Reasons I Am Useless Around Boys I Like

1.) Tongue-tied. That's me. I get soooo tongue-tied. I trip over my exceedingly large vocabulary, trying to sound impressive, but just flail. I try to make connections that don't sync up, stutter, and even start to return to the let-me-bake-you-a-peach-pie-sugar drawl that I worked so hard to get rid of in years and years of voice lessons.

2.) I won't lie about it, and I admit this in the hopes that you won't judge me too much, dear reader. My brain goes straight to what your name and my name would look like linked together and embossed on folded pieces of parchment paper and wrapped in vellum and ribbons. Some girls dream of sex, some girls think about holding hands. I am the product of my mother and grandmother who are convinced that I am, at 23 and 3/4, an old maid. So I think about wedding invitations. (I. Am. So. Crazy.)

3.) Spidey-sense. I get way too perceptive. I note twitches, twinges, the way the green in your eyes is catching the light when you look at me, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh. And then I get all cerebral in my analysis because I have spent years spouting out pretentious nonsense about everything I've had to process academically and so it runs into the rest of my life too. I should have been a chemist. I bet chemists don't try to create meaning out of everything even when it's not there the way English majors are trained to. This dilemma makes me seem space-y. Or weirdly academic in that not-endearing-rather-unrelatable way.

4.) CLUMSY. Tripping, falling, slipping, bumping, bruising, colliding foreheads when we kiss. I'm. A. Mess. And contrary to what Stephenie Meyer teaches us about Bella Swan who boys fawn over in spite of her serious clumsiness, outside of Forks, you just look a little unsteady.

5.) The clumsiness is not aided by the whizzbangflipflop triple backflip marathon that is inspired in my chest by someone I'm seriously in like with. I swear anyone who is in my immediate proximity has to be able to hear it too. And there's the prickles on my spine and the warm-cold-excited-nervous-giggle-up-down-everywhere-in-between-wonderful-fizzy-bubbles-sunshine-on-a-fall-afternoon feeling that is a little overwhelming in it's lovliness that walks the line between incredibly happy and epically melancholy. It makes it hard to focus.

6.) Like a 9-year-old, I am plagued by the giggles. This is worse when you are immensely funny. I will spend the whole day/night/rehearsal/job/photo shoot/dinner date/party giggling and not contributing anything clever to a conversation. Which I imagine is flattering to your vanity. But probably makes me seem remarkably vapid. And I'm actually not vapid at all. I'm just nervous. And you are too funny.

7.) Most of the time, I am not particularly shy or demure, but boys I like make me revert to 12-year-old Ashley who blushed furiously anytime Zach Wright told me hello in the hallway. I guess a rosy flush is nice though, right? Besides. With the glasses, it kind of makes a sexy librarian thing happen. Sometimes.

8.) Fidgeting. When I get nervous and I'm standing, I run through ballet positions. In order. With my feet. I mess with my skirt, play with my hair, nibble my bottom lip, adjust my shoe too many times. This makes me feel less pretty in the outfit that I spent ages picking out in the hopes that your attention might at some point be extremely focused on it. Fidgeting, like other forms of self-sabotage, makes me seem immensely less put together than I am at any other time in my life. And again, a little vapid. Which I have already stressed I am not.

So between the self sabotage and talking way too much about myself and being a total crazy, I promise that if you pause for a minute, get past the frenzy and chill with me, I'm totally endearing, kind of cute, smart, witty. I bake really good cupcakes and plan stunning weddings and write really well. Among other things. Which are positive attributes in a girl.

Like me? In spite of everything? I promise, I'm super great (and only a little crazy) :)

Reasons I Should Maybe Not Start Trying to Knit Again

Fall = scarves. Scarves = expensive. But you can knit scarves. And that makes them less expensive. And more pride-inspiring.

However, there are many reasons that there are flaws in this logic with regards to this girl right here.

1.) I have tried and tried and tried to be a good knitter, but I'm just not. I drop stitches, don't keep the tension even, lose track of what I'm doing. I end up with a scarf that at one end is 7 inches wide and at the other is 9 and half.

