Discovered where the phantom posts were if, by any chance, anyone was wondering about those phantom posts, which I doubt, but whatever. They were drafts that the nifty blogger editor had saved for me. Nice of it. A little annoying, but nice of it.
I also discovered the font changer thingy. Not the best selection but I found a good serif that wasn't Times New Roman. I'm a serif kind of girl. Book Antiqua. Garamond. Palatino Linotype. And now Georgia, apparently.
SO. I made an email address last night to tie to this blog because my only email address is my full name which, while professional, poses certain problems when dealing with strangers. No offense, strangers, I just have a unique name so it wouldn't be hard to track me down and rape me. Not like you would. Or anyone would. Or would want to. But it could be like that scene in The Jerk, where the crazy guy picks Steve Martin's name (well, Navin Johnson's name) out of the phonebook randomly and decides to kill him. It could be like that. ANYWAY, yes, the point of all of this is that I made an email specifically for contacts from this blog so feel free to email me at PlummyJo@gmail.com and I'll get right back to you :)
Oh, and get this. While I was trying to connect my two gmail addresses- which is harder than you might think and I still don't think I did it right- Google was like, "You have suspicious activity on your account. Please verify you're human." Gee, thanks, Google. Make your shit easier to figure out solo and maybe I wouldn't look like a robot. And even if I was, wouldn't I know what I was doing? You could just program me to work and I would instead of screwing everything up.
I have a one-off comment about Edible Arrangements that's too long for Twitter (LandofGilli) so it's going here. They're really pretty and all, but unless you're having a party you've got a ton of fresh cut fruit that has a very short shelf-life. Recognizing this problem when we got one after my uncle died we came up with the only solution to this problem: Sangria. And it was delicious. It wasn't one of the ones with the chocolate-dipped fruit because whoever sent it to us was cheap (just kidding, I don't even remember who it was or if those were even available at the time, really), but if it had been the chocolaty kind of course you wouldn't put the chocolate in the wine. I'm just saying it's a lot of cut fruit all at once.
..."Chocolaty" looks wrong but it's right. I hate that.
What may become a regular feature until it's completed...The Great Room Reorganization!! Seeing as job prospects are...nonexistent...my childhood bedroom is becoming my early adulthood bedroom. The first thing I need to do is put my memory foam pad over my mattress pad because I think the mattress pad is too tight over the memory foam so it's smushing it when I'm supposed to be the one smushing it. But then I want to move my bed and my standing lamp and my TV and my bookcase...I'll have to post before and after pictures because just about everything is going somewhere that it isn't currently.
Another could-be regular feature...The Great Curl Project!! This is a disaster. My hair and I do not get along- its nature is quite unlike mine...I imagine my personality to be less wild than my dark red tangle (speaking of, the new Pixar/Disney Princess is a redheaded curly archer! I'm a reddish headed curly archer! It's called Brave and I'm sure it'll come up again) So I've been reading through and posting in the Long Hair Community's forums (here) and it turns out that part of the reason my hair and I disagree is because I was, essentially, raised to mistreat it. It's not some hippie thing (though be sure you can find it on there), it's just that all of my copious curls come from my father- and men are not generally wealths of information on proper hair care. I imagine my father would use a bar of Irish Spring in his hair without a second thought. My mother's hair is pin straight, so she doesn't know what to do with frizz and ringlets. So, of course she did my hair when I was little- and she did it just like her's, with a brush. Apparently (as my frustrations made abundantly clear) brushes are NOT GOOD for curls, and is the reason why my hair feels like cotton candy every time I run a brush through it.
Brushes are bad.
So...now I'm learning how to take care of my hair properly. "But Jo!" You say, "Shouldn't you have figured this out, like, a decade ago? You're 23!" To which I say to you, when I was sick and depressed and lying in bed for 10 years I didn't care what my hair looked like. I was too depressed to care and on the odd day that I needed to look nice for something (concert, wedding, funeral, what-have-you) I didn't know how to make it happen and would be miserable and feel hideous which only furthered my determination to not leave my bed ever.
So, yes. I'm a 23 year-old college graduate learning how to be a teenage girl. And it's not going so well. Granted it's only been 2 days, but those 2 days have been miserable failures. Sigh. Perseverance.
What a mess this post is.
*Ting!* Brilliant idea. Saturdays are henceforth to be Saturday Summaries on Salami & Orchids. A round-up of my random thoughts and plans for future posts. I'm awesome.
And now it's naptime. Have a lovely evening.