Weekend planner

Fall porch, Harding Instagram, pumpkin coffee cake

I don't know which makes me happier — that it's the weekend or that it finally feels like fall. Who am I kidding? I'm happiest that it's the weekend. Here's what we'll be up to.

1. First order of business: It's time to decorate the porch. I'm planning on picking up some mums and maybe a pumpkin so that our porch can get with the season.

2. It's Homecoming weekend! Sometimes the ceremony of Homecoming or these other events that bring alumni back is lost on me since I work here, too. Living here, coming here every day can take away from that feeling of nostalgia because, now, it's been the office longer than it was my school. But Homecoming helps me see the university as an alumni and not an employee — once all of the publications are properly edited, of course. I'm excited to take Preston to the family picnic and the petting zoo, with lots of hand sanitizer in tow, and to finally get to see a football game this season.

3. 'Tis the season for pumpkin-flavored everything, so I think I'll make this pumpkin coffee cake this weekend, too. How can you say no to that streusel topping? (Says the girl who eats brown sugar all by itself.)

Plus, Preston will get to wear his Peter Pan costume to the church's fall festival on Sunday.

What are your weekend plans? Anything particularly fall-ish?

Have a good one!

Not my mother's Halloween costume

Too legit to quit

In my Halloween costume hall of fame, there is one that tops them all — the pink Power Ranger. I mean, that helmet, those boots, the iron-ons! How can anything top its majesty? The costume was made all the more special as it was tirelessly crafted by my mom. She has always been a great seamstress — whether it was sewing my sister's and my Easter dresses, making our American Girl dolls' clothes, or just hemming our always-too-long-for-our-short-legs pants.

Her sewing abilities, despite her best efforts, were not passed down to me, though, and when it came time to create Preston's costume for this year, I was at a loss. I picked Peter Pan because 1) I think Preston would make a cute Peter, 2) maybe if I dress him as the boy who never grew up, he won't grow up himself, and 3) it's easy to hobble together without really making anything.

Supplies//Trying on the shirt//Zig-zaggy cutting

I picked up some black leggings and a green shirt a couple of sizes too big at Walmart and cut the shirt bottom and sleeves zig-zaggy. (Is "zig-zaggy" even a word? Let's roll with it.) Belt it with some yarn I had on hand and *ta-da!* Peter Pan. The only problem? The hat. Peter Pan needs a classic Peter Pan hat. It makes the look.

And to my great fear, every Peter Pan hat tutorial I found included the S-word — sewing. I thought about fabric gluing it, but I didn't want it looking horribly made. I could hear Tim Gunn critiquing its poor construction in my head ("I'm sorry. This hat just looks tortured. I'm just flabbergasted.") Luckily, my friend Cassie came to my rescue. I cut out the pieces from green felt, and she sewed the two sides together. While it sounds simple enough for even a beginning sewing student, to me it was basically brain surgery, and Cassie is a skilled surgeon. She was even in the midst of making her own son's costume — the cutest little squirrel costume you've ever seen. She's definitely beating me for Mom of the Year this year.

Peter Pan and his remote, the only way he would stand still// "Preston, please wear your hat." "No no no!"

I'm pleased with the final outcome. I still need to make the red feather for the hat (or maybe I'll just leave it off) and maybe a little cardboard sword for him to stick in his belt. He at least looks like Peter Pan — or an elf. Hey! He could wear it again for our Christmas card!

Maybe next year I'll have tackled my sewing fear head-on and created a memorable costume for Preston. Or I'll just break down and have mom do it.

The freshman blog fiasco

Blogs were my generation's first form of social media. Everyone had one. It was sort of a public form of a diary ("Here'z wut i did 2day"), place to post pictures, and place to fill out those forwarded surveys (When's the last time you cried? What does the third line on the 25th page of the first book on your right say?). I had my fair share, too, between LiveJournal and Xanga. I tailed off on those around sophomore year of college when Facebook came onto the scene as a sort of public diary ("Going to get some fro-yo! :))) — with 3 others"), place to post pictures, and place to fill out those forwarded surveys ("25 things about me!").

