tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2229867341834832532024-02-19T10:32:13.419-06:00Escape from DullsvilleMy journey through the ordinary. And more random thoughts.Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-11807687945429709022012-04-27T20:34:00.000-05:002012-04-27T20:34:51.740-05:00The "Freebie List"<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i><b>"Rachel:</b> Alright, let me see. Uma Thurman, Winona Ryder, Elizabeth Hurely, Michelle Pfieffer, and... Dorothy Hammill?<br /><b>Ross:</b> Hey, it's my list.<br /><b>Rachel:</b> Okay, honey, you do realize she only spins like that on ice."</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A few nights ago, J and I were watching old <i>Friends</i> reruns. Funny how, at the time, they were so super cool. But looking back? I can't believe I ever wanted to dress like Rachel or have Monica's short black hair. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I digress.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So it was the "Freebie List" episode, where they all consider what five celebrities would be on their "freebie list" ~ five people they can sleep with without anyone getting upset. And remember? Ross <i>finally</i> gets his list finalized by eliminating Isabella Rossellini... then he bumps into her. Classic.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">J and I got to talking about who would be on <i>our</i> lists. J's included <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004266/" target="_blank">Anne Hathaway</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004754/" target="_blank">Jessica Biel</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000098/" target="_blank">Jennifer Aniston</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0005433/" target="_blank">Jessica Simpson</a> and <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0578949/" target="_blank">Eva Mendes</a>. It was almost scary how fast he came up with his list.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Let me tell you, it was freakin' hard to decide for mine.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I kept putting someone on my list. Taking them off. Switching them out for someone else. Putting them back on. But I finally got it narrowed down: <a href="http://www.jasonwitten82.com/" target="_blank">Jason Whitten</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001191/" target="_blank">Adam Sandler</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0004770/" target="_blank">David Boreanaz</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000138/" target="_blank">Leonardo DiCaprio</a> and, of course, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000093/" target="_blank">Brad Pitt</a>.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Adam Sandler? Really?" remarked J. "Wow, that makes me feel better."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Why?"</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Because he's a goofy bastard, like me."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I didn't even ask if I was supposed to feel worse because none of the girls he chose are remotely close to me. Except maybe Anne Hathaway -- we have the same color hair. And I'm sure she has 10 toes?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm lagging behind, I know. But that's okay for now. So much to do, so little time. But I finally feel like I'm in a place to start pulling it all together. Maybe. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Maybe if I discard the notion that everything has to be <i>perfect</i>, it would be easier to start. Story of my life! Will say, though, that I hate every time I log in to start a post, it seems Blogger is different. I fear change. Okay, not really. But it's confusing the hell out of me!<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><span></span></span></span><div>
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</div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-71255836075322107042012-03-28T20:40:00.001-05:002012-03-28T20:40:58.798-05:00Kids & Dreams<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes I like chick tv. <i>The Bachelor</i>? Not so much. But <i>So You Think You Can Dance</i>? Love it. I usually can't remember what day it comes on, but I'm glued to the tv when I find it. I could totally do without the fluff and some of the slow stuff though. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway, my friend T and I went to a live show when they toured near Dallas a few seasons ago. The set up was a little cheesy, and not sure why I thought the hostess would actually be there, but the performances were awesome. And, the people watching? Even better. We sat next to a married couple, and the guy knew every dance. Not the wife, the <i>husband</i>. And he cried several times. Sure, guys can be sensitive and emotional. But I think there's a closet somewhere with his name on it. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And there was a mom and daughter sitting in front of us. The daughter ~ probably middle-school aged at most ~ went on and on about how beautiful the dancers were, how she wanted to be like </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://sytycdisminfo.org/lauren-froderman/exclusive-interview-sytycd-winner-lauren-froderman-talks-tour-future-andfans/" target="_blank">Lauren</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (that season's winner), how she wanted to dance, on and on and <i>on</i>. Finally, during the intermission, the mom looked at her doe-eyed daughter and matter-of-factly said, "It's too much work. You can't do that." </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">T and I just looked at each other, stunned. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The girl looked so crushed, I wanted to reach out and give her a hug and some words of encouragement. I waited for the mom to say something, anything else, but she never did. The girl sat through the rest of the performance like an icicle -- still, cold, unexcited. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I couldn't believe it. Sure, the chances of her actually becoming a professional dancer are probably slim to none, but somebody has to be, so why not her? Why not encourage her to be excited about dance, an artform that celebrates the beauty of the body, that relies on being healthy and strong, that communicates a message of strength and grace to those watching? Why not get her excited about something that could help her through the awkward teen years, give her meaning in life, help her avoid the pitfalls so many fall into. Why not use it as leverage to keep her grades up, as an extracurricular to keep her busy and a means into college? What is SO important in her life that she doesn't have room for a dream? </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I made a vow that day to never cause that pain in my child. Sure, if Baby decides that picking gum off the sidewalk is his dream in life, I may have to re-direct him. But I hope I <i>never</i> cause the hurt I saw in that little girl's eyes. Far-fetched dreams are better than none at all, right?</span><br />
