Random thought.

I adore this photo that was posted on Scout Holiday.

I've been interested in school uniforms and ribbons/medals lately. I almost bought a masonic medal on eBay a couple days ago, but I chickened out...if I'm going to wear something like that, I better have a damn good explanation for it. However, I am perfectly comfortable wearing the horse show ribbon my friend gave me at Halloween; I just haven't figured out what to wear it with.

I don't know where I'm going with this. Old-school uniforms and awards, yay!


The little things.

Poladroid is the best. It's an application that you download which renders your photos so they look like they were taken by Polaroids (as best as one can replicate, of course). Try it, try it!

I felt like taking some pictures of recent procurements around my apartment.

My living room corner mess.

Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison 8-track cassette found at Salvation Army for $0.95. Now I just need a player to listen to it...

Movies rescued from the Dollar Video VHS tape sale rack.

A Christmas diorama purchased at Cracker Jax from their sale room.

Vintage ceramic clock from Mode on Damen south of Lawrence. It works, but the battery died soon after I brought it home. I need to get some Cs.

Mounted horned beetles. I love beetles. I was impressed by Gabe's friend Bridget's display, and these popped up in a search on eBay for something else. I had to.

1940 horse show ribbon: best costume prize from my friend Nicole's Halloween party. It inspired me to bid on this next item one eBay...

...a 1935 horse show ribbon.

Bonne nuit.


A snippet of the new White House Collection.

Obamas Bring Bold Art to the White House
By Judd Tully

An odd feeling.

I've never been interested in sports; I do enjoy attending baseball games on occasion. But I don't care about teams, I don't care about who wins, I don't care about rivalries.

Even though I don't want to go into showjumping (which is different from hunt seat; the jumps are bigger and flashier and you're racing against a clock whereas hunt seat is more concerned with form), I've been watching rounds on youtube. Someone posted the jumpoff from the FEI World Cup in Las Vegas this year. In a showjumping competition, all the people with clear rounds then do a jump off, and whoever has a clear with the fastest time ultimately wins. So I'm watching it and it's intense and the rider has just a few seconds to get over the very last jump in order to beat the time of her predecessor and...the connection slows and the video pauses. And I yelled at the screen! I yelled at the screen. And I understood what those goons in their jerseys and beer coozies feel when they jump up and yell. I mean, of course I knew why, but now I get it. I still think football is stupid, though.



I saw a clip of an interview with the German filmmaker Rainer Werner Fassbinder on a blog called DC's. I don't know any of the details of this interview. This particular statement is intriguing, because I'm getting to an age in which everyone I know is either getting married or wants to get married, and I'm somewhat ambivalent. I like the idea of two people committing to each other, in sickness and in health, to death do they part. I also like the idea of living with that person. But I don't know yet how marriage fits in with those ideas, at least not in this day and age. At least not for me.

Interviewer: Are you capable of living with another person?
RWF: Uhhh, ummm...
I: To add to that question, you were married once.
RWF: But not in order to live together. We got married because we got along better with each other than we did with other people. Getting married means something different, or it meant something different than it does to other people.


I can feel the awful music being played next door.

I've been sick today, staying home from work and class to sleep. Being sick is boring, but you can't do anything more than get up for water or some other menial task or else you feel as though you may pass out.


My horseback riding class is coming to an end, but I've decided that I will continue with lessons. Since the high tomorrow is
54° and it's not yet October, this means acquiring riding gloves, half chaps, and a down vest so that I may continue to ride in the winter. I've been eyeing a knitting book at Tre Kroner's Sweden Shop that is solely dedicated to glove and mitten patterns. I'm hoping that Gabe will get it for me for my birthday next week, but if not, I'll just get it myself and make some fabulously Scandinavian arm warmers for riding.

I'd really like to get back into jumping (hunter). I've been watching youtube videos, reading books and websites, and looking fondly at my second place ribbon from 1994 which I've now taped to my living room wall. It's definitely not something I can afford to do on a competitive level, but it makes me feel good and I look forward to my lessons every week.

Another bad thing about being sick today is that it means I won't be able to go to class on Thursday; I'll have to work.


Gaaah...can't sleep.

My dear friend turned me on to this blog, liebemarlene vintage. I love its author's aesthetic, and it has me wondering if I should cut bangs again.

Recent purchases from Target (on their way!):
Xhilaration Black Saida T-Strap Pump. $19.99.

