Forces Pulling From the Center of the Earth Again

Today was a banner day in the Cutthroat household.  I started to unpack the things in my boxes from home.  Lo and behold, I found my journals from middle school and high school.  Oh, the drama!  Are all teenage girls that dramatic?  Also, I had a crush on every boy who had a name with a vowel.  At one point in the journal, I had just resorted to names with hearts around them.  There were poems.  There was parental venting.  The single best part of the whole thing is some story about some dance and as a side note in the middle, it read, "by the way, I now have a brother!"  Those journals were everything I remembered.  PS.  Did anyone else listen to Live - Throwing Copper on repeat while making out?  I wish I could just go back and tell myself:  you are going to meet the greatest man someday and he will always call you back.  I am going to hang on to this writing just in case we have a girl at some point who turns out even a tenth as hormonal as I was.  My journal reminded me that my hobbies, besides chasing boys, included some mean ceramics.  I hope my hormonal girl, if I ever have one, will be a knitter.  I'm sure if she is rebellious, she will be a crocheter.  Even worse, she will probably be into dogs.  Gasp! 

This Must Be It, Welcome to the New Year

Wow.  What a week!  Christmas is over.  Family time is over.  2010 is over.  I had such a great time in the last week that it is hard to get back into the routine of working, commuting, and normalcy for all of 2 days.  I think that waking up today for work was the hardest thing I have had to do in a while.  I would have rather thrown myself down a flight of stairs than sit in an office all day.  A broken leg or work?  A broken leg is better.  Although, I say that having never had a broken leg. 
I feel that the year's great holidays go in order of greatness.  Christmas is obviously the best holiday, and working backwards, they get progressively worse until you get to New Year's Eve.  I hate New Year's Eve.  It is such a let-down.  The premise is to get dressed up, drink, and watch the clock.  I always get really excited about New Year's Eve and nothing ever really happens.  I am not sure what I am expecting when it is midnight.  I feel like something should explode with glitter and tiny kittens and free cake.  That never happens.  I am always standing awkwardly alone when my friends are hugging each other.  Then, you look over and "that" guy that came with one of your friends is standing there hugless.  You feel obligated to hug him and you don't even really like him.  Ugh.  Every year.  What a weird holiday!  Happy changing the year on your calendar!  Who cares?  Give me a present or some fireworks or a parade!  This year, I am staying in. 

You Are the Best Thing That's Ever Been Mine

Flights were so expensive this year. This being the case, we decided to make a road trip out of our trip to my side for Christmas. We got a cat sitter, ornaments boxed up, and Taylor Swift I-pod playlist. My poor husband! Usually, people hear of my antics and they say, "oh, poor Mr. Cutthroat!" I almost never agree. This time, about 5 hours into this playlist, my husband began to sing "Mine" and I realized I am lucky to have an easy-going man in my life. To be fair, he isn't easy going all the time. He did almost rip Garmin off of the dash during the trip. But, I can't complain. Did I mention that I bought my mother a Garmin for Christmas, opened the box and proceeded to use it for two trips? This Garmin is the best thing that's never been mine. When we get to our final destination, I will rebox and wrap. The temptation to use it was too great. Get off my back!
Ps. I typed this on my phone. Forgive any glaring errors in capitalization and punctuation. Get off my back!

Wish I'd Never Grown Up

It's official: I am way old.  Today, my husband and I turned on an old 80's movie today.   The movie featured a cameo by none other than 80's character Yakov Smirnoff.  If you are like me, you forgot Yakov even existed until seeing him again.  Mr. Cutthroat had never heard of the comedic magic of Yakov.  And, by comedic magic, I mean joke after joke after joke about why America is better than Russia.  I have married a man that has missed out on Yakov.  He is too young to remember and that is depressing.  He probably doesn't even know about Teddy Ruxpin or Glo-worms!  I am on the downward slope towards middle age, while Mr. Cutthroat is still basking in the sunshine of his youth.  What is my life going to be like when I don't get carded anymore?  Alcohol free, that's what. 
Back to Yakov, do you know that he is a professor in Branson, Missouri?  Obviously, if you are Yakov Smirnoff, Branson is a no-brainer choice of where to go when you have worn out all your jokes about Communism.  This week, we will be looking up a lot of Yakov on YouTube to get my husband up to speed on 80's pop culture.  America!  What a country!