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</span>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-46466514980247937622012-03-25T21:48:00.000-05:002012-03-25T21:48:43.055-05:00Bored + Giveaway<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Baby's asleep, hubs is watching a movie and I'm kind of bored. So it was either post something or wash bottles... yep, so what to write about? I was thinking I might host a giveaway of some sort. You know, to attract a little attention, pull a new face or two in, kick this party up a notch. Not sure what it will be yet ~ something small, probably not very cool. Or it could be reallly cool. Who knows? I figure I've got some time to work out the details. Because I'll host it when {should I say "if"?} I reach 100 followers. Hmmmm, yeah, I've got a ways to go...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Until then, I'll think of some things to ramble about. And give some hints as to the prize, perhaps?</span>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-57201638888570548952012-03-23T20:56:00.001-05:002012-03-23T20:57:44.985-05:00Blah Blah Blah<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Wow, I'm not doing so well with this "getting back to blogging" thing. I do try... or, at least, I do think about it. I actually have another blog out there that I keep going with home decor stuff, but it's kind of boring me. That, and I haven't been spending a ton of money decorating since I quit my job, so... guess that brings me back here? I'm sure I'll repeat myself several times as I can't remember what I've already blogged about.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Guess I can also blame Pinterest for stealing my free time. And, is it possible that I've also become <i>more</i> lazy since having a baby? Perhaps. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So tell your friends -- if they need something to read to help them fall asleep, this blog just might be the answer!</span><br />
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</span>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-12734186294379436782012-02-03T18:07:00.003-06:002012-02-03T18:10:36.173-06:00Irrational Fear<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Why do we feel safe under blankets? It's not like a murderer will come in thinking, 'I'm gonna ki... ahh damn! She's under a blanket.'" ~ <a href="http://9gag.com/">9gag.com</a></span></i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">J's been in Vegas this past week for work. So, baby and I had a LOT of time to bond. At six months now, he's quite the squirmy little guy -- sit up, lay down, roll over, help stand, pet the dogs, throw the toys... not crawling, barely sitting and quite the squealer. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was dreading this week, but it went more smoothly than I could have ever thought possible. The worst part was after baby went to bed, sitting in this empty house allll alone, listening to every creak and wondering which door the {insert <i>zombie, alien, axe murderer</i>} would try to barge through. Yeah, so I have an over-active imagination. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At some point I have to dig out my big girl panties so I don't pass my irrational fears onto baby. Which is definitely something I worry about. All the time. I sometimes think, "How did I get this way?" It cracks J up when I hear something outside in the middle of the night, and scooch closer to him or get up to lock the bedroom door. It's not like I watched a ton of scary tv when I was a kid. Though, I do recall watching <i>Poltergeist</i> and <i>X-Files</i>. But other than that, it was all sunshine and rainbows. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Maybe my parents just never taught me how to rationally deal with fear. It was always, "That's silly, don't worry about that" or "That'll never happen" or "It's fake". Fear was swept under the rug. Feelings weren't dealt with, just told to go away. I think I want to teach my boy that, while it might be silly to fear a certain something, here are some steps you can take to overcome that fear. Or to help you deal with what you're feeling even if no one else understands. And if something terrible <i>does</i> happen, that I'll be there, fighting tooth and nail to protect him. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Otherwise, he'll be 31 years old, hiding under the covers with all the lights on, the alarm set, the bedroom door locked, clutching his cell phone and wondering if he should turn on the news just incase something has come to over-take the world.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not that that's what I've been doing the past few nights or anything...</span></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-37994269353904274572012-01-27T21:35:00.003-06:002012-01-27T21:39:36.145-06:00Catching Up<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Seems like life has been a whirlwind since my last real post in August of 2010:</span><br />
