Where I'm going

My 2009 vacation calendar is shaping up quite nicely. It's slightly daunting only because I don't want to find myself going absolutely bonkers in December with zero vacation days left to my name. But it's exciting because I have oodles look forward to.

1.) Dallas in March

I'm visiting a dear friend, her boyfriend - I guess I like him, too - and their new canine friend. (I'm stoked to meet Tex, the Louisiana Catahoula Leopard dog.) I will come armed with Claritin and a small, carry-on bag - as my butt face airline is one that charges for checked bags ... so much for looking cute. I will also be fully prepared to celebrate St. Patrick's Day, lay by the pool - weather permitting - and spend quality time with a gal I've known and loved since day one of my existence.

What I will not do in Dallas:

• Spend too much money on clothing/shoes - written proof that I've made a promise to myself. (Psh.)
• Visit any restaurant Jessica Simpson has gone to. (Ok, that was a low blow.)
• Be the second gunman on the Grassy Knoll.

2.) St. Louis in May

This is the vacation of J and Molly, 2009. After much deliberation, we decided to regrettably decline an invitation to holiday in Napa. (Yes, I just said holiday. It sounds cooler, so what?) We are not immune to the recession punch felt 'round the world, so we opted for a more wallet-friendly excursion. We'll stop at a winery on the way and go antique shopping - much to J's dismay, I'm certain. We'll also take in a ball game - Go Royals! - see some animals at the zoo and in general, grace the city of St. Louis with our awesomeness.

What I will not do in St. Louis:

• Visit East St. Louis. One experience was enough ...
  
• Play bar golf. For sentimental and liver-purposes, I save this for MVC trips only.
  
• Go "up in the Arch." Unless J insists, I'd like to save facing two fears at once - heights and claustrophobia - for a more worthy cause. You know, like death.

3.) Colorado in August

J has college friends getting married. I don't know much about it except that I'm going. What I do know is that the company will be entertaining, and I won't be at work. Winner.

What I will not do in Colorado:

• Lay out in my bathing suit reading chapter after chapter of the 7th Harry Potter book, forgetting that since I'm in the mountains, I'm closer to the sun. Hello, lobster Molly. (I have never in my life been this miserable. Knee surgery included.)
• Lose my pants on a ski lift. (Yes, "ski lift in August" doesn't compute, but that story is just too classic not to mention.)
• Forget to be awesome.

4.) Camping in an unknown place at an unknown time

Last year, we went to Colorado. This year, we might try to keep it closer to KC. We'll eat our weight in smores, find some hiking trails and laugh a lot.

What I will not do on the camping trip:

• Wear makeup.
• Go to a camping site with port-o-potties only. I'll bathroom in the woods before I step foot in one of those. Dry heaving just thinking about them ...
  
• Strangle any snoring members of our tent population.
  

I'm a simple girl

I've noticed lately, that when I'm corresponding with people I haven't spoken to or seen in a while, and they ask me how I'm doing, what I'm up to, etc., my response is always the same: "I'm a simple girl."

See, it used to be, "Oh, nothing. I'm boring." But then I realized that response told people I was unhappy. I mean, being bored with life is not a good thing. So I changed my response to simplicity, to exude happiness. Because I'm happy. Extremely. But let's be honest, my simplicity is still boring to hear about.

So I've decided I need to take up a hobby. Other than reading - because rarely can I find someone to talk to about books. Here are some options I came up with:

• Become a connoisseur of something. I choose soup.

• Raise sea otters. Because if you can see this picture without melting, we're not friends:


• Start collecting spoons again. (Yes, I said again. And I'm not talking about those tiny souvenir spoons. Ones from restaurants. Ok, instead of "collecting" I guess I meant "steal." Start stealing spoons again.)

• Use Dance Dance Revolution as a form of exercise regularly. (Oh wait. I've already started down this course.)

• Learn to play the recorder. With my nose.

