Hospital sushi, anyone? Nope, this is not a post about my love of all things Kate Spade!

'Tis the season for getting sick, right?

I don't know why everyone is so anxious to blame my current ailment on the sushi I had for lunch on Thursday while dining at the University of Michigan hospital cafeteria. It was much tastier than the Meijer sushi I tried once when I first moved to Grand Rapids (and I will never, ever make that mistake again - I had just moved from Atlanta and didn't know if GR even HAD a sushi restaurant, ok?).

I suppose I should have quesitoned it when I ate a roll that tasted like it was made with Chicken of the Sea tuna (gross) and not the good stuff. But you know, I was hungry and just continued on. The pieces of California and crab roll were very good!

Last night I met my fellow Parrotheads (yes, I am a dues paying, margarita drinking, concert going fan of Jimmy Buffett) at Bahama Breeze for happy hour. During happy hour I consumed one Bahamarita (most fabulous drink ever, though I am not convinced there is actually any alcohol in it) and a half a salad.

Suddenly, I felt full. Then achy. Then SICK. I bolted for the ladies room and sure enough - Bahamarita revisited. Gross, right?

Really, the only time one should puke in public is when one is very, very, very drunk (proud to say I have never done that) -or- very, very, very, very hung over (no comment).

Those who know me know one drink that doesn't even really have alcohol certainly won't make me spew from drunkeness or a hangover...though my mom was suspicious....

Anyway, here I sit - miserable. I am slurping brothy soup and sipping on a giant Coke from Sonic. Coke makes everything better - especially fountain Coke, especially with those little Sonic ice chips!

Everyone keeps saying it's probably the hospital sushi....but, I am not going to pass judgement so quickly. I mean, my office might as well be a day care center there are so many children in and out of that place on a regular basis. Seriously, I have been on the phone with HR trying to discuss personnel issues on several occasions with children screaming behind me...talk about a personnel issue! Each time I had to tell them I was indeed in the office, and not working from home where I run a rogue day care center on the side to supplement my income. Anyway, we all know kids are the carriers of all types of funky viruses....so, until someone can PROVE the sushi did it I am going to say it is a virus I picked up in the workplace earlier this week!

But just in case....I am going to avoid the sushi counter in the cafeteria from now on.....

What goes around comes around

It was like a message from above.

I got it in my head to go to this new Goodwill store that opened super close to the hometown of Amway International. In other words, a Goodwill where the wealthy of my area are likely to drop off their unwanted goods.

Let me say - I only go to Goodwill to donate. I may be sort of broke but I am also sort of a snob. I'd rather by designer shoes on clearance than wonder whose feet have been in my shoes! OK, I did shop Goodwill  once in college - but it was to buy clothes for this night of fun with  my sorority where we dressed our big sisters up in crazy clothes, took them to the bar and got them drunk. In this day and age it would be called "hazing" but in my day it was good, clean, old fashioned fun! I digress....

I am looking for a cheap bookshelf for my basement because my bookshelves are overflowing (oh, if I only had a Kindle!). Something just told me "Go to Goodwill!" So, I picked up one of my city dwelling friends and we trekked out to the 'burbs.

Goodwill's furniture selection was pitiful and the whole place smelled like dust. I was so not impressed. My friend always manages to find something at Goodwill and she had found a really cute skirt for $3.

While waiting for her to check out, my gaze turned to the one locked glass cabinet in the store. It had some cheap jewelry so I wondered why they even bother when something on the very bottom shelf caught my eye.

Earlier this week I told you I can spot a fake Kate a mile away. Even with the glass between us I knew this was no fake.

This is Classic Noel Brown Bea clutch with the 14K plated KS emblem! Complete with dust bag! When this line came out with the KS emblems I was soooo tempted to buy one but I held back. Also, I don't have enough brown in my handbag collection and you know how I feel about the color red, so I've been admiring this particular pattern for some time.

This one is gently used (I call it vintage) and let me tell you, Goodwill would have been better off selling this sucker on E Bay because they could have gotten double, maybe triple what they were asking for in the store but too bad...I snatched it up! I must admit, I do feel a tad guilty practically stealing from this charity. I suppose it was pure profit for them. Still....maybe I need to offer my services to help them price their gently used high end handbags?

In the end I didn't get a bookshelf...and I still really need one...and would have been better off putting the cash I spent on this bag toward a bookshelf....my books won't fit in this bag but it will look so cute with these brand new KORS Michael Kors boots I picked up last week (don't worry - they were on clearance)!

To Kate or not to Kate? I can't believe it was even a question.

Those who know me best know I have a slight obsession with all things Kate Spade.

I own many Kate Spade items, including but not limited to: flip flops, sunglasses (3 pairs), wallets (two), business card holders, pencil cases, calendars (past and present), jewelry, stemware (Larabee Dot - LOVE IT), fine China and, of course, handbags. Lots and lots of handbags.

I am not talking that cheap crap from Chinatown. Give me some credit - I can spot a fake Kate a mile away.

There was an incident at Marshall Fields a few years ago that best highlights how I truly feel about Kate Spade handbags.

