The English Geek

{What I Love} no11: New Socks

OK, I know this is sort of banal. But I also can confess: I have a thing about socks. New socks.

Kendell, who decidedly does not  have a thing about new socks (or so he thought) has a hard time understanding this little thing of mine. "Why do you need more socks?" he asks, probably rightfully. "You have a drawer of them."

True. Socks I've carefully washed and then not dried too hot because I'd like their newness to last as long as possible. You know how it feels....when you slide a new sock on? A brand new pair in all its cushy, soft glory. Ahhhh. Such a lovely moment.

Last week, Kendell—who really, really needed new socks but took awhile to pick the exactly right kind, finally bought a package of new socks. And even though he'd deny it, he knows. He looked at me with that look, the first time he pulled on his new socks. that "ahhhhhhh" look. Cushy, soft, glorious.

(I thought about naming this post something about how I love being right, but I didn't want to push it toooooo far!)

{What I Love} no10: cute running clothes

(Please forgive the lapse in blogging. Kendell and I were out celebrating a milestone this weekend, which I shall blog about tomorrow.)

While I prefer that people might think of them in the euphemistic ideal of "muscular," when you come right down to it there's just no way to put it other than this: I have large thighs. In fact, they're downright disproportional. . . if I ever find a pair of jeans with a size 6 waist and a size 8 thigh I'm buying at least five pair. Until then, I'd say I like shopping for swimsuits more than shopping for jeans. (Which is saying a lot, because when I shop for swimsuits I have to try to cope with the other disproportional part of my body.)

I've mostly come to accept this fact about my body. I try to think of my thunder thighs in affectionate terms. They're strong! They can go forever, be it a day-long hike or an extra-long run I'm asking them to carrying me through.  They are...well, that's all I've got. They're strong!

Not very pretty, though. And definitely not easy to shop for. Forget the jeans: sometimes exercise clothes are just as complicated. Especially those cute tiny shorts so many runners are able to wear. If I went out in shorts like these? Well, I'd come home bleeding from the chafe. Because one of the perks of big muscular thighs is that no matter how much weight you lose or how in shape you get, your thighs still touch. Which means that when you run? Your thighs rub together.

So cute, tiny running shorts? Never going to work for me. I've worked around this by shopping long and carefully for longer running shorts. I have three pair I bought four years ago at Target. They're really starting to get worn out but, despite the fact that they have no pockets ("lack of pockets" is one of my running-clothes tirades), I keep wearing them because they work.

Still, despite the large-thigh issue, there is something motivating in finding cute running clothes. It's simply easier to get out the door when you feel like you don't look sloppy as you're slogging down the street. And I'll freely confess that I probably do own too many running clothes. But I feel a little bit justified in buying them anyway because A---I'm a careful shopper (READ: I always buy stuff on sale) and B---if a cute new running top lifts up any flagging motivation, it's money well-spent. My heart, lungs, and brain all agree.

I used to look at the runners in running skirts with envy. Those tiny little shorts under their skirts? Would never stand up to my inner-thigh chafing. Ever! But then I discovered, one lucky day at my local running store, the magic that is Skirt Sports. I say "lucky" both because I learned about the existence of a longer running skirt with 5" shorts underneath AND  because said skirt was on sale. (Plus it was pink. Happy sigh.) It is the perfect skirt for me. The shorts under the skirt even have pockets. Pockets! and prettiness!

I love my pink skirt. I wore it when I achieved one of my running goals at the Hobble Creek Half Marathon. I wore it for one of my Ragnar legs. I wore it for every single one of my long runs while training for my marathon, and of course, I also wore it for my marathon. It made me feel strong in a feminine sort of way.

But one skirt won't last forever. And when I found another Skirt Sports skirt on sale, I bought it for myself for Christmas. I was saving it for the perfect day when I A---actually went running (I haven't been very diligent since "winter" set in) and B---the weather was good. That day was Friday, when I'd been home all day with one kid struck down by walking pneumonia and another who'd been barfing his guts out all day. The second Kendell came home I was gone. Mostly because it was so beautiful. Fifty-two sunny degrees is abnormal February weather but I decided that to waste it would be unpardonable (and wouldn't make it snow anyway).