It was during my freshman year of that I learned the ramifications of blogging everything that you think and feel or that happens to you.

I was sitting in my chemistry class a few weeks into my fall semester. I was a prepharmacy major for some terrible reason, and this class had a higher sophomore to freshman ratio than my other classes. I knew no one. I stared blankly at the white board in front of me while others around me talked before class began. A sophomore guy intersected with my gaze. Then I noticed he was coming toward me. To preface, I never dated in high school. It was part purposeful and part my own personal awkwardness, definitely leaning heavier (OK, all the way) toward the awkwardness. The awkwardness was about to kick into high gear.

"Hi," he said. "I've seen you around."

[My internal dialogue] Holy moly! Is that how people really start a conversation? What does he mean he's 'seen me around'? Is he a stalker? Is that a good thing? What should my hands be doing at this point? Since he's standing up, should I stand up, too? How do you respond to that statement? 'Good?' 'OK?' 'You must have good vision?'

"Oh ... ?" I said.

So eloquent you are. You better not ever have a job that requires words or anything. What are you doing with your hands?! Place them at weird angles on the table in front of you. That reads casual!

"Yeah. I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner Friday night or maybe see a movie."

OK. Blink at arrhythmic intervals. You don't want to forget to blink. And make sure your mouth is hanging open like a trout. Think of a nice way of saying no. Say you admire his courage, that this must be a hard thing to do. That you're just settling into Harding or maybe you'd like to know is name before you agree to this. Whatever you do, don't crush his ego. Men are fragile creatures according to Chicken Soup for the Teenager's Soul.

"Um... I think I promised my roommate I'd do laundry with her that night, so ... sorry."

And that was it. I returned to my gaze at the board and class soon started as he walked back to his seat.

The story could end there and be a shining example of how not to handle a situation. But no. It got worse.

After class, I had a break until lunch, so I went back to my dorm room and began typing out my version of events for my LiveJournal audience — how this completely random guy came up to me and asked me out, how I wasn't interested and made up some terrible excuse, how this must be the norm for Harding guys and have more of these to watch out for, etc. I quickly hit "update" and started getting comment from friends on how awkward it must have been for me and how it must've been a confidence boost, yada yada yada. And it was. Not to be asked out, though, but to have a LiveJournal post that was that popular! My chronicles as a freshman were a hit! (And you see why I didn't date much ...)

A day or two later, a friend of mine who also knew Random Chem Guy as he was so cleverly dubbed in my blog came to me and said RCG had actually found my blog, read that post, and was kind of embarrassed. He was also confused by me because I had really spared no time in blogging my account of things. I was mortified. I don't know why I never thought he might read something open to everyone on the Internet. And then I had to sit in the same room with him for the rest of the semester, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, completely humiliated — the weird freshman girl who blogs the insignificant happenings of her day. I could never look to the left side of the room for fear of possible eye contact. Luckily, it probably stuck with me longer than it ever did with him. I'd see him around campus every now and again during the rest of my time in school, hoping that he'd forgotten about the Random Blog Girl from Chem Class.

The moral to the story? Be careful what you blog ... or just don't be so awkward in the first place.

And, yes, I have a similar internal dialogue whenever I speak to people. What on earth are you supposed to do with your hands when you're talking?

Getting to know Scott

This is Scott's admissions office photo, and it's one of the few where I've seen him genuinely smile. It's a good smile.

After laughing hysterically at Katie's post about her husband, Nate, I knew I had to do the same to Scott. I mean, when is annoying your husband with questions for your blog not fun? Here's a little about the man of the house.

(My comments are in bold.)

What is your current profile picture? 

A picture of me and Preston with you cut out of the picture. 
Thanks for that. 
Oh, no, it's us at the zoo. I changed it.

What is your middle name? 
You know what my middle name is. 

What is your current mood? 

Exasperated. I don't like this.

If you could go back and change something about your past, what would it be? 

Coming to college with a girlfriend.

So you could mack on all the ladies?

I'm not falling for these subquestions. To explore opportunities; let's put it like that.

Maybe I shouldn't change that, though, because then we might not have ended up together.

Do you have a crazy side?