Now, Clap Your Hands If You Got A Bank Roll

So, if you recall, I wrote a post the other day about making a blanket.  Today, I somewhat panicked about Christmas gifts and promptly headed to the mall.  I saw a knitted blanket there for $150.  Holy crap!  $150!!  I would feel like I was mugging someone at gunpoint if I charged that much!  Needless to say, I did not entertain the idea of purchasing the blanket.  I did wander around for the better part of two hours trying to think of something, anything, to buy some of the folks on my list.  I will say that at the beginning of this season, I couldn't think of even two things that I wanted to get as a gift.  Now, I keep thinking of things I want to buy myself.  I prepare a list weeks in advance for every Christmas.  Then, I spend the next several weeks trying to find out what was purchased.  This just doesn't feel like Christmas.  Even putting my cats into elf hats and playing the Sounds of the Season music channel on blast has not worked.  There are no presents under the tree for me, and I think that is all the difference.  My husband and I decided not to exchange gifts this year for a variety of reasons, one of which is that we see every purchase the other person makes.  Not fun.  Also, not challenging in trying to figure out gifts.  Damn this cashless society!  It just isn't as fun to receive a gift from someone you share finances with when you are thinking, "Well, I half bought this for myself."  Tis better to receive when your boyfriend has separate finances and he has to figure out an appropriate amount to spend.  And, they wrap it on their own.  So cute!  Getting a present you already saw on the bank statement loses its charm.  I feel I was not warned about this before tying the knot.  There is so much they don't tell you.

A Southern Man Don't Need Him Around Anyhow

Right this second, I am stuck watching ConAir.  Not that I am watching it by choice, I just don't care enough to put up a fight.  I have yarn to spin and hats to knit, Nicholas Cage's terrible southern accent is the least of my worries.  But, it did give me a great idea to knit a bunny.  I have seen a couple of patterns I think I could tackle for Cutthroat Yarn on Etsy.  I see little animals in stores and I think that I could make the same.  I actually say that about most things I see, but putting it into action is a whole different story.  By the way, how much of this movie is a sweaty Nicholas Cage running in slow motion?  The answer, a lot.  I typically get a lot of knitting done on an airplane.  I feel flying ConAir is an exception.  I would be too concerned with having to hand tow a plane out of sand or defending my personal belongings from some other convict.  This movie is terrible.  I am going to knit someone a "Cameron Poe Kit" and it will be a bunny, a tank top, and a disgusting wig-all in a box.  I doubt that I will sell many of those.  Maybe if this was 10 years ago, I might have a better market.  Honestly, who watches this movie??

Broken Glass Everywhere

This weekend was really a test for my marriage. Every year, my ultimate goal is to seek out the most extravagant Christmas tree I can possibly find. Every year, I begin prepping my husband in March for the impending monstrosity taking up one fourth of our living room in December. This year our tree was too tall for the car, so we just strapped it to the top. One thousand stairs later, the tree was inside and in the stand. Well, it wasn't that easy. There were some loud, differing opinions on several aspects of the set up.
In the midst of all of this, I was also prepping for a small dinner party with close friends the following day. There was baking, scrubbing, swiffering, dusting, vaacuuming, and most importantly, decorating. By the time 1 AM rolled around, I was the last man standing. My husband was fast asleep but, I wasn't able to take the same liberties because of all the aforementioned activities. I got part of the tree decorated by the time I went to bed. And, then there were the furry frenemies. About 2 hours later, CRASH! I sent my husband out to see the source of the noise, and as I suspected, the tree was on the floor and broken glass was covering the living room. I know it was Mr. Cutthroat's cat. I KNOW in my heart it was him. But, I am working hard to keep it in perspective. Although one of my cherished ornaments from Grandma ended up in pieces, it was not my actual Grandma laying in pieces. This I have learned from watching a variety of hoarding shows.
The tree has since been tethered to the wall. And, we have made it 24 hours standing. I just have to keep an eye on those feline jerks.