Cashmere! I have not previously known the joys of the her majesty the royal softness because of the hefty price tag. (Must be why the word cash is in the name.) A little while ago, to the chagrin of Matt, I purchased a black cashmere turtleneck sweater at Target.com. Actually, I didn’t even realize it was cashmere. At $20, it’s a pretty sweet deal for a sweater, let alone a cashmere! Whenever I wear it, I feel as if I’m wrapped up in the snuggliest blanket mankind has ever known, far away from the confines of work and stress. Somewhere near the realm of truffles, satin and Tinkerbell’s magical pixie dust.

In theory, it’s totally worth the big bucks. But it feels even better knowing I’ve saved some skrilla. So this holiday season, save some cashmoney on cashmere! You’re welcome in advance. And no, I won’t tell anyone that you bought for yourself.

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The day started by getting woken up early. It ended with me plucking 10 gray hairs from my 22-year-old head. And that’s not counting the non-gray ones that got mixed up, or the ones I couldn’t reach. Throw in some stress-induced cysts on my face, an almost depleted gas tank and a royal failure of a pie, and you’ve got my Thanksgiving.

Not that the entire day was bad … I still have five minutes and that leftover rum to make it all better.

A few things for which I am thankful:

1. Pre-made pie crusts
2. A boyfriend who will drive to a sketchy Oakland liquor store to get me rum for truffles
2.5. That said boyfriend didn’t lash out when he found out I only needed a tablespoon of rum for said truffles
3. I didn’t get pulled over when transporting the rum back to my house
-1. A perfectly practiced explanation gone to waste because I wasn’t pulled over “But officer, I only used the rum for baking. You can double check that only a tablespoon is gone!”
3. Chocolate dessert domination. Take that pecans and pumpkins!
4. My partner in crochet-crime is back home.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

This weekend was the huge sale at the Patagonia outlet. While I am not a gearaholic like these guys, I am addicted to great deals. Especially deals that mean I don’t have to wear an oversized rain jacket that belongs to Matt or my dad. I walked out of the store with a $400 jacket that only cost me $109. Oh, and cute beanie found its way (legally!) into my bag as well.

And just so you can fully appreciate my new Chute to Thrill jacket:

Battling adverse California weather conditions:

Spin cycle:

And the beanie that won my heart:

ANTM is a bad influence. For those who missed the most recent episode, the girls had to make out with some Spanish models. That night Matt and I had bad dreams. Mine was that we broke up. His was of kissing another girl. We both felt horrible when we woke up. So here’s my dream goal for tonight:

*Matt and Emily living happily ever after
*With a border collie (his) and a goldendoodle (mine)
*Watching Frisbees fly into the sunset…

The above is a receipe for sweet dreams.

G’nite everyone.

Me = somewhat socially awkward. No foolin. Let me give you an example:

Whenever I go into a coffee shop, I feel bad using up the space without monetary exchange. But as I sit there, people sit into a comfy arm chair next to me with ice cream from a neighboring shop. That shop doesn’t provide indoor seating and this one has shakes on the menu.

While it’s no mom ‘n’ pop joint, this brewer of beans is one of the few not yet ousted by a mermaid seal. My feelings of obligation probably stem from my idealism — where allegiance to small box stores is shown through the passing of dollars more than mere attendance.

But this devotion to all that is good–even when the peppermint mocha is sub par–is not so good for the wallet. The only reason I really go there is to kill two hours between work and Ultimate Frisbee practice.

So herein lies the question: Is it socially acceptable to (routinely) use a coffee shop’s comfy armchair without buying anything?

The rain is coming, and Sara and I are prepared. Fashionably prepared.

I love living in California where it begins to act like winter halfway through November. And then it apologizes and the sunshine comes back.

There’s no clever or easy way to say it. Although, at the moment, a steady stream of obscenities would nicely sum up the way I feel at the moment.

What is so wrong with Oakland, huh? [National record homicides, crime, ghettoness…] That’s right–nothing! SO WHY ARE THE A’S MOVING? The team I’ve grown up with is moving to Silicon Valley. Fremont A’s. Silicon Valley A’s. YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING! The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim sounds better than those other options. Instead of fierce ghetto athletes, we’ll have glasses-wearing nerds who can’t fill out the tight pants!

And to make it even worse, the 49ers may move to Santa Clara! WTF! No more Battles of the Bay? I’m crushed. Absolutely crushed. Get your own teams, quit stealing ours. I guess Silicon Valley can’t stand having so much money with nothing to spend it on. If I throw down the racism card, would that get Oakland rallied up to stand up against the oppressive rich crazies?

I feel a boycott coming on. I love my A’s, but that may push it too far.

Matt’s been trying to get me to adore this news/Internet happenings feed site, Popurls. It’s hard to read and there’s no pictures or any way of emphasizing a focal point. Electric blue and black force me to strain my neck and push my eyeballs until they’re one with my computer screen.

But then he told me my new favorite Web site was featured. With my eyeballs pressed firmly against the screen, I still couldn’t find it. So he had to tell me. And boy I’m glad he did.

Ladies, if you’re firm believers that restraint doesn’t combine with shopping, don’t click here.