Three Little Words

Today started like any Tuesday. I woke up after too few hours of sleep, crammed in some homework before class, ate breakfast, and got ready. I sat down in my English 375 (Advanced Writing) class four minutes before its 9:30 start. Today was a pretty normal day of class, but there was an exceptional lesson learned within the middle of it that made it memorable for me. We were talking about writing tips for our upcoming essays and how basic choices of verbs, nouns, adverbs, and adjectives strengthen our paper. We got to the slide on nouns and said that generally, the more specific the concrete noun, the better (Daisies instead of flowers, Big Mac instead of hamburger, you get it). Then we got to this:

Abstract nouns are hardest to use well. Like love. Our use of love tends to be lazy. 

Well. I know that the sentence was concerning our usage of "love" in what we write, but of course my mind started to wander. I thought that sentence perfectly describes our (or at least my) everyday life. Love is hard to use well. 

I am guilty as charged. I say "I love you Mom and Dad," in one breath and then turn around to say "Ohemgoodness I love that TV show!" in the next. I just like to love things, so I will admit my contribution to cheapening the word. But I'm not the only one guilty here, people. Now I've never said those words to someone in THE BIG WAY, but how many people have you seen say, "I LOVE YOU AHHH" all over Facebook to their significant other and then after the breakup schmear (yes I consider that to be a real word) their ex any chance they get? Or friends who say "I love you and don't know what I'd do without you!" and two months later could not care less about the well-being of that same person. Obviously hurt feelings happen and emotions run high in those situations initially, but I think with time, eventually, you have to think: 

Hey. I told that person those three little words at one point. And that wasn't just a flaky statement, that was a promise. 

I think when you say those words to someone, whether that be your boyfriend, girlfriend, parents, brother, sister, friend, roommates, teammate, or dog (haha), you are making a promise. Easy to say, hard to do. You are promising, "I'm going to always be patient with you!" and "I won't get jealous of you, won't constantly try to one-up you, and will never think of myself as more important than you!" Yikes. Those are big promises, and that's only the beginning. With those words you're also promising:

"I won't be rude to you."

"I won't expect anything back for stuff I do for you."

"I won't jump to angry conclusions with you."

"I won't keep track of stuff that you do wrong. I'll forgive you every time." 

"I'll tell you the truth and be honest with you."

"I'll protect you and your reputation when I talk to you and about you."

"I'll trust you, and trust that God has a plan for you."

"I will hope for the best for you, and always assume the best about you."

"I will always hang in there with you, and I'm always on your side." 

"I won't ever fail you. You can count on me."

Wait. So it doesn't mean "I love you, except when you mess up and I don't feel like acting like it anymore." And it doesn't mean "I love you, but when you annoy me I reserve the right to be rude and angry at your stupid habits." Shoooooot. That makes it a whole lot harder. 

But as we know, love is a hard word to use well. 

Maybe we should be more careful about using love well even though, as my professor highlighted and I've discovered, it is an arduous job. It's difficult. But I think if we can even start to chip away at living up to that list, when we stop using love in a lazy way, we start to reflect the one who loves us perfectly. And that makes it worth it. 

Because while love is a difficult noun to use well, it's the greatest noun of them all.

Ensems

Yep, short for ensembles. Deal with the abbrevs. They probably aren't going anywhere, although I may have to keep them for my secret personal life when I grow up and become profesh. I mean professional. Here's the latest outfit post. By the way, halfway through this set of outfits I chopped ALL of my hair off.

Well not all of it, but half of it. I had an interview (waiting to hear back!) and thought my planned outfit would look cuter with shorter hair. So, the day before I called up a salon and took care of it. My compulsive decision making process is fun at times, dangerous at other times. Don't let me watch G.I. Jane or I'll get some funny haircut ideas that I KNOW I'll regret.