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Road trip to Galveston with J</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Floated the Comal River with friends</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Had a little Cali adventure</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Celebrated 30th birthdays</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Got pregnant</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Watched J survive two layoffs with his company</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Had a beautiful baby boy</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Tried balancing working from home & taking care of Baby</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Almost got canned myself</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Quit my job</span></li>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Guess that's about it in a {really big} nutshell. I feel like I'm <i>finally</i> starting to unwind a bit, and <i>finally</i> getting to enjoy Baby (and life) without the added stress of trying to juggle a conference call with a blowout diaper. And a stressed out husband. And a messy house.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So many stories, so little time. Oh, wait. Now that I'm a "Domestic Engineer" {ahem}, maybe I finally <i>do</i> have time. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Whoop whoop!</span></div>
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</div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-42100516790615709002012-01-25T23:15:00.005-06:002012-01-25T23:20:55.107-06:00Hello There<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Testing, 1..2..3... Testing... Is this thing on? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yep, I've decided to dust this thing off again. So many exciting changes since I last blogged. So many funny stories. So many things I just need to empty out of my brain. I'm sure that fly on the wall over there will be the only one reading this... ugh, he flew off. Guess I'm just talking to myself now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyway. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm back!</span>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-91789484208977576172010-08-11T21:55:00.001-05:002010-08-11T21:56:11.426-05:00Won't You Be My Neighbor?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"The only man who is really free is the one who can turn down an invitation to dinner without giving any excuse." ~ Jules Renard</span></i></span><br />
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</span> </span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My neighbors -- the Spastics -- have been itching to have us over for dinner again soon. Which has sent us into jump-in-the-car before they see us mode. Not that I don't enjoy them as neighbors, it's just that their kids are a tad bit exhausting. Or overwhelming. Maybe both?</span></span><br />
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</span> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My heart goes out to them for being neighborly, and they're </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">good</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> people. But after the first experience? I'm a little hesitant. You can read about it </span></span><a href="http://escapefromdullsville.blogspot.com/2008/10/night-at-spastics.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #c27ba0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">here</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">.</span> </span><br />
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</span></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-35691058233942915982010-08-10T20:50:00.005-05:002010-08-10T21:23:19.458-05:00A Little of This, a Little of That<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><i>"The sooner you fall behind the more time you'll have to </i><em>catch up." ~ Anonymous</em></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><em><br /></em></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>Well, I thought since it's been awhile, I'd catch up my old readers (bless you guys for sticking around!) and lay the foundation for new readers about what's been up lately. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'll skip the boring, mundane diatribe about work. Still consulting. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Blah.</span></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Enjoying the new house. Though, now that we've been here almost two years, we're realizing how stupid we were to jump into 3000 sq feet. For two people. And two {crazy} dogs. What can I say? I'm a </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">sucker</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> for a bargain. Though I do miss the coziness of our old house, I don't miss the ghetto neighbors.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What else? Oh. I want a baby. Yeah, one of those crying, drooling, pooping messes that can turn your whole life around. Yep, one please. And the sooner? The better. We've been trying for about a year now. Thanks to some minor setbacks -- miscarriage included -- I find myself becoming slighting discouraged, slightly scared to try again. But that's a whoooole other post.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My friends are keeping me sane. Well, a couple are driving me crazy, but in general my life revolves around them. They're like my second family -- sometimes I wish they'd adopt me. As for my hubby's family? Sometimes I wish they'd just leave me alone. I'm just serious ... I mean </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">kidding</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Okay, maybe if his mother would just leave me alone, then I'd be golden. Even those stories are worth their own post. Someday.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm in the last few months of my twenties. I'm not nervous about it yet. I'm still not sure it'll feel any different than how I feel now. I mean, it's not like I'm 25 anymore. *sigh* To be 25 again. Now <i>that</i> was a sweet age. My favorite {so far} for soo many different reasons. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, that's about it. I'm sure everything else will reveal itself in due time... </span></span></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-86245186643709131812010-08-10T18:08:00.003-05:002010-08-10T18:14:00.896-05:00I'm Back... I Think?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hi. Hello. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> *blowing dust of the computer keys*</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Wow, it's been awhile! I know, I abandoned this baby awhile back. Like </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">eons</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> ago. But now? I think I want to come back. At least occasionally. Or sporadically. Or maybe a lot? </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Guess I'll let life be the judge of that...