Xhilaration Black Kalliope Boots. $26.99. (The best knock-off I could find of my beloved Black Fleece calfskin booties.)

I'm overdue for some self-portrait fashion photography, but at this point in my life, I'm so overwhelmed with school and work that I'd rather enjoy my outfits than document them.

I also recently purchased The Fin-de-Siecle Culture of Adolescence by John Neubauer. (I couldn't find an image online, unfortunately.) This book is an excellent study of the representation of adolescents in the arts, and the events that led to adolescents becoming a stage of development and a subject of study. I've checked this book out so many times that I figured I may as well own it.

I think I'll try to join my cat in sleep now.



Brooks Brothers Black Fleece collection.
Black Calf Button Boot.



Oh snap!

From André Breton's Manifesto of Surrealism:

If the purely informative style, of which the sentence just quoted is a prime example, is virtually the rule rather than the exception in the novel form, it is because, in all fairness, the author’s ambition is severely circumscribed. The circumstantial, needlessly specific nature of each of their notations leads me to believe that they are perpetrating a joke at my expense. I am spared not even one of the character’s slightest vacillations: will he be fairhaired? what will his name be? will we first meet him during the summer? So many questions resolved once and for all, as chance directs; the only discretionary power left me is to close the book, which I am careful to do somewhere in the vicinity of the first page. And the descriptions! There is nothing to which their vacuity can be compared; they are nothing but so many superimposed images taken from some stock catalogue, which the author utilizes more and more whenever he chooses; he seizes the opportunity to slip me his postcards, he tries to make me agree with him about the clichés:

The small room into which the young man was shown was covered with yellow wallpaper: there were geraniums in the windows, which were covered with muslin curtains; the setting sun cast a harsh light over the entire setting…. There was nothing special about the room. The furniture, of yellow wood, was all very old. A sofa with a tall back turned down, an oval table opposite the sofa, a dressing table and a mirror set against the pierglass, some chairs along the walls, two or three etchings of no value portraying some German girls with birds in their hands – such were the furnishings. (Dostoevski, Crime and Punishment)

I am in no mood to admit that the mind is interested in occupying itself with such matters, even fleetingly. It may be argued that this school-boy description has its place, and that at this juncture of the book the author has his reasons for burdening me. Nevertheless he is wasting his time, for I refuse to go into his room.

(I have to admit that the reason this passage first caught my eye is that an ex who I now greatly despise was in love with Dostoevski. hahahhahaha)


Your daily moment of zen.

I am making flashcards for my comprehensive exam which is in less than two weeks.
I love Grünewald's Isenheim Alterpiece. I'm mad at myself for not making more of an effort to take a train out to Colmar when I was in Paris to see it in person.

Matthias Grünewald, Isenheim Alterpiece (First View), c.1510-15


Glass + Steel.

An art exhibit installation isn't truly finished until one has accrued a significant number of bruises.

It's always worth it, though. Go check out
Glass + Steel at Elmhurst Art Museum.


The things you stumble upon...

This was posted a few days ago on a blog I follow, Old Paint, which posts an old painting every day. I love it, and it opens up a whole new avenue of study for my thesis: examples of adolescents in Italian paintings.

Felice Casorati, Girl on a Red Carpet, 1912

It's like one of Balthus's girls set in an Eduoart Vuillard painting.


I'm being crushed under glass and steel.

Funnily, my latest curatorial endeavor makes me appreciate school so much more and I actually miss being a full time grad student working on 15-20 page papers spending all of my free time reading essays. Not that I don't still have museum aspirations, but I think I'll be much better at it after I finish my degree. Also, I will be able and more qualified to do it full time, and thus will not feel like a total fuck up even though I know it's not entirely my fault.
Despite it all, the exhibit looks great and is different than anything EAM's done before, and I'm now more prepared to deal with the next exhibit which I foresee as being similarly taxing. No more doormat curating.

I just got Anthropologie's latest catalogue in the mail and I want every pair of shoes depicted in it. Though I think it's kind of stupid that "For our August edition, we photographed what inspires us...
real people
real places

Then they show people modeling their clothes in Paris, New York, and London.
Yep, that's me.


A cat is all I need to be happy.

I am up way past my bed time.

I want to be at work at 8 am, even though it will never happen.