For now, I'm loving the shorter hair (that's finally healthy and split-end free!) plus all those minutes I save on drying it every day because it goes so much faster now. I figured out how this haircut will get me employed and lead to a successful career:

Shorter hair = less time to get ready = more sleep = happier Anna = winning personality = more hire-able candidate = eighty job offers = competitive salaries = new hobby of taking cannonballs into my pools of money. Right? Math was never my thing, but that seems pretty logical to me.

Still loving the boots.  

Ahh. Still with the long hair. 

My brother Alex got me this sweater for Christmas!
Good taste, brah. Good taste. 

The bottom of those jeans got really
slushy and soggy that day. It was a good try. 

Annnd haircut. Oooo Aaaaaah. 

H&M blazer, Forever 21 shirt,
Banana Republic skirt, Gap flats. (All cheap!)

All my pics get overexposed in the backyard. 

That scarf is cute but SO itchy. I was
DYING by the time class was over. 

Purple tights my mom got me for Christmas
sophomore year. And my favorite pair of shoes from Spain. 

Babysat in this outfit and got one big drool
splotch spanning down and affecting each
different item of clothing. Talented kids! 

Meet my Sambas. Hands down
all-time favorite shoes, ever.

Apparently I like to protest things to the camera,
which is on a self-timer. #Bloggerproblems

My "Grandma-Gesch" outfit, because she would
have worn every single thing of this outfit. I was,
you know, going for "geriatric chic."

Wind. Tyra is so jealous. 

Realizing I rock a lot of tights. Newest pair!

Sister Sister

(Shout out to wonderful childhood television shows!)

Well. I've been HOLDING BACK on this one in SEVERE DIFFICULTY. 

There's something you should know about me. I love the social media. I've kind of been a Facebook freak since I first signed up during my junior year of high school. Pinterest ruled my life during finals week. I watch WAY too many videos on Youtube (this one happens to be my latest favorite). I'm still waiting on LinkedIn to magically find me employment after graduation. I joined Twitter a little over a year ago and nothing brings me joy quite like a long, well crafted hashtag.

#IfyoudontgetthatlaststatementIguessyoulljusthavetojointwittertoexperienceitonyourown.

Which also leads to the fact that I keep this thing that you're reading! Yes, a blog! So when something big happens, I immediately want to follow in the tradition of putting it out there to the world by means of thirty-seven different outlets! But I patiently waited for the green light to share this piece of exciting news:

My brother Alex is ENGAGED! To HEIDI! 

Which means I GET A NEW SISTER! 

Ahhhh. That felt good to proclaim. I had to chill out on the overshare to allow them to tell the good news themselves. I got the call last weekend at Taylor University (this is the down low on that weekend) in the middle of a Spanish cooking session. To describe the volume of my jubilation on hearing the news on a scale of pretty to very loud, I'd say it was VERY LOUD.

Aren't they cute?

Alex and Heidi met at Yale Law School (smarty pantses) and both will be working in D.C. this fall. I'd been bugging Alex in an appropriate little sister fashion to get a ring on that girl's finger for awhile now, but alas, he did things in perfect timing on his own, as he has done most of his life. I'm so excited for them and the future that is coming. And I'm also excited for myself because I've been a big fan of this Heidi character ever since she first started showing up in conversations around the house. It's not every day that you add a sibling to the fam!

There. I could finally say it. I feel so much better now.

Make My Day

Anyone else get the reference from Technotronic? Hello 1990!

Today was a rainy, dreary, gray day. Things just weren't going in the Anna Gesch kind of way. I wasn't feeling the vibe of February 21, 2012. Hey, it happens to us all, right? So I did what every logical person would do to combat the gray day blues: Go to Starbucks. I get so much homework done there that I'm now wondering why I don't go there everyday. Anyway, the remedy worked. And in a bigger way than I thought. This trip to Starbucks reaffirmed my faith in human beings. (Okay not THAT dramatic of a Starbucks experience, but still. I'm trying to hook you into the story here so cut me some slack.)

