Here’s me celebrating all the wonder and excitement (not to mention the alcohol) of Halloween at our party this year. (I went as a butterfly, if you’re wondering.)

Photo by Chris Machian.

This blog has become recreational (online) reading for a gal who loves a good fashion fix every now and again. (Thanks, Molly!)

My sleeping pattern has been thrown off something horrible this past week. It started when I saw Bright Eyes and Spoon Friday night. Amazing performances by both (and well worth the insomnia), but I didn’t drift off to sleep until about 1 in the morning. Then, I saw the Rachels play Sokol Underground on Tuesday night — didn’t get to bed until nearly midnight.

I’ve had a handful of other post-work events this week, as well. When I come home, I’m pretty keyed up and not quite mentally prepared for slumber.

You’d think my late bedtimes would mean I’m sleeping in. Hardly. I’m finding myself awake at 4 and 5 in the morning, only to reply to emails on my PowerBook before getting ready for work.

Here’s to hoping I can get some shuteye this weekend.

I read about this idea in Shannon’s blog. If imitation truly is the sincerest form of flattery, then allow me to bow at her feet and applaud this brilliant idea.

Post a comment to respond to the following: All I want for Christmas is…

That’s why much of my morning will be spent catching up (read: starting) freelance projects whose deadlines are approaching (or have already passed). A caramel latte and a cinnamon muffin will certainly help me accomplish these tasks.

Phone calls that awake you at 2:17 a.m. do little for your productivity later in the day. I had one of those last night. My eyelids are heavy and I’m having trouble staying up and at ’em. This wouldn’t pose a problem if I wasn’t going to tonight’s Bright Eyes show at the Orpheum. But good music and great booze will always win over an early bedtime.

Last night, in an attempt to create something for dinner that doesn’t require me to Just Add Water, I was opening a can of chicken when I sliced through the pad of my right thumb. It bled and bled as wounds traditionally do, but the real pain arrived today. I never realized how much I use my thumb when I could no longer use it: typing, writing, securing my necklace, buttoning my sweater. You get the idea. Wearing a clunky Band-Aid helps a little, but not much.

I officially began my Christmas shopping last week with an online purchase. One may second guess the allure of online shopping because of the shipping charges. However, when one considers the gas spent driving to and from a mall or retail store, paired with the potential of long lines and crappy customer service, those extra few bucks necessary to have packages delivered to one’s home or workplace certainly is appealing.

Problem is, I have a stack of coupons from a number of stores I want to shop this season, and those coupons are only good at the store — not the Web site. Assuming I’m able to efficiently shop in these stores, the experience shouldn’t be a problem. I use their Web sites to determine my purchase, so I don’t spend a lot of time walking through the store.

This weekend flew by. However, it’s not often I’m excitedly awaiting Monday morning.

I took in an art opening at the Hot Shops Art Center Saturday night. I’d highly recommend spending some time at the Hot Shops’ art gallery. There’s a great variety of works to get lost in on a rainy afternoon.