I felt exhilarated and happy and energized for about a half mile, and then the reality of not running for six weeks hit me hard. My lungs hurt and my infamous thighs felt weak. But I finished my three-point-two-five miles and I'm certain my cute new running skirt:

totally had something to do with it! (My favorite pink headband didn't hurt either!)

What is your opinion on exercise clothes?

{What I Love} no 9: my favorite lunch

There are plenty of days when I skip lunch, or grab a handful of almonds and/or cashews and call it good. (I think that God was feeling particularly brilliant on the day he invented cashews!) But when I do take time to sit down and eat a proper sort of lunch, it is nearly always this:

It might be the world's perfect from-a-can soup. I sprinkle a little bit of cheese on the top and toss in some avocados if I have them. Sometimes I also crumble some tortilla chips on top. This has been my go-to lunch for more than a year now, and it's still a favorite. Since no one else but me enjoys eating soup, I've really stopped trying to force it down their throats—even though I do make some fairly awesome soups. (You should try my creamy potato! or my minestrone! or even my taco soup! Or, ooooh, one I just thought of, white chicken chili. They are good. No one else in my family believes me, but it is true.) I just can't eat them all by my lonesome.

So I resorted to canned soup, because, you know? I love soup. It's apparently one of the ways I am a freak of nature, but whatever. And this fajita chicken soup? So good, even if it does come from a can. The ingredients are all healthy, it's low in calories. And totally delicious!

What is YOUR favorite lunch?

{What I Love} no8: Lazy Days

***Yesterday at work, I watched a young mom. She had three little kids, two in a double stroller and one older one who kept running away from her. As I watched her try to navigate the 600's, keep the preschooler from pulling books off the shelf, find the littlest one's binki, and encourage the middle one to please sit down in the stroller no you can't get out I'm almost finished just a few more minutes, I realized a truth about my life that I am finally starting to see: I am grateful to be where I am.

This took me a long time, making peace with the fact that there will be no more babies. I loved that time in my life with a fierce intensity. I loved it, yet I was also just so tired  during those years. I wouldn't change a day of it but I also haven't forgotten that it was not all sweet babies and snuggling. It was hard. So I am also loving this time in my life, which of course has its own hard things. But I also have more freedom, more solitude, and more flexibility—exactly the things I longed for when I was a young mom with three babies only four years apart. Part of my making-peace process is my conscious acknowledgement of appreciating the freedom and the flexibility and especially the solitude.

I read on a friend's facebook page this morning a thought that I have pondered all day today: "Depression is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of trying to remain strong for too long." This thought resonates with me on several levels, the bloggy one being this: solitude and quiet help me remain strong for longer. While I've always believed in the restorative power of a day to yourself, I've not always had the luxury of actually having a day. Now that I do have them here and there, I try to keep in mind that young mother I used to be. Spending a day lazing about is a way of paying homage to her, of telling her thank you for being strong for so long and for getting me to this place in my life when I can look at the mom of three young babies and not feel envious anymore.

Today I did just that. I did have a frantic sort of morning, where Nathan had an essay he needed me to proofread for him before school, and Haley had a biotech project that wasn't printing correctly. I drove the carpool, stopped by the copy store, took the biotech project to Haley, got gas in the van and stopped by the post office. But after that (aside from being hideously embarrassed by my carpool duties clashing with my promise to pick up my friend Wendy from the hospital), I didn't do much. I wrote for awhile. I made two scrapbook layouts. I watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2 and bawled my eyes out from the time they go back to Hogwarts to the closing credits. I helped Nathan with his spelling and then I laid on the couch and tried to finish my book while Kaleb sat next to me also reading. (I'm trying to transition him into reading on his own; this is not going smoothly.) I made tacos for dinner.