No. No, I don't. I'm pretty consistent and like things around me to be consistent. 

What are you writing? I don't think you're writing what I'm saying.

(I was.)

Have you ever had a near death experience? 

I don't think so.

What about the time you were stung by all those bees?

Oh, yeah. The yellow jackets. I was 3 or 4 and picked up an anchor next to the garage, and it busted the hive open. My great-grandmother had me in the backseat of the car pulling the stickers out of my face on the way to the hospital.

(This led to a discussion on great-grandparents, which I've cut for time.)

Whom do you look up to? 

My grandfather because regardless of the consequences or if someone would pay him back, he would help anybody. That could have a positive outcome or it could mean someone drove off in a truck he'd help cosign on the loan. He never expected anything in return.

Do you still watch kid movies or television shows, and if so, which ones?

No. 

You didn't really watch kid stuff as a kid, though.

If a good kid movie came on though, I'd watch it.

Like what?

Mighty Ducks!

(Followed by his best Hans impression.)

If you had one wish, what would you ask for? 

I would wish to not have to wish.

Then just don't wish.

OK, my first inclination is to wish for money, but I feel bad about wishing for money. So I wish for money with built in stipulations.

Like what?

If I don't have to work, then I have to spend my time helping out someone. The money is to free myself up to help other people.

I would just wish to fly like Peter Pan.

Ooh! And teleportation!

Can you sum up your life in a word? 

I can't think of one word, but I can think of a phrase. I'm a glass half full guy (No you aren't!), but it's still only half full. 

Uncertain? No, that sounds like you're going to die. 

Don't put that. And don't write that.

Acceptable. This is the longest "one word" answer. 
Routine.

What is your eye color? 

Blue.

What was the last movie in you went to in a theater? 

Gravity.

Do you have a favorite store? 

Store? I thought you said "storm." Monsoon.

But favorite store, it's a tie between William Sonoma and any privately owned men's store.

Snob. (Mocking tone) "I like high-ended kitchen supplies and preppy Southern wear."

If you could live anywhere, where would it be? 

Charleston, S.C. or ... 

(After several minutes deliberation) OK, it's not an exam. 

Hey! I just want to think about my options.

Have you changed much since high school? 

Yes. Bald and fat. (No!) Write it down.

Have you ever slapped someone? 

Probably

Who?

I don't know, I'm just going to say probably.

Would you like to? 

In my current maturity, I'll say no; I can think of much better ways to punish someone. 

That sounds diabolical.

Who is your favorite author? 

Anybody who writes screenplays.
You don't read.

I do like Julia Reed, though.

What did you read? 

Queen of the Turtle Derby

Pick a sitcom character whom you relate to: 

Chandler from "Friends." Broken home, married a girl outside of my league, a little nerdy, use humor as a defense mechanism, but still cool enough to hang with the group. And I tend to fluctuate in my weight and Chandler seemed to.

But that's because Matthew Perry was on drugs.

It's not because of drugs.

What is your happiest moment? 

Preston being born and showing him to you for the first time.

Where do you want to be five years from now? 

I just want to be somewhere. 

I don't like to think about the future. Whenever I plan it, it always turns out differently.

Do you have a phobia? 

Not really, do I?

(He doesn't.)

Do you have a weird quirk? 

I probably do, but I can't think of anything specific.

What about having to have the cereal boxes with the nutrition facts facing out?

That's not a quirk. That's just correct.

What is your favorite thing about me? 

I see what this is. It's a lot of questions to throw me off guard 
then you ask the one you really want the answer to. 
You're very tenderhearted and a very caring person.

If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you bring?

A TV, you and Preston, and a couch.

No way to get off the island or some means of survival?

No, that sounds pretty good.

What is a great weekend to you? 

TV, you and Preston, and a couch

What is your favorite color?  

Blue. No, red. Blue. Red? I don't know.

What is your favorite breakfast meal? 

Bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy. Can't go wrong with that.

Thanks for indulging me.

Thanks for ruining my day.

Monday miscellany

Hello, Monday.

I don't have a clever title or purpose for this post, but here are a few things I've been drawn to lately.