The exhibit I'm working on was supposed to be done today (Friday), but it's not. In some ways, it's my fault because I was not very organized with this one. But it was my first exhibit of 3D work that I was in charge of (I hang 2D work very quickly, so I don't need as much time to complete a show), I only work 20 hours a week, and people were late bringing important components in that I needed in order to design around. Also, people brought in things last minute that I then needed to incorporate into the show. Plus I had 3 "superiors" giving me all sorts of different orders yet telling me that I need to take charge.

I'm really amazed that I haven't had a nervous break down. Perhaps that's due in part to my visit to the psychiatrist last week.

I love my job. But I really wish I could have it after I graduate instead of right now. My comprehensive exam is in less than a month and I've hardly studied for it.


Movies lie.

I wish that I could have my hair styled either of these ways whenever I want:

Daisy d'Ora in Pandora's Box, 1929.

Veronica Lake.

Not that it would make my life better or happier, or make me more well-loved...sigh.



Self-imposed insecurity.

I had a...not depressing, but some similar emotion...thought in between dreams and wakefulness this morning. I've been very self-conscious of the fact that the last 3 years is the best (imo, anyway) that I've ever looked. I'm 27, almost 28 - past my prime in the eyes of many people. But we all live longer these days, and thanks to surgeries and treatments and lifestyles, women are expected to look like they're in their 20s well into their 40s...even 50s. I have another 20 years of "maintenance." It was a really weird thing to think about. Even though I've stopped reading women's magazines and paying attention to celebrities long ago, these thoughts still seep into my brain.


Even though only two or three people look at this blog...

...I wanted to share my latest research paper. If you have suggestions, tell me. Don't be afraid to be harsh, I'm learning way too late in my life how to write art history papers.



Balthus. Thérèse, 1938.

I was photographed today by the Chicago Tribune tidying up a sculpture in Elmhurst Art Museum's new exhibit, "Ultra-Realistic Sculptures by Marc Sijan." There's no guarantee that they'll make it in to the paper; space is tight in the arts section. I hope it does, though, because the pictures the photographer sent me are really cool! I'm not allowed to post them online, though. But if they're printed in the paper, I could post a scan of it...


I am in love with this painting. I love it so much that I should marry it.

Jan Toorop, The New Generation, 1892.

My paper is almost finished. I'm just waiting to see Gabe's edits and then I'll email it to my professor. I'll post it to my website when it's complete. It's not perfect, but it's the best I could do in 2 months and 12 pages.


Oh well.

I just ordered this:

(She has a variety of colors. Très mignon.)

I decided it was okay to purchase it because a. I got quite a nice tax return this year, and b. I'll wear it as part of my bridesmaid ensemble for Carissa's wedding in October.

It's been a strange week. My boyfriend went out of town. It's amazing how one person can affect your life. Even though I knew I'd miss him, I was looking forward to the change of pace...more time for homework, seeing friends I haven't seen because I spend most of my free time with him. But I didn't do any of those things...I did see a couple friends during the week, but they're DeKalbians and I see them less rarely than my other friends. I only read a little, I drank my New Glarus brown ale and cherry lambic that I got in Madison, and I watched lots of movies and episodes of Buffy. At first, I was disappointed in myself. I don't like being the sort of girl who only spends time with her boyfriend and his friends. But it occurred to me that this week's activities are probably exactly what I would have done if I were single...aside from the beer drinking (since I'd have never gone to Madison). I became a hermit last summer, before I met Gabe. And he doesn't like Buffy or horror movies, so I did do something that I don't get to do as often these days.
I think I do want to go out and be social, but I don't have the motivation to do anything about it. I get lost in my own head and my apartment...if no one pulls me out, I don't think about it until after the fact.


I want to love you, Anthropologie, but you're making it very difficult.

I was horrified to open up an email from Anthro and see this:

Who...why...I don't...ugh.

And then I looked at their dresses, and the world was good.


Talking to myself.

I've been struggling with the idea of moving back to Chicago. I'll only be taking one class in the fall that is one night a week, so I'd only have to make the hour and a half commute to DeKalb once a week. It's closer to the museum. It's closer to most of my friends. It's closer to places I like to visit, food I like to eat. I could live somewhere that actually allows me to have a cat.