And even though I can't help but feel guilty for not also doing a load of laundry, cleaning out a closet or organizing a shelf or two, or even doing the checkbook (that deep-down, unavoidable guilt), I also feel a great sense of peacefulness tonight. That deep-down guilt tells me that I should feel ashamed and weak because of my need for occasional lazy days, but I try not to listen to it. I try to remember that, weakness or no, I need the lazy days. They help me to continue on trying to be strong. And I love and appreciate that my life is giving them to me right now.

***sidenote: I didn't leave that young mom to fend for herself. After my little epiphany I hustled over to help her find what she was looking for: a Pilates book. She apologized for her kids and I assured her that they were fine and she was doing a great job.

{What I Love} no7: WordPerfect

There are very few things I learned in high school that I actually use in my adult life. (Is this a blanket statement that applies to everyone? Or is it just me and my adolescent oddities?) For certain none of my extracurriculars are helping me now—they didn't even help me then very much. I learned to love Margaret Atwood in high school and I still use that skill regularly. I learned the art of the mixed tape from, oddly enough, the three days in tenth grade I spent in seminary. I learned that history is interesting when correctly taught. Oh! I learned to drive, to type, and to make cheese fondue. And I learned WordPerfect.

And honestly, aside from the driving and the typing, WordPerfect is the high school skill I use the most. Let's be perfectly up front about it: I really, really hate Word. I hate it on principle—because I want to resist the homogenization of the world. But I also I hate it because it doesn't think the way I need it to think. I'm functional with Word because I need to be. I based an entire class on it. I use it because the world says I must. But it feels like speaking Spanish feels: the same world but translated differently. Plus it frustrates me to no end with how it tries to control too much.

But WordPerfect? That is my natural word processing habitat. I've never stopped using it since I learned how in tenth grade. I've been with it since it was the blue screen with a blinking cursor. I remember when mouse control was added and no one thought that a computer mouse would ever actually catch on. (Won't it always be faster, the argument went, to just use the function keys?) I remember the furor caused when Windows versions of software started being released.

I remember when every keyboard in the world had a WordPerfect template above the function keys.

You know what I also remember?

All the keystrokes. (Because they were right: it is faster to keep your hands right on the keyboard instead of reaching for a mouse.) And not just the obvious ones. I can get to Typesetting, Merge, Macros, Tables, Spell Check, and almost any feature you can think of, all without taking my fingers off the keyboard.

Of course, this knowledge doesn't help me much in the real world. I still have to use Word for anything that is leaving my computer for the wide world. (Usually, though, I still write it in WordPerfect and then convert it to a Word doc.) It still makes me happy, using WordPerfect. I'll use it as long as they keep making updates. Because, say I wanted to make something like the subway art on this layout

in Word. It would be a painful process of multiple text boxes and frustration over text spacing. Using WP (one text box and the handy "Advance" feature), I made it in 30 minutes. I might have sat back and declared myself a word processing genius when I was done.

So even though it makes me seem a little bit odd and a whole lot dated (when I was teaching, one of my students noticed me using WordPerfect and told me it just made me "vintage" which I suppose should make me feel hip & elegant & cool in a shabby sort of way, even though it really only makes me feel old), I'm sticking by my favorite word processor. Function keys and all. I think my tenth grade teacher would be proud. Maybe prouder if I could actually remember her name? Ah, oh well. At least I remember the keystrokes she taught me.

Do you have a little-known computer software you love and adore beyond reason?

{What I Love} no6: our Superbowl Traditions

No one in our family is a football superfan. Kendell will watch the Superbowl and sometimes a random game he happens to catch, but in general, he doesn't have a team he loves enough to watch all the games. (Something I am eternally grateful for because here's how I feel about football: hate it almost as much as basketball. It's frustrating and, I confess, a little bit boring to me. Probably because I don't know the rules and I don't know the teams and I certainly don't care about the players, most of whom seem to act like spoiled babies with too much money.) But we all look forward to the Superbowl for two reasons: the commercials and the food.