• Start a tribe of Sea Monkeys.

• Join the Renaissance Festival. I think I'll start at the wax-dipping station. So I can make fun of the obligatory awkward high school-aged couple who hold hands for their wax hand sculpture.

I think this is a good start. I'm just picturing talking to family during the holidays about my collection of 128 sea monkeys and then serenading them with my nasal recorder skills.

Any more suggestions?

Martha Stewart?

So I was just stumbling through the internets, and I found a "Did you know..." page. It holds the secrets to life's simplest, yet annoying, dilemmas. Ice on the steps? Pour warm water with Dawn soap in it, and they won't freeze over again. Need to get some wax off the edges of a used candle to reuse the glass holder? Put it in the freezer for a few hours and then hold it upside down. I'm not going to lie, there are some pretty snazzy hints here. There are some, however, that beg to be addressed. Here goes ...

"To clean artificial flowers, pour some salt into a paper bag and add the flowers. Shake vigorously as the salt will absorb all the dust and dirt and leave your artificial flowers looking like new! Works like a charm!"

Molly's Resolution: How about you don't buy artificial flowers at all?

"When boiling corn on the cob, add a pinch of sugar to help bring out the corn's natural sweetness."

Molly's Resolution: Don't tell me what to do.

"Use air-freshener to clean mirrors. It does a good job and better still, leaves a lovely smell to the shine."

Molly's Resolution: Actually, this is so dumb, I don't even think I can dignify a response.

"A sealed envelope - Put in the freezer for a few hours, then slide a knife under the flap. The envelope can then be resealed."

Molly's Resolution: Tell me why I want to reseal an envelope when someone else has already licked it.

"Crayon marks on walls? This worked wonderfully! A damp rag, dipped in baking soda. Comes off with little effort (elbow grease that is!)"

Molly's Resolution: Baking soda may work wonders. Let's just clarify who should be doing the cleaning. Not you. The offender. I don't care if he can't talk yet. Put that kid to work.

"Whenever I purchase a box of S.O.S Pads, I immediately take a pair of scissors and cut each pad into halves. After years of having to throw away rusted and unused and smelly pads, I finally decided that this would be much more economical. Now a box of SOS pads last me indefinitely!"

Molly's Resolution: What the F is an SOS Pad? And by the way, if you ever use the phrase "smelly pads" in a sentence ever again, I'm hunting you down and cutting off your left ring finger so you can't type the letter "s" anymore. (Or "x". Take that!)

A Christmas Story

So I'm a little behind. Whatever.

Here's my Christmas story, circa 1987.

I was three years old. My bff had a Christmas party in her basement. We got all gussied up ... we're talking velvet dresses and those doily things around our necks. After all, we had to look nice for Santa.

It was my turn to sit on Santa's lap. I'm sure he asked me what I wanted for Christmas, but I've blocked out any niceties. You know why? Because that jerkface tried to give me an orange. My response to this truly heinous attempt? "Uh. No thanks. I'm 'lergic." (That's "allergic" for you not fluent in Three Year Old.) And in case you're wondering, no, I wasn't respectful and sweet when I declined his gift. I was snotty. But I maintain that I had every right. Santa's supposed to know that ish, right?

He tried to salvage his mistake by offering me an apple instead, but I just jumped off his lap without a word. (Ha. I sure showed him.) Here's a picture:



One guess to which one is me...

To this day, I attributed the experience to the fact that I was just being a brat. Upon inquiry to my mom, however, about how I came to find out Santa wasn't real - there were several story swaps about this, but I couldn't for the life of me remember when and how my imaginative soul was crushed - I realized I had a perfectly good reason to cut that jolly man with my words. Mom informed me that they never took part in the Santa song and dance. Therefore, I never really believed in Santa and my "naughty" response was a product of that disbelief.

So there was no point to sharing that story, since the season has passed. But it's what you're getting, so deal with it.