My matching hot chocolates

It all started after lunch when I pack-muled my way into Starbucks with all my books, backpack, purse, laptop, and big puffy coat in tow.  I ordered the usual tall hot chocolate, and clumsily threw all my cargo on a chair. After about 15 minutes, I finally got organized, settled in, and got to work, sipping on my chocolate goodness. My mood was already on the mend. I had sugar in my system along with a productive three hour homework session in full swing.

At about 4:15, I saw the Starbucks worker guy (I believe that's his official title) walking up to me saying something and I was a little worried. I took off my headphones and said, "I'm sorry, could you repeat what you just said?", secretly expecting him to ask me to leave and stop hogging all the mini tables in my corner of the coffee shop.

Instead, he handed me a new cup and said, "Hey, here's another hot chocolate, on us. You've been here awhile so I figured you needed another boost."

Oh my goodness. My jaw could have hit the ground. All I could say was, "You made my day!" in an obnoxiously loud, abrupt, and awkward fashion. This teeny tiny gesture by a complete stranger absolutely changed my disposition in a matter of 4 seconds. He really did make my day. Which is sort of a weird term, to make one's day, but that's what happened. My day was made. That's just what you say.

While I sat there, headphones back on, reflecting on the goodness of a person I don't even know, it made me realize two things: First, while I know everyone has that whole total depravity thing going on, it is pretty special to be present for a moment when a person shows grace to another. Second, it is REALLY easy to make someone's day.

It was a reminder to me that everyone has this potential to do so much good for others. Just think of the possibilities! Not only for strangers, like this guy did, but even also for people you already know and love! I realized that I could go forth and make SO many days. For my dad, all it takes is saying I love him and singing an embarrassing song on a voicemail. For my classmate, all it takes is quickly asking how her mom is doing after a long and tricky sickness. For my roommate Lauren, all it takes is posting a picture of a furry little kitten on her Facebook wall. Karley makes my days on a regular basis by leaving me the leftover frosting from her many baking endeavors. That's it. So simple. All these things take just a few seconds and BAM. You've just made someone's day.

That's taking 4 seconds of your time to improve the following 86,400 seconds for someone else. I'm not the most savvy financial analyst out there, but I'd say that's got to be the best return on an investment, ever. And thanks to the investment of some Starbucks worker out there in the universe, February 21, 2012 turned into an Anna Gesch kind of day after all.

You Got Me (Road)Trippin'

This weekend was wonderful. Nope, didn't head into the city for a cosmopolitan adventure. Quite the contrary. My friend Dave (you met him already) who is from Spain and goes to college in St. Louis, took a bus from St. Louis to Chicago on Friday. I picked him up after my classes and we began the four-hour drive through the beautiful and interesting state of Indiana (I am being sarcastic here) down I-65 to finally reach Taylor University. An oasis of fun times in a desert of brown cornfields, gas stations, and power lines. We visited our friends Joey, Libby, Dietrich, and Ashley from our semester in Spain last spring. Man am I ever a sucker for these little get togethers!

Grammar side note. Have trouble remembering the spelling difference between dessert (the delicious food) and desert (the place where a cactus grows)? Just remember: You always want more dessert to eat. Therefore, use the DOUBLE S in that word and leave the SINGLE S for the word describing the Sahara. 

ANYWAY. Back to travel updates. Besides these people being fun because of the memories we made in Spain, they are a fun time in America also. People can be a good time no matter where they are in the world. Who knew?!

Dave, Dietrich, Ashley, myself, Libby, and Joey. After Friday Night Live. 

We started the weekend watching Dietrich (the one in the Bulls jersey above) in his college's Friday Night Live skit show. It was hilarious! We then drove around for some slushies and shenanigans. We finished the night breaking Taylor's visiting hours as we all stayed up late and reminisced about our adventures and funny stories a year ago. 