But money's tight...err, practically non-existent. Rent would be higher, and my living space would be smaller. My small one bedroom is cluttered enough as it is. I hate moving. I'm only guaranteed a job at the museum until they start looking for a new curator...and I don't know when that will be. What if they decide to hire someone else, and I end up with a job that's not close to Chicago? I hate moving. Gabe likes coming out here, so distance isn't an issue. I doubt I'd see him any more than I do now if I were to move to Chicago. It's not like I have much of a social life now anyway, even though I do still have friends here. I probably wouldn't see my friends in Chicago any more than I do the ones who live in DeKalb. It's not going to make much of a difference if a large portion of the people I know move away. I'd like to go to gallery openings more, which I don't have to live in Chicago to do since I stay at Gabe's on the weekends.

Yes, yes...the sensible thing is to stay put. My life would be different living in Chicago, but it wouldn't be any better or worse.


Big Love.

I've never seen Big Love. As a non-active Mormon, I've been mildly curious, but I figured since it's an HBO soap opera, it wouldn't be worth my while.
I heard about this last episode in which they show a temple endowment ceremony...something very secretive which I never experienced. I left the church before I would have been old enough to receive my endowment. Gabe and I talked about it...he felt it was very offensive and sensational for the producers of the show to include a scene of a sacred practice in the show. I didn't really know how I felt about it, so I played devil's advocate in the discussion.
However, the next day, I went to work, and at some point, my co-workers began discussing the episode. None of them had actually seen it, except for one, who watches it regularly. She had thought that the polygamists were "fucked up"...but after seeing that scene, she decided that the regular Latter Day Saints were the ones who were really crazy. My gut reaction was to defend the church, but since I hadn't expected the conversation, nor had I seen the show, I didn't know what to say and just said that the polygamist family were FLDS.
I don't go to church any more because I disagree with certain aspects of it. That doesn't matter to me, but the fact that I drink, have sex with people I am not married to, and do not believe in the Book of Mormon would certainly matter to them. I would rather quit than be ex-communicated for those things. But I do feel protective of the church, and it hurts me when people say bad things about the church which I feel are not bad at all.
In a way, I'm glad that Big Love depicted the endowment ceremony. I think a lot of peoples' distrust of the church is that Mormons tend to be insular. I think if they knew what an endowment ceremony was and what it meant, I don't think the majority of people would consider it a "freaky" thing. And I don't think that that would compromise the sacredness of the ceremony, or more importantly, the sacredness of one's relationship with God.

Claude Monet can kiss my ass.

I am yet again at a party (a bbq hosted by Gabe and his roommates), not interacting with the fellow guests, but alone in a room with a book and a computer. In my defense, I have a cold, and I did have reading to do for class tomorrow. I read the first article on the docket. The second one, though, is about Monet and Impressionism (it's a 19th century studies class), and since I've been to the Art Institute a bajillion times and have visited the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, I feel that I should be exempt from having to read this article. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn about Impressionism.



Yep, I am hating Wednesday, March 11th, mainly for things I didn't even anticipate. I have negative money, my right arm, hand, and shoulder are killing me because of an impromptu 4 hour long handwritten letter campaign at work (which I agree was a good idea...but it would have been nicer to let us do it at our leisure by a due date instead of all at once), which also resulted in blahblahblah.

I have the sweetest cat on my lap, an awesome boyfriend, and a foot spa.
Lather, rinse, repeat.

EDIT: AND I got my favicon working!!!

I must have gotten in on the wrong side of the bed.

I really should not be worried about favicons at 6am. I suppose that's what happens when one can't fall asleep. I've done everything else...my new massaging foot spa, neck massage, making a mix of baby-friendly music for my new mommy friend...and then listening to it, laying in bed with the lights out in various positions.
So now I'm working on my professional website. I figured out how to upload stuff to my .mac account that I made in Dreamweaver instead of using that crap iWeb program. And instead of working on the other pages, I've been trying to figure out why my favicon code isn't working (the little picture that shows up on your browser tabs).
I already know that I'm going to hate today.


I have a doppelganger.

I recently began making a website for my professional work (www.emilybarney.com) and decided to see if it would show up on google. I typed in Emily Barney, and no, my site did not show up (which I'm not too upset about because I'm not happy with it in its current state). However, what *did* show up was a lot of pages that mention another girl whose name is Emily Barney, also 27 years old, and who also lives in the Chicago area.


I hate money.

I really, really hate money. Or, rather, the lack thereof.
I know this is a very "duh" statement to make, but I just put another payment down on my credit card which seems to make only a tiny dent in the balance, and it makes me feel like I should start life over in some middle of nowhere town working as a waitress in a waffle house.
Hrm, I was supposed to take my anti-anxiety medication 15 minutes ago.


Every one of them is a lie.