2.) I have learned no fewer than 8 times from a slew of different people (Caelynn's mom, Casey's mom, Vanessa, Casey, Kelli, etc) how to cast on. Yet, every time I think it's a good idea to start knitting again, I just never remember how to do it. And then I'm at square 1 all over again.

3.) I have infinite patience for a few things. Reading, writing, getting babies to eat their vegetables, deciphering what will make an infant stop crying, waiting for the phone to ring, piecing together patterns, having faith. You will note that knitting falls nowhere on this list.

4.) I have 17 Fall/Winter Scarves already. 17. Do I really need more that are going to be less put together looking than the ones I have? These are the questions...

5.) Do I have time for a project? 2 classes, 3+ jobs, homework, chores, etc. I suppose I could trade knitting in for my social life. But fishbowls of margaritas are certainly more exciting than knit knit perl perl knit.

In spite of these reasons, my knitting needles are out. My yarn is neatly balled in my fall tote, in the hopes that I am suddenly stricken with the memory of how to cast on. Or that I meet someone in passing that looks like they know how to do it.

Guess we'll see how this goes.

Thanks Random Girl on Cornelia

Dear Random Girl on Cornelia,

Thanks for stopping and taking a moment to affirm my solid belief in the power of a beautifully-written-from-the-heart thank you note when you overheard me discussing them as a dying art with Valerie on the phone.

Love,
me

Thanks Brittanyanne

Dear Brittanyanne,

Thanks for calming text messages about any major or minor crisis in my life. From boy drama to what to wear in any given situation, you are always ready with words of wisdom or adjectives to describe the look toward which I am striving. I love that. And how happy you make the bestie. Win. I'm glad that life has made our paths cross again :)

Love,
me

Thanks Mollie

Dear Mollie,

Thanks for being the easiest person to surprise in the world. And for being so excited when successfully surprised. You are adorable :)

Love,
me

PS~ I hope you liked the Mollie!!

Battling the Big Girl Job Blues, as featured on the blog of Love, Lulu Mae

What do you want to be when you grow up? Sometimes, I’m still not sure I actually know the answer to this question. In fact, most of the time my answer will be different than it would have been if you had asked me just a few minutes earlier. When I was little, my life goal was to be Miss America. Seriously. (Ok. Ok. Mostly it was just because it seemed like all Miss America really had to do was wave, wear pretty dresses and don a very sparkly tiara. But still.) Little me with lofty aspirations never thought I’d be twenty-something, struggling to pay my rent between my salaries from the several jobs I schedule around my class meetings for grad school. And not to be all, “Poor Poor Pitiful Me,” but this girl has had a rough year, full of parking tickets and homework and a heartbreak of the rather serious garden variety. And there is still no big girl job in sight. Yes, the search for the big girl job (which I have been wholeheartedly pursuing for quite some time now) has me a little blue, a teeny tiny bit down on myself. I’ll be honest. After applying to 437 jobs, getting interviewed and rejected and ignored, it’s hard to remember why it is that I’m any different than any of the other dime a dozen witty, highly educated brunettes with cute shoes that want to write for your magazine/schedule appointments for your office/address envelopes for your mailing/sell your expensive handbags, etc.

So, in light of this little bout of the blues and to celebrate the awesome interview I had this morning, today is dedicated to a few things that make me happy. And there will be a little less pouting, a little less heavy sighing; a lot more gin and tonic, a lot more red-lipstick smiles. I mean, life is tough. So what?

1.) The Ron Bennington Cupcake at Molly’s Cupcakes. Just look at it. Chocolate-y goodness filled with peanut buttery loving and topped with chocolate frosting. If this is not happiness come to life (and served on a tiny plate or sent home in an adorable box with a bow), then I’m not sure I know what happiness is anymore. Check out their menu and go visit their adorable little shop on Clark Street: http://www.mollyscupcakes.com/cupcakes.php

2.) The Kate Spade Kellis Pump. I found a pair of these at Nordstrom Rack; a total steal (Unfortunately not enough of a steal for me to actually make it home with them) and my heart whizzbangflipflopped in a way I have not felt in quite some time. Now, if I could just find a man that made me feel that way, I think I’d be set for life. But for real, these shoes are captivating. And they felt so pretty on my feet. My heart is still hurting from having to put the box back on the shelf and walk away.