</span></span></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-66909083925983358812010-01-28T16:09:00.003-06:002010-01-28T16:59:11.291-06:00Pee-rivacy<div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"The only time the world beats a path to your door is if you're in the bathroom." ~ Anonymous </span></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;color:#330000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some days you wake up and you think the day is going to be awesome. Other days you wake up, step in cat vomit, and just know that it's only going downhill from there. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was supposed to meet J for lunch at noon. When 12:20 rolled around and I was STILL stuck in my meeting, I texted him under the desk and told him to go ahead and order. Fifteen minutes later I drove like a banshee to the sandwich shop, only to find him still in line. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I motioned to him that I was going to make a pit stop and made my way through the crowded tables to the restroom. Now, instead of having a separate hall leading to the bathrooms, this place had a single men's door and a single women's door, right off the dining area. I knocked, entered and locked the door. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sitting peacefully and wondering why I drank three sodas and a bottle of water this morning, the heavy door flew open. An older blonde lady -- apparently even more surprised than I was -- screamed bloody murder, causing everyone in the sub shop to look in our direction. Like a deer in headlights, I froze. After what seemed like an eternity, the door slammed shut. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mortified, I finished my business, washed my hands and silently hoped a window would appear so that I could crawl my way out. No such luck. I opened the door to find the lady there. "Sweetie! I'm sorry but you should have locked the door!". I warned her that is was broken, as every eye in the place was stuck in our direction. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even though it was colder than hell, I made J sit outside. Of course, he couldn't stop laughing. "It could have been worse", he joked, "at least you weren't taking a dump."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Way to see the positive, J.</span></span></div><div><br /></div></span></span></span></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-24184744146930692562010-01-25T18:03:00.005-06:002010-01-25T18:07:14.294-06:00An Escape<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wow, it's been awhile ... and no telling how many posts I've started like that either. But, I truly do miss utilizing this outlet to escape the mundane or to share the embarrassing moments that seem to follow me around on a daily basis. Besides, I miss reading </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">your</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> blogs, too. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, for 2010? More blogging. And less procrastinating. Ahh, the story of my lif</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">e</span> ...</div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-76048614944307290782009-08-13T09:31:00.003-05:002009-08-13T09:45:59.627-05:00My Big Mouth<a href="http://escapefromdullsville.blogspot.com/2009/08/blame-it-on-beer.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Getty</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> didn't call. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I should have left it alone ... but didn't. I sent him a text late Tuesday night, "Glad I didn't hold my breath". Why? I'm not sure. Maybe I was upset because I reached out and he took it to the level of wanting to call. Maybe I just hate being blown off. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Two in the morning I get a reply. "I'm sooo sorry. Can I call u now?"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Are you </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">kidding</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">? I told him I was asleep, that I'd talk to him later. He called twice yesterday, though I didn't answer. I'll call him back today, though now I'm kind of over the whole thing. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just wanted my friend back, not all the drama that I can foresee coming with it. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lighter post tomorrow, I promise :).</span></span></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-372728218919436152009-08-11T13:44:00.008-05:002009-08-11T14:32:20.279-05:00Blame It on the Beer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#321D02;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: normal; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">"Every path hath a puddle." ~ George Herbert, 'Jacula Prudentum'</span></span></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#321D02;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yesterday I met my girl </span></span></span></span><a href="http://escapefromdullsville.blogspot.com/2008/11/extra-hour-for-more-rambles.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Goldie</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> for drinks at our usual spot in town. She and I get along very well, but it's a rare treat to get to hang out with her without the spouses around. We talked for hours over cold beer and pizza, watching the sun set as our happy hour turned into an all-nighter. It was nice to finally open up to her, and I could tell she felt the same way. We chatted about everything, from old boyfriends to current inlaws, and never skipped a beat. </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was in a slightly reminiscent -- and slightly intoxicated -- state when we finally left. Driving down the toll road, my mind began to wander back through our conversations, back to when we were swapping old boyfriend stories. I don't know if it was the song on the radio, my restless feelings for new adventures or the beer, but I had the sudden urge to reach out to an old friend / boyfriend of mine from years ago. </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I met Getty through my sister before I graduated highschool. Long story short, we were fast friends, then dated, and when it didn't work out we became best friends. On occasion, when we'd both find ourselves single, our friendship went to the next level. To me, he's always been a part of my life as a dear friend. In his eyes, however, it was always </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">soo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> much more. I guess I always knew that, just refused to see it. Getty always thought he and I would end up married, and has never approved of my boyfriends, especially J. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">J and Getty don't really get along. Which is one reason Getty and I haven't really talked since I got married three years ago. The other reason being J knowing his feelings for me -- and I can totally understand why he's uncomfortable with that. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I ran into Getty at a ballgame early last year, and it was honestly nice to see him. And that was the last time I'd talked to him. Until last night.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I quickly texted a simple "I miss you". I just wanted him to know that I still think about him and hope he's doing well. As a friend. I didn't expect a reply.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Later, as I was getting ready for bed, I noticed I had a new text. "I miss u too, Iz. Can I call u tomorrow?"</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre-wrap; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dang it. Can open, worms everywhere. I should have known a simple text wouldn't be enough. But what's the harm in one phone call, right? </span></span></span></div></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-37973923745127686662009-08-04T15:38:00.006-05:002009-08-04T15:52:08.244-05:00Case of the Mondays ... er, Tuesdays<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJIegwDClikcIYC4bPfOrkGEpyUarAapnmJL3SzWyII-zPcjYKTbxHdAoEeUmFGDg7qVr8JiO4IH2pdz4HhR1etuFkhm7M4S4zwmxBasbceicX4UluJj9k3Jo-4G3T7C-2Z4HsmNkpwL4/s1600-h/gettowork.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJIegwDClikcIYC4bPfOrkGEpyUarAapnmJL3SzWyII-zPcjYKTbxHdAoEeUmFGDg7qVr8JiO4IH2pdz4HhR1etuFkhm7M4S4zwmxBasbceicX4UluJj9k3Jo-4G3T7C-2Z4HsmNkpwL4/s320/gettowork.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366213714195826402" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', fantasy; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For some reason, today feels like Monday. Maybe it's because I didn't get anything accomplished yesterday. Maybe it's because I'm getting a little bored in my job, and all the days seem like a "blah" day.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm trying </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">sooo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> hard not to get burnt out at work. I couldn't ask for anything more -- great pay, flexible schedule, cool boss. But is that enough? Here lately, I've been craving something new, something more creative, something that might make a difference is this ginormous world. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Right now I'm supposed to be creating a 12-hour training class. But, instead, I'm sitting on the comfy leather couch at </span></span><a href="http://www.legacybooksonline.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Legacy Books</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, sipping on a cold Diet Coke and blogging. Because I just can't find the darn motivation to get crackin' on my presentation. Seems like the story of my life here lately. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I've been at this job for almost two years now -- which is amazing considering I usually change jobs like I change shoes. Guess I'm just itching for something different. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But what? </span></span> </div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-79940982414629418562009-07-30T16:00:00.000-05:002009-07-30T16:54:26.541-05:00Defining Moments<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">"Life isn't measured in minutes, but in moments." ~ Author Unknown</span></span></i></div></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The other night, J and I nestled onto the couch and finally watched </span></span><i><a href="http://www.benjaminbutton.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Curious Case of Benjamin Button</span></span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend you watch it. It's a little weird. It's a little sad. It's a little long. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But it awakened something in me that I hadn't felt in awhile. That desire to live life without apology, to seek out what makes your soul truly happy, to find the courage to overcome the staleness in life and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">do</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> something. It reminded me to not let go of who I once was and what once brought joy to my life. That age doesn't matter -- it's how you </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">feel</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> that defines who you are. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It may sound like the same ol' "seize the day" mantra that seems to flow superficially through life. But it is so much more than that, at least to me. There is soo much out there that I would love to do, love to experience. Why should I settle into a mediocre pattern in, well, Dullsville? </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Doesn't matter who you are or where you are in life, you have the power to change it. To grasp that piece of this world that you cannot live without. New places, new faces -- I crave something to break this cycle of boredom that I seem to be stuck in. I methodically awaken each morning, dress, work, go through the paces of life. I just know there is soo much more to experience than I have been.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What happened to the girl who dreamed of living outside of her small world, taking every opportunity to learn, to experience, to see with her own eyes what others only read about? Still dreaming. Still waiting.