For some reason, I can't stop repeating in my head the line "electricity lies" (Buffy season 5, "Crush." Yes, we all know I'm a nerd).
Maybe I find something poetic about it, or obsessive.
Or maybe it's because I watched "Zardoz" tonight and, having never taken hallucinogenic drugs, am not familiar with the sort of thoughts I've been having this evening.


Lost in transition.

Change is definitely a good thing. I'm all for change. However, lately, my life seems like it's just non-stop change and I'm barely keeping up.

I've been toying with whether I want this to be a personal blog or a professional one. I'm trying on my business clothes, and I'm don't think that what I've been writing is the appropriate attire. However, I think I'll keep this personal; after all, it's called "It builds character." When I feel like it, I can start something about art/museums/exhibits/curating/cataloguing/etc. I'm going to an opening on Friday night and the College Arts Association convention is next week. I'm working on a resumé-style website.
I bought a briefcase and a suit. It's serious.

Then there are days like yesterday and today which make me feel...a bit hopeless. I hardly had anything to eat yesterday morning; I'm supposed to eat before I take one of my 4 medications. I felt like a big cottonball. Then I forgot to take my anti-anxiety medication, and I couldn't sleep until I did because my heart was pumping so hard. When I woke up this morning, I had a terrible headache, my throat hurt, and I felt so weak. I tried getting ready for work as usual, but the feeling of passing out never ceased. So I didn't go to work, even though I have a million things to catch up on. I wonder if I'm capable of having a full time job sometimes. But this is new, and I've been put in a strange position at work. And I'm sick of grad school. I feel like it's holding me back, keeping me in perpetual adolescence. If it wasn't for my thesis, I'd consider just quitting. The best thing that's happened from it is getting involved in the art museum world.


I am a bum.

Things to do:
Don't do any of the things below, but fall asleep instead.
At least I can still dye my hair.

Yep, that's something I would do.

I set an alarm so that I would be awake for when my briefcase auction ended. But in typical Emily fashion, I just turned it off and went back to sleep (I'm off work today). I later realized with horror what I had done, and sure enough, the auction was over; someone outbid me and I was not there to stop it.

So this will be my new briefcase.

It's the Piel "European" briefcase. My only problem with it is that pocket on the side, but as someone who is always finding her cell phone just after it has stopped ringing, that might not be a bad thing to have. I'm looking forward to being able to check it out in person. There weren't any images of the inside on any website, just lots of description. Hopefully, I'll be happy with it.

Things to do:
Dye hair.
Do laundry.
Make Valentine's Day card. (Decided not to go with a red-headed pinup girl)



I wanted to make a cute Valentine's Day card for my boyfriend. He likes red heads. I was looking at thumbnails of Vargas pinup girls, clicked on this one...
...wow. I don't even know what to say...other than that she may be visiting me tonight in the form of a nightmare.

I <3 Joseph Mallord William Turner.

I saw these images in class tonight...incredible.

Hannibal and His Army Crossing the Alps, 1812

Slavers Throwing Overboard the Dead and Dying, 1840

Talk about ahead of his time. These could have been painted 100 years or more later.


It will be mine.

Oh yes, it will be mine.

I've decided that having a really nice suitcase will make me act more professionally at work. Once I beat the pulp out of the other guy for this baby on eBay, we'll put that theory to the test.
I'm guessing I'll still do things like make jokes at the wrong time and taking up the boss's offer to party after he leaves while we're still open to the public. But at least I'll look really snazzy.

These shoes will make me more professional, too. And a new suit. Right?

Steve French.

This is my new favorite tv show. It's Canadian and takes place in a trailer park, focusing on three friends and their (usually illegal) money-making schemes, with other assorted characters thrown in for hijinks such as the white rapper J-Roc, the drunk park manager Mr. Lahey and his ex-prostitute boyfriend Randy. It's shot documentary style.
My favorite character is Bubbles who wears coke-bottle glasses and takes care of all the cats in the park. In this episode, we meet a special kitty named "Steve French." Enjoy!

P.S. Be forewarned that the F word is used with great frequency.


Take two klonopin and don't call me in the morning.

Still no word. I'm trying to just remember that no matter what happens, I've made great connections and have lots to add to my resumé. Which I'm going to work on this weekend. I finally submitted proof to the director of the Museum Studies program that I completed an internship so I can officially be certified (there've been 3 different directors whilst I've been taking MS classes...so of course it's a bit of a mess getting that taken care of).