Saturday was jam packed. After sleeping in (it was GLORIOUS to wake up at 11:00!) and getting lunch, we talked at the local coffee shop (super trendy and cute). Then we went grocery shopping for dinner plans, which involved us making Tortilla de Patatas (one of our favorite Spanish foods) for ourselves and lots of their friends from Taylor. It consists of a lot of eggs, potatoes, and olive oil, just for a quick review. That was followed by attending Taylor's school play, which was really well done. After that, we hung out and talked some more before finally going to bed at 1:30. I thought I was done with my memory making at that point, but alas, while we were brushing our teeth, Ashley caught the Zooey bug from me and told me on a whim to cut her some blunt, straight across bangs. So, there in Taylor's bathroom, I used a Wal-Mart scissors to chop some bangs onto my very trusting friend. So sophisticated.

Ashley and I at Payne's coffee shop. Just like old times in our favorite café!
Oh and PS I cut my hair off last week. That happened too.  

Tortilla de Patatas and garlic bread in the works. 

Our finished product!

This weekend reinforced to me the importance of not only those big life-changing experiences, but the people who are by your side while they happen. At dinner on Saturday the new people I met at Taylor seemed to keep asking the question: What was the best part of your semester abroad? I would scroll through my mental rolodex of beautiful buildings, the fresh air on my walk to school, my backpack packed for my weekend flights to new countries, and the language and culture that I grew to know and love over four months. But I kept saying the same answer every time I got that question: It was the people I met! No matter the oceans, country roads, and state borders that separate me from all these people from Sevilla, I will always hold them dear to my heart. 

Ahhh. Great weekend. 

Sippin' Champagne

Hay layyyydiessss! Or guys too. Some guys enjoy drinking girly sounding things like strawberry champagne smoothies. Not that there's anything wrong with that. (Yep, you got it. Yet another Seinfeld reference. I can go on if you want.)

Yep, you're super perceptive and inferred from the above paragraph that I'm going to show you my new favorite drink: Strawberry Champagne Smoothies! Great reading comprehension guys! Usually I would say, "Hey friends, make this for those dainty special occasions that call for an adorable champagne toast!" Well, our circumstances were not as glamorous. It was a boring Wednesday night. Susan was on Pinterest. Anna had some strawberries. That's what happened.

Here's the (short but sweet) list of ingredients:
1 bottle of champagne (we chose a classy $7.00 variety from Dominic's)
1 16 oz container of strawberries
2 TBSP honey (preferably out of a container shaped like a teddy bear, believe me it's better that way.)
1 blender (or really fast and really strong person to stir manually, but just get a blender to make this work.)
2 ice cube trays
2 days (so plan ahead!)

First step. Pour HALF of the bottle of champagne into the blender (save the other half in the fridge for later!). Then, wash those strawberries! Who knows what's on 'em - they've been living side by side in the fridge with your roommates' leftover pasta and old sour cream containers. After cleaning them and cutting them up, throw your sparkly clean strawberries in a blender to join that half bottle of champ you added earlier. Finally, to finish this first step, add in that honey to top it off. Then blend it! (Make sure the cap is tightly on before you press that blend button. It's in the details, people.)

Now you have a good looking pitcher of stuff on your counter! To finish the first day's work, get out those ice cube trays and pour the delicious mixture into them to make little smoothie ice cubes once you put them in the freezer. (Now on the down low, do the classy thing and drink the extras yourself. Hey, if you supply your roommates with a drink this good, you deserve it.) 

Oooo. Champagne-y. And Strawberry-y.

Such a careful pourer. I can't be trusted
with tasks like this. 

Fun ice cubes amongst the Pizza Rolls

Yep. This happened. 

Next step in your list of instructions: Go to bed. Those ice cubes need time to freeze, so the best thing you can do is sleep. The next time you give me a list of things to do and include a command to go sleep for awhile, I will listen. What can I say, I give good directions. When you wake up the next day, there's a nice little extra incentive to get out of bed waiting for you in the freezer. Now isn't that nice? Take your cool new ice cubes and pop them out into the blender again. Bring out that other half bottle of champagne and throw it in with the ice cubes. Blend that together, and voila! You have now made strawberry champagne smoothies for everyone to enjoy! Now all that's left to do is find an occasion for which to have a fancy toast. We went with: It was Thursday. A worthy occasion, in my opinion. 