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I leave you with my favorite passage from the movie -- read it, grasp it, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">live</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> it. I know I'm going to try.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;"><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>"It's never too late or ... too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over ag</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>ain."</i></span></span></blockquote></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-29514053902183237242009-07-29T09:30:00.005-05:002009-07-29T09:46:33.271-05:00Hump Day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><i>"The only thing wrong with doing nothing is that you never know when you're finished." ~ Author Unknown</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#321D02;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>Maybe because it's Hump Day, but I have the F-its weighing me down heavily. Soo much to get done, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">soo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> little care to do it. Think instead I'll turn my "To Do" list into my "I Don't Want To" list ... at least until tomorrow.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Clean the litter box</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fold laundry</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Run</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finish my presentation for work</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bathe the dogs</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pay the mortgage</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Schedule a dentist appointment</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Call the water sprinkler repair guy</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Shower</span></span></li></ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hope you guys have more motivation today than I do!</span></span></div></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-35882136951999736612009-07-28T14:09:00.003-05:002009-07-28T14:17:14.337-05:00Wishlist<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With the temps in the 100s here lately, I'm </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">soo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> ready for fall and everything that comes with it. Including cute boots. Found these vintage beauties on <a href="http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=28128379&ref=sr_gallery_12&&ga_search_query=boots&ga_search_type=vintage&ga_page=23&order=date_desc&includes[]=tags&includes[]=title">Etsy</a> yesterday. If only they were my size ...</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ny-image3.etsy.com/il_430xN.81047135.jpg"><img src="http://ny-image3.etsy.com/il_430xN.81047135.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 430px; height: 429px; " /></a></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-35492966229081104642009-07-27T15:30:00.003-05:002009-07-27T16:11:48.567-05:00Feeding Time<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(50, 29, 2); "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Mother knows breast." ~ Author Unknown</span></span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#321D02;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I'm giving up on the template for this darn thing ... for now, anyway. I'm sad to say that I'm </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">soo</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> glad it's Monday -- this weekend was a complete doozy. J and I were at each other's throats for most of it, and nothing we had planned worked out quite as we'd hoped. Ohwell, we'll survive.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', fantasy;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Because neither of us wanted to cook last night and it was already too late to eat anywhere decent, we found ourselves at <a href="http://www.tacocabana.com/">Taco Cabana</a> for dinner. Now, I'm a big fan of Taco C, but the people there never cease to amaze / entertain / scare the living crap out of / surprise me. Depends on the day. And last night was no exception.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Inside was freezing so we decided to sit on the small patio. J went inside to wait on the food, while I absentmindly began wiping dried guacamole off the table. Two young ladies -- maybe in their mid twenties -- were sitting at the next table. One had a boy about seven, the other had a baby in a carrier. I tried to drown out the boy's shouting by staring at the passing cars.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I heard one lady say something about feeding the baby. A few moments later I happened to look over, and noticed she was holding the baby against her with one arm and eating queso with the other. It took me a minute to realize that she wasn't holding a bottle for baby. She was </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">breastfeeding</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. With no blanket. On the patio. While people were </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">eating</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> at tables all around them.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I must have had a sour look on my face when J came outside with the food. Thankfully, he blocked my view. I just couldn't believe it -- <i>breastfeeding</i> in a restaurant?? Sure, we were at a fast-food joint, but still. Have a little respect for those dining around you. Use a bottle, feed in the car, at least don't sit facing the door to the inside where everyone can see you.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Am I wrong to be disgusted?</span></span></div></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-37378833791572010332009-07-17T11:15:00.006-05:002009-07-17T12:08:54.057-05:00Why Dell Is Dead to Me<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">S</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">o this blog is starting to aggravate me a </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">smidge</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Seems I can't get the background off completely, so -- for now -- I suppose it'll remain a hodgepodge of stuff. Not that I update this thing much anymore, anyway. But hopefully </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">that'll</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> change now that I have a new, more reliable computer.