I was there with a friend, way across from the handbag section in the fragrance section when my Kate Spade radar picked up on something new. I spotted IT! IT was at least 30 feet away but, I zoomed in as though I was looking through binoculars. A bag I had been drooling over on her web site was sitting there - - live and in person at my local Marshall Fields. I shouted "There it is!" (For real. Out loud. To no one and everyone around me, I guess) and darted across the store, leaving my friend in the dust. I was a woman possessed. By the time my friend made her way to the handbag department like a not deranged person, I had already snatched the bag off the shelf, proceeded to the checkout counter and was signing the charge slip ("Yes, I WILL be putting this on my Marshall Fields charge, thank you!").

Ah, those were the days.

I recently found myself at Nordstrom, in search of the perfect suit to meet the Governor of Michigan for a work thing earlier this week.

Because of my love obsession with Kate Spade purses I just had to stop by the handbag department while in the store.

Why does an alcoholic go to the bar? Is it a test of will? Self-torture? To get to the other side? All of the above?

On the sale table I spotted a beautiful red tote from Kate's Gramercy Park collection. Did I ever mention red is my favorite color? I picked it up, positioned it lovingly on my arm and ran to the mirror to admire how cute I looked. Then I got that rush that only a new Kate Spade bag on my arm (or new KS sunglasses on my face) can give me. It's amazing how a handbag can make me feel like a million dollars! Then I looked at the price tag. It wasn't a million dollars, but it might as well have been. It was on clearance....clearance price - a bargain $225.

The old me would have charged it and forgotten about it. A year later I would bitch about the balance on my credit card and wonder what the hell I had spent my money on. The new me is still paying for Kate Spade bags of shopping trips past charged to my American Express.

As new me admired the red Gramercy Park tote, I remembered how I nearly cried when my December heat bill arrived earlier that week and how it was about the price of said handbag...I realized I cannot afford this purchase because hell, I can barely afford the outrageous heat bill.

I sat the beautiful tote back on the sale table and got a little choked up.  I slowly walked away fighting back the tears....sad that the Gramercy Park tote and I had crossed paths but that our time together was fleeting.

I am sure said tote will go to a good home. It's all for the best, I guess. She probably belongs with someone who can afford to pay for her AND their heat bill...or someone who doesn't mind paying her off for years to come thanks to their friends at Visa, CitiCards, AmEx, etc.

 P.S. My two year old Gramercy Park Stevie bag looked fabulous with my new pink and black suit, making me feel like a million bucks at the event with the Gov. A tote would not have been a good choice for such an event and the red totally would have clashed anyway. What's the point of a new expensive purse if you can't show it off, right?

I always feel like somebody's watching me (and I have no privacy)

Now I know why, when I leave my house or when I walk past windows on the right side of my house, I feel as though someone is watching me. Someone is!

My next door neighbors are this crotchety, crabby older couple. They are nice to my dog but not very nice to me.

Last fall and winter I worked from home a lot and they would always stop and ask me what I am doing at home in the middle of the day. Frankly, I think they're just jealous because they babysit four monster grandchildren whose parents work boring 9-5 office jobs.

At the end of both this year and last year I ended up with a lot of vacation time that I was forced to use or lose. Last year I was actually able to not work during that time (amazing) and was home for about two and a half weeks at the end of December. One day I was shoveling my driveway mid-day and Cranky Old Man came outside (for no apparent reason), looked at me with disdain and yelled, "Don't you work?" I was so stunned I just stared at him while he shuffled his way back into the house.

Today I came home from work shortly after 5 p.m. (normal). Since I thankfully landed office space in my town (long, painful story) I have a short commute and no need to work from home anymore. So, they can't pick on me for that.

Don't worry - they found something.

I arrived home, let the dog out and as I was filling the bird feeder in the back yard Cranky Old Man came pulling in his driveway. He always BACKS in to the driveway and it is normally a ten minute process. Dude has lived there for like 40 years so you think he would have it nailed by now but not so much.

By the way, I dread any time I am outside and Cranky Old Man or Crabby Old Woman are outside. Just dread it.

I tried to rush Gracie in but nature was calling.

Normally after he backs in the car it usually takes him a good five minutes to shuffle from his garage to his house (and it's like a six step walk) and today was no exception.
Sure enough, he stopped me.

"Why have you been leaving your garage door propped up?"

Time out: Since it got bitter cold I have been propping my garage door open about six inches with a flower pot. Why, you ask? I am feeding a couple of stray cats and I don't know if they have somewhere to go in this cold weather or not so I want them to be able to go into my garage if needed.

Knowing Cranky Old Man hates cats (when I first moved in he INSISTED I owned the cat that Gracie was eventually accused of killing. Every DAY he would say "You sure that's not your cat?" Really? 'Cause it's not like the cat just "appeared" the day I moved in - they had the thing for at least two years before I showed up!!!), I made up a lie and said it's because the door has been difficult to open in the cold weather.

What I really wanted to say? "None of your G-D business, old man!"

I mean really, get a hobby!

What does he think? Does he think drug smugglers are using my garage as a hideout...or maybe it's an underground railroad type stop for illegal immigrants? Seriously? Seriously?

They really do watch every move I make. I've suspected this since I moved in but today Cranky Old Man totally confirmed it.