The strawberry ice cubes and the rest
of the champagne, just before the last step.

This recipe will also make your roommates indebted to you and
you might get a favor someday in return. I'm giving these away for free, people. 

Our Love Is Here To Stay

These are just my thoughts on one of the best people walking around on this earth. Since it's Valentine's, I think it's a good time to talk about someone I love. His name is Brian Gesch, also referred to as B-Money, and he is my dad.

Myself, Special-K, and B-Money all together on vacation

Here are some things that I've learned from my dad. Along the way I'll try and give you a little picture of who we're dealing with here:

#1 Be yourself, and be confident in who you are. My dad can't help but be himself. He is such a strong presence that everything he does is SO HIM. I used to get embarrassed of some of his tendencies in public, but now I love them. You know exactly who the guy is. He will ALWAYS be the loudest one singing in church. When he is in charge of making me dinner he will ALWAYS make a delicious steak for each of us cooked medium rare. He will ALWAYS ask every non-English speaker to teach him to say hello in their native language. He will ALWAYS say my mom is the most amazing person he knows. He will ALWAYS ask "May I bus your table?" and clear off the dishes when we have a family gathering. And he will ALWAYS cry at touching moments in movies, particularly in Old Yeller. He is, unapologetically, himself.

#2 Crank up the volume. This is specifically applied to the radio, but also metaphorically applied to life in general. Anytime you drive a vehicle after my dad was the last one at the wheel, when you turn on the car, you can bet money that you will be assaulted with a decibel level high enough for permanent hearing damage. He does this with good songs, the BBC radio for world news updates, and talk radio sessions on the 1130 AM channel in Milwaukee. I often make him mixed CD's for his birthdays and holidays of music I think he will like. I'll get many a voicemail of him singing along to a blasting Kelly Clarkson number or Cee-Lo Green's "Forget You" throughout my random school days. But everything he does is cranked up a few more notches than the average person. Have to be somewhere at 10:00? NOPE! My dad will do you one better and our whole family will be showing up at 9:15. Just to get a feel for the circumstances and to be punctual, for goodness sakes. I had 8 AM soccer games as a kid when I was the only girl on my team of boys and would show up a whole hour and fifteen minutes early. He and I were the only ones on the field, sitting at 6:45 in the morning with nothing to do. He would take that opportunity to make me do little drills by myself and practice sliding in mud so I was filthy and wet before the game even started. He said I had to do this because, well, "Then it shows you're not one of those weak girls who are afraid of getting a little dirty!" Like I said, in the Gesch family we have to turn it up a few notches. On everything.

#3 Live in loyalty to your principles. My dad is the most loyal person I have ever met, and I am not kidding. To everything. To my mom, to our family, to his parents, and to his principles of what is right and wrong. The guy isn't happy unless he is following all of those things. If he's in opposition to one of those, he's thrown completely out of whack. If he figures out he has done something against his principles, he apologizes and tries to get back to correct alignment. He has to do the right thing, or he can't stand himself. He has a fierce loyalty to the concept of SITUATIONAL AWARENESS and feels a deep obligation to inform me that I must use it at ALL times. Whenever I feel like I'm living in a world of gray, talking to my dad clears the lines a little bit. Talking with him reminds me that there is always a right thing to do and that I must just figure out what that is.

#4 Always say hello. This could be a piece of wisdom passed down first from my dad's father, Wilfred. My grandpa told me, "Anna, it doesn't cost anything to be friendly." My dad is the same way. I have often had to practice my handshake with my dad. When my family was assigned to be the greeters in church, I was thoroughly instructed to not give "dead fish" handshakes. "Look 'em in the eye, give a firm handshake, and say hello!" If there is a room full of people he already knows and ONE that he's never met, guess who is now conversing with Brian Gesch. Yep, the one. And if they're from a different country you get big time bonus points because now he can ask all about their trip and their lifestyle and their language and their religion. He just loves people. One time he met a guy from Cameroon. After a conversation the African guy ended up giving my dad the shirt he was wearing as a gift because my dad complimented him on it. The shirt looks hilarious but my dad cherishes it because he loved meeting that guy. That would only happen to him.

