You too can be a Meteorologist!

It's not a secret to my friends and family that I am weather-obsessed. If you'd like historical evidence, click here. Weather.com is perma-tabbed on Mozilla, and I check it in regular intervals throughout the day. I need to know any fluctuations in temperature, even if it's just a couple of degrees. A few degrees might mean the difference between a scarf and a parka and as a former Girl Scout, I shall always be prepared.

One reason I love rain so much is because I enjoy tracking its approach into Nashville. The squall lines normally roll in from the West. If I zoom down to street level on the radar map, I can almost predict to the minute when I'll hear the drops pummeling the roof over my head. And you don't want to know what happens if there's a snow prediction or a tornado warning. Tennessee weather can be volatile, and that's just the way I like it.

My weather addiction gets worse when I travel. Weeks out from my trip, I begin to monitor my destination's weather patterns, as I plan what I will pack. In February when Mom and I visited Park City, the planets aligned to combine travel and snow. Remember this?

Recently, after enduring a bad week at work, I considered quitting my job and enrolling in meteorology school. When I realized a meterologist's educational foundation is built upon mathematics, physics and chemistry, I gave that dream up fast. Mom, do you remember my semester of high school chemistry? *shudder*

And now, to my point: Today, I opened my email and began deleting spam messages. But, one subject line caught my eye: "Unique Gifts from the Weather Experts." Oooooooh. Tell me more!

The email arrived from WindandWeather.com and features eight varieties of "weather stations," digital panels that inform of current weather conditions, predict future weather patterns, and alert of warnings and emergencies. They even calculate barometric pressure and indoor/outdoor humidity levels. One even features the current moon phase! And, they're gorgeous, complete with stainless steel and wood-tone accents. The Wind&Weather people got to me with marketing phrases like, "be smarter than your local weatherman," and "analyze data and details like a meteorologist." What can I say? I'm an easy sell.

I was so excited, I hiccupped a rain cloud. I'd made up my mind to ask Santa (a.k.a. myself) for a weather station for Christmas. It would be perfect on my nightstand, right next to the Holy Bible. But, alas, I'm now suffering from sticker shock, as most of these beauties cost upward of $100, and some are even closer to $1000. That doesn't exactly jive with my single-gal income, nor does it jive with my desire to spend my money on worthier pursuits, like feeding children in Africa. Guess I'll stick with the internets...

Get off my back, already!

Hello, my name is Slacker. I used to update my blog weekly, if not daily. Evidently, I now only update monthly. This needs to change. Natalie is currently participating in the NaBloPoMo challenge, where you post everyday for one month. I can't commit to this in December, but it will be one of my January resolutions.

So, what's happened in the last month and six days? Not much. Lie!

In late October, myself and eight other singletons took a field trip to the little town of Lynchburg, Tennessee for a Southern meal at Miss Mary Bobo's, and a tour of the Jack Daniel's Distillery. The weather was chilly and crisp, and we were rewarded with a colorful display of fall foliage along I-24 and 231. For months, I'd heard Amy wax on about Miss Mary Bobo's and her delicacies, but I'm not sure I really understood just how good. She didn't exaggerate when she obsessed about the macaroni-n-cheese. It was heavenly. And most of the other plates and bowls of food served by Bobo were laced with Gentleman Jack, like the baked apples. Yummy. Over our whiskey-iced carrot cake for dessert, we speculated on just how "well" Jack and Mary knew each other.

After lunch, we ventured over to the Jack Daniel's Distillery to take the walking tour. The large museum lobby was beautifully arranged with educational displays and mini-exhibits. It was at that time that we realized that Jack was a wee little man of all of about five feet tall. He seemed to command the respect of his employees and business partners though, and he was quite a ladies' man (a Napoleon complex, I presume). The hour-long walking tour was both informative and fun. We visited the Rickyard, the Cave Spring, Jack's office, the Copper Stills. The sour mash vats looked like vomit, but smelled intoxicating. Our tour guide let us "huff" the whiskey as it was mellowing through charcoal, and you got a contact high from the scent. Our last stop was the Barrel House, where we saw hundreds of barrels of aging whiskey. It was a good day to be a Tennessean.

The following weekend, Siebe, Aubree and I packed a picnic lunch and traveled down 70S to the end (the end is the beginning is the end) of the Natchez Trace Parkway for a little scenic tour of the fall foliage. After harrassing some wild turkeys, we unpacked a picnic and lazed in the sunshine for a little while. After a short hike, we headed home.

Two weeks ago, Mom and I took the early train to Chattanooga so I could tape a gift guide television segment for work. Mom was along for the ride to make me giggle, but she tells everyone that she's on-board to do my hair and makeup. This has become an annual trip for us, and I love the undivided time I get with her on Tennessee's open roads. It's worth her complaints about my driving (insert obligatory Philadelphia "Scotttttttttt" joke here).

