C’mon writers! Aren’t you missing the whole point of being 40 and being “a Cougar”? Have we learned nothing from Demi Moore??!! We don’t have to be shy about things like that anymore. You can be 40 and hot and still get to keep your hard won confidence.

I mean if I had that body I would be naked all day, every day.  At my computer. At the grocery store. At the Gap. And people wouldn’t think it was weird I was naked because they’d be so busy admiring my hotness. They’d come up and congratulate me on all of my hard work. Actually, now that you mention it, that would be a really nice change from people coming up and congratulating me on my really smart brain, which is what currently happens. Like every day.

Hmmm… This is all making me feel like maybe I should go work out.

Since I’ll be busy for the rest of the day, here’s something else to keep you occupied – my “Fashion on a Budget” column where I give you excellent advice on how to buy glasses on the Internet, after which I tell you to hire a tailor and then descend into utter sentimentality.  It’s not pretty but it’s probably better than working on spreadsheets or sales thing-ys or whatever else you’re working on.

Okay, so this is not exactly what it looks like.  I originally took this to show you how ridiculously bad moving was and how much stuff I threw out.  The idea was that this would be the “before” and then I’d take an “after” and you could all coo and tell me how fabulous I am and how much you admire my cleaning skills but I forgot to take the “after” so here you go.  This is what our house looks like if you squint your eyes and take away all of the piles of crap. See. Exposed brick! Original hardwood floors! Mirrors that I just realized would look much better if they were hung side-by-side!).  My point with all of this is that no matter how much I love our house, there is definitely something to be said for living in a studio (yes, you read that right. LB and I live in one room. Total. And both work from home. Suddenly feel a bit, I don’t know, claustrophobic?)  I just cleaned “the house” in 32 minutes flat (and this is with Windexing the sliding glass doors, which I think we can all agree is just a tad bit “above and beyond”). That is 3 hours and 28 minutes less than it used to take me to “sort of” clean my Denver house and a full 5 days, 16 hours and 28 minutes less than it took me to move out of my Denver house.  Cooing and congratulating may commence.

PS – Thank you for your valiant effort in reading through all of those parenthetical thoughts (I’d like to say it was the Windex fumes that made me do it but I think we all know that’s a lie.  It’s called “going to dinner with my husband sounds like more fun than editing my blog post to make it readable”).

For the past two years I have needed a new website.  My old one sort of worked and you could kind of buy cards (excellent for a shopping site, wouldn’t you say?) but it was always breaking and not loading and basically prevented me from selling my cards with any kind of regularity.  So, I hired this AWESOME web guy, whom I absolutely adore, who emails me back and everything (I know! Imagine that!) and he has the template up so – in theory – my site should be just about done.  Except that right now I’m averaging one card upload a week. At this rate by the time it’s done, my cards will be collector items because paper won’t exist anymore.

And dumbest part about all of this?  This is the first time I’ve ever had the space to dedicate time to my writing and cards.  In the past, I’ve been working a fairly full-time freelance copywriting schedule and tried to shove my cards and writing in around it.  But, with the move out here (and LB’s support – the guy really does rock), we decided it’s time to get it all up and running.  And then I stopped doing…anything. What the hell?!?

I know there is this (smaller now) part of me that believes that work = hard, not fun and lots of crying.  That the place where I’m most comfortable with work is when I have panic in my stomach and tension in my shoulders.  But a growing part of me understands that THIS IS WRONG.  That if I can just (finally, Kara, finally) put my cards and writing and creative ideas out there and let go and have fun, it will all work out in the same way so many other things (love life, weight, friends, family) did once I gave up worrying and started enjoying.  It’s like there is a big neon sign flashing “Hey lady!  Remember these hard-won lessons? You don’t have to relive them AGAIN!” and I can’t see it because I’m looking around for the exit to CrazyTown (actually, that would be a really huge neon sign and I have to say there is a pretty good chance I would notice it but you get the idea).

But I’m changing that – I uploaded cards today.  And tomorrow I’m going to write descriptions for them. And the day after that maybe I’ll make up some new ones and…well, you get the idea – you probably don’t need my full to-do list.  It’s a very small step down what feels like the right road.

Oh, look at the cute birdie sitting on the windowsill. What a picture perfect moment except the damn bird is on the wrong side of the window! kjgnad;kfndaf;kndas;fknd – that was my head hitting the keyboard as I ducked as the little flying freak flew over my head. OH MY GOD.