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You may remember the </span></span><a href="http://escapefromdullsville.blogspot.com/search/label/Dell"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Dear John" letter I wrote to my Dell </span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">awhile back. Well, after losing EVERYTHING -- work, photos, music -- on it a few weeks ago, I lost my mind. I called Dell to no avail. They treated me like complete pond scum since my warranty had already expired. The guy said I had to pay $129 to be transferred to technical support. I said this has been an on-going issue that has never been resolved over the million times I called while it was under warranty, and that I didn't feel like I should have to pay. He was a dick. "I get callers like you all the time who don't want to pay." I couldn't believe he said that to me. I explained that I didn't mind paying once the computer was fixed. He was rude and obnoxious. I asked to speak to his manager. He freaked and said he didn't have the authority to transfer me and that I had to pay him right now or he would hang up. I lost it. Words flew out of my mouth before I knew what I was even saying. By the time I hung up, I was shaking. And my computer was still broken.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">An hour later I called back. Thankfully I got another guy who said he could knock it down to 50 bucks. Twenty minutes later, I gave up and coughed up the $50 just so I could talk to technical support. After three </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">freakin</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">' hours on the phone with India, we came to the conclusion that: (a) I was sold a 1GB memory when it takes 2GB just to run Vista alone, (b) a driver on my computer was corrupted from the time I took it out of the box. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why they didn't discover either of these while my computer was still under warranty is a little fishy yet not surprising. The guy tried to reinstall the driver directly from Dell's site, yet it wasn't compatible. Then he laughed, said there was nothing else he could do, and referred me to someone else. He said if the next guy couldn't fix it, then I could send my computer in and pay to have it redone. I was beyond livid and to the point of tears. I was already behind at work because my Dell kept crashing, then I lost it all anyway and had to restart all my stupid projects. Just to have it crash AGAIN and lose it all once more.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I politely thanked him for his "help", said I wasn't about to sink another </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">freakin</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">' dime into Dell, hung up and grabbed my car keys. My palms were sweaty as I gripped the steering wheel, driving 15 miles too fast down the tollway. I whipped into the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Willowbend</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> mall parking lot. The store clerks at </span></span><a href="http://www.neimanmarcus.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Neimans</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> took a step back as I hurriedly walked past them, my hands balled into fists at my side. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And there is was, the dim glow of the </span></span><a href="www.apple.com"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Apple</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> store. I didn't hesitate as I walked in. Five minutes later, a young guy in an azure blue t-shirt and Puma sneakers was mending the pieces of my lost mind. It was </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">soooo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> refreshing to talk to someone who was passionate about the product. Who actually listened to what I was saying. Who didn't try to sell me things I wouldn't need.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">An hour later, I waltzed out of there with a new </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">MacBook</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Pro, a new wireless printer, a three-year warranty and a head full of knowledge. There's just something to be said for great customer service. And if I have a problem? I can just take it back to the store and talk to a </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">real</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> person. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Imagine that.</span></span></div>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-49367168573537956482009-07-08T14:50:00.002-05:002009-07-08T15:09:43.875-05:00The Paint<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So I guess my comeback wasn't really one at all. Ohwell. As for the bedroom, it's (nearly) complete. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I made the mistake of waiting until the day before J came home to start. I had the *perfect* color sample from the paint store. I found the *perfect* bedding at <a href="http://www.homegoods.com/index.asp">Homegoods</a> for such a bargain. I cleaned out the bedroom and even managed to clear out the ginormous furniture, and finally started painting around midnight.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">At two in the morning, I was in tears. The color was SO not the same color as the small sample I had tested on the wall. What was supposed to be an organic brown dried into a stone grey. And the bedding? Metallic blue. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I gave up around 4, with half the room painted and half of my sanity left. I managed to arrange the furniture how I wanted -- making the room look bigger -- and passed out on the couch. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I didn't alert J to the fact that I'd been up to something when I picked him up at the airport. He didn't notice the dried paint in my hair while we ate lunch. When we got to the house, he didn't notice the cans of paint sitting in the dining room. I let him walk into the bedroom first.