Last week, my roommates and I re-signed our lease, and effectively bought ourselves another year of singleness. Actually, the lease runs through February of 2011, so maybe a little bit more than a year. I'm not so sure about the singleness part (I will neither confirm nor deny), but I'm excited to ring in a new year with three fabulous roommates.

On that note, I'm losing one roommate this weekend, and gaining another. Emily is moving to Paris in January, and while I am oh-so-sad to lose her to La Ville-Lumiere, I am insanely jealous of the amazing time I know she will have. Oh, and did I mention that I've already booked my flight to Paris for April?! And, my new roommate, Wendi, will be fabulous, I'm sure.

Sunday afternoon, I went to the Green Hills Regal to see New Moon. I'm officially a wolfpack supporter now, thankyouverymuch Jacob Black. And wow, were there a lof of pre-pubescent teenage girls squealing in the theater everytime he would take his shirt off. Don't tell anyone, but I was squealing on the inside, too.

As we were getting up to leave, Siebe noticed that someone sitting behind her spilled a giant tub of buttered popcorn at our feet. There were pools of butter five seats wide. We were very careful not to slip in the greasy mess as we were exiting our row, and I thought I was home free as I took the steps down to the bottom of the movie theater. All's well until I hit the tile floor at the bottom, and London Bridge came falling down. It's not everyday that one can say, "I fell in a puddle of butter."

Speaking of grease, I have an update on my cleansing oil routine. Last time I left you, the Kiehls product was up to bat. But, I benched that product fast. The oil was so thick that it was like smearing vaseline on my face and then trying to wash it off with water. It never emulsified, so it just sat on my face. I have a rather large sample of the L'occitane product, and I'm using it now, but I don't think it's going to be a keeper. It breaks through the make-up well enough, but it burns the fire out of my eyes. That's a problem. I went to Cosmetic Market yesterday to try and get some samples of the Shu Uemura oil-cleansing product line, but they all contain mineral oil. What gives? Still working on trying to get a Bobbi Brown sample, and finding a few more brands that might be worth a try. At this point, the Origins product is probably going to win out, but geez, I hate the packaging! Why couldn't they have bottled it in pump form?

Sunday evening, I was reminded that my little transitional neighborhood is still undergoing transition. During Bible Study, Mandy and Stephanie's cars were both broken into. Surprisingly, none of their electronics or valuables were stolen, but their personal items were littered around my block. As we swept up glass off the concrete and taped up their windows with garbage bags, we couldn't help but be thankful that they both were safe and their stuff was intact. But don't ask me my thoughts on the Metro-Davidson Police Department. The 862-8600 number? It's a sham.

I'm headed home Wednesday for Thanksgiving. I'll travel with the fam to Jackson, Tennessee on Thursday to visit Mom's side of the family, and then Ben and Britt are going to hit town on Friday. I think we've got family plans to go see the The Blind Side Friday night. So excited about that. Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I'm thankful for you!

Who said I didn't have anything to blog about?

Sunday Evening Musing

The first frost of the season arrived last night and was waiting for me on my windshield this morning when I left for church. I've been counting the trees along the OHB corridor of I-65 as their leaves change. This morning, the number went up significantly.

This afternoon was the Menagerie's annual Family Day at Barfield Cresent Park in Murfreesboro. I've known these girls for ten years, and remember when they were all dating their husbands and having their babies. I'm so humbled at how our love for each other continues to grow despite how different all of our lives are. And I don't know that my sweet friends realize how much I love their husbands and their babies too. I won't lie...I envy (albeit affectionately) their life stage, as I continue along in my singleness. But, it's hard to be bitter when I get to share my Capri Sun with my best friend's 2-year old daughter...especially when she grins at me and says, "mmmmmmmmmm."

Twice today, I had to drive past a sign that marks my past. Twice, I was reminded of how God has redeemed, freed, and transformed me!

I've used up my Boscia sample completely, and I'm not exactly taken. The product delivered on the cleansing, but it contains some kind of menthol ingredient that makes my eyes red. I've moved to the Origins product now. It smells a little like patchouli, which I dont mind, but I miss the citrus scent of the Lancome product. I tried to get a sample of the Bobbi Brown Cleansing Oil at the Belk counter last Thursday, but they were out of sample jars. At some point, anyway.

The past week was such a relaxing vacation. Seriously, I haven't thought about work at all, and even kind of forgot it existed. Here's why:

Oxymoron

For years, if you tried to convince me that rubbing oil on my face was a good way to rid my face of oil, I would've shut you down. Until now.

Throughout my teen years and into adulthood, I've had excessively oily skin. My bangs (when I had bangs) would stick to my forehead by the end of the day, and I would battle against new crops of acne on a weekly basis. I've purchased just about every product on the market heavily laden with salicylic acid, benzoyl peroxide, and sodium laureth sulfate, only to be met with irritation and flaky dryness in spots...but the zits continued. My skin is oily, yet sensitive, and now, as I've hit 28, it's begun to dry itself out naturally. And with that, the fine lines have started to appear. In addition, since I've been on Yaz since January for my hormonal breakouts, I've noticed a huge difference in my skin's oil production.