I'm really getting into research mode. I checked out a bunch of books from the library (and put the due date in my iCal so I they don't become overdue like every other book I check out)for my 19th century art class, which overlaps with my thesis. I also did something kind of stupid...the library has Balthus's catalogue raisonné. I had checked it out long ago and did return it. A couple of days ago, I checked to see if it was still available, and it was. But then I looked tonight when I was at the library, and it was listed as missing. So I'm not sure what the deal is with that. But I decided it is something I should have my own copy of anyway, so I ordered one. It was much cheaper to get one from France...I paid at least a third of the cheapest price I could find for a new copy here. It'll be in French, but it's a catalogue raisonné so big whoop.

I'm trying to be better about managing my time. Working on homework instead of sitting around doing nothing. It really isn't that big of a deal...I make it out to be much more work than it really is. I think this semester will be really good for me. I'm going to try my hardest to get an A. I haven't gotten an A in a class for awhile, so that would make me really proud of myself. I want to get as much done for this paper so that I can present at least part of it at the Student Symposium in April. I've always wanted to do one of those, for personal experience and ye olde resumé. I can always submit my Schiele paper from last spring, though, if it's not cohesive enough at that point.

I have the film that Pierre Klossowski made in the '70s. I've had it for probably a year now, but have never watched it. It's all in French with no subtitles, and my command of French is not good enough to be able to understand speech. But it would be good to watch at least for the imagery, and I need to go to sleep...I think I'll put that on and lay in bed.


I'm old.

I decided to buy myself a congratulatory gift for a job well done on the three exhibits that opened yesterday. Normally when I do such a thing, I purchase a new dress or a pair of shoes. Instead, I bought a massaging shower head. With more responsibilities comes more stress which leads to knotted shoulders. It's going to be so wonderful...once I buy a giant wrench to get the nut off of the shower spout that's probably been there since the 1960s.

I should be reading the rest of the chapters assigned to me for 19th Century Studies. At least I read one of them. But I have the day off tomorrow, so I'm committing myself to reading one between each of the errands I have to run. I had a couple of thoughts today, though, that I decided that I need to record.
A. I'm not as fucked up as I make myself out to be. I'm a square peg being pushed into society's round hole (insert juvenile snickering here). I don't operate the way the business world does. It's frustrating because I'm very intelligent and talented, but that gets overshadowed by the fact that I don't work the way that's expected of me. I wish I could remember that every time I feel like there's something wrong with me. I wish that whatever happens, future employers will recognize that and accept it.
B. I can't remember what B. was. I'm too tired. I almost walked out of Target with a set of pajamas that were draped over my arm when I stopped there today to get thank you cards for the three artists in the Pleasure Paintings exhibit. Flannel, on sale for $9 because they're wintery blue and silver. I just need something to keep me warm in Gabe's cold apartment.
Since I don't have to work tomorrow, I think I'll watch an episode or two from Buffy season 7. I'm really into Principal Wood right now. I know...nerd.


Sorry for the crypticness.

Don't you hate it when you know there's going to be a big change coming soon but you won't know exactly what it is for another week or two, if that?
Ugh. And the worst is that I can't really talk about it...I can only speculate. And only in private.
I'm trying not to get anxious over it because I will win no matter what happens...I just hate not knowing what's going to happen.
I'll definitely be posting about it on here when it does.


It builds character.

I grew up reading Calvin and Hobbes, and these immortal words were frequently uttered by Calvin's father. I thought of them today whilst trudging through unshoveled sidewalks carrying a jug of gasoline back to my gas-less car.
Everyone complains about winter here (as do I), but I feel really proud to live through these winters. I drive on unplowed, icy roads and freeze and get covered in salt and I shovel and I scrape...and then I go home and feel cozy in my big sweater, wool socks, and purring kitty (or snuggly boyfriend, depending on which evening it is). The only thing that I truly mind about winter is the shortage of daylight hours. It's hard enough when one needs 10 hours of sleep to feel truly restful; winter makes me feel like I need to be sleeping all day.
I'm feeling good, though. This will be a very busy week getting two exhibits prepared for Saturday...

...but Obama will be sworn in on Tuesday!!!

I'm excited, even if he is taking Illinois's least corrupt politicians with him. I'm going to watch the ceremony in the morning (begins at 10:30am Central!) and then get to work on those exhibits afterward.
They'll have their opening reception on Sunday. I hope it goes well.