In Tulsa, someone's ears are burning.

I met an old friend tonight for what was supposed to be an economically sound and culturally rich evening. Thursday nights are free at the Walker, so we decided to browse the galleries and try our hand at the current project in the art lab. Instead, we perused exactly one gallery, discovered that the art lab was full, and spent two hours chatting over wine and overpriced appetizers instead. What's that you say? Budget schmudget. At least the "let's catch up" part went as planned.

In any case, when I got home, I had exactly one task in mind (well, one task before "get my tired ass self to bed before I collapse forward onto my keyboard"), and that was to answer the interview questions that 3Carnations was kind enough to pass along to me. Naturally, however, before I could do that, I had to check in on my Facebook Scrabble games, and that put me a wee bit off schedule. You know how Liz doesn't want to admit to the Internet exactly how many cats she has? I may be in a similar position with the number of concurrent Scrabble games I have going. It's not my fault, people. I swear I started only half of them. I don't have a Scrabble problem. I can quit any time. Ahem.

So anyway, the interview questions will have to wait a bit longer. Meanwhile, speaking of Liz, she has a new litmus test for me to determine whether a potential suitor is worth my time. Remember how I successfully drunk-spelled my way to victory in that bee last year? You might be surprised to learn that "I won the Twin Cities' first Drunken Spelling Bee" doesn't garner quite the awe and respect you might think it could. As marginal claims to fame go, I'll admit it doesn't rank that high. It's not like I designed the Summit label or named Rocky Road, after all. But seriously... Nothing, boys?? Not a single date I've told that story to (save for the one who signed me up for the bee in the first place) has been impressed by my mad skillz or dumb luck. That is, until last night. Last night, The Buddhist and I were talking to my good friend Amy (who did design the Summit label and has gotten due props from past dates on that fun fact), and the topic of the spelling bee came up. And finally! HE was impressed! (Or, said he was, anyway.) Liz has decided this is a good measure of The Buddhist's worth. He has passed the spelling bee litmus test. Surely it's all only uphill from here. (No?)

And because I might as well mention Liz one more time in a post that is quickly becoming more about her than about me, let's play a little game I saw in an e-mail she forwarded me today. The message asked me to describe Liz in one word and one word only--click "Reply" on her message, type the word, and send it just like that. After sending my word about Liz, though, I was supposed to send the same message to all my friends to see what word they'd attach to me. My friends aren't exactly the "responsive to e-mail forwards" type, and besides that, if there's one way to make an exercise like this slightly more self-absorbed, it's to post it on my blog. So tell me: what's the one word you'd use to describe me? I'm gonna go with "lazy," given that I'd apparently rather milk a post out of three idle details than actually write the post I'm supposed to be writing, but maybe that's just me. Have at it.

I suppose in this economy, a "staycation" does make the most sense.

Well then. Much as that Someecard I lifted for my Inauguration Day post does continue to perfectly sum up how I'm feeling (raise your hand if you're still smiling involuntarily every time you hear the words "President Obama"), Inauguration was a week ago, and I'd best be posting something new, hadn't I? After all, I received an email from 3Carnations today wondering if I'd run off and moved into a Buddhist center. Perhaps some of the rest of you were wondering the same thing.

Nope. Still here, and it's a very good thing I do not live in a Buddhist center, as they likely would have kicked me out by now given that I don't think anyone could peacefully meditate with me barking like a pack-a-day smoker with advanced emphysema for the past five days. I routinely think about the many reasons it's probably best I live alone, but usually they have to do with things like being able to leave the bathroom door open when I pee and having complete control over the TV (which I can actually see from the bathroom when I leave the door open to pee, not that I would ever do something so tacky and barbarian, of course). This week I'm thankful I live alone for another reason, though, and that's that I managed to pick up a case of bronchitis, and I'm well aware that sharing bronchitis is significantly less fun than sharing anything else that comes in a case.

I do feel bad for my coworkers, who despite never having taken any sort of vow to love me in sickness and in health are forced to listen to me cough away all day, and yet bless their hearts, haven't sealed me in a sound- and germ-proof bubble just yet. Hooray. And today I spent my lunch hour at the walk-in clinic in a local grocery store, where the nice physician's assistant readily handed out Zithromax and Codeine-laced cough syrup as if they were candy, a seemingly devil-may-care attitude to this whole "we must stop overprescribing antibiotics" nonsense. I actually passed on the Codeine (Which was totally the wrong move, right? How often do we get the chance to try the good stuff??), but I have high hopes that with the Zithromax alone I will be on the mend soon. Fingers crossed, because I do think I'd miss my lungs if I just inadvertently hacked one out mid-cough.

