Doppleganger

Check out the photos below. The one on the left is Obama. The one on the right is an Indonesian photographer named Ilham Anas. Anas is from Jakarta (where Obama went to grade school), and he shot to fame after Obama was elected President. Can you believe this resemblence???

An Elephant and Her Dog

Click on the link below to listen to a really sweet story about an elephant who has befriended a dog at the elephant sanctuary where she lives. The elephant and dog are best friends, and are inseparable. The dog even lets the elephant rub her tummy with her huge foot! So sweet. :)

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2009/01/02/assignment_america/main4696340.shtml

Thanks, Liz!

Clara was the lucky recipient of a new hedgehog toy from our new friend Liz today. She had no idea it was coming, but she was oh-so-happy that it did! This also gave me a chance to try out my new laptop's video camera. It didn't work. Hence, the photo.

Congratulations, Mr. Obama.

Whoa.

This girl is TEN YEARS OLD. She can dance like there's no tomorrow (although I will admit that it's a little creepy how sexy her dance is at only ten years old). I wish I had even a fraction of these kinds of moves down. Unfortunately, I have exactly zero of these kinds of moves down. Alas.

Cozy Clara

It's good curl-up-in-a-ball-with-your-head-on-a-pillow weather:

Clara LOVES her new Moose that she got for Christmas from the grandpeople:

Laughing babies :)

It's cold outside. Really REALLY cold. So, I figured we could all use something to warm us up on the inside. What could be better than laughing babies?

Sales!!

One of the best things about post-Christmas times is the INSANE sales at nearly every store in existence. Yesterday, I hung out with my friend Jenny and we decided to take an impromptu shopping trip. We hit up Ann Taylor Loft, where I scored not one but TWO pairs of normally-$60 pants for $20 total. Then we went to Uncle Dan's, a sporting goods/camping/outdoor gear store that I normally rarely set foot in. Jenny was looking for a new winter coat, as was I until I noticed that the cheapest coats available were $250. Seriously?! So, I changed strategies and decided to go for some high quality "long underwear" by the name of Under Armor. Actually, they are supposed to be used for running in inclement weather, and we all know how fond I am of that pastime... Anyway, I found them on sale at Uncle Dan's for $30. Rock on. I asked the cashier if these were the kind used for cold weather (they also have warm weather Under Armor that are supposed to keep you cool), and she said "Well, you probably wouldn't want to wear them by themselves when it's like this outside, but if you layered them..." at which point I realized that she thought I was actually going to use them for RUNNING, and I kind of snickered and said, "Oh trust me, they will only be used for layering." I got a look that signaled her thoughts of how pathetic I am, and then I happily walked out the door with my new layering devices. But wait: the glorious shopping excursion wasn't finished yet! Jenny and I then took a trip over to a Marshalls that is literally about a mile from my house, but which I didn't know existed and had therefore been frequenting the Marshalls that is more like five miles from my house. D'oh! There, I scored the last set of queen-sized flannel sheets that just happen to totally match the quilt on my bed. For $30. Yes, you can bow down to me now: I am officially a sale guru.

Snow Poem

We're in for a blizzard tonight, so I thought the poem below was appropriate. I love that he envisions each snowflake as it's own little fairy. :)

The Snow Fairy by Claude McKay

Throughout the afternoon I watched them there,
Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky,
Whirling fantastic in the misty air,
Contending fierce for space supremacy.
And they flew down a mightier force at night,
As though in heaven there was revolt and riot,
And they, frail things had taken panic flight
Down to the calm earth seeking peace and quiet.
I went to bed and rose at early dawn
To see them huddled together in a heap,
Each merged into the other upon the lawn,
Worn out by the sharp struggle, fast asleep.
The sun shone brightly on them half the day,
By night they stealthily had stol'n away.

And suddenly my thoughts then turned to you
Who came to me upon a winter's night,
When snow-sprites round my attic window flew,
Your hair disheveled, eyes aglow with light.
My heart was like the weather when you came,
The wanton winds were blowing loud and long;
But you, with joy and passion all aflame,
You danced and sang a lilting summer song.
I made room for you in my little bed,
Took covers from the closet fresh and warm,
A downful pillow for your scented head,
And lay down with you resting in my arm.
You went with Dawn. You left me ere the day,
The lonely actor of a dreamy play.

Sledding-a-go-go

Yesterday, I woke up at 10 am, ready and New-Years-resolution-motivated to go to Bikram yoga with Tara and Cary. I got up, brushed my teeth, and was in the middle of changing into my best combination of snow clothes and clothes you might wear in a room heated to 105 degrees when my phone rang. On the other end of the line, Tara was still presumably sitting in her pjs. "You might want to look outside," she said with resignation. I did, and saw about 6-8 inches of snow...everywhere. "I'm not sure yoga is such a good idea," I replied, intelligently voicing the very reason she had called. "Um...yeah..." was the response.

Seeing as I've lived in Chicago for the past five years, you'd think I'd come to like the snow, or at least expect it. Not so much. Every year I'm delighted with the first snow, thinking, "It's so pretty! I just love nature!" And then comes the second snow. And the third, fourth, and fifth snows. My level of pleasant surprise and awe declines sharply with each successive offering from Jack Frost. In fact, I take it as a personal insult each time I see another inch or two on the ground. "Seriously?!" I think. "You're really going to make me dig out my car for half an hour AGAIN?" Obviously, the reason for the (snow) season must have to do with punishing me for some major but mysterious transgression from my past. It's not like it's winter in Chicago, or anything. "I get it," I will the Snow Gods to hear me, "I suck. Now that that's been established, whaddya say we call it even?" Strangely, this bargaining strategy never seems to have a significant effect.

So last night, after being cooped up in the apartment all day, I decided it was time to turn this situation on its head. "Snow can be fun," I told myself unconvincingly. I recruited a few friends and we decided to put the sleds I bought three years ago to good use. We decided to make a pilgrimage to the most popular (or at least the most fun) sledding hill I know of in the Chicago area: Mount Trashmore.

As you might expect, the distinguished Mount Trashmore has a sordid past. Specifically, it used to be a landfill. The landfill has long been covered over with dirt and grass, which created a steep slope perfect for taking out total strangers who think it's fun to stand around at the bottom of big sledding hills. Now that's entertainment.

After another 30-minute car dig-out, we were off. An hour later, we had some great stories to tell. My friend Becky had done a full 360-degree spread eagle flip in mid-air after accidentally flying over a large bump in the hill. Ann and her two-year-old son Owen had unexpectedly taken a five-year-old girl for a ride down the last third of the slope. I had also gone over the aforementioned "bump" in the hill and ended up knocking the wind out of myself with my own elbow. It was good times.

So, you see, winter's not all bad. There are thrills to be had on sledding hills across the country. And even if sledding's not your thing, think of how great it'll feel to walk into a warm home afterwards, take your snowy clothes off, and sip a marshmallow-topped hot chocolate with a heating pad pressed against your somewhat strained calf-muscle. It's awesome!

Chicago winters, I love you.