Hmm.

I just looked through my calendar & realized that we don't have a totally free weekend until December (!!). I have no idea how this happened.

I saw Whip It (love Ellen Page with all her angst) last night with only girls, & then ate Waffles & Dinges afterwards. For dinner. I vote for a Waffles tradition every Wednesday night (I'm not kidding). They even gave us free drinks while we ate our waffles with whipped cream & chocolate on top. Love the Waffles & Dinges truck. Almost as good as the Portabello Road Market, although let's be honest - not quite.

Speaking of London. Lindsey, I think I need to come visit you.

I'd like to make this Turkey Chili soon.

We're approaching our 4 1/2 year anniversary, our 4 1/2 year mark in New York. I love this place (+ my husband) more & more every day, especially during the past several months of my lady of leisure status. It's been such a blessing. And those random moments, like coming upon a massive pool of cranberries at Rockefeller Center yesterday - some sort of marketing scheme - it's just fun. And always interesting, & different.

We're going to a West Point football game this weekend. I think it's going to be amazing (see some slightly embarrassingly bad photos from two years ago here, but they show West Point & make the point - New England in the fall is just ridiculous).

I've been listening to Sufjan Stevens all morning. Thanks, Maribeth. I haven't listened to him since college. I stumbled across one of his songs this morning that I remember repeating over & over again during a somewhat deep & dark period of depression. Luckily, I'm a bit happier these days. This being said, his music soothes me.

I threw away a pair of shoes yesterday. In the garbage. A pair of what used to be really cute gold flats. It made me love New York even more. I should actually take a photo of them. They're evidence of my lifestyle, how much I walk, all of the places I've traveled by my own power in this city. They're trashed, & beautiful. In the garbage though, yes.

I do really random things when Mike is gone. Like last night, I organized all of my tights, folding them carefully & arranging them in ascending color order before putting them in a box to store in my closet (my sock drawer is full, full, full - even though I hardly ever wear socks). I felt better afterwards.

I just bought new 1000 thread count white sheets for our bed (replacing the porcelain blue, of which I've grown quite tired). From overstock.com, which made them happily reasonable. They're amazing. The sad news is that for years growing up, my mom tried to teach me how to do "nurses corners" on the bed, a technique that produced a military-perfect result. My OCD tendencies make me quite regretful that I never really paid attention due to my mild rebellion against anything potentially domestic or "conformist" (i.e. the idea that of course I would grow up & be a perfect Mormon wife & mother). Another tutorial is on the agenda for her visit in November.

I decided this morning that I'm not really a nickname person. Like with other people. I have hard time calling anyone anything except what their name is. It just doesn't feel genuine when I do it. Like I'm trying too hard to be cool or comfortable, even if I'm quite comfortable already. I come from a family of formal names, & we all go by those. Kathryn. Elizabeth. Christopher. Andrew. Etc, etc. Although I guess sometimes I'm just "k", & that's perfectly fine of course. But I don't have to call myself that. Hmm.