Well, folks, it is with bright eyes and a happy heart that I give you some unexpected news: the sun has triumphantly returned to Philadelphia. It has brought with it a number of things. The days are warmer and longer. Peoples' moods are considerably brighter. And this little girl wants to do some redecorating. So I did!
Inspired by the vibrant spring sun, my room is getting a citrus wash.
I finally hung the artwork I made a few weeks ago, just in time for it to catch the morning sun.
I started to re-do that little hutch that we found on the side of the road a month or two ago. It's going from a dark hunter green with an Americana-themed apple and checkered print inset to bright canary yellow. Can't quite tell in this shot, but the color is anything BUT boring.
And my most expensive find? Not really that expensive, actually. (I have to admit, I did some home shopping at Walmart.) I bought some new sheets. Tangerine! Can't wait to see how it all comes together...
Last night I did something that I don't believe I've ever done before.
I went to dinner by myself.
I know I've had lunch alone before and I've sat at a bar and had drinks by myself (is that the sign of a problem? maybe). But I've never gone out to a restaurant where I didn't know anybody, sat my little self down, and eaten alone. That is, before last night.
I went to a little place right off Rittenhouse Square called Friday, Saturday, Sunday. No idea why it boasts this name as it's open seven days a week. And it was pretty good, I must say.
There was one major dilemma that occurred to me as I prepared to make my way out. You see, when dining alone, I feel that perhaps it is more appropriate to sit at the bar. But I have this weird belief that sitting at a bar for dinner and not ordering an alcoholic beverage is a bit strange. And remember, gentle reader, that this girl has sworn off the devil's drink until April 4. So I had to choose, sit alone at a table (which makes me a little more uncomfortable than being at the bar) or sit at the bar sans drink.
The layout of Friday, Saturday, Sunday made this choice relatively easy. I haven't been upstairs, but the downstairs had many deuces open, so I snagged one for myself. Immediately after I walked in, another gentleman sat alone as well. This made me feel somewhat less awkward.
Still not one to find this notion of dining alone completely enjoyable, I pulled out my handy green notebook and wrote as I waited for my food, and a little as I dined. Krystina told me that this restaurant boasted the best mushroom soup in town. I also read a yelp! review that said something similar. So I tried it. And it was delicious.
Next I had the petite filet, and it was yummy. I figured that after a bowl of soup, I didn't need the big filet, and I was right. On the side were potatoes gratin (not my favorite, which was nice, because I got to skip the extra carbs) and some sauteed squash and zucchini (one of my favorites- yum!).
Before looking at the dessert menu, I told myself that if they had tiramisu, I would order it. They had tiramisu. I did not order it. I had already had, after all a rich bowl of soup and a delicious steak. Who needs dessert after that? Coffee sufficed quite well.
And now a short note on coffee. I drank a full cup at just before 10 p.m. I went to bed at 11:30. Is that natural? Am I supposed to stay awake longer after that? Is my body so immune to caffeine that it just doesn't register when I take it in? Maybe I should have given up that for Lent. But to be honest, I think alcohol is hard enough. Rob me of my two favorite drinkstuffs, and I'll just be sad.
Yeah, I know, I'm not doing so well on the whole "blog every day" thing. Buuuuuuuuuuuut who really cares? So save the guilt trip.
As it so happens, day 17 of the 500 days of Moira is also day 1 of Lent. And boy, oh boy, is this going to be a long Lent.
Don't worry, we celebrated Mardi Gras in grand style last night. By this, I mean to say that Squirt and I knocked back a few pints at Black Sheep where Shawn and Beth showed up before heading to Alfa. At Alfa we met these really great (I use the word "great" here somewhat loosely, but they actually were quite enjoyable) South Americans who told me that I looked pissed off.
They also threw out these gem as Squirt and I finished off our bottle of brut rose.
Venezuelan: "In my country, the person who finishes off the last of the bottle will never get married." Ecuadorian: "Do not feel bad. In my country the person who finishes off the last of the bottle will marry somebody whose name begins with the same letter as the drink. So B... B.... Do you have a Bob? Or a Brian or a Benjamin?"
Squirt and I erupted into giggles. Because let's face it, we're immature as is. And we were tipsy. And it was kind of funny.
Anyhow, I think I shall give up the booze for Lent. Let's be honest, giving something up for Lent is supposed to kind of suck. I feel like I always half give things up. Like I plan what is going on in the next 40 days and if I think whatever I give up will be inconvenient, I don't give it up. But that's not faiiiir. And I'm pretty sure all the Mel Gibson Catholics in the world hate Moira Phillips Catholics because we all do that.
So I'm laying off the drink. (I have still not had a cigarette, by the by. Kudos to me.) I'll let you know how this goes. Maybe I'll just get really moody and want to be sad in my blog and this will turn into a "Where have all the addictions gone!" blog. Oh man, that sounds depressing.
I know, I'm sorry. But to be honest, the past few days have been kind of boring. Work in the mornings, home in the evenings. Whoooo wants to hear about that? But I'm about to talk about some other stuff people don't want to hear about. Namely, how much money I just saved! (And I wasn't even buying car insurance.)
Today Krystina and I went to the gym. That is soooo not exciting. Later we went to Qdoba, also not very exciting.
Then we went to Urban Outfitters. When we walked in and looked at things, I was hesitant. I'm not exactly rich these days and I didn't want to blow money that I don't have.