In case you are curious, however, while I haven't moved into a Buddhist center, the Buddhist is still in the picture, and I very much hope he's not hacking up any internal organs on my account soon too. I also hope I didn't breathe too closely to the guy I had a date with on Thursday, as I turned down his invitation for a second date, and to be rejected and infected in the same evening is something I wouldn't wish on even the most boring of Catch dot Mom man. Which this one wasn't, by the way. Boring, I mean. No, he was perfectly nice and friendly and even fun-ish and mildly interesting. I also felt absolutely zero romantic chemistry with him, however, and while I know it's an ongoing debate whether that sort of thing matters from the start, I'd still prefer to trust my instincts and skip the ho-hum second date this time. I may be irreparably wrecking my dating karma in a way that will come back to haunt me in a manner similar to the so-called best date of '08, but that is a risk I'm going to take, my friends.

Speaking of Catch dot Mom men, I would like to tell you about the latest one to wink at me. His favorite local hot spots include "the airport," and his favorite place "abroad" is New York City. I realize there are times I'm not as smart as I like to think I am. I can think of more than two times when I've snidely mocked the absurdity of something only to realize it was I who was in the wrong. So help me out here, word nerds. I know the Midwest is deemed fly-over land. I know it's a foreign country to many of those on the coast. But New York City? A location "abroad"? Technically, perhaps, but please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks that dude's horizons (or vocabulary) could stand some growth?

'Nuf said.

Don't you love it when I say I'm not going to talk about something and then I talk about it anyway? Yeah, this is one of those posts.

A few status updates...

License plate: Still sitting on my passenger seat, rather than affixed to my bumper.
Weather: Still in the balmy above-zero range.
Bush's term: Mere hours from over. HOURS! Wheeee!

I think that about covers all the important stuff. No? Oh. Right. You probably want to hear about The Buddhist.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how much I want to say about that on-blog. If I know you in person, I will be happy to share my muddled jumble of thoughts on that evening, but I'm not so keen on trying to corral those thoughts into a logical post that will live on the Internet indefinitely. Fair enough? Maybe? I hope so.

I will tell you this, though. It turns out that a Buddhist center, in this case, is really just a house. A beautiful old brick house divided into two apartments, in which a combined total of seven people (specifically, seven urban Buddhists) live. Not only is it a lovely and cozy home, but it is furnished! With a multitude of chairs and tables and dressers and bookshelves that my ex-boyfriend the ex-pothead OWNS!

I'm sorry; have you met me? Then perhaps you're familiar with my tendency to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, no matter how strange or inappropriate that thing may be. Hence, as I walked into the Buddhist's home on Saturday, after the expected hellos and "Wow; it's been a long time"s and "You look good!"s, the first comment out of my mouth was, "You have FURNITURE!!" My ex-boyfriend the Buddhist just laughed at me. "I do! I have furniture," he said. He seemed confused by my surprise. Perhaps he forgot that when I knew him last, he slept on a twin-sized mattress on the floor and his dresser was a laundry basket. Ah, good times.

I don't suspect the decor is in particular what you are curious about, however, but the rest is the part I'm less willing to commit to print. In short, we had a lovely time. I don't know what it means or where (if anywhere) it will go, but regardless of whether or how often I see him again, I am glad we had the chance to cross paths once more. (Note: If he flakes on me and I never hear from him after this, despite his repeated claims that he wants to see me again, please remind me that I said that, OK?)

It doesn't seem possible that I should be able to get together with someone I haven't seen in eight years and fall instantly into the same comfortable rapport we had back then, and yet, we sort of did. He remembers more than I thought he would. I remember more than he thought I would. It may turn out to be no more than just a few hours of reminiscing with an old friend, but I almost don't even mind if that's the case. Above all else, I am happy I saw him again simply for the validation that I am not a clinging-to-the-past crazy person, that I actually was more than a long-forgotten blip in his storied history. Though we dated for only a few months, Jimmy has always been significant to me, but I had no idea if it was at all mutual. He's one I've wondered about often, thinking if we'd met at a different point in his life, things might have gone differently. Turns out I'm not alone. Jimmy told me on Saturday that when we broke up, he thought, "This is a girl I should meet five to ten years from now." He smirked when I admitted to Googling him over the years, not because he was surprised, but because he had Googled me as well. And when I said, "Your Facebook page is all locked down!" he quickly replied, "Yeah... yours is, too."

