I love...thunderstorms & donuts.

There was a thunderstorm early this morning, which made it one of those mornings that you just want to stay in bed, cuddled up under the covers, listening to the thunder and rain. That is probably why I slept through my alarm clock and woke up 20 minutes before I was supposed to be at work. The thunderstorm must have inspired me though, because I was fast as lightning in getting ready.

Coffee - brewing.
Hair - up.
Contacts - in.
Teeth - brushed.
Clothes - on.
Make-up - applied.

Breakfast - well, there was no time for breakfast. Upon a quick inventory of my cupboard and food items that could be easily transported, I decided to throw a rice cake in my bag. Then I grabbed my coffee, double checked that I was fully clothed, and ran out the door. On my quick drive into work I kept looking at my bag and that rice cake taunted me at every glance: "You're still going to be hungry after you eat me!"

I finally made it to my office and walked down the hall saying good morning to my co-workers. Then one of them stopped me and said the sweetest words I'd heard so far today: "Jason brought donuts." Boom. Breakfast was served.

Sure, donuts were one of the key factors in my freshman fif-idon'twanttotalkaboutit-teen after I found a little donut station in my dorm's cafeteria and started eating them on a regular basis. But since then I've learned a valuable donut lesson: Donuts in moderation...sweet, sweet moderation.

So I had one...and a half. Okay, one and two halves.

Now I'd like to thank the thunderstorm for making me so late that I couldn't eat breakfast at home and instead could have surprise donuts at work.

I'd also like to apologize to the rice cake, which will now be spending the rest of the day in my bag.

I love...Valentine's Day.

It's time I tell you all something.

You may not want to hear it.
You may think it's ridiculous.
But I have to be honest.
Here it goes...
I love Valentine's Day!
Yep. I do.

Some people love to hate the day, but I love to love it.



Most of my friends know this fact, all too well. The question is: where did my love for the holiday come from?

Perhaps it started in elementary school after years of decorating those brown paperbags in anticipation of the tiny valentines that classmates would (*hopefully*) fill them with.

Or it could have happened as a result of watching this episode of The Simpsons.

Maybe it began in high school when there was the excitement of whether or not I'd get a carnation from my crush of the year, or my crush of the week.

Then there was college, when I would drive my roomies a bit insane over the day. One year I had three outfit changes throughout the day - from the red outfit I wore to class, to the red outfit I wore around the apartment after class, and finally to the red outfit I wore out to dinner.

After college there was the year I had friends over to my apartment, we ate pizza (yum!), made prank phone calls (to single guys that we knew), and played pin the hose on the fireman. Last year I went out to dinner with friends, handed out heart-shaped slinkies and magnets with images of men wearing nothing but oven mitts.

I guess there's always been something about the day - to me, at least. It's not neccessarily the hearts, or the candy, or the flowers, or the men wearing nothing but oven mitts. But it's the possibility of all of that and more. I've always seen it as a day where anything can happen. You may get an unexpected flower, a cute card, a kind word, a sweet kiss, or...if you're out with me...a heart-shaped slinky.

So now it's Valentine's Day 2012 and who knows what the day will bring. So far my day includes my "love" necklace (like the one in this pic), oversleeping (i'll take that as a valentine from my ex, the snooze button) and a bit of February snow.

If you're still reading this and haven't gotten sick from my pro-Valentine's Day report, then let me wrap it up by wishing you a Happy Valentine's Day of your own!

Come on. It's a holiday, people! Show the day some love and who knows what it will show you back...

I love...the snooze button.

You know the saying: "The early bird gets the worm"?

Well, the thing is, I've never been a fan of worms.

I have a long-standing relationship with my snooze button. I can find it in the dark, with my eyes closed, during an indoor snow storm full of snooze button-defending unicorns* (*if snooze button-defending unicorns existed). I'll hit that button so many times that eventually it gives up on me and turns itself off.


Five more minutes of sleep? Yes, please. Five more minutes of laying here with my eyes closed thinking about how I should just get out of bed already? Yes, please.

As much as I love that little button, I'm starting to wonder if our relationship has gone too far? Perhaps bordering on 'unhealthy'? For the past couple weeks I've been willing myself to get up early (or even just 'on time') and work out. But every morning that alarm has gone off and -BAM- I can't get enough of that snooze button. The first week it was purely BEEP, snooze, BEEP, snooze, BEEP. The second week my mind was on board with the plan so I didn't actually fall back to sleep after hitting snooze, but my body still wasn't playing along. So though I was awake, I didn't actually step out of bed right away.

Now, here I am, typing it out. Maybe this will help - I'm breaking up with my snooze button. It's not you, Snooze, it's me, seriously. Maybe we can meet up again on a Saturday or after a random nap. Until then we'll always have our happy memories of 6:52 a.m. ...and 6:57 a.m. ...and 7:02 a.m.

Oh, I should also note that this doesn't mean I'm going to be going after any worms, the early birds can still have those. I'm cool with being the early Jenny who gets the coffee and oatmeal.