Of course, all this says volumes about my mom. My mom is the one behind the scenes that helps make my dad this great person that he is. She saw a guy in the 1970's with a white man's a-fro and chose instead to see a potential leader, husband, father, and teacher, and gave him a shot to fulfill all that unrealized possibility. She hangs with him through everything he does and gives our family the legs on which to stand up.

As for the title, this is a fabulous song of Frank Sinatra's (and many other singers, originally written by George Gershwin) that my dad and I both love to sing. And just like the song, I know that if the Rockies are crumbling, and Gibraltar is tumbling over, my dad will still be my dad. Brian Gesch will always be Brian Gesch, the same guy. And I love him for that. 

That Tim Allen is Full of it Man

(Yep. Dumb and Dumber reference.) We had plans this weekend. BIG plans.

Karley, Karyn, and I had plans to set out on Friday after class for Hudsonville, Michigan and see the beautiful Liz VanDrunen herself. Then on Saturday we were going to watch Trinity's track team rock the house at a meet at Grand Valley State University. And THEN we were going to watch Calvin's air band lip sync competition with one of my faves, Ann Marie, with the possibility of seeing my other high school friends later that night. Well. All of those plans and dreams kind of crashed and burned. Due to storms and snow Friday night, we decided to leave early Saturday morning (Write this down...I woke up at 5:45 for that!). We left with high hopes of Pure Michigan from all those Tim Allen commercials. He's the tool guy, after all. You should be able to trust him, right?!

We were going along, singing Taylor Swift, minding our own business, when suddenly, about halfway there,  this is what our drive looked like:

Bear in mind, we are three lame college girls who aren't very useful in most emergency situations. We turned Taylor down to a 3 on the volume knob (that's when you know it's getting serious), stared silently ahead for outlines of the road and other objects, and kept cheerfully (but nervously) telling Karley (who was driving) that we can totally figure this one out.

This is the first time in my life I've been happy to be stuck behind a semi truck because those were the only vehicles we could actually see through all that lake effect snow. We inched along at 0 miles per hour (I know it sounds impossible according to the laws of physics, but that's what happened. Just telling you the facts.), past countless cautionary tales that ended up in the ditch on either side of the highway and even seeing an accident happen a few hundred feet in front of us. Finally, after 3 miles and 30 minutes, we took the next exit, happily into the parking lot of a Cracker Barrel. How fortunate, we thought. Now THERE is a place in which we could spend all day! (That was a joke. Kind of.)

Karley beat the game! 

Their great candy selection. So colorful! 

As you can see, whilst in Cracker Barrel we had breakfast, played old Amish games, and looked at their beautiful selection of delicious candy. The other thing we did was call our trusty sources for advice. I called my brother Rudi, who looked up the weather (huge warning telling people to only travel in emergencies) and told me that turning around would be a good idea. We got the same advice from Karley's dad, my uncle, who is a truck driver himself and familiar with this stretch of driving in the winter. So we borrowed a shovel from the nice Cracker Barrel Candy Lady, shoveled our way out of our parking spot, got super brave, and headed back home, thus ditching our friends, our exciting plans, and all that colorful candy.

Shoveled out and ready to go.

Karley and Karyn

The cousins, ready to turn around for home again.

Back in Palos, catching a flick. 

And there we were at 1:15 in the afternoon, weekend plans kind of down the drain, but laughing due to the series of events that brought us back to Palos Heights 6 hours after we left it. It's funny though, because while you would think that we were in a terrible mood, going through that together was one of those odd bonding experiences. Like living in South Hall with no air conditioning in August as a freshman in college. I now know I can survive a snowpocalypse. Look, Dad, I'm building character! To salvage what was left of our free day, we decided to go see The Vow in the nearest movie theater to catch a matinee. (Sorry everyone, I thought it was awful.) It turned out to be a great weekend anyway. In the last 24 hours I've lived and learned one thing: Tim Allen is not to be trusted.

The Dilemma

I've been worrying about this little guy for awhile. He's been around for over a year and he's super cute. I kinda love him and don't want him to ever leave. But alas, they say he could keep me from getting a job.

In Park Guell up in Barcelona last March

Yep, I'm talking about my eyebrow piercing. That little guy is one of my favorite things. I'm not usually one to do rebellious things with my appearance - my hair has never been dyed, I didn't catch the goth wave, and the thought of getting a tattoo freaks me out completely for three reasons: 1. I don't like permanent things 2. I don't like pain and 3. Needles freak me out. So last year, before becoming a broad abroad, I decided to just do something I wouldn't normally do. I figured it would only last a few months, right? So I grabbed Mel, Lauren, and Karley, who bravely watched me get stabbed in the face a few nights before I hopped on that plane. No, it didn't hurt all that bad. No, the world didn't end when I called my mom to tell her the news that I got it. And no, I didn't fall into a nail somehow, I did it on purpose.

And here I am a year later, filling out applications for jobs and knowing that the inevitable might have to happen. The dilemma remains: to keep or not to keep the eyebrow thing? (Hamlet's mode of questioning works for any situation: To study or not to study? To shower or not to shower? To eat the red velvet cupcakes leftover from the super bowl party, or NOT to eat the red velvet cupcakes leftover from the super bowl party? These are the deep questions of a college senior, my friends.)

I might have to get rid of him. I've heard mixed reviews: from "It actually helped me get my job," and "It shows your confidence in who you are Anna!" to "That's so unprofessional,"and "People won't ever take you seriously." Well, I think the answer is probably somewhere in the middle. Yes, my personality and presence more than makes up for the presence of a tiny piece of metal. But no, I don't want to give someone any doubt of why I wouldn't be the best hire around. I like hearing the various views on this topic as they are usually very different from person to person. The job interview world is a new one that I plan on crashing soon.

So I'll have to figure out how to reconcile my love for this little guy and my love for the idea of being gainfully employed. With a fairly important interview looming in my near future (yowza!) his days just might be numbered. Maybe. We'll see.

Jen-nay

Yes. I am wearing high heeled furry boots. What up! I feel so Beyonce in these!

Sweater's from Banana for $15.00 and the boots from Target for $8.00.
Somewhere, a Dutch mom is crying a tear of thrifty happiness. 

Yay an outfit post! Here are a few more ensembles that I've been wearing these days. I'm trying to pick and wear clothes in different combinations than I usually do. Winter is great for that because of all those layering opportunities as well as weird weather shifts. One day I'm prancing around without a jacket, the next my eyes are watering as I battle headfirst into freezing wind. Chicago's like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. Sometimes, I guess there just aren't enough rocks. I'm sorry I had to fight in the middle of your Black Panther party. I must've drank me fifteen Dr. Peppers. 

Whew. Sorry about that one. If you didn't understand the last half of that paragraph or the title to this post you need to go watch Forrest Gump STAT. It should be on the required movie watching list to be an American. Wait, is there a list? Well then it's on MY list. 

Favorite new shirt/dress thing. Wearing
it next time with tights if it's not too scandalous.

Oh and I got it at Urban Outfitters marked down from $100.00
all the way to $15. Okay. I'm done bragging up my steals, I promise.

My favorite new shirt! I feel so professional in this one. 

Give me a pencil skirt to tuck this into and I'll give
you one fierce job applicant. 

Got sick of my jeans and just wore shorts.
But it's February so I wore tights too.

My friend Bre (a fashionista) wore this short/tights combo in
Spain once and I was so jealous. This one's for you Bre!

One of our few days with some of that
 white stuff still on the ground. 

'Member my Christmas boots? Me too. Thanks Mom.
I mean...Santa.