing in my eyes and some off-putting wheezing and dizziness.
My legs would shake as I descended down the hilly street that intersects with it, and it would take me quite a while to breathe normally.

Not so last night.
I made Delaware Ave. my bitch.

I stalked up that hill like a mountain goat and held a slight conversation with my co-walker.

When I got to the top, I felt a sense of accomplishment, probably much like Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay must have felt as the first to ever ascent Mount Everest.

OK, clearly ascending my little hill isn't as monumental as that, however, for me, it sure as hell was.

Just like seeing myself in a full-length mirror last week made me realize I really did lose weight these last few months, getting to the top of that hill as fast as we did made me see that I am at last getting in shape.

My months of getting up early and miserably doing my Air Climber before the sun came up and my walks around the school/track have definitely paid off.

Watch out hills, you are no longer bigger than my determination.

Guinness, I hardly knew ye.

So I've finally been able to appreciate - and fall in love with - the taste of Guinness.

It happened recently and it will be fleeting.
I have since discovered I can't drink it.

Arrgh!

I must be allergic to one of its many delicious ingredients or something, but last night, I had a tasty can of Guinness (because one of my favorite bars for some reason didn't have it on tap, uh OK?), and my nose immediately got stuffed up.

Of all the things for a girl to be allergic to, this feels like some cruel joke.
Does this happen to anyone else??

Edna, or fashion-forward?

I am wearing a hot pink sweater with teal earrings.
I love the way they play off each other, but am I like your colorblind great Aunt Edna?

Accomplishment, but not without tantrum.

Just spent the last two hours scouring my closet.
It started with organizing the sweaters that were falling this way and that, then moved to the crumpled up jeans on the opposite shelf, then turned into a full-blown purge.

One huge garbage bag later, the metal rods are still bowing precariously in the middle, but darned if the closet doesn't look so exquisite I can't stop going in and peeking at it.

(I would give a photo but there's no way to capture the closet in its entirety, so sadly, you won't get to see the glorious essence of its organization. Boo.)

With a closet purging naturally comes an influx of clothes-less hangers.
I have decided said hangers belong to some sort of evil empire.
In trying to untangle them, I hadn't seen myself have a tantrum of that magnitude since driving on Interstate 81 Monday.

Don't think I've ever written the word 'fount' before.

I don't know if it is because I've been addicted to working out every day or what, but I have been a fount of happy energy this week.

It's borderline annoying actually.
I can't imagine what it's like for other people ...

... Wait. Yes I can.
I bet it's adorable. And all sorts of fabulous.
Just like moi. ;D

Some things I love, in random order.

I love the rainbow array of my stilettos.
(introducing my newest addition: canary!)
I'm sure my back will hate me 20 years (or less) down the line, but damned if my legs don't love me right now.
What is more powerful than a sassy pair of leopard pumps? Or patent black? Or or or?
Nothing, my friend.
N o t h i n g!


I love that I can totally dress down on production day Tuesdays, since I am chained to my desk until the cows come home. I was so uber comfy today that I had to take a photo of my outfit this morn:

It consisted of:
- Jeans that are getting too big on me (yay!).
- A gray thermal shirt.
- My fabulously soft red cardigan cable-knit sweater.
- My Uggs which I know now I cannot live without, and consider them probably the most worth-it Christmas gift ever.
- A fleece leopard-print scarf since it was chilly in the morn.
- And natch, my bookish spectacles.

I love blue PaperMate pens and the pewter pen box I got as a gift from a friend. It's inscribed with a quote from one Ernest Hemingway:
"The writer must write what he has to say. Not speak it."

And I especially love Mint ChapStick. I have one at work, on my desk at home, on my nightstand, in the bathroom and in my purse. It's safe to say, since I am always within at least five feet of the green stick of minty goodness,
"Hello. My name is Nikki and I'm addicted to Mint ChapStick."

And I super, duper love when it's time for bed.
Ciao!