What I love about starting a business is that it is organization intensive. I don't get to coordinate the lobbying or event logistics or portfolio presentations since I stopped working with the CCN, so I thoroughly enjoy my obligatory role in helping H.K. in his new entrepreneurship.
Most peoples' living room floors are peppered with holiday gifts in various stages of wrapping. Mine, for the last month, has been drowning in bags, and bags, and bags and bags of Legos. Today, H.K. and I made a two-trip purchase of no less than 28 Sterilite drawer bins into which all the Legos in my living/dining room are currently being transferred.
For the occasion, your humble narrator appeared in public in unwashed 80's hair, tweed coat and scarf, and sweatpants which, being new and tightly cuffed, showed off the fashionable white Puma socks whose tops were exposed above my Dansko clogs. Stylin'.
During our second trip, a gust of wind caught both our over-filled carts rounding a corner of the store and blew three of our drawer bins out of the carts, sending one flying into the street in front of a car who was, to our great fortune, actually going 5 mph around the corner and stopped before annihilating our merchandise. I was then obligated to surrender my coat to weigh down the bins as we proceeded onward to the car. Now decadent in a near-fluorescent orange T -- which matched my sweats but was quite Hobo-esque with my scarf and flying frazzled hair -- and coat-covered shopping cart, I booked it to the waiting vehicle. Let it be known that H.K.'s sweatshirt-adorned cart looked less Hobo than mine, and he, being in jeans, suffered no humiliation. Also let it be known that I am quite proud of my performance in 30 degree sunshine.
We attended a dear friend's birthday last night, at which I indulged in fruit salad made with coconut milk, gluten-free tirimisu sans the marscapone icing, and chips. And now, here I sit in my much-more-fashionable matching regal blue robe and slippers sipping Earl Grey and waiting for my fiber cookies to kick in. For the last two nights I've been woken up (unsurprisingly) due to abdominal pain (shockingly). Could it have been the latkes? Could it have been the vinegar in the pumpkin chutney (a scrumptious gift from my wonderful coworker)? Could it have been the halibut (gasp)? Who knows.
Fortunately, Chanukah is not a bust. On the third night we finally pulled our (read: my) act together to feast in the warmth of our new robes, lit candles and obsessively decorated home, while watching Beauty and the Beast on blu ray. Fairly epic, but now H.K. is feeling the pressure to get me a giant library for my birthday. To clarify, that is external pressure from yours truly, not internal pressure.