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Wow, you rearranged the furniture! That looks great, babe," he said, throwing his bulky suitcase in the corner. I sat on the bed, waiting patiently. A few minutes later, "Oh WOW, and you painted!" </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Gee. I would think stone grey would be easy to notice. But at least he helped me finish the next day -- and I had 2 gallons left over. Surprisingly, he loves the color. Me? Eh, it'll do for now.</span>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-10493019270643245452009-06-08T21:57:00.005-05:002009-06-09T11:15:29.609-05:00I'm Back ... With a Bedroom Makeover<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><em>"If bad decorating was a hanging offense, there'd be bodies hanging from every tree." ~ Sylvester Stallone</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well, it only took a few months, but I finally figured out how to clean up my blog. And now it's too clean. Talk about "dullsville"! <em>*Sigh*</em> Ohwell. Guess I can mess with it later.<br /><br />J's out of town for the week, so I thought this would be the perfect time to start blogging again. Too much free time is not a good thing -- I think I ate just about everything I could get my hands on last night. Easy to do when you're sucked into hours of HGTV.<br /><br />We're in the process of trying to pick out paint colors for the house -- which has been such a <em>headache</em>. It seemed easier in our old house, maybe because it was smaller. Or maybe because I knew what colors I wanted and just went for it. This house is just being difficult, and the asylum white walls are driving me insane. Every. Single. Wall. Is. White.<br /><br />So we initially began trying to pick a neutral to paint everything. But after multiple trips to the paint store and back -- and after getting scolded for turning our dining room wall into a polka-dot fest -- I've temporarily given up.<br /><br />But I had what I thought was a great idea. While J's away, I could do our bedroom as a surprise. It is definitely in need of some TLC ... and a match. Between our old furniture, the smelly dogs and the cat I can't keep off anything, that room is about on the same level as our garage.<br /><br />At some point in the near future we want to get new furniture. But for now, paint, new bedding, curtains and a vacuum would do <em>wonders</em>. We soo need to reclaim that space and make it a relaxing retreat that we look forward to at the end of a long day.<br /><br />And I thought I could handle it. Why is this bedroom <em>soo</em> much harder? I figured if I found awesome bedding, then I could easily match paint. But, of course, now that I'm actually <em>looking</em> for it, I can't seem to find any bedding that just melts my heart. I love fluffy white down bedding, but with a black cat and a husband who eats in the bed, I'm guessing darker is the way to go.<br /><br />I've looked at Target, Kohls, Hemispheres, Linens & Things ... I may head to the mall tomorrow to peek in Restoration Hardware. Other suggestions on where to go? I was hoping to not spend a fortune, but at this point I don't really care. Only two days left to pull this off! </span>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-50059365360622773602009-03-25T13:58:00.002-05:002009-03-25T14:02:00.813-05:00Simply Under Construction<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I think there's something to be said for simplicity. In life, in love, in blogs. Which is why over the next few days my blog will be going through some changes as I try to strip it back down to the bare bones. Which I thought would be a simple task when I started, yet for some reason my current template doesn't want to leave me. So please, excuse the mess! I shall be back to blogging here soon ... good for me, probably not so great for you :-).</span>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-222986734183483253.post-46942143645758530792009-01-27T21:42:00.004-06:002009-01-27T22:20:17.661-06:00Biggest Whiner<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"><em>“If you have time to whine and complain about something then you have the time to do something about it.” ~ Anthony J. D'Angelo</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Guess it's been a few weeks since my last post. The ice is starting to come down outside, the quiet tapping on the windows lulling me to go to sleep. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">J's upstairs watching some import car show. You might think it sounds halfway entertaining, but it is so completely ghetto. I must say that I don't get the whole </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdc7TWvGdMk"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">drifting</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> bit at all. But whatever.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For you <em>Biggest Loser</em> fans, I must admit I did shed some tears tonight. It really is <em>amazing</em> what these people are going through, the families they've left back home, how hard it must be to confront their own reality. I won't spoil anything for those of you who haven't watched yet, but it truly sheds some perspective on my own whining. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">When I don't feel like getting up to run, or feel like eating breakfast, or when I think "5 cookies won't set me back any," I need to take a giant leap back and think about my goals. <em>What do I want?</em> <em>Cookies or to run a marathon?</em> The answer should be clear. And it baffles me sometimes when it's not.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now, don't get me wrong. I love me some cookies and will <em>always</em> splurge. But today? I've sat on my butt in my sweatpants, eating pizza and cookies, using the weather outside as an excuse. And it's a pretty bad one considering the number of workout DVDs I own or the weight machine upstairs. Treats should be treats. Otherwise, they lose their glamour and become tokens of remorse. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And treats should <em>never</em> be remorseful. <em>*Trading in my glass of soda for water.*</em> I have 65 days until my marathon, and I need to stop whining and start focusing on my goals. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Thanks for letting me vent :-).</span>Izzyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07452672740712737981noreply@blogger.com6