3.) My “Conquer the World” Playlist, named as such because it can motivate me to do anything from cutting out pattern pieces for the dress I’ve been putting off making to finishing the last dreadful mile of a run even to diving into my homework for my Women and Shakespeare class. It contains the following: “Don’t Rain on My Parade” by Lea Michele, “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey, “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga, “Dance Your Life Away” by Jon McLaughlin, “Fearless” by Taylor Swift, “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus, and “Dynamite” by Taio Cruz. These songs will make you smile and get you pumped up. Seriously. Download. Listen. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

4.) The Sangria at The Bar Celona. My friends and I hit up The Bar Celona at least once a week (usually on half-off night, which is Wednesday). A cute little place in Wrigleyville, their sangria is fruity and red and served by the pitcher. And trust me, a pitcher of sangria has the potential to get you into oh-so-much-good-clean-run-of-the-mill trouble. But mostly, at The Bar Celona, it just makes you want to dance dance dance. (And let’s face it, even if you are the worst dancer in the world, there is just nothing better than shaking it on the dance floor). You can see their other specials: http://www.barcelonachicago.com/.

5.) Football. Fall means football, which my mother raised me to put second only to God or diamonds. Which means beer at bars on Sundays and cheering on Peyton Manning with my roommate, Matt, until I’m hoarse. (Not to mention seeking the love of my life aka a tall, muscle-y, book-loving Colts fan with a real job and credit score of over 600 becomes significantly easier when they are en masse at Mullen’s on Clark on game day.)

Ah. I feel happier already.

(Check out the real post with pictures: http://lovelulumae.blogspot.com/2010/09/battling-big-girl-job-blues.html)

Happy Birthday, Mollie

Dear Mollie,

Happy Birthday. You are just the most wonderful person I know, kind and loving and genuinely concerned about the welfare of the people that surround you. You are smart and funny and know the fine line between proper princess and damsel in distress. I really admire how much you do, how much of yourself you give to others, how seriously you dedicate yourself to anything you do from the baking of smores brownies to news articles to readinf to writing your vampire novel (Which you will finish. And it will be so incredible. Just like you.) You cannot possibly know how much you mean to me, how much you made one of the hardest times I've ever been through bearable. I'm not sure where I'd be without your company, comfort food, pep talks, and general friendness. I hope that this birthday is just as magnificent as you are, fit for a princess, filled with love and wishes and only dreams that are sure to come true. Cheers :)

Love,
me

Birthday

It is Mollie's Birthday week!!!!!

And this is something to be very very very excited about :)

Thanks Taylor Swift

Dear Taylor,

Thanks for providing the music that I spend such an epic amount of time listening to :) I enjoy your teenage angst veiled by your sweet country crooning and deflected by the fact that I am frequently tutu'd when listening to you. And I know all the words to almost all of your songs. That's right. I said it. Hmmm..We wanted more of you at Country Night. So that should speak leaps and bounds about my feelings and the way you got me through some tough, tough times :)

Love,
me

Laughter

Between the giggles and titters and teehees, there's a jolly guffaw that is stuck in my head like my iPod's stuck on replay. Oy. There was this song in the Kooman and Dimond review that J directed in the FTL this summer; this gorgeous song called Lucy's Laugh. Youtube it. Seriously. I hope my laugh makes someone feel that way about me eventually. Granted, this is coming from the girl who yesterday told Mollie that she hoped she found a man who made her feel the way the red Satin Kate Spade pumps she was clutching to her breast did. Hapless. And hopeless. But hopeful. That's me.

Also, my horoscope told me to work on the project I've been putting off today (I did.) and to pursue the Leo I've been lusting after (Lusty Leo? Are you out there? Bueller. Bueller...) while my energy is so incredible. Hmmm...

Thanks Wednesday Nights

Dear Wednesday Nights,

Thanks for never ceasing to be a source of amusement and a debacle of debauchery and then just a little bit more.