I love the Superbowl Sunday traditions that have sprung up in my family over the past six or seven years. I love that my kids rely on the same food being there—that it's become a given, a thing about life without which life would not make sense. I love that they talked about it all week and that they helped me prepare it. I love that we have this thing together. And that no one really cares about the game.

The Superbowl taught me to love avocados, a story I might just tell this month. But today I'm sharing one of my Superbowl recipes with you. The other one is just a seven layer dip: refried beans, guacamole, salsa, olives, flavored sour cream (mix in some taco seasoning), and cheese. (Note that at our house, the seven layer dip is really only six layers, because no one, not even me, likes raw green onions.)

It just wouldn't be Superbowl Sunday without pizza sticks. I heard the general idea for this once on a cooking show; I thought it was Rachael Ray's but I haven't been able to confirm that. (But am disclosing so as not to plagiarize.) Here's how you make them, Amy style (the original method called for pizza dough in a can and that, dear friends, is so not my style.)

Pizza Sticks
3 cups warm water
2 T yeast
2 T sugar
2 tsp salt
2 T olive oil
handful of Parmesan cheese
8 cups (ish) flour

Proof the yeast and sugar in the warm water for 10 minutes. Blend in the remaining ingredients, adding flour in ½ cup increments until soft dough forms. Knead for about 4 minutes (you want the cheese to be really incorporated into the dough). Let rise for about 1 hour.

Assemble whatever pizza ingredients you like. I use:

mozzarella cheese, shredded
pepperoni
Canadian bacon
olives
mushrooms

Divide the dough into four pieces. Roll it out into a rectangular shape. Sprinkle cheese on half of the rectangle, then cover the cheese with any of the ingredients. (They work best with just one extra ingredient.) (I also make some that just have cheese.) Fold the non-cheesy side of the dough rectangle on top of the side with the pizza toppings. Press the seam down firmly, then give the dough a few extra swipes with your rolling pin for good measure.

Using a pizza cutter, cut the dough into strips. Carefully pinch the edges together, then twist each strip into a spirally stick. Some of the ingredients might fall out; just carefully tuck them back in. Let rise under a towel for about twenty minutes. Bake at 350 for 15-18 minutes, or until done. Serve with marinara, bleu cheese, and Caesar for dipping.

MMMMMMMMMMM.

Do you have any Superbowl traditions?

{What I Love} no5: Black & White Florals

If I had a gagillion dollars lying around wanting to be spent, you know what I would do with it? (After first doing something philanthropic with my windfall, of course, and stocking the kids' college funds and paying off my mother's mortgage.) I would buy all-new furniture, and nearly all of it would be in black and white floral. (In this fantasy my husband doesn't get to have a say.) There would be splashes of solid colors here and there—pink, perhaps, or green. The bedding would be b&w floral, too. Maybe even the towels.

I love it so much.

I've already made a quilt with a b&w flannel I found awhile ago, which is as far as I've gotten in my real-world financials. Well, that and B&w floral scrapbooking paper. And, a couple of years ago when Target had their Liberty of London collection? I confess to buying almost every black & white item in the line. Actually, just writing that list made me feel a little bit better because at least I have some b&w floral accents around!

I can't quite explain why this look appeals to me so much. It simply seems so elegant. Feminine, with the clean contrast and the swirly pattern. And totally unlike my own real world of practical furniture that hides accidental greasy-hand smears or is just holding on for a few more years.

But! As luck would have it, I need new dishes. The hodgepodge of everyday dishes we've used for the past 20 years is finally growing thin. And I have made an executive decision: since Kendell picked out the last set of dishes we purchased together (back in 1992, when we'd been married for just one week, and we went shopping at Linens 'n Things with some of the cash we'd been given at the reception), a completely serviceable set of white plates with red and black rims and an image of a pasta bowl in the center, it's totally my turn to pick out our new set. And here are the dishes I want:

(GAH! Stupid typepad won't upload my image. I've tried for 30 minutes now. Here is a link until I can get the photo to upload.)