So, my cleansing routine involving all of those harsh ingredients is a thing of the past. But it's been a battle to determine what works for my changing skin. Foaming cleansers are too drying. Cleansing creams don't seem to break down the makeup enough. What's a girl to do?

I read recently that a cleansing oil is beneficial for melting makeup and dirt without stripping your face of moisture. Desperate for a fix for my growing patches of dry skin, I've been on a quest to find a natural oil-based cleanser. After some research, I've composed a list of products I'd like to try.

I went to Sephora last night to stock up on my Bare Escentuals foundation, and while I was at Green Hills Mall, I got samples of the following products:

Lancome Huile Doucher Remove-All Deep Cleansing Oil

Boscia MakeUp-BreakUp Cool Cleansing Oil

Origins Clean Energy Gentle Cleansing Oil

Kiehls Oil-Based Cleanser and Make-up Remover

L'Occitane Almond Apple Cleansing Oil

I've got about ten more oil cleansing products that are on my list to try. I haven't been able to find them in retail, which means I can't get samples. I'm working on this.

Last night, I used the sample of the Lancome product to wash my face. I was instructed to pour about a teaspoon of oil into my palm, and massage into my face and onto my eyes. Then, I wet my fingers, and continued to massage the product into my skin. When emulsified by water, the product becomes like a cleansing milk, and then rinses away. I was shocked at how well it removed my makeup, leaving not a trace of concealer or eyeliner. My skin didn't need an immediate application of moisturizer, and all night long, I had a hard time keeping my hands off my soft, clean skin. And, I loved the citrus scent of this product. But, I do know that the Lancome oil contains mineral oil, which will be the death of this product for me. Mineral oil is a byproduct of the distillation of gasoline from crude oil. Mineral oil is commonly found in thousands of beauty products, but is widely known to clog pores and do all kinds of bad things to your skin and body. So, this will probably be my only go-round with the Lancome product.

Tonight? Boscia.

Spoon Me

Last night, I was at Marissa's house for Book Club when she began to set the table for dinner. On the menu for the evening? Soup. Hadley and I were sitting in the living room chatting, when Marissa interrupted and asked, "Mary Anna, do you want a big spoon or a small spoon? I know you're particular when it comes to your spoons."

"I am? Oh yeah, I am..."

You see, there's a big difference in the functionality of a big spoon versus a small spoon. Depending on the viscosity of a substance, either spoon may be employed. For instance, soup and cereal require a larger spoon, as to gain surface area for the liquid or substance (in my case, Cheerios or Frosted Mini Wheats) to rest. Inversely, a small spoon is necessary for foods like yogurt and ice cream, as smaller bites are required.

While the above paragraph describes the normal, everyday thoughts rolling around in my brain, I didn't realize others might also be privy to my neuroses. On one hand, I was pleased that a good friend of mine knows me so well that she thought to ask me what type of spoon I prefer. On the other hand, I wondered, am I really that weird?

I hear the train a comin'

I was laying in bed last night around midnight, trying to sort through a point of frustration for me right now, and I heard the blaring horn of a freight train about a mile away. This is a sweet and comforting sound for me, as it sounds like home. I've been able to hear the train every place I've ever lived. It used to echo off the trees on Calendar Lane and bounce through the hills of Long Hollow into my childhood bedroom at night. When I was in college, I could hear it whistle through the courtyard into my dorm room window. My first apartment post-college was located at one of the highest points in Cool Springs, and the I could look down and see it rolling along the Vanderbilt Legends Club in the valley. And now, the trains roam in Berry Hill, filling all of 12 South with their cacophony. It's a simple pleasure, really, but one that is uniquely mine.

Humble Thyself

Yesterday around 4:15, I picked up my CWJC merea, D, from her janitorial job at Vanderbilt. She hopped in the car, and I started driving toward Hillsboro. We were on our way to The Dog of Nashville, a gourmet hot dog restaurant off Belcourt. As we approached a gas station on our left, I commented about how high the gas prices are around here, and wondered if they would ever go back down. She chimed in agreeably, "I know. I used to be able to make a phone call at a pay phone for 25 cents, and it's gone up to 50 cents now."

Ouch. I am complaining about the affordability of gas to a person who has no car, no cell phone, no cable television, and barely makes ends meet. I am complaining to a person who takes the city bus and who walks miles to get from place to place. I am complaining to a person that never has access to the convenience of a phone ringing in her purse, and who struggles to locate pay phones, as they're becoming more scarce these days. I am complaining to a person who works weekends and cleans up after the messes that others make.

Cut yourself a big ol' slice of humble pie, Mary Anna.