Essentially, it played out exactly like I imagined it on those rare occasions when I let my mind stir up silly little fantasies or daydreams, wondering "What would happen if I ever ran into Jimmy again?" He said everything I would have wanted him to say. It went just like I would have wanted it to go. It was one of those very rare times where life actually DOES work like it does in the movies, at least for a little while (which is the only part movies show you anyway before they cut to credits). So. It was nice. I don't know what will happen from here. But it's lovely to hold on to some good memories, at least for a bit, anyway.

In other news, I had a blind date tonight with a stranger from the Internet. Yes, yes, that is nothing new, but in this case it was with another Stefanie, a sometimes-commenter who found me while vanity Googling her name a long while back. She is in town helping her mother move, and we met for dinner this evening. As it turns out, Internet strangers who read my blog can be at least as charming and interesting as most of the men I've met on meMarmony and Catch dot Mom. Or maybe it's just a Stefanie thing. We're thinking of holding a reunion. Or rather, a union, as most of us Stefanies on the Internet haven't actually ever met. How many more of us are out there anyway? And how many of you are in?

Yet more proof that this city is shrinking and every man on Catch dot Mom is in some way a blast from my past

Word has it that it's a whopping 19 degrees outside at the moment, and while that may not feel particularly balmy to you, it is in fact 39 degrees warmer than it has been for the previous two days. Thirty-nine degrees. In one day. I am glad swings like this generally happen only in the winter. Even in Minnesota I doubt we'd adapt well to a lovely 71-degree day followed immediately by an unexpectedly brisk 32-degree one.

Despite the welcome warm front, I haven't actually ventured outside yet today. I should, of course. I should be determining how to reattach my license plate, since the so-called self-healing Saturn doesn't seem to be taking the initiative to do so itself. No fewer than three people have now helpfully pointed out to me, "You know, you can get a ticket for driving without a front license plate, even if the plate is in your car." My excuse to the undoubtedly kind and understanding officer was going to be, "But it's negative-20 degrees outside, and I don't have a heated garage! Sir, do you really want me outside testing my resourcefulness in weather like this? Do I look particularly hardy to you?" Successfully batting my eyelashes at officers of the law has never been a strong suit of mine, but surely that excuse would work. No? Right. Best get myself out of these yoga pants and off to my tool chest before the sun goes down.

I promise I will stop talking about the weather now, though. Why? Because I have far more interesting things to tell you. Namely, that I am having dinner tonight at a local Buddhist center. With an ex-boyfriend whom I have not seen in eight years. Who is now a Buddhist. Living at a Buddhist center. Where he is making me dinner tonight. Did you get all of that?

Somehow I always sort of assumed I would run into Jimmy again eventually. (You remember Jimmy, don't you? He is the reason I get approximately 17 search engine hits a week for search strings such as "pothead boyfriend" and "dating a pothead.") While I always thought I would see him again someday, however, I never actually thought it would be on Catch dot Mom. And yet, there he was in my Inbox earlier this week, in one of those confounding "Daily 5" messages. "[Insert user name here] noticed you in his Daily 5. And he's interested!"

I almost didn't even click through to the profile. The photo was a tiny, from-a-distance full-body shot in which I couldn't even see the guy's face. The user name was an annoying combination of letters and numbers spelling out a cheery, optimistic message to potential dates. My automatic reaction was to hit "Delete" without clicking through for any more detail. Besides that, my energy for this nonsense wanes regularly, and after the defeated, deflated feeling that followed what I (one-sidedly) deemed my best date of '08, I haven't felt much renewed motivation to log in. But for some reason I clicked through anyway, and my jaw dropped as I realized who'd found me.

