I'm pretty sure Taylor Swift is really good for the Starbucks coffee industry these days. 

I mean, surely there has not been a misheard lyric this, well, misheard since everyone thought the words were "wrapped up like a douche" in Manfred Mann's Blinded By The Light.

The internet really is a magical place isn't it?

I mean, in no other context would a simple tweet about e-readers turn into a day spent at a Harlequin book cover photoshoot. 

FUN FACT:

I used to have blue eyes.

(And really terribly uneven bangs.)

I don't like potatoes. I mean, I *will* eat french fries, but only under protest. 

I am afraid of pedicures. Not only do I not enjoy having people touch my feet (vomit), I am dealthy afraid of picking up some scary toenail-falling-off disease. Also, I don't like when people talk about me in other languages.

I am not a shoe person. I'm serious. If you offered me a pair of beautiful red-bottomed shoes, I'd probably return them to buy some sweet camera equipment. 

Sometimes I say LITERALLY when I don't actually mean LITERALLY.

I love books. 

LOVE. 

In fact, I read at least one a week.

In fact, I am on a mission to read 62 of them in 2012, one more than I read in 2011. 

I am currently reading books #19, #20, #21—I have one on my nightstand, one in the bathroom, and one on my phone. 

Yes, I read on my phone. It started back when I had a 2-hour+ daily commute that included a stuffy subway ride. I wanted the ease of having a way to read even if I was standing up and sandwiched between many, many people. The iPhone was super convenient. 

So, I found a toothbrush under the sink in my bathroom.

It was black. I couldn’t remember ever buying a black toothbrush. I smelled it, and it didn’t smell minty or bubble gummy. It maybe, possibly, if you held it at the right angle, looked unused.

And then I brushed my teeth with it.

Now, before you go and judge me for using what might be someone else’s toothbrush or may very well have been sitting underneath that sink for the last 10 years….you must really understand the desperation of the situation.

It was the summer I turned 13. 

It was on the cold concrete floor of our camp bunk. 

A rust-bottom container of men's shaving cream was passed around, followed by a flimsy pink razor.

A few weeks ago, I ran over to the mall to pick up yet another navy and white striped t-shirt. I am currently obsessed with them. Surprisingly, though, instead of another nautical shirt, I absolutely had to have this top.

Bicycles!

And now, of course, I am absolutely smitten with this bicycle motif.

Back in the days when I worked in the education department at a major book publisher (you know the one; the one with all of the flyers), a big part of my job was choosing read-aloud books for our language arts resource for grades K-8. It was less exciting (albeit less time-consuming) to read, read, read all of the picture books when I was working on grades 1 or 2, but became more interesting to me as we moved up in grade and up from picture book to chapter book and then finally to novels. I read some great books all in the name of research.

Last night, my son took the stage in his very first stage production. He played the title role in Peter Pan. He was fantastic. 

I am not one to turn down a popcorn breakfast. Or a popcorn lunch. Or a popcorn dinner. I mean, I am the person who was recently dragged to a movie that I didn't even know I was seeing, because there was promise of popcorn. So, even though I was a wee bit apprehensive to see the movie version of The Lorax, I went. You see, I always worry when good books are made into MOVIES. Sometimes it works, as it did with Harry Potter.

Closer to Fine began playing from my iphone in the car on the way home from school. Emily says, “WOAH. What is this song? I am absolutely in love with it.” I hadn’t heard it in years. But, yet, suddenly I am transported back to my early teens to where I discovered an overplayed copy of a tape in my sister’s room. I was likely searching for something mega important, like lipstick, but stumbled upon a tattered old mix tape and popped it in my boom box. I didn’t know it at the time, but my life was forever changed by that song.

Usually after awards shows I am full of, well, a lot to say. There's always THE GOOD, THE BAD, and the...CONFUSING. Last night was no exception. There was some bad (like Sandra Bullock's dress, Angelina Jolie's leg, and The Dictator's ashes). There was some confusing (like Natalie Portman's polka dots and Michelle Williams waist-skirt).

I have opinions.

I mean, who doesn't? 

Sometimes I have opinions about leggings. Or crop tops. Or wine. 

Apparently, yesterday was Ginger Awareness Day. 

Now technically, I believe this is supposed to be a day to recognize redheads. Now, since I am not a redhead (although I desperately WANT to be one, and I truly believe that I would make a smokin' hot redhead, like this lovely lady), I celebrated the second-best kind of ginger out there, and made a batch of these ginger molasses cookies—my new favorite cookie. (Really. They even beat out the chocolate chip kind.)

Several weeks ago I made a promise to my children.

It was simple, really. "Kids! I promise we can bake chocolate chip cookies today!"

When your dad says the words "I’M SCARED" it’s as if your world is flipped-turned upside-down. 

Parents aren't allowed to have four heart attacks. Parents aren't allowed to crawl to the ambulance. Parents aren't allowed to get scared. And parents most certainly aren't allowed to think they are going to die. 

Every time I see my tailor (YES. I am a short girl. I cannot buy a pair of pants without a visit to my best friend the tailor) he always says the same thing.

“You know who you look like, Ali? That girl from Spiderman.”

Oh yes, I’ve heard this before. And not just from my tailor. TOO MANY TIMES. But seriously? Kirsten Dunst? Really? REALLY? Isn’t Kirsten Dunst just a little, erm, not at all what I look like?

1. You must have THE CRAZY EYES.