Love,
me

Thanks Brian

Dear Brian,

Thanks for strolling in after class with that gorgeous red moleskine planner that I've been lusting after. A celebratory gift from you means so much more than simple praise from most places. But I think you know that already. (Now I just need to snag that sweet job at the Trib!)

Love,
me

Thanks Cathy

Dear Cathy,

For about a million reasons, I'm glad Mollie put me in touch to help you out with sitting last Winter. But more than your sharp tongue, immense intelligence, and wonderful mommy compassion, I love talking to you about life. And I love when you mention that there is less of me. (I certainly hope there is...) You are pretty rad. So are your kids :) (And that sister-in-law of your as well...)

Love,
me

Thanks David

Dear David,

Thanks for introducing me to several things, including (but certainly not limited to) Take Away Show videos on youtube, The Spitfire Grill musical and the Alexander and Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day musical. Which have vastly increased my happiness level and vastly decreased my productivity level with many hours spent watching youtube videos in all three categories (especially the Take Away Show ones. I'm obsessed with the Jason Mraz series). Thanks for eagerly anticipating smores brownies and for debates about what team I should be pro with regard to Twilight and for intelligent conversation regarding books and plays (also for NEVER turning down a challenge). I'm glad you moved in with Mollie and Brandon just down the street. The 551 posse is my fave.

Love,

me

Blogging

My blogging adventures have expanded. I am a weekly featured blogger for a fabulous company called Love, Lulu Mae. They make the most gorgeous bridal accesories, hair accesories, hats, boudoir apparel, etc. :) I am soooo excited for the opportunity. Below you'll find my first blog for them. I'll probably continue to share them as they happen weekly?

An Ode to My Beloved Fall (As featured on the blog of Love, Lulu Mae)

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s fall (Finally!). Say what you will about summer sun and spring fever and winter’s insatiable impulse for cuddling, but this girl finds every single year that fall is just the most romantic season out there. It makes me swoon over caramel apples and lightweight sweaters and thank my lucky stars for the permission to finally wear all of my terrific boots again. (And purple lipstick. Glamour keeps telling me that it’s all the rage this season in their beauty blog.)

And it never fails to make me want to fall in love. Over and over and over again. (To be fair, I do just love love so this should not be too shocking to anyone who has read me or spent 5 minutes with me.) But since I am not in love with anything other than apple cider martinis right now, I’m looking to outside sources for romantic inspiration. Like this, which I fell hard for when my very best friend sent it during a catch-up facebook date from the Arts Beat Blog in the NY Times:

http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/09/fiddler-up-his-sleeve-lin-manuel-mirandas-wedding-surprise/

The groom, creator and star of Broadway’s In the Heights, orchestrated the whole thing, choreography and all as a gift to his new bride. And look at the look on the bride’s face the whole time. Maybe you aren’t into Fiddler. Maybe you cringe at the thought of your fiancé and dad teaming up for a song and dance, but you can’t deny when you see how happy they are, that there is serious romance in the air. It’s these little uniquities, these oddities where the truest romance of love lies: the giggles over private jokes, the sweeping gestures just for the girl of your dreams, remembering to buy coffee filters when you used the last one. Yes, the most romantic gestures have nothing to do with roses or candlelit dinners for two, but everything to do with the quirky, the unusual, even the weird. In weddings ( I plan weddings as one of my 5 current jobs), it even comes with the what-is-that-guy-doing-and-why-is-the-bride-spending-the-rest-of-her-life-with-him kind of bizarre. Unexpected, but beautiful. But love is love. And love, even when I’m not in it, never ceases to make my heart sigh and flutter with a little extra beat of happy (And hope?).

I think that’s why fall’s my favorite season. A little off-kilter, not quite the mainstream, but full of romance and second chances and that slight chill whispering on golden sunlight every afternoon. (And in Chicago, it brings along that one-sport-pepper-too-many-Chicago-Style devotion to our beloved Bears. That is a tragic, tragic romance allllllll on its own) I might not be dancing along the lakefront in the starlight with anyone this September, but I am certainly falling hard for my new cognac faux leather motorcycle jacket that I’m definitely not cool enough to be wearing, but so pridefully sport whenever it’s chilly enough on my bi-weekly Jewel trips. So, dear readers, I leave you to the question as fall starts to unfurl its colors and canned pumpkin starts to make its way back onto grocery store shelves and I bust out that plum lipstick in my efforts to get pretty and snag a mate that will make my mother proud: Where do you find strange romance in the season ahead? What are you falling in love with at this very second?