I've been trying to recall exactly what I've done in the past eight years, and whether my life is notably different now than it was then. Every time someone I haven't seen in a while asks me what I've been up to lately, I draw a blank, generally replying with something meaningless and far-from-clever, such as, "Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Nothing new, I guess." But surely something must be new. In eight years? Certainly. Yes, I am still single (or rather, single again). Yes, I am still at the same job. But I bought a house. Fell in love. Had my heart broken. Fell out of love. (The order of those last two is questionable.) Went to Mexico, Jamaica, Austin, Philly, Boston, and various other locales. Made friends. Lost friends. Unintentionally dented a few hearts. Finally acquired salt and pepper shakers. Learned to knit. Read lots of books. Gained ten pounds. Met a depressing number of men on the Internet. Didn't like most of them. Made some strides toward figuring out who I am and what I need.

Eight years. Eight. It sort of baffles me that someone I dated in my mid/late-twenties was eight years ago at this point. I sound like a trite movie cliche, all "Turn, Turn, Turn" and "Sunrise, Sunset," but tell me, where on earth does the time go?

I don't know exactly what Jimmy's been up to the past eight years, but somehow I feel like his list might be a little more interesting than mine. Got married. Got divorced. Became a Buddhist. Oh yeah. And apparently stopped smoking so damn much pot.

In any case, we greeted each other online with enthusiastic friendliness. "Stefanie! I thought that was you! It would be great to catch up," he said. And you know what? It would be great. We always got along well and had fun talking, and besides that, I'm terribly curious. Every woman has a few unanswered questions in her past, and he's been one of mine. Hence, the get-together this evening. A get-together that started out as "let's meet for a drink" and then turned into "how about dinner first," which then became, "I'll cook for you over at my place." His place being the Buddhist center, of course.

I relayed all of this to Carrie via email. "You're having dinner at the Buddhist center? Delightful!" she replied. Almost as delightful as the time her late-middle-aged Bohemian woodworker friend invited her to his century-old home for spaghetti and martinis. At two o' clock on a Sunday afternoon. "Where do we find these characters?" I asked her. I don't know, but I do appreciate the odd little details that make our humdrum lives seem worthy of a scene in a movie or a sitcom. "It's all going in my book," she said. It's a book we could probably write together, pooling our material seamlessly. It worked for those girls who wrote The Nanny Diaries, and we are at least as clever as they are, I say.

I'll get right on that, of course. Right after I fix that damn license plate.

Whoa. Aaay!

I was just informed via a Facebook status comment that the projected low temperature for Minneapolis this evening (negative 20 degrees) is the same as the temperature on the top of Mount Everest. I think it's as good a time as any to ask... who wants to come visit?

While you're booking your flight and consulting Wikipedia to study up on Minnesota lore, I have a story to tell you.

Remember a while back, when I decided that my trusty decade-old Saturn was perhaps self-healing and invincible? (No? You don't actually memorize every word I type? Fine then; here's a link.) Well, it turns out that the magical powers carefree whims of my car's electrical system aren't limited just to the lights within the dash panel.

One night last week my touchy-feely coworker flagged me down on my way out of the parking lot. I thought perhaps he wanted a quick hug before I left, but no, he just wanted to let me know that my right headlight was out. The last time this happened, I did what most lazy busy and important single women do: I took it in to let the Saturn service center goblins replace it. It wasn't terribly expensive, and I was overdue for an oil change and hence was going there anyway. This time, however, I decided I would replace it myself. After all, I fixed my car's air conditioner and went all Rosie-the-Riveter on my garage door springs... How hard can a light bulb be??

Figuring out how to free the light bulb from the plastic casing around it, however, requires a well-lit garage or discretionary daylight hours, neither of which I had at the moment. I put the project off until the weekend.

The next night, though, I was waiting at an intersection, and I noticed not one, but two, headlights reflected from my car onto the uncharacteristically clean and shiny (for Minnesota in road-spray season) SUV in front of me. Hurrah! My headlight was magically fixed! The Saturn IS self-healing! Brilliant! So confident was I in my car's mystical powers that when a friend inadvertently tapped my bumper and broke loose my front license plate frame on Saturday, I thought, "Eh. No worries. I'll just leave it in the front seat and surely it will reattach itself on its own when I'm not looking."

Unfortunately, it is now four days later and the license plate is still sitting forlorn in the same spot I left it. Also, waiting behind another shiny car on my way home last night, I realized I was back to one headlight again. Drat.