Swoon. I love them! Do you have any sort of home decor that is irresistible to your very soul?

{What I Love} nos 2 & 3

(We had to reformat our computer this weekend, which meant no blogging for me despite my blog-every-day goal. Such is life. Moving forward!)

{What I Love} no3: Lavender Comet

I don't remember doing many household jobs when I was a kid. My mom was fairly obsessive about washing windows, which we did every spring. We each had a dishes night. I sometimes did the vacuuming. But I don't think we had a prescribed schedule for getting stuff done. In fact, keeping the house clean was one of my parents' Big Issues, the things they fought over quite a bit, especially after my dad was laid off. My mom, who was working full time, (understandably) thought that my dad could do some housework. I don't know exactly how my dad felt about it, except I knew this: If we came home from school to a nearly-pristine house, with my dad finishing up the vacuuming, I'd get an anxious belly and my pulse would accelerate because I knew they'd been arguing.

(It still makes me anxious to see a man vacuuming. Strangely enough, one of my marriage's Big Issues is keeping the house clean, but even if Kendell is helping out just to help out and not because of an argument---and, let's face it, I'm the messy one in this equation---I get an anxious belly and my pulse starts to accelerate.)

So it would be logical to think that none of my childhood memories associated with housecleaning would be positive ones. Au contraire, mon fraire. Because despite the emotional weight placed upon housecleaning during my childhood, I drew great happiness from any job that involved scrubbing with Comet cleanser. Scrubbing the gunk out of our orange kitchen sink at the end of cleaning the kitchen? I'd look forward to that during the whole time I was doing dishes. But the best was scrubbing the tub. I'd get the scouring pad and the can of Comet and happily scrub away for a good half hour. While I worked I'd invent little commercial jingles for why you should use Comet to clean your tub, or envision some magical House Cleaning Fairy stopping by and declaring me the best tub cleaner ever. (I'm still waiting for that visit.) There's something completely satisfying at scrubbing away those grey scratches that pans make or the grimy rim of hairiness left after a long soak that included two rounds of bubbles and shaving one's legs (and possibly more than one dropped book).

And, you know, despite the emotional weight that's grown up upon housecleaning now that I'm an adult, I still love scrubbing the sink and the tub. With Comet. Only, not the kind in the green can. I like the lavender scented Comet. Not because it cleans any better---it really doesn't. It doesn't even really smell like flowers. But it does smell like I remember Comet smelling during my epic bathtub scrubbings as a kid. (Even though I am fairly certain that the green Comet was the kind my mom bought.)

Now I sprinkle some on my sink almost daily. I scrub it with a scouring pad, erasing all the day's dings and nudges and stains. It's soothingly immediate, a nearly-instant reward for your effort. The grime rinses away and I'm left with a clean, white sink and no regrets. I wish life's dings and stains were as easy to rinse away, but I'm grateful that at least the sink doesn't have any remorse.

{What I Love} no4: Eyebrow waxing
Sometimes I feel guilty for this. It feels like an indulgence that only The Fabulous People should deserve. In fact, I was nearly 35 before I even touched my eyebrows. (I look back now at my pre-waxing days and cringe. Holy Muppet Character!) Once a friendly and Very Fabulous student of mine pointed out that I really would look better if I shaped my eyebrows, I decided to give it a try. Except, I'm not very good at things like keeping stuff even and straight. So I kept her recommendation in mind until one day—for who knows why—I suddenly was brave enough to let the professionals handle it. I walked right into a Fantastic Sams (I know! Fancy!) and got my eyebrows waxed.

Now I wish I could do it about once a week. Instead, I try to maintain my non-muppet status with tweezers until the eyebrows get in front of me and I can justify going to get them waxed again. Usually they get in front of me because I take out my contacts and wear my glasses for a week or so. Since January was the Pink Eye Month at my house, I wore my glasses for a solid three weeks.