Fall

It is fall.

And so I find that I am

f
a
l
l
i
n
g

ever so

DEEEEEEPLY

in love with it.

(As I do every year about this time)

Some people get Spring Fever; it's all the rage. Some people swoon for summer. Not this girl. I love fall. It makes me all pumpkin pie and golden leaves and apple cider martinis as I float in breezes just chilly enough to grant permission for scarves and boots and light sweaters.

Fall. Is. Perfection.

Thanks Ian

Dear Ian (of Ian's Pizza fame),

I don't know you. I doubt I've ever crossed your path, but in this, the smallest of all cities, I've come to know anything is possible so I won't completely discount this possibility. But damn, you sure know how to make a mean pizza. Your mac and cheese pizza and smores pizza calmed all of the carb and cheese and chocolate cravings my rather unruly period threw at you. And that is QUITE a feat. Thanks for being open and welcoming when the men in my life decide they need sustenance in the middle of the night and thanks for that cute little punch card that fits neatly tucked in behind my id. You really really rock.

Love,
me

Thanks Frank

Dear Frank,

Thanks for dealing with us last night. And by us, I think you know I mean my just-turned-21-and-celebrating-almost-as-cute-as-he-thinks-he-is roommate. Thanks for listening to my boy drama and for being the perfect bitchy bartender as you poured my diet cokes and Matty's beers. I think we will definitely be visiting you again, sir.

Love,
me

Reasons I Love Football

1.) Mollie and I get to work on our super sweet blog: http://pigskinprincesses.wordpress.com

2.) Men in tight pants. Duh. Who doesn't love a tight end???

3.) The love. The coming together. The random high fiving of people you will probably never high five again.

4.) The pride, in winning and losing.

5.) Chicks dig men that are good with balls and teams and stuff.

6.) My satin Colts Cheer Jacket gets to come out of the closet.

7.) Day drinking.

8.) Bears fans are soooo intense and I love it.

9.) The odds of meeting a tall, muscle-y, book-loving Colts fan with a real job and a credit score of over 600 are vastly increased.

Thanks Matt

Dear Matt,

I'm glad we are roommates. I'm really glad you have finally actually moved in with us and are here for adventures and cleaning and singing, etc. Thanks for being neat as a pin. All the time. We needed that around here. Today, thanks for thinking about my period-riddled-feeling-like-my-uterus-is-trying-to-claw-its-way-out-with-a-butter-knife body while you were at the Swedish Bakery and for bringing me home that chocolate cake with the raspberry filling and the ganache. It was a heavenly way to arrive home from work, with the box and its bow and the gooey, chocolatey fruity goodness inside. My hormones greatly enjoyed your support of their volatility. And I greatly enjoyed every single bite.

Love,
me

Thanks Jason

Dear Jason,

Thanks for all of your tough love, even from halfway across the country, when I really need it.

Love,
me

Thanks Brian

Dear Brian,

Thanks for being cheery yesterday when my job interview turned out to be quite a debacle. Thanks for joining me on campus and for reminding me not to lose sight of my goals in the form of your catchy weight-lifting chants. I. Just. Love. You. But, after Wednesday night, I'm fairly certain you already knew that.

Love,
me

Thanks Justin

Dear Justin (whose name I am still not completely convinced was not Joseph),

Thanks for telling Shannon and I that we were pretty when we strolled into the bar where you were drinking. Then, for buying our entire 8-person-none-of-whom-you-even-remotely-knew-group two rounds of shots, greatly aiding our night of drinking, dancing, and debauchery. Thank you also for the twirl as we were leaving. It made feel a little bit like a princess. Which made the entire night, lovely on its own, even lovelier.

Love,
me

Munchkins

I am up early with 2 very grumpy little people.

Godspeed, Ashley. Godspeed.