I tried to decide what I'd done since the light went out, reappeared, and went out again, and I formed a theory that was actually slightly more scientific than "Magic!" Last week, when I thought the light was burned out, I opened the hood to investigate how to get at it. The next day, the light was back on. Yesterday, I filled my wiper fluid when I stopped for gas. Later that night, the light was gone. I decided the force of the hood shutting must somehow be tripping the light, so I tested the theory to see. Open hood, slam shut. The light flipped on instantly. Open hood, slam shut. Darkness once again. Not wanting to walk back around to the driver's side door to release the hood another time, I gave the headlight a firm but gentle pound with the side of my fist. Happily, that worked, too.

I'm convinced now, of course, that my fist can solve any number of mechanical problems. I'm a protege of the Arthur Fonzarelli School of Auto Repair and Maintenance. Now if only I could apply this same skill to the license plate dilemma.

Tell me something...

Which is more surprising... The fact that somebody out there purchased this domain for the sole purpose of telling the Internet exactly the best way to bake a potato, or the fact that a reasonably competent 34-year-old woman who has lived alone for the better part of a decade actually Googled the phrase "how to bake a potato" in the first place?

Tough call, isn't it?


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Note: In the 34-year-old's defense, I would like to mention that she DOES KNOW how to bake a potato. In the microwave. Because when your dinner is something as simple as a baked potato, do you really want to wait an hour for it? No. No, you do not. Or, she does not. Whatever.
-------------------------------------------

Surprisingly, Jar-Jar Binks WASN'T the worst idea ever to come out of the Star Wars enterprise

First things first. For anyone who actually was interested in seeing the uncharacteristically on-time baby gift I referenced in that last post, here it is. See? Little elephants! Tell me that isn't downright adorable. Equally adorable are the tiny album cover t's I made with iron-on transfer paper and admittedly probably illegally lifted copyright-protected images. (In my defense, I am not selling these onesies, so if you ask me, the infringement is permissible. I am also not a lawyer, however, so maybe asking me means nothing.) While I am pimping my mad skillz, would you like to see the cake I made for that baby shower as well? You would? Excellent. Here you go. The recipe was courtesy of the Barefoot Contessa, via The Pioneer Woman, who as I've mentioned before has yet to let me down. Six-plus sticks of butter and two pounds of cream cheese? All in the same recipe? Don't ask questions, friends; just enjoy. My doctor did tell me to get more dairy, after all. She wasn't particularly specific about the ways I should comply.

Moving along here, as it is already ten minutes past my bedtime, despite the fact that as usual I have no idea what exactly happened to this day. On the plus side, it will take me virtually no time to get ready for bed this evening, as I never actually got out of my pajamas nor left the house today. I refuse to believe that is sad or lazy. On the contrary, I'm sure Allie would help me spin it as an eco-friendly way to spend my Sunday. No wasted water on a shower I don't need! No extra laundry created by needlessly changing my clothes! And no carbon emitted from a car I didn't drive! See? Al Gore and Allie would be happy with me today! I'm not lazy; I'm saving the planet, yo.

That said, what did I actually do today? Well, I put away my tiny Christmas tree, as well as the Christmas wrapping paper I'd left sitting in front of my couch for the past... Wait. How many weeks has it been since Christmas? Well, for the past however many weeks that is. I also finally vacuumed up the sidewalk salt that my friends inadvertently dragged into my house the blizzardy night of my Christmas party. Which was December 20. I am all about the prompt post-party cleanup, obviously. Oh, and I watched the Star Wars Holiday Special, which a friend of mine decided to inflict upon me at said party and yet which I hadn't popped into my DVD player since then. Rather, I should say I watched merely the first half hour or so of the Star Wars Holiday Special, because even with the Mystery Science Theater guys' clever commentary on this long-forgotten gem of 1970s television magic, I couldn't handle much more of it than that. When I finally shut off the disc and got off my couch, my next move was to send a message to the friend who'd given me the disc, claiming that I wanted that half hour of my life back. Admittedly, though, if I did get that time back, I would only squander it on something equally pointless. You know, like detailing for the Internets exactly what I did all day. I really wish I had something more exciting to tell you. Hmm. Maybe if I had left the house today.

Oh! Also, I managed to free up 3GB of space on my stuffed-to-capacity ancient desktop, meaning that when I clicked the Start button a few moments ago to open another application, it took only nine seconds for the Programs menu to display, rather than the usual minute and a half. I've decided, by the way, that it's completely OK if Flurrious doesn't get Toyota to give us all a free Prius. I'd settle for a brand new laptop and be more than happy.