1. I graduate with my master's in December, so I've been planning for the most important part of this academic achievement: what I'm going to wear. Winter graduation has thrown me for a loop, wondering if bare legs are completely out of the question or how funny tights would look along with my regalia. I love this Anthropologie dress and think it could be a cute contender, but it's definitely out of my price range. Textbooks trumped the graduation outfit budget, so I'm still searching. Any suggestions for what would look good on its own but also under this.

2. Like everyone else on Pinterest, fall makes me want to bust out the crockpot. I love having the crockpot fairies cooking dinner while I'm at work, and chicken chili sounds like the way to go, too. That's definitely going on next week's dinner menu.

3. "Royals" by Lorde is everywhere right now, but I'm also addicted to "400 Lux." The whole album is good. It's worth a listen. I linked it below, just for you!

4. These brown booties may have found their way into a shipment from DSW to my house. I had been wanting a pair since Hannah's post on booties. I have a black pair that get lots of wear to work in the cooler months, but I thought a brown pair would be a nice to have. I typically wear my booties with skirts, but I'm going to bust out of my comfort zone with these and try them with jeans because, you know, I'm crazy like that.

5. The weather also influences my hobbies, and I've picked up my crochet hook again this month. I was making Preston a newsboy cap similar to this one, but when I went to try it on him, I'd made it too long/tall, so it looks more like MTV veejay Sway's hat (pictured below) than a cap. Since Preston doesn't have dreads (yet. If we keep avoiding a haircut, he might get close.), he really doesn't need a Sway hat. And when I mess up, I tend to give up. I've got to motivate myself to unravel the bottom third and start again.

6. Fancy sweatshirts. While it might sound contradictory, they are one of my favorite fall trends. There are days where I hate to get dressed because it's cold and I just want to be a bum. In a fancy sweatshirt, I can look cute on the outside but feel like a grumpy bum on the inside. Win!

Here, kitty kitty

While eating dinner last night, Preston and I got an unexpected visitor in the form of a skinny, stray kitten. She camped out on our deck, locking onto us as the people who could help her, and her pitiful meow was almost as heartbreaking as how poorly she looked.

Now, I'm not a pet person — which is to say that I also dropkick babies and spit on the American flag. To not be a pet person is almost that reviled, but over the years I've grown comfortable in the fact that having a pet just isn't my cup of tea, the same way some people don't want to have kids or hate chocolate. (What kind of weirdo hates chocolate, though?)

Part of it is that I'm allergic to anything with fur (as well as exceptionally hairy men), and the other part is that I just don't get it. I don't understand that deep pet love. My parents have a cat, and I lived with her as the family pet for years, but she's just OK with me and I'm just OK with her.

But with that sad face looking back at me and seeing how enamored Preston was with her, the cat quickly weaseled her way into my cold, black heart. I couldn't help but think of her as somebody's sad, lonely baby. So I decided to feed it, which is the number one thing you shouldn't do if you have any hopes of an animal vacating the premises, but I couldn't help it.

I rummaged through the pantry for a rogue can of tuna only to come up empty handed. The only thing I found of the preprepared meat variety was a hotdog, so I cut it up, put it on a paper plate, and slid it out on the deck, which was hard to do with a kid who wanted outside and a cat who wanted in, but everyone stayed on their designated side of the door.

The local animal shelter was closed, as was Animal Control. I knew that letting her sleep in the garage would get me in trouble with Scott, who is equally anti-pet and even more anti-pet-urine-in-our-garage. So she stayed on the deck, and I named her Clementine. (Naming an animal is the number two thing you shouldn't do if you have any hopes of it vacating the premises, but I couldn't help it.) I figured the cat needed a name bigger than she is. And Preston has happy to wave at her, tap on the glass, and say "Awww!" whenever she came by. (Yeah, letting your kid fall for the animal is the number three thing you shouldn't do.)

So, until the animal shelter opens at 1 p.m., Clementine will still be hanging out on our deck, because she was still there at breakfast this morning and ate the hotdog leftovers I gave her. Hopefully with the help of the animal shelter she'll find a good home and this isn't the story of how we got our first pet.