But everything I wanted was on sale! And all sale items were 50% off! So, for example, those silver disco-ball looking Toms that I've been lusting after for years cost me $10. Ten dollars. (Don't worry, we discussed with the sales associate and we're pretty sure the kids will still get their shoes and we're not stealing for them.
Aside from that I got lots of fun things like skirts and sweaters.
But what I really want to brag about is the money I saved, so here goes:
Total original cost of the things that I bought: $314 Amount I bought it for: $74.94 Money saved: $239.06
I quit smoking on February 1. This is a task that ought not be very hard, to be honest. When I first got to Philly, I went weeks without smoking. Then I started to smoke pretty infrequently. Then it got more frequent. Then my chest started to hurt. And oh yeah, I smelled bad. And it's really cold and running outside to get my fix was so unpleasant. And boy oh boy, aren't cigarettes expensive these days? And who wants emphysema in their future? Or cancer? Not this girl.
Yeah, I know. There are at least ten million reasons not to smoke. But that doesn't make it much easier. I mean, not when you picked up a nasty habit at the age of 16 and kept with it for a good couple of years after that. And I've gone through my periods of non-smoking. And I've gone through my periods of smoking a lot. And I've gone through my "just one or two a day". But maybe one or two a day is one or two too many.
So I quit. I figure if I can make it through the month of February, I can make it. And dammit, I will make it through the month of February. I mean, I picked this month as a sort of homage to my mother. So I will make it.
But I've been dreaming. Terrible dreams. I told Krystina that just the other day I had a dream that Bradley Cooper went out with us and cajoled me into a cigarette. And I cried when I smoked that cigarette in my dream. I got very angry with myself and threw it in the gutter and cried. I woke up feeling so strange.
I dreamed something similar last night. Not quite so dramatic. But I went out for drinks with co-workers and somebody offered me a cigarette and I took it and smiled. But I only had a puff or two before throwing that one out, too.
Why am I dreaming about cigarettes? Do people do this when they quit? I mean, to be honest, I haven't even been smoking that much recently. And it hasn't been that long since I've had a cigarette. So why these dreams where I give in to the temptation and am immediately racked with guilt? They're terrifying in a sense.
Today's episode of "Friends" was the one where Chandler started to smoke again, much to the chagrin of all the rest of the crew. After listening to everybody's reasons the entire episode he gets to the end and tells them he doesn't care because "smoking is cool!" It's kind of hilarious. And kind of made me think. And kind of made me sad.
Smoking isn't cool. (Except that it is. And it's kind of fun.) Even if you do think smoking is cool, though, it surely isn't cool enough to risk all the terrible things that may come from it later. So I quit.
Stay tuned to see if I can make it another 495 days without a cigarette.
Today I watched movies. That's really about it. I caught a little bit of Step Brothers and a good portion of Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Later in the evening I watched one of the alltime best movies ever, The Graduate. After renting Away We Go and only watching part of it, I entered into a conversation with Krystina (and later with Gregs) about babies, which led to a conversation about me being single, which led to dating advice.
Dating advice doesn't work for me. It makes me anxious and antsy and a little bit self-loathing. I hate to admit this, but it's true. So then I sat around and moped for a bit and had the realization that I was feeling for myself the way Audrey Tatou's character does in Amelie. You know, that scene where she dies alone at the age of 23 without anybody to love... just a bunch of people whose lives she tried to make better anonymously? Well, I will admit that I don't do as much for people as Amelie does, but I kinda feel that scene. I don't quite think anybody wants to die alone.
So I popped in Amelie. And I'll tell you, everything about that movie works for me. I like that they label Amelie as a dreamer more than a loner. I like that Amelie gets angry at Monsieur Dufayel for trying to give her romantic advice. I love that she doesn't initially call Nino, it would be "a reality check, something she does not want." I love that the way she goes about courting Nino is actually kind of creepy, but it's just her way of doing things.
I understand Amelie. But alas, my life is not a movie. I am a 23-year-old waitress, but Rittenhouse is hardly Monmarte and I am hardly Audrey Tatou. However, I'm almost positive that there's a Nino out there. Maybe I just have to start hanging around photo booths...
If I find him in the next 496 days I'll be sure to let you know. Until then... I'll just see you tomorrow.
A picture is worth how many words again? On today's episode, I'll share a few recent pics and let you surmise what they say about me. I wonder what kind of pictures I'll have to show 497 days from now. You never know what could happen... Only three images today, after all, we've only been doing this for three days.
This is the corner office in my room. By corner office I mean the window full of books, a water bowl for the kittens, the big orange chair complete with Jew bear, and my bedside table complete with McDonald's cup. Yeah... that's where I am right now.
This is Farmer staring at one of the loaves of bread that the kittens drag up the stairs and destroy (kinda) on a daily basis. Farmer is decidedly not responsible for this trend, it is definitely Thing One and Thing Two (aka Lou and Turd). There's also a tea bag, perhaps they just wanted some breakfast?
This teak bench is a funny story. I found it for half-off somewhere in Center City. Half-off was still in the $300 range and I don't have any money, anyway. So I texted my dad and sent him a picture and asked if he'd make it for me as a wedding gift. I told him he probably has about 12 years before I even think to get married (that is, 4383 days...).
His response: "If I make it faster does that mean you'll get married faster."