Let's see. What else? I haven't regaled you with any dating stories in a while, I realize. Fact is, I'm too beaten down and depressed by that whole process yet again to even log in to Catch dot Mom lately. I did get a message today from a match who told me he thinks I'm "specs-tacular," and with a line like that, surely he's... actually, I don't know what a line like that might indicate. Perhaps you guys can offer some insight.

And with that, I'll end this random rambling and finally get myself off to bed. While I have you here, though, did you wish Noelle a happy belated birthday yet? Pop on over and do that, OK?

Of course, to be considered for membership, I'll probably need a cat.

Well now see that? There I go again. Has it been a week already? Let's see. What have I done in the past several days, aside from not click that "New Post" button, obviously? Well, I attended two parties, one decidedly fabulous and the other not quite so much. One was a New Year's Eve party hosted by my good friend Carrie and financed by Food Buzz. (What's better than a party with all your friends? A party with all your friends, paid for by someone else!) The other was a retirement party for my mother, a potluck affair held in the basement of my parents' church. Are you having trouble guessing which one was the more fabulous affair? Well good, because even though as far as I know, my parents will never read this, I still feel a wee bit guilty implying that party wasn't the event of the year. No offense to my mother or her fellow parishioners, of course. But when you consider that one event involved well-crafted cocktails with specialty infused vodka and the other involved driving 11 hours round-trip on ice-covered roads (a mere week after making that same trip for Christmas, mind you), I don't think a fair comparison is possible.

What else have I done? Well, I finished my friend Lisa's baby shower gift, six full days before the shower. This might not be notable, if not for the decidedly weak track record I've built where hand-made gifts are concerned. Lisa and her husband's wedding afghan, for instance? Presented three and a half months after the ceremony. My friend Carrie's felted messenger bag? Still sitting on my dryer, lining-less and strap-less, four long months after her birthday. Oh, and then there's the pair of socks a dear friend who no longer reads this blog requested when I first told him I learned to knit socks. He does not know that he's still getting them, but I assure you, they are on the needles and are now half-done. He should receive them just in time to pack them for his move back to LA. As in, California. You know, where wool socks are totally useful. Sigh. Photos of Lisa's baby shower gift will be in this Flickr set shortly, by the way. Can't go ruining the surprise on the off chance that she actually pops in here in the next few days. I promise you, though, it is adorable. Lisa, you damn well better like it, I say.

Speaking of baby showers and wedding gifts and the like, our friend Flurrious has a cause I need to get behind. Well, actually, her cause labels me middle-aged and aims, primarily, to get herself a free Prius, but as usual, I am taking the idea and running with it in a way more beneficial to ME. What cause is this? I'll let the badge Flurrious created for us tell you.



As it turns out, I'm not so much riddled with the expendable income, making me maybe not the best target for Toyota's future Flurrious-centered marketing campaign. I would, however, like free stuff. While I know that showering the mergers and the breeders with gifts is a social convention it's not up to me to unseat, I can't help feeling a wee bit cheated when I add up all the bridal shower gifts and wedding gifts and baby gifts I've purchased for all my married friends over the years with no hope of gift reciprocity in return. I love these friends dearly, of course, but when will somebody throw me a party to celebrate my life path? When do I get to create a registry at Target and Crate & Barrel to replace my worn linens and warped skillets and finally acquire a damn crock pot? Mark my words, friends. The spinster shower and gift registry is an idea whose time has come. Yes, yes, I realize it is an idea whose time came when Carrie Bradshaw mentioned it somewhere around nine years ago, but my life is feeling more and more like a bad, cliched sitcom lately, so my proclaiming it now is only in keeping with a theme. Barring this spinster shower plan, however, free gifts from corporate sponsors sounds like an excellent scheme on which I'd like in. Flurrious, I trust you'll keep me posted on your progress on this front, correct? I thought so. Thank you.