Return of the Muppet Character! When I put my contacts back in on Thursday, I was astounded to see just how icky and overgrown my eyebrows were. Totally justified waxing! First thing Friday morning I had them waxed. Now they're smooth and lovely and put forth not even a hint of Muppet. Is it indulgent? Is it a luxury normally denied those in my tax bracket? I don't care. It's way less painful than tweezing. Faster and more accurate, too. And it makes me feel more polished and presentable.

It's certain: having your eyebrows waxed is a Thing To Love!

{What I Love} no2: W.E.D.

This year it seems like everyone in the scrapbooking world is doing Project Life, which is a concept of weekly scrapbooking. Each week, you print your photos and make a layout covering that week's details, using divided sheet protectors for speed and cute embellishments for, well, cuteness. You put photos, journaling, and bits of ephemera in the little pockets, all with the goal of capturing your everyday life.

I admire the many people who are able to accomplish this, but Project Life is not my thing. (Just as the December Daily thing isn't.) Not because I don't believe in capturing the everyday stuff—I do. But. One of the benefits of reaching my advanced age (I turn 40 this year!) is that I am finally beginning to know myself, and I know this: I wouldn't stick with the Project Life approach. I'd fizzle out in a month or so and then be left with all those supplies to feel guilty over.

Plus, I don't want to stop scrapbooking the way I already scrapbook. I do a lot of everyday-moments stuff in my albums. I write on my blog. And in my journal. AND I do my W.E.D. notebook. It is enough for me.

Perhaps some of you are thinking—W.E.D.? What is that? You can read more about it here. In essence, it is exactly what it stands for: Write Every Day. There is just enough space in the notebook to write one image per day. What was most memorable about that day? I jot it down. Sometimes it takes me three minutes. Sometimes I have a lot to say so it takes me eight minutes and very small handwriting. One of my good friends who did this last year told me that the small space makes it easier for her to stay consistent, not because of laziness but because of guilt elimination. You can only fit one image or moment in the space—so you fit it and feel satisfied.

And, I know: it doesn't seem as fun as Project Life or other similar projects. It's not, somehow, as sexy. But now that I've done it for two years I can tell you this: it is meaningful.

I have put down little snippets of my life on paper. The funny things and the frustrating things and the beautiful things. My W.E.D. notebooks are resources for scrapbook journaling. They are a family archive. They are my memory's back up.

And they are simple.

I don't have to print anything. I don't have to Photoshop pictures. I don't have to cut, glue, trim, or measure. I just open my little side table drawer, get out my WED notebook and pen, and then write. Sometimes I do stick a few things down—a movie ticket, a receipt, a scrap of something. Sometimes I sketch something and then write about it (and the writing always includes an apology for my dismal sketching skills).

Last year, between Ragnar and the Hobble Creek Half, I somehow fell off my W.E.D. goals. (I think I got out of the habit because I slept away from home for Ragnar.) I didn't write anything for those two months. Now, flipping through my notebook, I feel a sense of loss: what didn't I write down those days that I have now lost? I can't get them back. Which makes me more determined this year to do better.

Except, here it is, February 2 and I only printed my W.E.D. notebook YESTERDAY. I know---fail. Somehow January got away from me. My 2011 notebook has been covered with sticky notes of stuff I wanted to add when i finally did get it printed. BUT! It is. Finally printed, that is. This year I also made one for each of my boys to use. None of them are excited but I'm hoping I can perhaps ignite their interest somehow.

If you want to make your own W.E.D. notebook, here is a PDF you can print:

Download 2012 write every day calendar

Don't worry about missing January. Maybe, if you still remember, jot down a few impressions from the earlier days of this week. You could even skip printing January to save paper! Print the pages double sided, so that the first week is printed on the back side of the title page—that way, the margins will be correct for when you have it bound. I use a sheet of double-sided patterned paper on top of the title page, and then I have my copy store put a plastic cover and back on it, then spiral bind everything together.

