I love buying CDs.

Make no mistake, iTunes is plenty supported by me. However.

There is nothing like that sheer anticipation of having a plastic wrapped compact disc in my hot little hands.

I speed home.

I have perfected the art of busting open the plastic and removing that uncannily strong sticker affixed about the top edge of my prize.

Remember in high school physics, when you learn about potential energy illustrated as a ball sitting on top of a hill? That ball contains the potential to do work; to expel energy.

....This is how I feel about a new CD. New music contains the potential to bring about endless bouts of joy, self reflection, and whimsy. If I were a teacher, I would illustrate potential energy as me standing at the checkout line, holding new music. The potential would be converted to kinetic energy as I jump up and down as discreetly as possible.

I got my latest fix today. The subject? Lady Antebellum's newest heartwarmer. It has to be said that my taste for/knowledge of country music is fairly limited. But Lady A is nonnegotiable to me. Their freshman debut has not been ejected from my car since it was loaded. They just make me feel too good.

You should listen. Smile and think of me when you hear "American Honey". The vocals are just too sweet.

Rock the Detox.

So. I had been feeling, well, full of crap. The ramifications of the holiday cookies, fritters, bars, sticks, and nuggets plague my very existence. Dramatic? Yes. Demanding of change? Of course.

I'm detoxing.

I made the entirely too adult decision to start over. Reset my metabolism, flush toxins, cleanse kidneys, and feel like my organs are eating each other.

It's interesting. I have a weird relationship with food. You may have heard me say that eating is one of my favorite parts of being human. I make no exaggeration. I love good food. I like to think that I pay attention to what I eat and enjoy foods close to earth, but make no mistake, I endorse milkshakes.

Ever since college and the Era 'O Beer, I have been changing the way I eat. I cut simple carbs. I cut all artificial sweeteners. I discovered a new love for brussel sprouts (I know, ew! turns out I love 'em). I stopped ingesting liquid cocaine, or energy drinks as you might call them. I eat tons of nuts, fish, and plain yogurt. I aim for the Blue Zone recommendations. I have never felt better. But occasionally I fall off the wagon and mistakenly gorge on enough sugar and baked goods to send Jillian Michaels into a diabetic coma. So then I timeout, break the cycle. I detox.

I choose the Master Cleanse, which consists of drinking a concoction of organic lemon juice, grade b maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. You drink it exclusively for 5-10 days while daily flushing your colon (I wont elaborate but to say that 'pants on fire' is now a personal description). I am currently on day 5/10. I swear, today will be the first day I don't cheat. The past four days I have succumbed to the gut wrenching hunger pains and had a piece of fruit or a few crackers. I'm getting better, promise. In the meantime, I'm finding anything possible to distract. See you in five days. I'll be the ravenous asian girl at PitaPit.

Peaceful, Easy Feeling.

I may not have been really in the glad tidings mood, but I sure have been thinking about this new year. BTW, I am totally on team twentyten, instead of twothousandandten. Just a side note. I have been thinking that this year I will be peaceful, and full of easy feelings. I will be thankful. I will be content. I will be aware. I will chase butterflies. I will listen to the Eagles. I will be useful.

In this spirit, Haiti is awful.

Haiti has been in a corner of my mind since nursing school. As part of our community health curriculum, we were asked to read the Tracy Kidder book Mountains Beyond Mountains. It's the story of Dr Paul Farmer, a Harvard educated doctor's whose work has been centered around humanitarian efforts to combat TB in the third world, most notably Haiti. Kidder paints a picture of the Haitians as severely disadvantaged, exhausted, and resilient. The turmoil of their healthcare situation was already awful. Despite the best efforts of Farmer and others who have similar drive, the Haitians remain among the youngest to die in the world. As the book title eludes, a Haitian proverb reads"Beyond mountains, there are mountains."

Don't I need to go? I have been doing some research but find myself overwhelmed with trying to figure out which organization to plug into.

Prayerfully considering.

Put it in a Puzzle.

So. My mighty explanation for why this blog did little to address my tidings of comfort and joyis because, in my world, there was no holiday season this year. Poor planning, work schedule, and ridiculous flight fares grounded me from the merriment. Bah Humbug. I was thus stuck in Kansas City with the Poufball, snowed in and with a severe case of cabin fever. I found myself throwing a tennis ball against my living room wall all just to expel excess energy. My solution? Puzzle. A wonderful, 1000 piece colorful cardboard time waster. You know what's great about puzzles? I'll tell you, AOM style. Behold~~

Top Ten Puzzle Lessons for Life:

1. Be orderly. Complete the basic outline, work your way to the complex.

2. Invest time. Focus.

3. Be patient. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither will your puzzle be.

4. Use the help provided. Look at the box, pay attention to details.

5. Don't forget the big picture. Occasionally step back and gaze.

6. Don't fall for the fake out. Often there are pieces that fit, but 'aren't convincing'. If you wonder if it's the right piece together, it isn't.

7. Find a friend. By the end, I needed a fresh set of eyes.

8. Set yourself up for success. Turn the lights on. Put on your sweats. Separate the pieces.

9. It's ok to be proud of your accomplishments, to want to glue that puzzle together and hang it on the wall.

10. ..... but it's also good to appreciate the journey more, and just let your roommate dump the pieces back into the box 15 minutes after you finish it.

Love Love Love.

Winter Blues?

Cure it with a fun friend from Omaha and a flouncy skirt. Rehabilitation guaranteed with wandering Westport and watching grannies bump and grind on the dance floor. True story.

High Ceilings.

Isn't this pretty? I took this last week when Alisa was down to visit. We went downtown to Union Station to wander the Chocolate exhibit. I would totally take the train somewhere if my arrival was to a station just like this. I'm gonna start to think about that; sleeper cars are adventurous and fun.