I should note that I’m not a huge animal fan. I really, really try but 99% of all animals absolutely terrify me (I know fans of I Can Has Cheezburger are going to send me all kinds of reprimanding emails so if you could just direct it here we’ll cut out the middle man). Because I blame my mother. She didn’t want hair on the couch so she bought us a frog and yes, it grew (I believe that’s why it was aptly named “Grow-a-Frog”) and we watched it and interacted but really how much interaction can you have with a pet that spends its entire life underwater? So, the only furry friends I really got to know were 1) the terrifying dog across the street who bared his teeth every time I stepped off our sidewalk 2) my best friend’s terrifying dog who one night taught me the outer limits of pee holding 3) the terrifying cat who ruined a friends’ 6th birthday party for me, mainly because I was trapped in her bedroom for the majority of the party by her hissing cat and no one could hear my screams. Do you sense a trend here?!?!?!

So you can imagine my terror this morning when I was awoken by flapping wings, cat’s mewing and lamps falling (note: we do have a cat, which is my first pet ever and has forever spoiled me because he’s more like a little person…who poops in a playhouse). The bird is flapping all over the house, I’m screaming while trying not to cry and Chris? Chris is in San Francisco where he is no help at all and keeps calmly telling me, “You really need to relax because it’s only a bird.” Yes, a BIRD THAT IS IN MY HOUSE.

Update: My best friend Susie just completely lost all hearing in her right ear. We were trying to figure out how I can get it out of the house when it took off from its perch on the drapes and dive bombed my head. Of course, I screamed.

Update 2: This damn cat is useless. He’s bored?!?!?! I’m sorry but normally the biggest excitement in your day is watching me open a can of food. You don’t think you might want to step it up a bit?

Update 3: I’ve decided that I need to be an adult and handle this responsibly. I’m going to open a back window and see if I can get it to fly out it. Don’t worry, I have protection.

Update 4: So, the stupid bird is perfectly content to just sit on the curtains and watch the world go by. Meanwhile, my hair is falling out with the sheer terror of the situation. I’m going to buy some bird seed and see if I can’t entice him towards the window. Plus, the cat is now locked in the office so he can’t jump out the window and his banging around is making me very, very jumpy.

Update 5: Holy crap. So, I think the bird is gone? I just got back from the store and I don’t think he’s here. I took my broom and banged on all the walls and clothes and so far haven’t been winged to death. I can’t decide which is more terrifying – knowing where he is or knowing that he’s probably gone but may still be here. Is 10am too early to start drinking?

Update 6: Okay, I think he’s gone for good. There are feathers on the ceiling but that seems to be the only trace of him. The problem now is I don’t know how he got in here, and more importantly, if he’ll be back. What if he brings friends? What if he brings the Swine flu? Or what’s the other one? Bird flu! Jeez Louise. I’m calling it a day.

1.  Chris shall henceforth (does that even make sense?) be referred to as Lovah Boy.
2.  I’m going to spill one of his deep, dark secrets.

Ready?  Lovah Boy LOVES Paris Hilton’s New BFF.  Don’t believe me?  Witness this exchange…

LB:  You know, you are my BFF. (Yes, this is a direct quote).
Me (getting a bit misty):  That is so sweet.  You are my BFF too.  Oh, it’s so nice when you say things like that…
LB:  You know who’s looking for a BFF?  Paris Hilton.  I wonder if her show’s on.

He then proceeded to “catch up on” back episodes AND the casting special. Uh-huh.  Yes, he did.

Now there’s nothing wrong with Paris and her search for a best friend. As Lovah Boy pointed out, we’re learning important cultural references, such as what TTYN means and… that’s it. We learned what TTYN means. Which BTW (that’s “by the way,” in case you wondering) means “Talk to you never.” A bit harsh, don’t ya think?

So, I’m going to post this now and we’ll see if LB finds it.  We’re heading to dinner tomorrow night with friends who I know read this, so I hope (dearly, dearly hope!) they use this information to their advantage.  It’s not every day that a gift like this lands in your lap.

Possible uses:

“Jeeeee-pers.  If that firefighter’s chest were any broader, I’d have to set fire to my house just to check it’s for real.”

“Jeepers, Mr. Mulroney!  With the amount of work you expect me to get done in a week, you’d think  weekends were for working!”

“Jeepers! If my hair looked any better today, they would have to create a plaster mold out of it and then manufacture millions of plastic Kara-heads so that everyone in the universe could carry one around with them as a reminder that a really good hair day is actually possible!”

“Jeepers. Celine Dion really thought it was a good idea to start rapping?”

(Scroll ahead to about :56 for the real fun).