It works. It's functional. It keeps me (usually) dedicated to watching for moments and, thus, more involved in my life. It's one of the things that make me happy right now, and yes: I do love it!

Are you doing any year-long projects?

{What I Love} no1

Perhaps this has gone unnoticed on my blog, but I have a tendency towards negativity. Sarcasm. Eye-rolling. If  you tell me your daughter has decided to become an English teacher, for example, and you tell me this with a tone of excitement, I am wont to point out that becoming an English teacher will make your beloved daughter broken and old before her time and dejected by bureaucracy & the apathy of tenth graders and very, very tired when what I should have done is said, in a tone mirroring yours, "Oh! How exciting! When she's ready I'll share my lesson plans with her if she wants!" (Just in case it's not obvious: I feel fairly guilty about that exchange I had with a friend.)

Plus, it's February and I really hate Valentine's Day.

But I am trying to improve myself. I'm trying to change my capacity for spotting the dark side of any coin I am given but searching out the positive. And plus: do I reallywant to be the Valentine's-Day humbug of the world? (Well, actually, maybe I do, but then: that's my snarky side coming through.)

So! In an effort to promote love, gratitude, positive attitudes, and world peace, I have made a challenge to myself: I am going to blog every day in February about something (or someone) I love about my life right now. These are going to be the little things that bring me uncomplicated happiness. (OK, it's me, so there might be some complicated happiness thrown in for good measure. But still.) I might have some days when I blog twice, but every day: something that I love.

Today it is chapstick.

First I have to tell the Chapstick Story. One day last winter, I needed to run into Target before work to grab something that Haley needed. I had approximately 3 and one-half minutes in which to procure the item, but I still had time to notice, while walking to the cash register, something exciting and rare: my favorite chapstick was on sale. As this never happens, I quickly grabbed two out of the bin and added them to my cart.

It was only after I got out to my car that I realized: one of the chapsticks had been opened and used. I could see the lip marks made by a very desperate (or weird) (or possibly drunk/stoned) person who was obviously pretty chappy if you judged by the the deep scratches in the surface.

Can I get a collective "ewwwwww"?

So I dropped the offending chapstick into the cup holder in my car and determined that I would return it to Target that very day, right after work. Which I proceeded to do after my shift was over: walked to my car, got in it, and started to drive to Target. And, as is my habit, swipe on some chapstick. Only the chapstick I grabbed? the one someone else had used.

GAH! I'm certain now that I'll get a great big internet "ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww."

I only made about 1/4 of a swipe before I realized my horrendously icky error and then threw the chapstick across the car. But still. I worried about lip-born disease for months afterward. It still sort of makes me shudder.

So now, whenever I buy my favorite chapstick---which is any of the Burt's Bees varieties---I am very careful with my selection. I make sure the lid is still tightly sealed and that there is no tampering evident in the least.

All scary Chapstick Stories aside, I really do love Burt's Bees. I'd be hard pressed to tell you my favorite, except for I can say that my least-favorite is the plain one. I use the one with sunscreen in it before I go running, so that one tastes like exhaustion and effort and endorphins to me. I like the pomegranate one because I am just an all-around fan of pomegranates but secretly I like the acai one a little bit better (only because of the color of the lid and it makes me feel skinny). And I keep the grapefruit one (which is new!) for special pick-me-up moments when I am feeling dejected. There's just something happy about the brightness of grapefruit that restores my sagging spirits.

I know it's sort of indulgent. It is more expensive than a Chapstick brand chapstick. But so much better! And there's bees involved in a non-threatening way! (Remember that bees freak me out?) And it's all natural and chemical free and no bees were actually harmed in the making of my chapstick.

Yes, it's true: I love Burt's Bees chapstick. And, if you are a local and were wondering: it was mewho purchased all three of the remaining Burt's Bees Christmas tin bundles when they were put on clearance. I now have my two year's supply of chapstick. And yes, I did double check: they are all still tightly sealed.

Tell me: do YOU have a chapstick or other lip product you are fanatical about?