Shows I've seen in 2009

• Rhett Miller - February 8 (Fine Line)
• Morrissey - April 6 (State Theater)
• Lily Allen - April 11 (First Avenue)
• Mates of State (w/Black Kids) - April 12 (Varsity Theater)
• Neko Case (w/Crooked Fingers) - April 26 (State Theater)
• Dan Wilson - April 30 (Whole Music Club)
• Cloud Cult - May 2 (First Avenue)
• Bob Schneider - June 10 (Varsity Theater)
• Local Natives & Blind Pilot - June 17 (400 Bar)
• Solid Gold, Yeasayer, Calexico, & The Decemberists - June 20 (Rock the Garden, Walker Art Center)
• Josh Ritter - July 9 (Varsity Theater)
• The National - July 16 (First Avenue)
• Old 97s - July 19 (First Avenue)
• Halloween Alaska - July 20 (Loring Park)
• Jenny Lewis - July 21 (Fine Line)
• Fleet Foxes - August 9 (First Avenue)
• Dar Williams (w/Haley Bonar and Stephen Kellogg) - August 21 (Minnesota Zoo)
• Mark Mallman - September 5 (First Avenue)
• Regina Spektor - September 11 (State Theater)
• Phoenix - September 22 (First Avenue)
• They Might Be Giants - November 3 (First Avenue)
• The Swell Season - December 5 (State Theater)
• Andrew Bird - December 10 (St. Mark's Cathedral)
  

Movies I've seen in 2009

* - My thumbs are up
^ - My thumbs are down
~ - At least one thumb is up, but maybe not super-enthusiastically
________________________

January 3 - The Wedding Date (2005)
January 9 - Persepolis (2007) *
January 13 - The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008) *
January 18 - Slumdog Millionaire (2008) *
January 24 - Speak (2005)
January 24 - Bride & Prejudice (2005) ~
January 28 - Senator Obama Goes to Africa (2007)
January 30 - The Women (1939)
February 1 - Towelhead (2008)
February 8 - Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist (2008) *
February 14 - Gone Baby Gone (2007)
February 28 - Lovely and Amazing (2002) ^
March 1 - Wristcutters: A Love Story (2006) ~
March 1 - Revolutionary Road (2008)
March 13 - Train Man (2005)
March 14 - The Reader (2008)
March 20 - Volver (2006) *
March 21 - Rachel Getting Married (2008) ~
March 28 - Role Models (2008)
April 1 - Blue State (2007)
April 2 - Frost/Nixon (2008) **
April 4 - Rocket Science (2007)
April 4 - Conversations with Other Women (2006)
April 22 - Tricks (2007) *
April 24 - Breaking Upwards (2009) *
April 25 - Babette's Feast (1987) ~
May 14 - The Wrestler (2008)
May 24 - The Bicycle Thief (1948)
May 25 - Antonia's Line (1995)
June 3 - Our Daily Bread (2006)
June 7 - Because I Said So (2007) ^^
June 12 - Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (2008) *
June 13 - I Capture the Castle (2003) *
June 13 - High School Musical 3: Senior Year (2008)
June 21 - Woman of the Year (1942)
June 27 - He's Just Not That into You (2009) ~ (I KNOW it got dreadful reviews. I KNOW! But somehow, I didn't hate it, OK?)
July 2 - Food Matters (2008) *
July 3 - Lost in Austen (2008) *
July 10 - Confessions of a Shopaholic (2009) ^
July 11 - Sunshine Cleaning (2009) *
July 20 - 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (2008) ^
July 25 - Let the Right One In (2008)
July 28 - Julie & Julia (2009) **
July 30 - New in Town (2009)
August 2 - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958) *
August 2 - Desk Set (1957) *
August 15 - 500 Days of Summer (2009) *
September 12 - The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972) ^
September 18 - I Love You, Man (2009) *
September 19 - Adventureland (2009) ~
September 27 - State of Play (2009)
October 3 - The Time Traveler's Wife (2009)
October 9 - Persuasion (1995)
October 17 - The Hangover (2009) *
October 24 - Where the Wild Things Are (2009)
October 30 - Away We Go (2009) *
November 20 - New Moon (2009)
November 28 - The Wackness (2008)
December 6 - Paper Heart (2009) ~
December 19 - How to Be (2008) ^^
December 25 - Up in the Air (2009) *

Books I've Read in 2009

* = Loved it
^ = Hated it
~ = Enjoyed it enough to mark in some way, but "love" is such a very strong word

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1. Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer
   
2. Who by Fire by Diana Spechler ~/*
   
3. Persuasion by Jane Austen
4. A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby ~
5. The Man of My Dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld
6. Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex by Mary Roach ~
   
7. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith ~
8. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger (re-read)
9. The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy
10. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell (abandoned out of boredom, but only after reading 3/4 of it, so it's still going on the damn list)
11. American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld