Escape from Dullsville

Catching Up

2012-01-27T21:35:00.003-06:00

Seems like life has been a whirlwind since my last real post in August of 2010:

Road trip to Galveston with J
Floated the Comal River with friends
Had a little Cali adventure
Celebrated 30th birthdays
Got pregnant
Watched J survive two layoffs with his company
Had a beautiful baby boy
Tried balancing working from home & taking care of Baby
Almost got canned myself
Quit my job

Guess that's about it in a {really big} nutshell. I feel like I'm finally starting to unwind a bit, and finally 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.

So many stories, so little time. Oh, wait. Now that I'm a "Domestic Engineer" {ahem}, maybe I finally do have time.

Whoop whoop!

Hello There

2012-01-25T23:15:00.005-06:00

Testing, 1..2..3... Testing... Is this thing on?

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.

Anyway.

I'm back!

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

2010-08-11T21:55:00.001-05:00

"The only man who is really free is the one who can turn down an invitation to dinner without giving any excuse." ~ Jules Renard

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?

My heart goes out to them for being neighborly, and they're good people. But after the first experience? I'm a little hesitant. You can read about it here.

A Little of This, a Little of That

2010-08-10T20:50:00.005-05:00

"The sooner you fall behind the more time you'll have to catch up." ~ Anonymous

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.

I'll skip the boring, mundane diatribe about work. Still consulting. Blah.

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 sucker for a bargain. Though I do miss the coziness of our old house, I don't miss the ghetto neighbors.

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.

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 kidding. Okay, maybe if his mother would just leave me alone, then I'd be golden. Even those stories are worth their own post. Someday.

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 that was a sweet age. My favorite {so far} for soo many different reasons.

Anyway, that's about it. I'm sure everything else will reveal itself in due time...

I'm Back... I Think?

2010-08-10T18:08:00.003-05:00

Hi. Hello. *blowing dust of the computer keys* Wow, it's been awhile! I know, I abandoned this baby awhile back. Like eons ago. But now? I think I want to come back. At least occasionally. Or sporadically. Or maybe a lot?

Guess I'll let life be the judge of that...

Pee-rivacy

2010-01-28T16:09:00.003-06:00

"The only time the world beats a path to your door is if you're in the bathroom." ~ Anonymous

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

Way to see the positive, J.

An Escape

2010-01-25T18:03:00.005-06:00

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 your blogs, too.

So, for 2010? More blogging. And less procrastinating. Ahh, the story of my life ...

My Big Mouth

2009-08-13T09:31:00.003-05:00

Getty didn't call.

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.

Two in the morning I get a reply. "I'm sooo sorry. Can I call u now?"

Are you kidding? 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.

Just wanted my friend back, not all the drama that I can foresee coming with it.

Lighter post tomorrow, I promise :).

Blame It on the Beer

2009-08-11T13:44:00.008-05:00

"Every path hath a puddle." ~ George Herbert, 'Jacula Prudentum'

Yesterday I met my girl Goldie 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.

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.

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 soo 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.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

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?

Case of the Mondays ... er, Tuesdays

2009-08-04T15:38:00.006-05:00

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.

I'm trying sooo 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.

Right now I'm supposed to be creating a 12-hour training class. But, instead, I'm sitting on the comfy leather couch at Legacy Books, 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.

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.

But what?

Defining Moments

2009-07-30T16:00:00.000-05:00

"Life isn't measured in minutes, but in moments." ~ Author Unknown

The other night, J and I nestled onto the couch and finally watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. 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.

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 do 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 feel that defines who you are.

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?

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.

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.

I leave you with my favorite passage from the movie -- read it, grasp it, live it. I know I'm going to try.

"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 again."

Hump Day

2009-07-29T09:30:00.005-05:00

"The only thing wrong with doing nothing is that you never know when you're finished." ~ Author Unknown

Maybe because it's Hump Day, but I have the F-its weighing me down heavily. Soo much to get done, soo 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.

Clean the litter box
Fold laundry
Run
Finish my presentation for work
Bathe the dogs
Pay the mortgage
Schedule a dentist appointment
Call the water sprinkler repair guy
Shower

Hope you guys have more motivation today than I do!

Wishlist

2009-07-28T14:09:00.003-05:00

With the temps in the 100s here lately, I'm soo ready for fall and everything that comes with it. Including cute boots. Found these vintage beauties on Etsy yesterday. If only they were my size ...

Feeding Time

2009-07-27T15:30:00.003-05:00

"Mother knows breast." ~ Author Unknown

I'm giving up on the template for this darn thing ... for now, anyway. I'm sad to say that I'm soo 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.

Because neither of us wanted to cook last night and it was already too late to eat anywhere decent, we found ourselves at Taco Cabana 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.

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.

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 breastfeeding. With no blanket. On the patio. While people were eating at tables all around them.

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 -- breastfeeding 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.

Am I wrong to be disgusted?

Why Dell Is Dead to Me

2009-07-17T11:15:00.006-05:00

So this blog is starting to aggravate me a smidge. 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 that'll change now that I have a new, more reliable computer.

You may remember the "Dear John" letter I wrote to my Dell 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.

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 freakin' 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.

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.

I politely thanked him for his "help", said I wasn't about to sink another freakin' 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 Willowbend mall parking lot. The store clerks at Neimans took a step back as I hurriedly walked past them, my hands balled into fists at my side.

And there is was, the dim glow of the Apple 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 soooo 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.

An hour later, I waltzed out of there with a new MacBook 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 real person.

Imagine that.

The Paint

2009-07-08T14:50:00.002-05:00

So I guess my comeback wasn't really one at all. Ohwell. As for the bedroom, it's (nearly) complete.

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 Homegoods for such a bargain. I cleaned out the bedroom and even managed to clear out the ginormous furniture, and finally started painting around midnight.

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.

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.

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.

"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!"

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.

I'm Back ... With a Bedroom Makeover

2009-06-08T21:57:00.005-05:00

"If bad decorating was a hanging offense, there'd be bodies hanging from every tree." ~ Sylvester Stallone

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"! *Sigh* Ohwell. Guess I can mess with it later.

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.

We're in the process of trying to pick out paint colors for the house -- which has been such a headache. 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.

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.

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.

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 wonders. 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.

And I thought I could handle it. Why is this bedroom soo much harder? I figured if I found awesome bedding, then I could easily match paint. But, of course, now that I'm actually looking 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.

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!

Simply Under Construction

2009-03-25T13:58:00.002-05:00

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 :-).

Biggest Whiner

2009-01-27T21:42:00.004-06:00

“If you have time to whine and complain about something then you have the time to do something about it.” ~ Anthony J. D'Angelo

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.

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 drifting bit at all. But whatever.

For you Biggest Loser fans, I must admit I did shed some tears tonight. It really is amazing 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.

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. What do I want? Cookies or to run a marathon? The answer should be clear. And it baffles me sometimes when it's not.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love me some cookies and will always 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.

And treats should never be remorseful. *Trading in my glass of soda for water.* I have 65 days until my marathon, and I need to stop whining and start focusing on my goals.

Thanks for letting me vent :-).

Case of the Bulge

2009-01-05T20:37:00.005-06:00

“A lady is one who never shows her underwear unintentionally.” ~ Lillian Day

I'm curled in my chair upstairs with a super warm Restoration Hardware blanket and my fuzzy slippers, trying to keep warm. One thing we've discovered about our new house is that it stays about as warm as a glacier in the Arctic Ocean, especially when it's 30 degrees outside like it is right now.

So J and I have been spending as much time upstairs as possible, following the whole "heat rises" theory. Mom even stocked us up on flannel sheets and fuzzy pjs for Christmas. Wonder if I can pawn those to help pay the gas bill?

I'm kind of dreading my Team run tomorrow night -- hopefully the wind and freezing rain will hold off for an hour. At least my Team run last Saturday was warm. And it had a slightly humorous start.

When the alarm went off at 5:45, I rolled out of bed, groggily made my way to the dryer to pull out some clean running pants, quickly dressed in the dark and hit the road. Hungry, I decided to stop at a gas station to get a Powerbar and some water.

As I was walking in the door I felt a bulge on my lower left leg. Irritated, I kept shaking my leg as I made my way to the Powerbars. I finally looked down to see a soft bulge sticking through my pant leg. What the hell? I grabbed a couple bottles of water and turned towards the front of the small store. Hands full of fake chocolate bars and bottled water, I gave my leg a final shake. And out flew a bright purple thong.

I guess it had gotten caught in my pant leg during the tumble in the dryer. I quickly sprang for the thong and -- not having any pockets or a purse -- relentlessly began shoving it back up my pant leg while trying to juggle my purchases. I caught the stare of the store clerk as I made my way to checkout. Judging by the size of her grin, I'm sure she was trying to decide whether I was a street hooker or just starting my walk of shame.

Blushing, I didn't bother to explain -- my mismatched outfit and raccoon eyes were sure to betray the truth. The plus side? At least I didn't have to dig for clean undies when I got home!

Cheers to a New Year

2009-01-01T22:40:00.004-06:00

"New Year's Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time." ~ James Agate

Well, folks, it's 2009. A new year, a new post and, of course, new resolutions. Despite my best efforts to talk J into driving to Shreveport last night -- I enjoy a little spontaneity; J, however, cringes -- we opted for a quiet dinner out on the town square, followed by a rampage through nearby neighborhoods to take photos with strangers' lawn decorations.

Not really sure who came up with the idea, but we now have a dozen or so photos of us with random lighted snowmen and blow-up Santas. We did exert a smidge of class: Nativity scenes and angels were off limits. For future reference, New Years Eve isn't the best night for this kind of behavior as several of the houses were in the midst of NYE parties ...

Moving along to resolutions. I think it's fun to set goals for yourself and think about new opportunities for a fresh year. Let's see how many I can actually accomplish:

Stick to my running schedule. My marathon is three months away -- I need to kick the laziness to the curb and train harder.
Drink more water. That means cutting out the 5 diet sodas I drink every day that my doc says is the root of my continuous belly ache.
Get out of debt. This should actually be number one for '09, but it's the least fun, I think. But, if we stay on track, we should be in good position by summer.
Travel. Travel. Travel. But, just depends on how 3 goes. Puerto Rico may be in the works for early this year, and we definitely want to go snowboarding.
De-clutter! This goes for the closets, the garage and life in general.
Stretch my brain. Never stop learning or cease to grow -- it's the key to longevity.
Create new adventures. I spend more time worrying and over-thinking when I could be experiencing something new and amazing. Just get out there and do it -- worry about the bruises later.
Spend more time with the ones that keep me grounded. Make time for happy hours, pokeno nights, late-night chats, laughter, tears and everything in between.
Volunteer. That goes for my time, my things, my mind. Team-In-Training has been one of the most amazing things I've done, and I hope to stick with them for years to come.
Did someone say "baby"? Yeah, so I think this is the year we'll start trying. After my marathon, of course!

Other than that, I just want to "keep on keepin' on" (come on, from Joe Dirt). Anyway, I hope everyone has a blessed 2009. It'll only be as good as you allow it to be!

Holiday Wrap Up

2008-12-29T20:15:00.010-06:00

"Christmas is a race to see which gives out first - your money or your feet." ~ Anonymous

I know, I know -- I'm a little late in wishing everyone Merry Christmas. But I do hope you all had a fabulous one! It seems like forever since I've had time to sit down and read my favorite blogs, let alone post anything.

I'm still working to polish off the leftover desserts from my parents' house. Mom went a little overboard, making German chocolate cake and homemade fudge, along with brownies and a cheesecake. And don't you know she sent all of the leftovers home with me? But of course I've exhibited self control *wiping cake crumbs off my face* and haven't completely pigged out all week *reaching for a piece of fudge*.

At least my headache has finally subsided. It all started the day before Christmas Eve as J and I hit the stores to finish up our Christmas shopping. I swear there must have been 30 people in line at Best Buy. So I waited 25 minutes in line just for a freakin' gift card. Yes, we're starting earlier next year ... at least that's what I keep telling myself.

The headache carried over to Christmas Eve, when we went to J's grandparents' house for dinner and gift exchange. Five kids under the age of 5 makes for lots of laughs but tons of noise. We're the last amongst his immediate family -- cousins and sister -- to have kids, so we're told every five minutes that someday we'll understand why kids pour juice on their head, or why it's okay to change a poopy diaper in the middle of the living room. On the white carpet. With no blanket or pad underneath. *Shuddering* J's grandparents are such wonderful and honest people, though, so it's always nice to be around them.

We didn't get home until after 11, and we still had to fix stockings for the furry babies*. The headache was still there when we awoke before dawn Christmas morning, let the babies rummage through their stockings, showered, dressed and drove over an hour west to J's parents' house for breakfast and gifts.

Honestly, I had been dreading this all week. I know that sounds horrible, but seriously, we see them at his grandparents on Christmas Eve. Yet they insist we come over Christmas morning, eat breakfast and open their gifts. And the grandparents and sister are there, too, because J's family all live right down the road from each other. So it's basically Christmas Eve all over again, minus a few people. Which I guess is fine, but it always ticks me off when they expect us to spend more time over there. It's like they forget I have family, too. And what about when we have kids? I'm not skipping Santa and presents just to have cold eggs. But of course J doesn't see my perspective, so the couple of times I've suggested just doing Christmas Eve with his family a fight ensues**. So, guess I'll drop it until next year.

At lunch, we jumped in the car and drove an hour south to my parents' house for gifts and Christmas dinner. Although there's less people than at J's, I swear the noise level is the same. My sister and I spent the better part of the afternoon chasing our nephew around the house with a Nerf dart gun, while mom yelled at us to stop running through the kitchen. My brother always causes trouble, but he fell asleep in the recliner after dinner like clockwork. My dad and my sister closed out the night with an all-out Nerf gun war, until dad shot her between the eyes. Never mess with a war vet!

The car loaded down with gifts and leftovers, we finally made it home a little before midnight. Tired, we popped some Advil and crawled into bed. Sometimes I miss the days when Christmas seemed to last forever.

*Okay, so J and I were made fun of for making stockings for our pets ... but why not include them in on some holiday cheer?
**I would never want him not to see his family on a holiday. But, my parents' moved our Thanksgiving to the weekend after to accommodate everyone else's plans. Just wish his family would do the same for Christmas.

Goodbye, Old Friend

2008-12-22T15:16:00.005-06:00

"If you're alone, I'll be your shadow. If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder. If you want a hug, I'll be your pillow. If you need to be happy, I'll be your smile. But anytime you need a friend, I'll just be me." ~ Author Unknown

They came to take you away from me today. When I handed over the keys, I tucked my head and went into the house. I watched from the front window as you grew farther from me, red taillights growing dim in the cold fog, tears splashing down my cheeks. It all happened so fast -- I don't think I even told you good bye. So, goodbye, Old Friend. You were my first taste of freedom, my guardian angel, my warmth on cold nights.

Remember the night I wanted to run away? Wanted to get away from this world that I thought was so bad? You let me vent, you calmed my nerves, you took me home.

And the night Rusty and I ran from the cops? We were so freakin' scared that night, but we managed to get away. We still die laughing whenever we think about that night.

Remember when you helped move me up to college? If only I'd known then what I know now. Maybe we would have never gotten those parking tickets, or drove two hours to ogle over that hockey coach, or gotten that horrible job down the road at Tias.

And gosh, how many times did I skip Trig that one spring, just so we could go hit balls at the driving range and soak up some sunshine. I even found some old golf tees in the trunk the other day. Along with some dog treats from all the times we would stop to help stranded dogs along the side of the road. And I even found a few tapes from back in the day -- there's no telling what's on them.

Remember that night I was headed to Dallas to meet up with Carter? I was soo tired of the drama, of the games. We saw the sign for I-45 to Houston. And I took it. And we drove five hours to the beach, only stopping once for gas and snacks. We made it into Galveston a little before 3 in the morning, stopped at a gas station to refill and get some magazines, and then I sat in the empty I-Hop until just before sunrise. And remember? We hopped on the ferry just as the sun was beginning to rise, and the dolphins began to surface all around. I'll never forget the beach we found, where I sat for hours in the soft sand, the cold waves lapping at my toes, the smell of salt and sea helping me to see clearly for the first time in months. And then we turned around and drove home. I'll never forget that trip.

And I'll never forget you. There are soo many memories from the past nine years, it's hard to share them all. I know you'll have many more over the years to come. What's that old saying, "No road is too long with good company?" It's true. And the tears are starting to fall again.

So goodbye, Old Friend, goodbye.

Stall-ing

2008-12-18T21:46:00.008-06:00

"If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be sweet and wipe the seat." ~ Unknown

J and I finally got started on our Christmas shopping tonight. I know, I know -- but what's life without a little procrastination? We got off to a good start (thank God for gift cards) and needed to make a pit stop before trudging our way through the rest of the mall.

"Why don't you go first, and I'll hold the bags," J offered. "Then we can switch."

"I'll just take them with me," I said, "and hang them on the purse hooks."

"You guys have hooks? That doesn't seem safe. What if someone steals your stuff?"

I laughed. "The hooks are in the stalls silly."

"Wow, that's cool."

As we parted ways, I was feeling pretty hoity-toity about women's restrooms. They are pretty spiffy, what with their fancy purse hooks and smell-good soaps. I approached the first open stall and took a quick step back. Disgusting. How hard is it to flush a toilet? Shuddering, I stepped to the next one. The seat was covered in wads of toilet paper. I stepped to the next stall. Water all over the floor. The next one revealed a pee-covered seat. It took four more stalls to find a toilet worth hovering over.

My bubble burst, I met J in the food court. Women may have fancy purse hooks, but sometimes I'd give anything to be able to pee standing up.

Friendships

2008-12-17T17:41:00.009-06:00

"The friend is the man who knows all about you, and still likes you." ~ Elbert Hubbard, The Notebook, 1927

The wonderful Anna at The Reality of Happily Ever After awarded me with this Friendship award (thanks, girl!). And, it got me thinking about my friends over the years. It's funny how friendships can evolve, how they can disappear, how warming it is to find something in someone else that makes you feel more complete.

It isn't every day that you find that someone with whom you can trust wholly, share with freely, cry with uncontrollably, celebrate unselfishly. And when you find more than one? Then you know that someone is looking out for you, because friendships aren't something to take for granted.

So I want to pass this award* to each of my 16 followers. Many of you have been with me since the beginning, and I thank you so very much for sticking with me. I truly believe that friendships can come in different forms, and I've definitely found that here. Enjoy!

*If you feel like sticking to the Award's official rules, here they are:

"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find, and be friends with. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

1. Put the logo on your blog
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you
3. Nominate 8-10 other blogs
4. Add links to those blogs on yours
5. Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs

First Taste of Winter

2008-12-15T21:30:00.005-06:00

"Don't knock the weather; nine-tenths of the people couldn't start a conversation if it didn't change once in a while." ~ Kin Hubbard

Like many of you, I've been battling the weather today. While yesterday was a sunny 75 degrees, this morning I awoke to frost-bitten toes. Okay, maybe that's a tad dramatic. But seriously, my car was covered in ice when I left for work. And since I hadn't yet figured out the defroster in my new car, I spent the whole drive with my face squished against the windshield so I could see.

J called me at lunch to say that he was home to let the dogs in, and apparently I left the windows down in my old car and the seats are now frozen. Niiice. At least I doubt anyone interested in buying it will want to venture over today.

The Christmas party Saturday night was ... well, let's just say it didn't live up to the hype the hosts had created. Don't get me wrong, it was great to catch up with old friends and there was enough alcohol to serve a large army. But with 40 people, you'd think there would be more than just store-bought cookies and crackers to help absorb the alcohol.

And, being one of the first to arrive, I quickly discovered that people thought the "Dress to Impress" was optional. Luckily, a few other lovely ladies showed up sporting dresses and sparkly things, though J continued to glare at me throughout the night for making him wear slacks while the other guys lounged around in jeans.

Ohwell. Any night with friends is a good night. And any excuse to dress up is always ... umm ... fun?

The Dress

2008-12-13T13:05:00.006-06:00

"A dress makes no sense unless it inspires men to want to take it off you." ~ Françoise Sagan

It only took Minxy two hours to find the wedding dress of her dreams, and it's absolutely beautiful. I asked if I could borrow it and retake my wedding photos ... I was only halfway joking ...

It took me nearly four pointless hours to find a darn cocktail dress for the party tonight, and I'm not nearly as happy with it. It should have been an easy task. After scouring Macy's, Nordstrom, White House / Black Market, and several other time-wasting stores, I settled for this little number (in black) from Express:

Luckily I already have shoes, otherwise I don't think I would have ever made it home last night. Lesson learned? Never wait until the last minute.

Hopefully J will like it ...

Copiers & Cocktail Dresses

2008-12-12T12:09:00.006-06:00

"The number one sign you have nothing to do at work: The 4th Division of Paperclips has overrun the Pushpin Infantry and General White-Out has called for a new skirmish." ~ Fred Barling, 'Humorscope'

This morning I spent half an hour wrestling with the copy machine / printer / monster at work. Surprisingly, I actually found the paper jam and removed the infestation, only to have the darn thing flash "warming up" for an hour. In fact, I think it still says "warming up". Bastard.

Fridays are pretty dead around here. I have a meeting in two hours, so until then I'm pigging out on Baked Doritos and Diet Pepsi. By the scornful looks in my direction, I think the guy in the cube across from me is tired of hearing me crunch. You'd also think by now that I would have learned to not wipe my hands on my pants ... Doritos and tan slacks weren't exactly made for each other.

I'm going wedding dress shopping with Minxy after work, so we're wasting time IMing links of beautiful dresses to each other. Which reminds me, at some point I also need to buy a cocktail dress for a Christmas party tomorrow night. Not even sure where to start with that one -- my pasty legs have been quite comfortable hiding away for the winter. Would jeans be too taboo? More than likely. But if everyone's drunk, will anyone even care?

Deck the Halls

2008-12-11T08:32:00.004-06:00

Bethany: Is your house on fire, Clark?
Clark: No, Aunt Bethany, those are the Christmas lights.
~ Christmas Vacation, 1989

I'm finally getting around to putting up Christmas decorations. I had to beg J to get up in the cold attic last night and get everything down. It's not like we don't enjoy decorating the house, it's just we've been soo busy lately that we had kind of decided to not do the tree. Gasp! I know, I know, who doesn't put up a tree, right? Well, it's not the putting up that sucks -- it's the taking down. I swear last year the tree was still around for Valentine's Day. And by that point, who wants to mess with Christmas decorations?

But I figure since my parents are coming over on Sunday, we'd at least show a little holiday spirit. It spurred me to finally do our Christmas cards, too, knowing that mom will be wondering if the mailman lost hers. We usually take a cute photo of us and the furry babies (two dogs and a cat), but we're a little ... ugh ... behind, so I cheated and made cards online at Target with old photos of us. I'm sure no one will really notice, except I had long hair then ... and now it's pretty short. Ohwell, it's the thought that counts, right?

J's going to help with the tree when he gets home from work. And that's always fun -- while he's cursing over the lights, my cat usually decides he wants to play with them ... then the dogs want to chase the cat around the tree ... and there's always a few broken ornaments in the end.

Better break out the eggnog early ...

A New Set o' Wheels

2008-12-09T13:08:00.008-06:00

"Driving a brand new car feels like driving around in an open billfold with the dollars flapping by your ears as they fly out the window." ~ Grey Livingston

J and I have been in the market for a new vehicle for some time now. As we usually do, we started high with a fully loaded Yukon Denali, went low with a Kia, and ended up somewhere in the middle with a Toyota 4Runner 4x4. And, I must say, I love it. And J loves it too, which is amazing since it's been a squabble fest trying to compromise on a vehicle.

You see, I drive a little car. A '99 Ford Escort ZX2, to be exact. Sure, it's old. Sure, the 2-door model is unpractical for future kids. Sure, the timing belt is about to bust and it needs new back brakes. But it's paid for, gets awesome gas mileage and zips in and out of traffic Jeff Gordon-style (okay, not as fast, but still ...).

J, on the other hand, drives an '05 Ford F-150 that barely fits in the garage. It's great for hauling the boat, going camping and driving the dogs around. That, and I think J believes *beating on chest* real men drive trucks. But he's also got a company car to drive for work and that we can use for personal use.

So several months and tears later, our little 4Runner was born. Er, okay, picked off the lot and severely haggled over. But I must be honest -- I feel a smidge guilty picking Toyota over Ford or GMC considering the bailout crisis that's currently paying CNN's light bill. Both my parents drive Fords, both of J's parents drive Fords ... it just seems American.

Perhaps that's silly. Perhaps I'll be tarred and feathered. Perhaps I'll get high fives for not supporting another company with poor financial facets. But, either way, it's the end of an era for me -- I'll be selling my little Escort this month after nine years of companionship.

Ahhh, the memories ...

Bass-tards

2008-12-04T09:27:00.014-06:00

Random Guy sent me a nasty e-mail saying that I must not really be into fishing because I never talk about it, so I should delete it from my "Interests" section because it's deceiving. Deceiving of what, I'm not sure.

I was going to take the high road and ignore it ... but that's no fun. So here's to you, Random Guy, a sampling of a few of the fish I caught this past summer:

Profile policing won't get you any friends, man, but maybe getting your thumb out of your arse will.

Cheers.

If Women Ruled the World

2008-12-03T18:57:00.008-06:00

"Women really do rule the world. They just haven't figured it out yet. When they do, and they will, we're all in big big trouble." ~ 'Doctor Leon', drleons.com

Since we have nothing in the pantry besides canned pineapple and dog treats, J and I decided we would hit up the grocery store before dinner. We never quite made it -- instead of veering left for the store, we were distracted by the pink glow of Taco Cabana across the street.

While stuffing our faces with chips and queso, we started chatting about babies and such. J's cousin had called me last night to excitedly exclaim that she was pregnant (her second) and wonder if we'd started trying yet.* In J's family, there are five kids under the age of four -- only one is a boy. Which means holidays are spent listening to the oldest shouting Taylor Swift in between screams over who gets to play with the Dora doll.

J's really hoping that she has a boy. "Could you imagine another girl?" he said in between mouthfuls of taco. "You girls are going to take over the world."

"Would that be soo bad?" I said jokingly.

"Are you kidding?" he shuddered. "If women ruled the world, nothing would get done and everything would smell pretty."

I had to think about that for a minute. When J does a load of dishes, I get every single detail including the when and how, complete with sound effects. But when I do a load of laundry, I just do it. For all J knows, the clean undies made it from the floor to the washing machine, to the dryer and then magically into the drawer by themselves.

So, is it less that women won't get anything done and more that we don't complain as much as men, therefore it seems like we don't get as much accomplished?

*That would be a big, fat N-O.

Cyber Monday

2008-12-01T14:41:00.007-06:00

On a shopping note, Happy Cyber Monday! I'm not usually a huge online shopper, but I couldn't resist this adorable jewelry roll from Potterybarn -- what a perfect stocking stuffer!

Breaking the Silence

2008-11-30T16:47:00.010-06:00

"Communication leads to community, that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing." ~ Rollo May

Thanks to those of you who offered up advice and encouragement to help me through my funk. J had been overly sweet this week, so I had decided to wait until after Thanksgiving to approach the subject. Surprisingly, J beat me to it.

Friday was a cold, rainy day, so J skipped golf with his cousins to spend the day at home with me. As I was walking through our bedroom with a stack of clean laundry, he pulled me down onto the bed, where we lay silently curled up for half an hour before he spoke.

"Do you still love me?" he asked softly.

"Of course I do," I answered, knowing this was the beginning of a long conversation. We were in the spoon position, and I was glad that he couldn't see my face. "Why would you even ask?"

J paused for a minute before saying that he felt like things were tense the last few weeks, that it felt like we were strangers living in the same house. I shrugged it off, but he pressed on. Turns out he'd been feeling a little out of place lately too, thinking maybe I was losing interest in him or that I wasn't attracted to him anymore. J even admitted to doing extra push ups at night. I forget that guys can get self-conscious too.

It feels like the last three weeks have flown by, with me training at night and on the weekend, staying late at the office to help our new admin, both of us having family gatherings to attend, me getting sick this week. Add to that my funk, and I guess we haven't spent that much time together lately. And I was glad to know that I wasn't the only one feeling like we were living on separate planets.

I came clean about my feelings that Saturday night at Gilleys too, and I realized if I had just said something sooner it would have saved us a lot of tense moments. I assured him it had nothing to do with trust; J assured me that if there was anyone in this world that he would want to dance with, it was me.

We talked for another hour or so -- about things we were feeling, about the future, about randomness -- before falling asleep in each others' arms.

When we awoke, things felt back to normal. I sometimes forget how important communication is in any relationship, especially in a marriage. In an effort to avoid nagging or beating a dead horse, I sometimes become a closed book. Luckily, J's learned that a little snuggling and a lot of patience goes a long way in getting me to open up.

The Funk

2008-11-24T11:43:00.005-06:00

"Doubt is not a pleasant condition ..." -- Voltaire

Is this week over yet? Not to be Debbie Downer or anything, guess I'm just in a little funk and I've been trying to pinpoint the source. The lines are blurry, but I keep tracing it back to last Saturday night.

After much stalling from J, we met at my friend Minxy's casa in Uptown for drinks before heading out to Gilley's, a poor excuse for a country bar but great for people watching and making fools of ourselves. My old boss Jim* and his wife Pam joined us too. It was a little awkward at first because, even though Minxy, Jim and I were inseparable when we worked together, I was always on my best behavior.

So, I was a little worried about how the night would go, but the more I drank (and the more he drank) the less awkward it became and the more Pam threw dirty looks at everyone involved*. But Minxy and I played nice, involving Pam everywhere we went, spinning her around the dance floor, getting our pictures taken on the mechanical bull while J, Jim and Pabs (Minxy's fiance) threw back beers and look relieved to get some time away from us.

After the band finished, the "country" bar turned into a "white people can't dance" smorgasbord and Minxy and I got our groove on. Jim and Pam were even dancing, while J and Pabs stood at the edge of the wooden dance floor, shuffling their feet and looking for the exit. After much beckoning on our parts, they shuffled to the middle of the dance floor, where Minxy and I made our best attempt at involving them in our charades.

Pabs gave in, but J did not. I pleaded with him, did my irresistible booty shake, had Minxy do her booty shake, but to no avail. J stood there watching me for awhile, and I made one last attempt to get him to loosen up. He shoved his hands in his pockets, took a step back, and simply said in a tone I haven't heard in a long time, "I can't dance with you." It broke my heart. Not because he can't dance, but because he wouldn't try. I looked around at Jim and Pam, who were doing a strange variation of the robot and laughing. I glanced at Minxy, who had convinced Pabs to twirl her around the now nearly empty dance floor. And then I looked at J, his hands in his pockets, just staring at me like we were in two separate worlds. With a dagger in my heart, I danced by myself.

It's in moments like those where I realize just how different we are. And beyond that, it's moments like that where darkness from the past comes flooding back like a tidal wave of emotion.

Before we were married, J and I were broken up for awhile. And before we broke up, we were in a strange place for months. Not quite broken up, not quite separated. Not dating anyone, but not sure we could make it work. It was a weird time, full of strange emotions. Both of us probably said things to others that we shouldn't have.

After J and I got back together and engaged, I ran across an e-mail from him to one of his co-workers in a different town. Apparently, they had met at a business meeting in Dallas and had kept in touch. In this e-mail, it was evident that there was something between them. And, the one line that popped into my head Saturday night, was a line J had responded to her e-mail with: "Thanks for the dance -- there's no one worth dancing with back home."

I remember sitting there that night I found it, trying to make sense of it in my mind, at first thinking this was something that happened after we had split, which would be none of my business. But the e-mail was dated May, and we had split at the end of June of that year. I remember feeling my heart race, I remember the tears splashing down my hot cheeks. I remember J waking up and wondering why I hadn't come to bed yet. I remember being so sick to my stomach, shaking, not wanting him to touch me. J had tried to explain that it was nothing, that it was the night he and his co-workers had gone to a local bar. I remember that night, because he had called me from the cab asking me to meet him there. It was late, I was in my pjs, and he was with all of his co-workers so I declined, not wanting to be the spouse that stalks him at business meetings. At the time he seemed fine with it. But, the night I found the e-mail, J admitted that he had been mad that I didn't go. Which infuriated me even more. Because you're mad, you flirted with another woman? He promised nothing else had happened, and I believe him. The e-mails alone were piercing enough.

It just never made sense to me, but at some point I got over it, placing the past back in the past. I actually hadn't even thought about it until Saturday night. And now I can't get away from it. I know J and I aren't always on the same page, or even the same planet. But it seems to be happening more frequently lately. I just wish I could forget the little things like that e-mail, or ignore the odd sense of feeling like strangers. I know we come from different backgrounds. Most of the time I enjoy that, because I've been able to learn and experience new things. I just wish he felt the same way.

I haven't talked to him about it and not sure that I should. But he knows something's wrong -- I just keep blaming it on the stress at work. Even Minxy sensed something that night, but I didn't feel like ruining the moment. I know this post is long and may not even make sense, but it has just been whirling through my mind for a week now. I'm just afraid if I mention it to J, he'll feel like I'm insecure about our future or something.

I'm not. But is he?

*He reminds me of Jim from The Office -- Adorable, funny and strangely magnetic.
*Jim and Minxy still work in the same office, and Pam is a little (read: enormously) intimidated by their friendship.

Mix-Matched Feet

2008-11-14T11:44:00.003-06:00

I've been telling J over the last year that my left foot is smaller than my right foot. He thinks I'm crazy. "Maybe your left shoe is just bigger than your right one and that's why it flops around," he says smugly. But seriously, in all of my shoes? What are the odds of that happening?

I got my answer yesterday when I went to Run On to get fitted for new running shoes. After the sales guy had me jog around the store in my pink socks to check my form, he had me stand on a metal shoe ruler to measure my feet. And there it was. The proof. My right foot stuck out farther than my left.

And don't you know I rubbed it into J's face when I got home. His response? "I'm not surprised, you're not normal."

But who cares, I'm right. :-)

The Highschool Years

2008-11-10T10:25:00.004-06:00

“High School: the mouse race to prepare you for the rat race.” ~ Unknown

I was tagged by Miss Caught Up to tell the story of my teenage years, something I really haven't thought about too much lately. So I'll give it a shot.

Highschool was an awkward time for me. My parents were ultra-conservative, my sister didn't pave the way like I thought she should have, so I was the so-called rebellious one. But, that mostly came after highschool.

Anyhoo. When I was a freshman, my sister was a senior at the same school. I was on the dance team. My favorite class was art. We had bomb threats almost every week. I was in all honors and AP classes. I made my first C ever. I played street hockey everyday after school with my sister and her friends. I fell in love with a boy I saw on the stairs the first day of my freshman year, who turned out to be in love with my best friend. I'll call him Tag. I learned that people can change, but not always for the better.

My sophomore year brought much of the same. Still played street hockey everyday after school, developing a crush on Goalie, a boy we played with. Still was a book nerd. Had long hair down to my waist. Danced. Volunteered at the nearby nature center. Still madly in love with Tag. Became tired of girls, thanks to the drama that was our dance team.

Junior year was a bit more complicated. My best friend and Tag broke up the summer before. He asked me out on a date, and I said "yes". He was the only guy my mom officially let me date during my entire highschool years. My best friend said she didn't mind, but I shouldn't have done it anyway. Tag and I dated on and off, but mostly off. I fell in love with Goalie, but he had a girl that profusely hated me. He and I became the best of friends. I still danced. I was inducted into the Honor Society. I developed a crush on Leo, a blue-eyed boy who swam with my best friend.

And senior year was complicated still. I was one of four Lieutenants on the dance team. I was going through EMT Training -- I truly believe there are some things 17 year olds should never see, bloody messes being one of them. My grades began to slip after mom said that no, I wouldn't be headed off to the college of my dreams but rather I'd be headed to the local junior college for two years first. With my sister. Who never tried at school. Leo got caught sneaking in my room -- which sounds terrible and R-rated, but we honestly just listened to music and talked. Okay, and made out. But whatever, we were banned from ever seeing each other again, creating a sort of "Romeo & Juliet" story for us which still lingers today. I joined the rugby team but told my parents I was just going to dance practice. I had to quit when they found out the truth. Goalie joined the Air Force and moved to New Mexico, where we finally realized we were more than just best friends. We talked on the phone constantly. Wrote letters (yes, real letters with stamps and everything). When he came home for Christmas, we went on our first official date. But it didn't take long for that relationship to fizzle as the longer he was in the Air Force, the more different he became. I graduated with honors, but my parents were a little disappointed when I wasn't in the top ten percent (I was in like the top twelve ... out of 600 kids).

Summer after highschool was spent playing roller hockey and working out at the gym where my sister worked. Over the next two years I met new boys, discovered alcohol, re-kindled my love for school and all things nerdy, stayed in and out of trouble, and eventually found my way to a four year college.

It's weird to take a look back, to feel some of the same emotions once again. It's interesting to note that in highschool I never really cared what boys thought. It was easy to say "no", to ditch the jerks, to avoid all the things that parents worry about (which my parents thought I was doing anyway). It was later, in college, that all of that went down the drain. But, I'll save that for a rainy day.

That's my story in a nutshell. I'd love to hear all of your stories -- so if you'd like to share, then I tag you!

Scribbles

2008-11-09T17:56:00.012-06:00

Once again, the fabulous Mrs. Guru has awarded me with a wondrous award: The Superior Scribbler award. I'd like to thank my beautiful friends, my bi-polar kitty, the Academy ... ahem ... Where was I? Right, the rules. As with all awards, here's the fine print:

Post the award on your blog
Link to me for giving it to you
Link the originating post here (not really sure about this one)
Pass the award on to 5 more deserving people
Post these rules for the recipients

So, in fine fashion, here are my 5 picks for the Superior Scribbler Award:

These are just a sampling of the many blogs I enjoy. I did have someone ask me why I don't follow more blogs. Simply because, in my chaotic brain, I found it's easier for me to click on the links in my "Who I'm Reading" section (scroll down, on the right). It seems I'm constantly finding new favorites -- so many great reads, so little time!

Happy Birthday to Me

2008-11-07T10:31:00.003-06:00

"Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. ~ Jack Benny"

I'm now three chocolate Krispy Kremes and a Diet Pepsi into my birthday. Yesterday, a lady at work asked how old I was turning. She was shocked by my answer. "How old did you think I was going to be?" I asked. "At the most, 25," she responded with a laugh. Now, don't get me wrong, I usually relish the idea that people think I'm younger. But this time it only made me frown. Do I come off as a young person in an immature way or something?

I love practical jokes. I'm always late. I'm lucky if my pants get ironed before heading to the office. Heck, I'm lucky if they're clean. I don't have kids. I eat craploads of candy. I wear socks with little smiling turtles on them.* I don't always act my age or dress my age ... but, then again, how is my age supposed to act and dress?

Wow. All of a sudden I feel really rusty. I'm now two years shy of the big three-o. Twenty eight. The big 2-8. It hadn't really bothered me until now. Maybe I come across younger because I think I am younger. I mean, J had to remind last week how old I was going to be because I couldn't remember. It's as if I hit 25 and have just forgotten the rest of the numbers. Boy, 25 sure was my favorite age -- old enough to have it all and young enough to get away with anything.

It's not like I mind being older or dread getting older. It's just startling to hear it out loud. Twenty-eight. Eh, I guess it doesn't sound that horrible. But maybe it's time to throw out those turtle socks ...

*In my defense, I only wear them when I know they can't be seen, like with boots or pjs.

Dear Dell (An Open Letter to My Laptop)

2008-11-04T19:08:00.004-06:00

Dear Dell,

I hope this letter finds you relaxed and in a happy place, because what I'm about to say may hurt you deeply. I've been thinking about having an affair. Well, I suppose it's not really an affair if you know about it. So, let's just call it what it is -- I'm leaving you for someone else. Who you ask? Not to sound like a complete slut, but I haven't exactly decided yet. I'm still trying out my options, although your buddy Mac is quite charming.

Calm down, Dell. You've had it coming. You're lazy. You sit on my desk all day, longing for me to use you. And when I do? You give me the cold shoulder. Or, you tease me with your fancy Vista software, only to finish first and completely crash before I can save what I've done. I need to feel satisfied too, you know!

And now ... now you won't even print. Are you mad at me? How am I supposed to accomplish anything if you won't stay connected to the Internet, or download cool and unnecessary applications or -- shocker -- print, for God's sake?!

You're too young to act soo old. You never want to stay up late, you hesitate when I want to serenade you with iTunes, you shudder at YouTube videos. I need someone who likes to have fun. I need to know that the time and money I invested in you was worth it. I need to see something else besides the Blue Screen o' Death.

I'm sorry, Dell. As much as you want to be like Mac, you aren't. And that's okay. There are people out there who will love you for who you are, like the Excel nerd in the cubicle next to mine. The last two years have had it's ups and downs ... let's not drag this out any further. Don't worry about me, Dell, I'll be okay.

Best,
Me!

P.S. I'll be back to collect my pictures and music ... you can keep the spreadsheets.

An Extra Hour for More Rambles

2008-11-02T10:04:00.005-06:00

"Don't forget it's daylight savings time. You spring forward, then you fall back. It's like Robert Downey Jr. getting out of bed." ~ Unknown

Day Light Savings Time confuses me. I'm not really sure what time it is right now -- cell phone says 10, computer says 9, microwave says 8. Regardless, I'm actually up, showered, dressed and fed before noon on a Sunday. Can we say miracle?

Halloween was fairly uneventful. We had soo many trick-o-treaters that we ran out of candy.* I did have the liberty of scaring the pants off a small child with J's Scream mask. J was more interested in watching Ghost Hunters Live** than passing out candy, so I thought I would put the freaky mask to use. Door bell rings, I open the door and all the little kids scream. The boy in front? Was like two and ran off crying before his parents caught him on the driveway. I yanked off the mask and profusely apologized to his disapproving parents while forking over extra candy. J, of course, was hysterical.

Moving right along ...

Yesterday I had my first team run with Team In Training for the marathon I'm doing in April. I am soo not a morning person, yet I managed to roll out of bed at 5:45, was at training by 6:20 and running two miles by 6:30. Luckily it was dark so people couldn't see my butt jiggling through my Spandex pants. I was a little frustrated at first as everyone kept passing me. I quickly got over it and actually finished faster than my two mile runs during the week. I felt accomplished and rewarded myself with a huge omelet from Cafe Brazil. Hey, a girl's got to eat, right?

Today J and I are playing paintball with our friend Goldie and her hubby Bear. Should be quite entertaining -- last time we played with them, Goldie shot Bear in the ear on accident after he'd taken off his mask. It's not true paintballing until there's blood shed!

*I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that J and I ate two bags of Kit Kats during the week.
**Which was actually very disappointing this year!

Today's Boo-tastic

2008-10-31T14:22:00.005-05:00

"Eat, drink and be scary." ~ Author Unknown

Happy Pumpkin Day, everyone! It's been a long week, and I'm soo glad to finally be getting rid of all this Halloween candy. My belly seriously cannot hold anymore sugar. We carved pumpkins the other night, and they're sitting on our porch waiting to get smashed by hoodlums.

To celebrate Halloween -- and because I'm lazy -- I thought I would do a quick list of things that spook me or give me the creepy jeepies. First, though, I'd like to thank you guys for re-assuring me that I wasn't being completely dumb in regards to my last post. I'm over it but will let it serve as a good reminder that I should probably never write anything that I wouldn't attach my name to at some point in the future. Besides, J has the attention span of a goldfish and has already forgotten about my blog.

Anyhoo, on to the list of things that spook me / give me the creeps:

Hairy spiders
Clowns
Eels and gar
Indian music played at high volume
Darkness
Kevin Bacon
Moths
Graveyards, any time of day
Aliens
Ghost Hunters
Roaches
Scorpions

I shared mine -- now what spooks you?

My Safe Place ... Ruined?

2008-10-25T22:36:00.005-05:00

I was working on a post when J came in the room and leaned over my shoulder to give me a smooch.

"What's that? You bored?" he asked, pointing to the big Escape from Dullsville header.

Damn. "It's my ... uh ... blog," I sheepishly admitted.

"You write a blog? Can I read it?" he pleaded.

"Ummmm, nope," I answered. After his incessant pleading, I read him a few of my posts. J gushed and thought the world of them before heading upstairs to watch Saturday Night Live.

Now I sit here, totally regretting sharing my blog with him. Not that I really care -- I actually enjoyed hearing him laugh at a few of my stories -- but I just don't want him finding it on the Web on his own or telling his friends or family about it. What's the point in writing somewhat anonymously if people know where to find you?

One of the reason's I moved to Blogger from MySpace (besides being over the age of 13) was so that I could write about anything and not have to worry about censoring my stories. This has become my "safe place". And you guys know, it's not like I ever write anything detrimental or completely inappropriate -- but I would like the option.

I had a post I realllly wanted to share tonight as it's not something I have the nerve to bring up in front of my close friends or J yet ... and now I'm a little gun shy.

Should I be worried? Should I even care? Am I being dumb about this??

Home Alone

2008-10-22T00:44:00.010-05:00

"Love is missing someone whenever you're apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you're close in heart." ~ Kay Knudsen

This morning J left for a work trip to Arkansas and won't be back until Thursday. I'm always kind of bummed when he leaves ... and this is the first time he's left me in the new house alone. Not that I'm a big weenie (read: I am a HUGE weenie), but I'm starting to regret watching all of those Ghost Hunters episodes. Every time J's out of town, I end up sleeping on the couch with all of the lights on, the television blaring, my hockey stick within arm's length and my phone in my hand ... just incase.

I also have a problem properly feeding myself when J is gone. When I got home, I gorged on German chocolate cake and tortilla chips while watching Biggest Loser. Talk about a guilt trip. What's sad is that, as I was wiping cake crumbs off my face in the kitchen, I thought the stove was going to get me. I swear the digital panel was glaring "BOO" at me. After a minor stroke, I realized it was actually the clock showing 8:00. Get a grip, woman!

I decided my pjs would make me feel better. As I pulled on some cotton sweats and a Dallas Cowboys hoodie, I noticed something on my pillow. It was a sweet note from J and a little flashlight that he had left for me, just in case I got scared tonight. If only he knew how much that small gesture comforted me.

It's amazing how it's always the small things that truly make marriage work and nights apart less daunting.

Hangovers and Smile Awards

2008-10-19T14:29:00.011-05:00

"Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day." ~ Quoted in P.S. I Love You, compiled by H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Whew! It's Sunday afternoon and I can finally come up for air. J's having lunch* with friends, so I'm enjoying the peace and quiet around the house ... and some chocolate cake.

Good news is that I get to keep my job (high five!) so we celebrated with enormous amounts of alcohol during our "housewarming" party yesterday. Six cases of beer, three jugs of Jose Cuervo margaritas and three bottles of wine later, my friends and I were all singing around the fire pit on our back porch until two in the morning. I'm sure J and I will get glares from the neighbors for awhile, but screw it -- after my hellish week I needed some alcohol therapy.

It was such a blast having our friends over to our new house, but it's taken until now to recover enough to actually get out of bed without yakking. My liver, on the other hand, will be in recovery for awhile. But the laughter and smiles were well worth it!

Speaking of smiles, the beautiful Mrs. Guru over at Off the Beaten Path presented me with the fabulous Smile Award. THANKS, girl! It was definitely a nice way to start my weekend, and it's such a wonderful feeling to know that someone delights in my rambles. And, as in any other award, here's the fine print:

Rules of passing the smile award to other fellow bloggers: Must display a cheerful attitude. Must love one another. Must make mistakes. Must learn from others. Must be a positive contributor to blog world. Must love life. Must love kids.

Rules when receiving the award: The recipient must link back to the award’s creator. You must post these rules if you receive the award. You must choose 5 people to receive the award after receiving it yourself. You must post the characteristics of a recipient. You must create a post sharing your win with others and thank the giver!

Okay, so I would like to pass this award on to the following bloggers who I can always count on for a smile or two:

thelifeofsass: I can "see" a part of myself in Sassy -- her witty blogs and great sense of humor always make me grin.
Miss Caught Up: If you aren't reading Amanda's awesome blog, then you should be -- it's more addicting than your favorite soap opera!
The Typing Makes Me Sound Busy: Her descriptions of real-life are hilarious, witty and always entertaining.
Newlywed Central: I love that Anna shares her world with us, and her sweet nature shines through her writing.
Morning Runner: Now that I'm training for a marathon, this girl is my running inspiration. I can always find motivation in her stories (and I need all the motivation I can get!).

Thanks again, Mrs. Guru! And thanks again to everyone who takes the time to read my blog :-).

*Does beer count as lunch?

Meeting with the Bobs

2008-10-15T15:20:00.007-05:00

I waited around the office yesterday until 5 and never received my Notice. It took several phone calls today to figure out that consultants -- that would be me -- aren't part of the proceedings tomorrow. Something about the company not having legal responsibility over us.

So, my bosses will find out if they still have jobs tomorrow and then find out if they have to let us go. And since every one's banned from the office tomorrow aside from their designated appointments, I'll be keeping my fingers crossed until Friday. It's as if a hurricane is blowing through tomorrow, and we'll be sorting through the wreckage to see who's left to do the work.

I imagine the appointments tomorrow will go a little something like this scene from Office Space. Classic.

A Whiff of Unemployment

2008-10-14T11:16:00.004-05:00

"A lot of fellows nowadays have a B.A., M.D., or Ph.D. Unfortunately, they don't have a J.O.B." ~ 'Fats' Domino

This morning I received a "corporate letter" e-mail from the President and CEO of the food & beverage company I work for, announcing a realignment and semi-massive layoff. In an attempt to "streamline our business," the company will potentially be sending nearly 300 packing at my office.

Our building will be closed Thursday and, instead of working, we're all supposed to meet one-on-one with designated managers to find out if we've been canned. We are to receive notices today with explicit instructions on what time our individual appointment is, where to park, and where to vomit as we exit the building. I really hope the mail guy is wearing a jock strap.

I can't believe it really. Sure, the economy majorly sucks right now. But I never thought a Fortune 500 company of this magnitude would ever layoff employees at the company's Headquarters. But who am I kidding? Of course we'd be the first to go. The factory workers and sales team bring in the real money. The "fluff" we do at Headquarters doesn't really count for much. I mean, who needs marketing? Eh, screw product innovation and consumer research. And HR? Or even capability & training -- the team I work for -- who needs that crap, right? (And yes, I'm being totally sarcastic here.)

*sigh* I need to get dressed, stop by the office and pick up my Notice. But, instead, I'm sitting here in my pjs with tear-stained cheeks, trying to delay the inevitable. I suppose I could always wait tables at TGI Fridays, wearing my 30 pieces of flair and striped shirt while singing "Happy Birthday" to gramps.

I wonder what the productivity level will be at the office today with the smell of unemployment lingering in the hallways?

Gas Pump Betrayal

2008-10-09T15:34:00.008-05:00

“It's better to have beer in hand than gas in tank” ~ Anonymous

Lucky I awoke in a good mood today, otherwise this morning would have really sucked. I have a job where I normally work from home, but occasionally have to go into the office for meetings. Today was one of those days.

After struggling with my hair for what seemed like an eternity (and finally forcing it back into a stubby ponytail), I dressed and headed for the door, sidestepping kitty's fur ball in the hallway. I step outside and realize that my black tweed pants are actually brown. And I'm wearing a black button up shirt and black heels. Hmph.

I get in the car and the low fuel light glares at me. Damn. It takes 30 minutes to get to the office ... meeting starts at 10 o'clock ... and it's 9:20. I floor it to the gas station. I get out, scan my card, and reach for the gas pump to begin filling my car. Next thing I know gas is spraying everywhere. We're talking Old Faithful style. Not sure if it was a faulty pump, user error or just God's way of getting in a good laugh, but four letter words flew from my mouth as gas drenched my pants, splashed over the side of my car and began to form a pool under my back left tire.

I managed to control the pump enough to get five bucks actually in -- and not on -- my car before gas began to spew out of my tank. What the hell? I give up and return the pump to it's holder. I sadly watch as ten bucks drip off my car while paranoia sets in. Is my car going to catch fire when I start it? Am I going to die? A quick call to J assured me I wasn't going to burst into flames, but he said that I needed to tell the store employees.

I run into the gas station store and wait in line to tell Apu what happened. There's a young guy in front of me digging in his pockets for change. Upon closer inspection, I realize he's wearing pjs, an old bathrobe and slippers, and he's purchasing not one but two 24 oz cans of Natural Lite beer. At 9:30 in the morning.

He finally finds enough change, and I tell Apu about the sea of gas I created outside. I can't understand him and I wonder if he even understands me. He walks off and begins shouting. I can't tell if he's shouting because he's panicked, or shouting because he thinks if he talks louder, I'll understand him. Five minutes later he grunts and points to a man outside. I walk outside and tell Apu #2 what happened.

"Pump 15?" he asks.

"Yes, pump 15," I reply.

He begins to laugh and I'm not sure why. We walk over to the Sea of Gas and he shrugs his shoulders.

"Pump 15 is broken," he says.

"Broken? I didn't see a sign," I reply, frustrated.

"No sign, it's broken," he says. So now what? "Don't worry, I clean up with special powder."

"Fine, so I'm not going to burst into flames?" I seriously ask. He laughs again and shakes his head. What a waste. I get into my car and it's now 9:47. Damn. I floor it down the highway, getting high off the gasoline trapped in my clothes and shoes.

As I near the office, I glance to my left to see a black Oldsmobile barrelling down the wrong side of the road. Holy crap. There's a grassy median separating us, and I wonder if he realizes we're not in England and that he should be on my side of the road. I see him swerve around a couple of cars before losing sight of him at my turn.

By the time I circle the building and find a parking spot half a mile from the door, I'm twenty-eight minutes late for my meeting. Sweating, I sit down as quietly as possible. It wasn't long before someone asks, "Does anyone else smell gasoline?"

Perhaps the smell distracted from my mis-matched outfit. Perhaps I'll get a raise because I look (and smell) like a bum. Regardless, tomorrow I'm staying home in my pjs.

Team In Training

2008-10-08T09:04:00.007-05:00

"The people I’ve met through Team In Training have been some of the most compassionate, kind, strong, and dedicated people that have ever crossed my path. Some are survivors like me and our bond was immediate – and is for life. But survivor or not, we’re all united by the common goal of wanting to find a cure for cancer." ~ Natasha Wieschenber, Triathelete and Cancer Survivor

I did it. Last night I went to a Team In Training informational meeting and committed to running 26.2 miles on behalf of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society in the Big D Marathon in Dallas.

This won't be my first marathon -- I ran ... er, hobbled ... the Cowtown Marathon in Ft Worth. But that was eight years ago, and I've eaten a lot and have broken in a few couches since then.

The Big D will be different for many reasons. This time I'm running for a greater cause: to help find a cure for leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin's disease and myeloma. I'm running to help improve the lives of blood cancer patients and their families. I'm running for our Team Hero, a cancer survivor who we'll get to meet at the next meeting.

I'm excited. After I got home last night, J and I jogged around the neighborhood. Side cramps and numb feet aside, it felt good. It's nice to have something to strive for, a goal to reach, a cause to dedicate yourself to. In a way, a sense of purpose.

Night at the Spastics

2008-10-06T13:27:00.002-05:00

"Every burden is a blessing." -- Walt Kelly

Last night, J and I went to our new neighbor's house for dinner. Honestly, we had been dreading it all week. While we've enjoyed talking to them the few times we have since they moved in a few months ago, their two kids are a whirlwind of spastic energy. Well, one is spastic, the other quite adorable.

They've come over a few times (unannounced) to play with our dogs. Which is great because our dogs love new people and every ounce of attention they can steal. But five minutes with these kids feels like five hours, and you're left wondering why the whole "kids should be seen and not heard" theory was laid to rest. Seriously.

If there was a contest for "How many questions can you ask in one minute?", Spastic would be world champion. And he's 7, so you can imagine the types of questions he asks as he's doing laps around our coffee table: Why do your dogs bark? Why is your cat black? Why won't he play with me? Why do you wear shoes inside? Why do I have feet?

I digress.

We were due at the neighbor's promptly at 5 o'clock. At 4:59 I pulled a pouting J away from the Dallas Cowboys game ("Why would they have us over during a Cowboys game? It's un-American!") and we slowly walked the 15 steps from our front door to theirs. We took a deep breath, plastered on smiles and rang the door bell.

Silence. "Are you sure they wanted us to come over?" pouted J. I shot him the shut-the-hell-up-and-be-a-good-sport-cause-we're-in-this-together look. Then we heard squealing, a running of feet, and the wooden door flew open.

"YOU'RE HEEEEERRRREEEEEE!" shouted Spastic as he grabbed my hand and jerked me inside. "Why are you late? Where have you been? What have you been doing?" he asked, pulling me down the hallway. I looked back down the hall at J, who was still standing in the door way, just as he was attacked with hugs by Miss Adorable. Lucky him, I thought.

Mr & Mrs Spastic greeted us in the kitchen, where they were busy making salad and setting the table. We exchanged small talk as I helped chop carrots while trying to ignore Spastic's plea to use the big kitchen knife. He began to throw a fit, crying and grabbing for the knife so Mrs Spastic let him peel cucumbers. Then the salad was done, but the lasagna was still 30 minutes from being done. Damn.

"LET'S PLAY A GAME!" screamed Spastic. We followed the kids upstairs only to notice Mr and Mrs Spastic stayed downstairs to keep an eye on the food. Double damn. I felt a little betrayed as I thought maybe we were only here to keep their kids entertained.

We got a tour of each of their rooms -- Spastic's decorated in horses and seashells, Miss Adorable's in hot pink and flowers -- and then sat down to play Trouble. I couldn't remember the rules, but it didn't matter as Spastic changed them every two seconds. I usually enjoy playing with kids but my head was throbbing and my heart felt for J who was crouched on the floor amongst dollhouses and board games, trying to forget about his precious Cowboys.

Finally, the magic words "Dinner's ready!" floated up the stairs, and we all raced down, the kids arguing about who they would get to sit next to. Ten minutes and several tears later, everyone was in their seats.

"Who wants to say the blessing?" asked Mr Spastic. I quickly adverted eye contact like a child in school who doesn't want to be called on. Not that I have anything against a dinner prayer, it's just not something I grew up doing, not something I currently do, and not something I want to try for the first time in a strangers home not knowing what religion they are.

"I WANT THE GUESTS TO DO IT!" shouted Spastic. Luckily Mr Spastic sensed the delayed response and volunteered one of the kids. Ten minutes and several tears later, Miss Adorable said blessing to the prophets, and we all laughed when she forgot to bless the food.

Dinner turned out great. Mr and Mrs Spastic are actually pretty laid back. We talked about their old home back in California, how the kids were adjusting, our jobs, life in general. When not interrupted by Spastic, it was quite enjoyable. Miss Adorable -- who's 4 -- told us stories and was just precious. Not one to usually gush over kids, I wondered if she would fit in my purse so I could keep her for my own.

After dinner we got roped into watching cartoons with the kiddos. Ten minutes and several tears later, we were all piled on the couch upstairs watching cartoons. After a few corny episodes, Mr and Mrs Spastic told the kids to stay upstairs while we went downstairs to talk. Over pumpkin chocolate cookies, they began to tell us that Spastic actually had several mental development problems, severe ADHD and were worried that it was getting progressively worse.

My heart sank for them as Mrs Spastic told how Spastic awoke every night and was up for three or four hours at a time. How he can't be alone ever. How he has no sense of space. Worried that his self-centeredness and fits would eventually lead to him getting in trouble in school and keep him from making friends. They're trying to find a psychiatrist as they're at the end of their ropes and no longer know what to do. They were tired and frustrated.

I felt a little guilty for my feelings towards the kid, but I could only imagine being his parent and feeling some of the same emotions. It wasn't long before Spastic came downstairs and began to throw a fit. And. Would. Not. Stop. He was tired, he wanted us to come upstairs, he wanted a cookie, he wanted his mom to hold him, he wanted to go to bed, he wanted to stay with us because he was scared, he didn't want to stop crying.

Defeated, Mrs Spastic thanked us for coming and went upstairs to get them ready for bed. J and I stayed a little longer talking to Mr Spastic. It's hard enough to be a parent, but it's even harder to raise one child that doesn't understand time and rules and who is too paranoid and too immature to be remotely independent, and then one child who is completely adorable and well-mannered. Sometimes I think it's easy to take children and parenting for granted, to establish a delicate balance between the two worlds so one isn't left behind and one isn't propelled too far forward.

J and I left last night with a full belly, new friends and a better understanding of what it truly takes to be a parent -- lots of Advil, courage and unconditional love. Because sometimes, even blessings can be challenges.

The Debate -- My Thoughts

2008-10-02T22:16:00.004-05:00

To be completely honest, tonight's Vice Presidential debate is the first debate I've watched in its entirety in years. Okay, ever.*

While I'm still on the fence about who to vote for (no, I don't vote a straight party ticket), I was curious to watch Palin in action. And for the first few minutes all I could picture was Tina Fey as Palin on Saturday Night Live. But in the end I thought Palin did well, the debate was interesting if not a smidge boring, and life tomorrow will go on for both candidates.

It was the commentary from reporters after the debate that ruffled my feathers. Several remarks were made that Palin would appeal to women because she's *gasp* a woman. Sure, I applaud the fact that a woman could potentially become the next Vice President. But I would never vote for her just because she has a vagina.

But I guess that's politics. Some people ignore the real issues and vote for someone because they are male or female, black or white. The answers can't be found in gender or race but in words and experiences.

Wake up. Let's start listening with our ears and not our eyes.

*I hate confrontation and avoid it like the plague ... even when it's on television.

Real Estate on eBay?

2008-10-02T08:59:00.008-05:00

Call me crazy, but who thought real estate would ever become a part of eBay? According to the AP, a Chicago woman bought this house in Michigan off of eBay for $1.75. Wow.

A Whole Latte Luxury

2008-09-29T11:16:00.005-05:00

“The car has become a secular sanctuary for the individual, his shrine to the self, his mobile Walden Pond” ~ Edward McDonagh

The cars sitting outside Starbucks this morning: new Mercedes, BMW convertible, Nissan Z, Hummer H2, Audi, Corvette ... and J's old Ford pickup that I decided to drive today.

Let's consider the "Latte Factor" here -- even if I saved the six bucks I spent at Starbucks this morning and stashed it in a high-interest account over the course of my lifetime, not really sure I'd ever reach the caliber of the other vehicles in the parking lot.

But would I even want to?* Sure, expensive cars are beautiful in their own right. J and I are looking to buy a new SUV in the near future, so we test drove a completely decked out Yukon Denali last month -- it's okay to dream. Because everyone is desperate to sell SUVs right now, the dealership let us take it home for the weekend. After crunching the numbers we had no real intention of purchasing it, but we thought what the heck, let's take the darling home.

I melted into the ebony leather seats, cruising around with the sun roof open, the satellite radio blasting some funky urban jazz. It winked at me from the driveway every time I looked out the window. It purred as I ran my hand down it's Birch Metallic and chrome body. I felt dirty driving it, and it's overzealous V8 roared as I accelerated at stoplights, turning heads. That's right boys, look at me.

So ruggedly sexy, I thought. But that annoying little voice inside my head began to buzz and reality (eventually) set in. No, I don't really need fancy GPS, heated leather seats, third row seating, DVD player and $55k worth of gas-guzzling bells and whistles. I just need something to haul the dogs, future kids and flowers from Home Depot.

But it sure is nice to dream.

*Kudos to those of you who are able to have expensive things. Adopt me. Seriously.

Finding Purpose

2008-09-26T21:21:00.017-05:00

"One needs something to believe in, something for which one can have whole-hearted enthusiasm. One needs to feel that one's life has meaning, that one is needed in this world." ~ Hannah Senesh

To finish my thoughts from last weekend on life, loss and finding purpose, the drive back from the funeral last Friday was a long and quiet one as I tried to turn over every rock of life in my head.

I slept little, clutching J tightly in an effort to find comfort. I had a charity 5k for a friend of mine Saturday morning. I awoke before the sun, drove an hour and a half to Fort Worth, and began to realize life's full potential.

I arrived at the walk early so I u-turned and stopped by a Starbucks I had seen along the way. I usually will not go anywhere in public wearing cotton stretch pants but decided life was too short to worry about it. Eight dollars later I was back on the road and parked at the walk.

I called a few of my teammates to see if anyone else had yet arrived. I decided not to cower in the parking lot and walked by myself down the road to the registration tents and starting line. There I ran into an old friend of mine Panda, who I hadn't seen since her horrific car accident two years prior. I can't believe I hadn't made the effort to see how she'd been since then. We talked until our other teammates arrived, all of which I either knew -- or should have known -- in high school and have kept in touch with over the years.

Our team captain was our inspiration. Last year the bouncy blonde was diagnosed with kidney disease and, since the medications aren't working, it looks as if she'll need a kidney transplant in the very near future. We're hoping her younger sister's a match. It was so great to see her. She looked well but tired, and genuinely happy that we were all there to be with her. At the end of the day, her biggest fear isn't her failing kidney -- it's the thought of not being able to have another child. But she smiles through it, knowing that whatever's supposed to happen will.

As I stood amongst our team, catching up with old friends, and as I stood amongst the other participants, all running for their inspirations in the fight against kidney disease, I felt something wash over me. As I looked around, I realized that this was the feeling I've been missing. The need and want to help people. To be there for people. To connect deeply with people. To be needed by people.

I have a bad habit of putting things off, of breaking commitments -- whether to myself or others. Here I've been worried about not accomplishing my dreams in life when all I've really been doing is wasting time. Thinking instead of reacting. Shying away from situations that may be a little uncomfortable when it could be an opportunity to connect with someone or something. Sure, it seems like the same old "live life to the fullest" crap -- but it's the feeling that's different.

After the walk we all went to lunch and sat for two hours chatting, laughing, sharing. We talked about plans for the annual Christmas party that Curly throws at his lake house -- which I've always had an excuse out of because I couldn't find the perfect dress to wear or because I wasn't in the mood to mingle. Not this year. This year I'll be there with bells on. It'll be me in the photos slinging back martinis and dancing with the Christmas tree.

I sat there listening to everyone, realizing how much we've grown since high school years ago -- but also realizing how much we're still the same. It made me think about who else in my life I enjoy having around but have lost contact with. I'm horrible with returning phone calls, so the list grew larger in my mind.

When it was time to go, I was so internally happy. Happy that we were all able to support our team captain and old friend. Happy that our small team was able to raise $1,400 to support the National Kidney Foundation. Happy that I was able to spend time with everyone and reconnect. Happy that I didn't waste another Saturday morning just sleeping.

I checked the mail when I got home and I had received another purple and white brochure from Team In Training, supporting the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I've wanted to complete a marathon with them since college, but had always found an excuse away from it. I checked the box for an informational meeting and set it with the stack of bills to be mailed.

I awoke early Sunday morning, which is a huge feat for me to awaken before 10 any day of the week. But imagine how much more I could accomplish in my day if I got up two or three hours earlier? I poked sleeping J in the stomach and uttered music to his ears: "Take me fishing." He was up in a flash and we stopped by Taco Cabana for a breakfast burrito, hooked up the boat and headed to Lake Grapevine. We each caught three bass, and it felt so great to be on the lake again. During our move over the summer we didn't get too many chances to fish, so it was great to get back out there and soak up nature. And we needed a little "couples therapy."

My attitude all week has been different. I've gotten up early each day (it's actually not as painful as I thought it would be), accomplished several things around the house I've been putting off, got caught up at work, had lunch with an old neighbor, stopped sweating (most) of the small stuff like J leaving his boots in the living room, and actually stopped to talk to a few of the neighbors instead of ducking into my garage like I normally do. And it's been great.

I know I've rambled on in this post, so if you've made it this far then kudos. It's hard to put what I'm feeling into actual words without the true meaning getting lost, but I had to try -- hence the reason this post comes a little late. I urge everyone to think about something in their life that has become habit -- like me sleeping in every morning or truly giving yourself to others -- and change it. There's no telling what you will accomplish, how the feeling of being needed will strike you, what higher purpose your moments on this earth will serve.

Musings from Starbucks

2008-09-26T13:24:00.003-05:00

"He had a fool proof plan for not getting a job -- In the event of an interview, wear flip-flops." ~ Alan Davies

I've been working at Starbucks all morning, just for a change of pace. That, and my cat won't quit chewing on my power cord when I'm working at my desk at home. (That's a story within itself -- someday I'll tell the novel of my bi-polar kitty.)

I've actually gotten a ton accomplished. I'm sure my boss is turning off her blackberry as we speak, not wanting to receive another cheery e-mail from me or PowerPoint to review. She's probably thinking that I'm off my rocker as I hardly ever get anything accomplished on Fridays ... or any day before lunch. Perhaps it was the Diet Coke for breakfast or the Grande White Chocolate Mocha that's got me wired like a caged gerbil on a wheel.

Anyhoo, the characters here this morning are interesting. Surprisingly, I've noticed that more women drive thru while men park and come inside to order. And, the majority of those coming inside are holding an already empty Starbucks cup, which they proudly chunk in the trash and hurriedly jump in line. Talk about a caffeine fix. Mid-day jitters, anyone?

Right now, there's five ladies of various ages sitting at a table next to me. One skinny middle-aged lady is undergoing an interview by the other four plump ladies. She's wearing cropped pants, a sleeveless shirt, open-toed sandals, and more makeup than the Chanel counter at Dillard's. Last I checked, this wasn't the most appropriate attire for a job interview.

But, as I listen closer, neither are her comments. She's interviewing for a job at a pre-school and admitted to leaving her last job as a teacher because she couldn't stand the kids. Interesting. Norah Jones is blasting in here, so I can't catch all of the conversation (and I'm pretty sure they're hoping that the creepy girl in the corner -- that would be me -- would quite staring at them).

An apron-clad barista just came around and passed out free snicker doodle and gingerbread* samples. The ladies giggle and all take one except the interviewee, who sneers and rudely proclaims that she's watching her weight. The four plump women sheepishly set their warm sample down, glance at each other, ask a few more questions and then quickly thank the lady for coming. As the interviewee exits the door, the women indulge themselves and smile.

To dress inappropriately is one thing -- but to make a group of women feel self conscious? Tsk tsk.

*OH. MY. GOD. The gingerbread is AMAZING. Barista lady, come back!

I Am Loved, too!

2008-09-25T10:33:00.003-05:00

I promise I will finish my post from last time, but first things first. Thanks to Newlywed Central, my blog is loved! *insert applause here* This award means so much to me -- one, that people are actually stopping by to read this thing and two, people (uh, well at least one person) likes what they're reading.

As with all awards, here's the fine print:

Link to the giver.
Nominate up to seven other fab blogs and link to them.
Leave messages announcing their rise to greatness. (Note: You may have been given this already, so that means you are a GREAT blogger.)

So, in an effort to pass the warm fuzzies, here are a list of blogs I enjoy ...

There are many, many more blogs out there that I think are brilliant and funny, so this is just the short list. Check out my "Blogs I Enjoy" section for more. Thanks again, Newlywed, for the award! :-)

Life & Loss

2008-09-21T17:35:00.006-05:00

"Death is a challenge. It tells us not to waste time ... It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other." ~ Leo F. Buscaqlia

This weekend has already been a doozy, and it's not even over yet. Friday, hubby -- who will be called "J" from here on -- and I went to a funeral for his great aunt, who was one of the nicest women I've ever met.

I've been to many funerals, but nothing compares to a small-town funeral. Sitting amongst 150 of her closest friends and family in an outdoor tabernacle in the middle of a green pasture, we listened to story after story of how this courageous 68-year-old woman overcame depression, a life-threatening car accident and brain cancer to make a lasting impact on her church, her family, coworkers, on everyone.

I watched as one of her sons sat quietly with his wife and two children, softly dabbing his eyes with tissue, trying to make it through the service knowing that he hadn't been there when she died. My heart broke for her husband, now suddenly alone after 53 years of marriage. 53 years. I can't begin to fathom the heartache he must be enduring.

J and I held each other, listening to the memories, bowing our heads in prayer. A breeze whispered through the big oak trees, the cows sang their own sympathies, and the butterflies danced around the dozens of colorful flower arrangements that had been sent from friends and family, the local diners, nearly every resident in the town.

After the service, we all met inside the small church to sit and talk about old times, while the ladies of the church prepared lunch -- fried chicken, green beans, homemade biscuits and pies -- for all 150 of us. Packed into a small room, we all sat elbow-to-elbow, and there wasn't a stranger in the place by the time we left hours later.

Sometimes I think we get so caught up in rushing around, that it was nice to actually slow down for awhile, allowing time to contemplate life and loss. When my Granddad died last Christmas, his service was crammed into a thirty minute window at the military cemetery near my home. It wasn't our choice, just how the place handled services. As we left, another family was rushing in to bury their young son who had been killed in Iraq -- it just didn't seem right.

I had more time to think this time. As we left J's great aunt's funeral, I was bombarded with a series of internal questions. What would people say at my funeral? Have I lived my life to the fullest? Am I wasting time? What impact have I made on others? What higher purpose can I serve?

I began to discover a few of those answers Saturday morning ...

When Men Get Curious

2008-09-16T14:52:00.012-05:00

“There’s very little advice in men’s magazines, because men don’t think there’s a lot they don’t know. Women do. Women want to learn. Men think, “I know what I’m doing, just show me somebody naked.” ~ Jerry Seinfeld

This morning I caught hubby flipping through my September issue of InStyle magazine that I had left on the kitchen counter. I watched from the hall for a moment before poking fun.

Me: Getting ideas on what to wear today?
Him: [flipping a few more pages while thinking of something to say] I was trying to figure out Uma’s last name [now closing the magazine and pointing to the cover].
Me: You mean Uma Thurman?
Him: Oh … [setting the magazine down] … right, that’s it.
Me: Uh huh, sure.

Maybe he was interested in this year’s Fall fashions, the pictures of beautiful women, or perhaps he truly couldn't remember Uma’s last name. Regardless, his curiosity sometimes is quite entertaining. Like two days ago when he came home early from fishing and found me with a green clay mask on my face.

Him: Eww … what is that?
Me: It’s a clay mask … don’t make me laugh, it hurts.
Him: What does it do?
Me: Makes me pretty.
Him: Can I touch it?
Me: What? No, keep your dirty hands away from my face.
Him: But I want to touch it.
Me: You freak, stay away from me.
Him: Okay, Shrek.

Later that day I found him slathering the clay on his hands.

Me: What are you doing?! You’re wasting it.
Him: I just wanted to try it.
Me: But it’s for your face.
Him: Oh … I thought maybe it would make my hands look less wrinkly.*
Me: You’re a guy, your hands are supposed to be rough and wrinkly. Dork.

*Note: His hands still look the same, so no -- it didn't work. Though, it was fun to watch him not use his hands for ten minutes.

Hopes of (non)Perfection

2008-09-16T08:11:00.004-05:00

There's a saying that I run across from time-to-time that says, "If you want something done, ask a busy person.” Sometimes when I hear this I can't help but chuckle to myself. Lately, it seems like I have too much on my plate to handle anything else. But then there are days where I have nothing to do -- and couldn't imagine taking anything on because I like enjoying my downtime.

I have come to realize that I'm one of those who, when faced with a full plate, push it all away and sit like a four year old who refuses to touch their peas. Instead of attempting to accomplish as much as I can to the best of my ability, I sit there, arms crossed, pouting. If I can't do it all and do it all perfectly, then I want nothing to do with it. If I can't make a decision knowing that it's exactly what I want, I'd rather not make one at all.

It's a horrible downfall, but I can't say I wasn't warned. My mother, who bestowed this tid-bit on me awhile back, said that my fourth grade teacher had warned her it could happen. How I was such a perfectionist that, while it labeled me "gifted and talented" in grade school, would one day lead to my demise if I didn't learn that not everything had to be perfect. I spent too much time worrying about if one thing was done perfectly than trying to accomplish more and do it well.

She actually told my mother I would learn the hard lesson for myself in college. She was right.

And now, I'm trying to retrain my way of thinking. I have to. And it's HARD. My rationale disrupts my work day, plays a role in delaying decisions and keeps my mind in disarray. It's the reason I still have a huge box of photos that haven't made it into scrapbooks, why my walls in the house are still white, why I've been searching for weeks for a new pair of brown heels.

And I am by no means saying that I'm perfect. Believe me, I’m not. More like I think things must be perfect, that I must make the perfect decisions -- otherwise I'd rather just not do anything. Maybe it's a fear of failing (but I've been there) or just a fear of someone not liking what I put my heart and soul into.

Sometimes I feel like a Pollock painting -- perfectly chaotic ...

The Storm

2008-09-13T17:20:00.006-05:00

"Anyone who says they're not afraid at the time of a hurricane is either a fool or a liar, or a little bit of both." ~ Anderson Cooper

Last night, hubby and I sat glued to the television as Hurricane Ike approached the Texas coastline. We watched into the wee hours of the morning, praying that Galveston would still be standing when dawn broke. While the damage is devastating, it's no where near what was expected. Stunning.

It seems Katrina has forever changed America's outlook on Hurricanes. They're no longer just a horrible storm -- they're like a brewing apocalypse unleashed to destroy human life. And I have to wonder why anyone would choose to stay and wait out the storm, which 1,000s decided to do during Ike. Is it pride? A sense of unyielding adventure? Stupidity?

It would be hard to leave my home behind, to know that there may not be a home to return to. But, at the same time, your home means nothing if you're not alive to enjoy it. Rescue workers risk their lives to help those who are stranded -- I would almost feel selfish if I made a decision to stay, only to wind up in a situation where I needed to be rescued.

And I can understand the concern for protecting your things. It's a shame that, in the face of tragedy, looters take and destroy what may have been left behind. I figure there's a place for them in the caverns of hell.

Watching the news now, it's weird to see so many memories washed away. A six hour drive from home, Galveston has always been a great place for a weekend getaway. Year after year, I'd visit the same shops on the Sea Wall, knowing they would all have the same things -- hermit crabs, seashells and t-shirts -- but it was tradition to visit each one. Other memories come to mind -- my older sister being stung by a huge jellyfish, being "attacked" by crabs, learning to surf, seashell hunts with my dad, building sandcastles, watching dolphins from the ferry, stories of mom camping on the beach when she was a little girl ...

It's hard to collect my thoughts -- I can only imagine what it's like for those who live there. I just hope the town heals quickly.

*All photos from Reuters

Work Relief

2008-09-10T21:23:00.005-05:00

Sometimes I think Peter from Office Space had the right idea ...

Joanna: So, where do you work, Peter?

Peter Gibbons: Initech.

Joanna: What do you do there?

Peter Gibbons: I sit in a cubicle and I update bank software for the 2000 switch.

Joanna: What's that?

Peter Gibbons: Well see, they wrote all this bank software, and, uh, to save space, they used two digits instead of four. So, like 98 instead of 1998? Uh ... so I go through these thousands of lines of code and, uh ... it doesn't really matter. I uh ... I don't like my job, and, uh ... I don't think I'm gonna go anymore.

Joanna: You're just not gonna go?

Peter Gibbons: Yeah.

Joanna: Won't you get fired?

Peter Gibbons: I don't know, but I really don't like it, and, uh, I'm not gonna go.

Joanna: So you're gonna quit?

Peter Gibbons: Nah-uh. Not really. Uh ... I'm just gonna stop going.

Joanna: When did you decide all that?

Peter Gibbons: About an hour ago.

Joanna: An hour ago... so you're gonna get another job?

Peter Gibbons: I don't think I'd like another job.

Joanna: Well, what are you going to do about money and bills and ...

Peter Gibbons: You know ... I've never really liked paying bills. I don't think I'm gonna do that, either.

ChapStick Kisses

2008-09-09T14:40:00.005-05:00

"Never a lip is curved with pain, that can't be kissed into smile again." ~ Brete Harte

I had another bad dream last night. It wasn't exactly a demons and dragons nightmare like the night before –- in fact, it's hard to remember what it was about exactly, swirling more around real life than fantasy. I awoke a little before 3, tangled in the down comforter, sweating, the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I blinked a couple of times to get my bearings. I'm okay. I'm okay. "I'm okay."

The moonlight cast awkward shadows around the room, and I could make out hubby's silhouette lying next to me. I could hear the dogs rhythmic snoring from their spot underneath the bedroom windows. All the comforts of a peaceful night's slumber, yet I couldn't shake the creepy feeling.

I rolled over and made a long reach for my ChapStick on the nightstand, not wanting to remove myself from the safety of the covers any more than necessary. I began slathering on the lip balm as a soothing defense against whatever eerie feelings were lingering.

Already feeling better, I sense hubby's hand enclose around mine as he asks if I'm okay. "Just a dream," I whisper. Our noses touch as he leans in to kiss my forehead, then cheek, his lips making a last stop softly against mine. "Mmm, ChapStick kisses," he laughs. I smile into the darkness.

It's amazing how it's always the little things that chase away the monsters.

Work. Life. Balance?

2008-09-08T16:50:00.003-05:00

"We need to maintain a proper balance in our life by allocating the time we have. There are occasions where saying no is the best time management practice there is." -- Catherine Pulsifer

There's something amiss in a world where eating breakfast at your desk has become the norm. A norm established by longer work hours, less time spent with the husband, baby, puppy each morning. Will eating dinner at the office establish itself as well?

Companies already have started a trend by stashing free drinks, snacks and soups in break rooms, pushing the envelope when the clock ticks to 5. Just one more phone call, draft one more e-mail, consume one more hour. 5 turns to 6. Family dinner's pushed to 7. Or, you simply get a warm plate of scraps in the microwave after dark, left to eat alone, listening to the children get ready for bedtime. A kiss on the forehead for each, one for the spouse and off to bed. Tuck in, roll over, and it's time to do it all over again.

Work creeps into weekends too. Just a Saturday morning, they say. "We'll buy your lunch." Does free lunch really do it justice? Does it make up for missing a trip to the donut shop, helping in the yard, taking your boy to soccer practice?

I'm not a parent, but someday I will be. Someday I'll want work to stay at work, and for all of me to come home and enjoy my family. And I'll want the same for my husband. No begging for a day off to see an ailing grandparent. No skipping lunch with mom because a deadline is looming overhead.

Just work. Life. Separate.

Searching for Inspiration

2008-09-04T14:48:00.013-05:00

"I didn't get into design to be an artist. To me, an artist creates things to evoke emotion. Being a designer goes a step further than that, not only trying to evoke emotion but trying to make a reaction." -- Mike Davidson

I recently moved into a new house and have finally got most of the boxes unpacked and put away. Now it's time to tackle the white walls, which are starting to feel a little sterile, a little blah.

But I need help. So I turned to my dear friend Google for some inspiration and found a few "treasures" along the way, including this rad outdoor living room in Miami:

And then I found this chair ... I think it speaks for itself ...

I can imagine having my family over, with everyone playing musical chairs to avoid sitting in this pink, Playboy-like disaster. Moving right along ...

I instantly fell in love with this beautiful, Old World entryway with iron spindle staircase:

And I love checkered flooring ... so chic ... so castle-like ...

The color on the wall is similar to a color I used at our old house ... and hubby made me promise to never use it again. I didn't think it was that girlie. I thought men liked blue?

I'm still searching for the right burst of inspiration to come along -- I admit I have commitment issues when it comes to paint colors ... and furniture selections ... and just about everything else. But maybe, just maybe, this time around will be different.

Have HOAs Gone Mad?

2008-09-02T09:29:00.011-05:00

There's a storm brewing in my town that has nothing to do with the looming hurricane. In a neighborhood close to mine, the HOA is dictating what type of vehicle you can keep on your driveway and which must be parked in your garage. (Read the full story here.)

Are you kidding me?

Sure, I would agree to a few limitations: cars propped up on blocks, cars that haven't moved since before your grandma was born, and other typical HOA tacky stuff.

But to actually limit the brand that can be parked on your driveway? Are you kidding me?

First off, we're in Texas. I grew up around the city and drove a small car -- but hubby grew up on a dairy farm and has always owned trucks. Not the fancy-dancy kind, the get-the-job-done-last-forever-Ford-Chevy types. He owns a really nice 4-door F150 now. Sure, we're looking to trade in my car and his truck for a smaller classy-yet-rugged SUV that I can handle better than a truck (I once got his truck stuck in a parking garage in downtown Dallas ... you do the math).

BUT, if anyone ever came to my door and said, "I'm sorry, but your ... ahem ... Ford must be parked in the garage because the neighbors are tired of looking at your ... ahem ... Ford and it's bringing down the value of the neighborhood," I would give the neighbors something to really talk about. (Hmmm, pink flamingos come to mind ...)

How can an HOA regulate what car you drive and park on the driveway? They aren't providing my salary, or feeding my family, or paying my mortgage ... what if I couldn't afford to buy one of the cars on the "list"? (By the way, Chevy Avalanches are on the "good list" -- since when is an Avalanche a luxury vehicle?)

I know our F150 right now barely even fits in our garage, and we have a pretty big house. So, if HOAs are going to start forcing us rednecks to park our unsightly *cringe* Fords in the garage, then pressure the builders to make the garages big enough.

We moved from our last house to get out of the "rat race" of Frisco, where every soccer mom drove a $60k SUV, 13-yr-old kids at the mall carried Coach purses and 16-yr-olds cried in Nordstrom when mommy wouldn't buy them a pair of Uggs (at which mommy would give in because everybody has them) ...

Why the hell is it following us?

Rocky Mountain High

2008-08-27T13:49:00.028-05:00

"The mountains may well be a way of escape -- from the cities and men, from the turmoil and doubt, from the complexities and uncertainties and sorrows that thread our life. But in the truest and most profound sense, it is an escape not from but to reality." -- James Ramsey Ullman

I've only been home from Colorado for a week, and I would already sell my soul to go back. Okay, so I wouldn't really go that far ... anyhoo, the weather was beautiful -- 45 degrees in the town of Estes Park compared to 100 degrees here at home. A weird cold front blew in that we didn't expect, so hubby and I were suckered into buying fluffy sweatshirts in colors only clowns would wear from a gift shop in town -- but hey, at least they were warm!

We did some hiking, a ton of fly fishing and saw more elk than I thought existed.

I even made a new friend at Bierstadt Lake ...

A freek sleet and rain storm caught us while we were fly fishing at Glacier Creek near Bear Lake, and we ended up waiting out the storm under a huge pine tree. By the time we got back to the car, we were shivering and cold. Even our fishing boots filled with water ...

But, that's part of the adventure. And so is falling into the river -- which I only did once after slipping on a rock in fast-moving water -- but thankfully no one got a picture of that. Maybe I should have listened to this sign ...

Blue skies finally emerged on our last day there ...

And I caught my first ... er, and last ... trout of the week (hubby caught eight) ...

Trail Ridge Road was finally open, too, after being closed due to fresh powder. Leave it to a Texas girl to wear flip flops in the snow ...

Our adorable cabin was a little too quaint -- built before the 1940s -- but it was right on the river and a short walk to the main street. Best place to eat by far is Chicago's Best -- fabulous pizza and the best hot subs I've ever had. However, if you enjoy Mexican food, completely avoid Ed's Cantina like the plague ... unless you don't mind hugging the toilet all night.

All-in-all, it was a wonderful way to celebrate our two-year wedding anniversary. I love the mountains -- the fresh air, neat hikes, great fishing, down-to-earth people ... just being instead of rushing around to meet all of life's demands. I would move there in a heart beat; hubby is not so convinced -- he's quite attached to Texas.

Maybe someday I'll change his mind.

Raw Fish and Cougars

2008-08-24T20:05:00.007-05:00

"I never eat sushi. I have trouble eating things that are merely unconscious." — George Carlin

Hubby and I returned from a week in Colorado three days ago -- I'll post a few pictures soon as it was one of the more beautiful trips I've taken there.

We spent the weekend at hubby's work "retreat". We usually get to go to a relaxing resort in Austin, which is nice since it's five hours from home so it feels like a vacation. But, this year, his manager had them stick close to home (read: a hotel 15 minutes from our house). It was fun getting to meet some of the new people in his region. I usually cringe when it comes to forced small talk, but I think we all found we were very much alike.

We dined at a couple of great places including Ra'. I was skeptical because it's mostly sushi (if I wanted to eat raw fish, I'd take a bite out of the ones I catch when I go fishing). As the huge dishes of raw tuna, rolls and such were placed before us, I wondered just how many sea creatures were being consumed by the 17 people at the table. But the place did have great music and a swanky / funky atmosphere ... and fabulous chicken teriyaki. Oh, and the sake bombs weren't bad either *wink wink*.

The "cougars" were out in full force that night at Ra' -- minimally dressed in designer tops and skin-tight jeans, glowing with fake tans and golden highlights. These women prowled around the place, trolling for a delicious snack in the crowd around the bar. It was interesting to watch these women who, from the back, looked my age or younger. One look at their fronts, however, revealed more than good plastic surgery -- some of these women were old enough to be my mother. They were everywhere, including the bar we went to after dinner. I let go of hubby for two seconds on the dance floor, and he was pounced on by a feisty blonde twice his age. Creepy.

What happened to meeting people at coffee shops, or bumping into someone at the book store who happens to be holding the exact same copy of your favorite author's latest creation?

Bargain Crazed

2008-08-10T20:51:00.008-05:00

"Shopping is a woman thing. It's a contact sport like football. Women enjoy the scrimmage, the noisy crowds, the danger of being trampled to death, and the ecstasy of the purchase." - Erma Bombeck

So yesterday hubby and I decided to do a little shopping. We needed (okay, wanted) a couple of things for our trip to Colorado this week but really didn't want to spend too much, so we headed to the local outlet mall. I know what you're thinking: outlet mall equals barren wasteland of last year's leftovers. But this outlet mall is different -- the list of fabulous stores includes Michael Kors, Neiman Marcus Last Call, Polo Ralph Lauren, BCBG, Coach and more.

Hubby wanted to check out Polo and get a couple of shirts. We should have known better than to go on a Saturday afternoon -- the crowd was horrible. Not to mention it was 103 degrees outside (seriously). We shuffled into Polo, along with half of the world's population, and began browsing through shirts. Too many colors, too many different styles, too many warm bodies -- hubby began to sweat.

I tried to be reassuring and shuffled with him to the dressing room, but as I waited outside I too succumbed to the chaos. I was bumped into by a group of silver-haired women ogling at packages of Polo boxer-briefs. I tried moving, only to do a Texas Two-step with a guy who wanted to literally touch every single pair of fleece pajama bottoms that were hung behind me. In the time it took hubby to try on four shirts, I was kicked by a five-year-old brat, run into with an oversized stroller, hit on by a guy half my age wearing shorts that hung to his ankles, watched a woman talk her hubby into buying neon yellow slacks, knocked over a display of over-priced ties and was sneezed on by at least three people.

When hubby finally came out of the dressing room, I was huddled in a corner sweating and ready to chew my own arm off just to get out of there. Twenty minutes later (yes, that's how long it took us to pay for the darn shirts) we were free. But I began to wonder -- were people there because they truly loved the product, or were they merely suckered into the bargains?

Sidenote: I did find some super cute (and comfy!) hiking shoes in the Columbia store. Eh, guess every cloud has a silver lining ...

The Runner

2008-08-07T19:01:00.004-05:00

"Out of the silver heat mirage he ran. The sky burned, and under him the paving was a black mirror reflecting sun-fire. Sweat sprayed his skin with each foot strike so that he ran in a hot mist of his own creation. With each slap on the softened asphalt, his soles absorbed heat that rose through his arches and ankles and the stems of his shins. It was acarnival of pain, but he loved each stride because running distilled him to his essence and the heat hastened this distillation." - James Tabor, from "The Runner"

I made the decision last night that this morning would be the morning that I would start running again. It's been awhile. Not that I've ever been able to run very fast or very far, but I do enjoy it. And my body craves it.

When the alarm blared at 6 this morning, I hit snooze and rolled over, pressing my eyes shut. I remained huddled under my soft covers until I realized that it was taking more energy to force myself back to sleep than to actually get out of bed. Five minutes later I was slipping into my Nikes, strapping on my iPod and slipping out the door.

My feet found an awkward rhythem on the pavement, but I kept going as the sun kissed the neighborhood houses in soft pink and yellow hues. Sweat trickled from my brow, glistened on my arms, my heart pounded in my chest. I huffed and puffed. And I kept going.

Today I didn't make it too far, but the incredible feeling is still with me. And I can't wait for tomorrow morning when I can do it all over again.

I Scream for Ice Cream!

2008-08-06T13:57:00.005-05:00

Okay, so if haven't figured it out already, I'm a sucker for ice cream. Not just a scoop here, a bowl there. I consume at least a half gallon a week, not including the occasional hot fudge shake from Sonic or an M&M blizzard from Dairy Queen. And I enjoy trying new flavors.

So when Blue Bell introduced Moo Tracks, I was giddy beyond all belief. It's fantastic. Definitely wins my vote for best flavor ever. (Sorry, Tin Roof, it was bound to happen!) I can't get enough of the creamy vanilla, wrapped in ribbons of chocolate fudge, sprinkled with chocolate peanut butter cups. YUM!

What will they think of next?

Around the World

2008-07-26T08:42:00.005-05:00

So I was browsing through blogs this morning, and it amazes me how many are in foreign languages. Not that I'm too surprised -- the world is large and English only covers a small sliver -- but I was more disappointed that I couldn't read them. And, based on photos, some of them looked pretty interesting.

I found one about transit in Singapore, which must be pretty popular as there were numerous posts and comments. Another blog was about a family's journey through Germany, and they either really enjoyed snapping photos of ceramics or they sell them on the black market. A blogger from Japan clearly has an obsession for water, art and men's undies. And then one blog from Uruguay that's either a young girl's self-collection of half-nude photos ... or some guy's attempt to make some cash. Either way, I flagged it (hey, I'm all about freedom of speech ... but where the hell is her mother?).

It makes me wonder how many people come across American blogs and think, what are they trying to say? How often do our messages truly get lost and misinterpreted?

Two Years & Counting ...

2008-07-25T10:01:00.010-05:00

Today is our two-year wedding anniversary -- I can't believe how fast it's rolled around! Hubby woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and brought me donuts (chocolate sprinkled -- my fav!) and a rose. Still a sweetie after all this time.

We don't have big plans for tonight as we're headed to Colorado to celebrate later in August. We got married in Wild Basin, outside of Estes Park, so we thought it would be fun to go back. Besides, we've both been slammed by work here recently, and looking forward to getting away for a week.

A few pics from our last trip:

Motorcycle Virgin

2008-07-23T17:55:00.010-05:00

"Faster, faster, faster, until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death." - Hunter Thompson

Okay, so my last post was a little ... well, let's just say those thoughts have long set sail. It was just one of those nights, I suppose.

Anyhoo, hubby taught me to ride his Kawasaki motorcycle last night.

It's a hunk of rusting red metal, but it's fun as hell to ride. I was a little skeptical that I wouldn't be able to handle the beast (read: I am so out of shape I was afraid my marshmallow arms would give out and I would be squished on the pavement).

After a careful lesson of first gear, the brake and a few other pointers, I was off. Err, okay, so it took me a few minutes (like an hour) to figure out how to ease off the clutch and throttle the gas, but I eventually figured it out. I cruised around the neighborhood at a respectable 15 mph, looking like a true biker babe in my half helmet, blue wind pants and tan sneakers. At least it was dark outside.

I did pretty well, aside of pulling out in front of an RV and nearly taking out our neighbor's kids on their silver tricycles. But it was fun, and I think hubby was proud. Maybe next time I can venture into second gear.

Floundering

2008-07-15T20:48:00.004-05:00

I preface this blog with this statement: I love my hubby. Without question.

I heard through the grapevine today that an old flame of mine is leaving for a 7-month tour in the military. I won't get into too many specifics to help protect all involved. What it boils down to is that when I heard the news, my stomach began to churn. It's still in knots, hours later. I've tried to convince myself that they're knots of concern, but I'm floundering in a sea of doubt.

Right now I sit before this computer, listening to the sound of rolling thunder. Hubby is working on his computer in the other room. And I sit here. Alone. Wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I cannot be having these thoughts. And yet I wonder if he ever thinks about me ...

It would have never worked out for the long run. I am happy with my life and marriage. But good byes were left unsaid, and if something were to happen ...

A Welcome of Sorts

2008-07-03T16:28:00.008-05:00

"A smile is the universal welcome." - Max Eastman

Well, if you're reading this, then you must have stumbled onto my blog. Welcome. Not sure really what you'll find here, but I'm guessing a lot about nothing. Oh sure, I have brilliant revelations from time to time that would make Jesus blush. But, for the most part, my life is pretty ordinary.

Which is why I'm trying to do something new everyday. I find it humorous and sometimes embarrassing, but in the end I always learn something new. Or discover something I enjoy even more than my trusty ol' favorites. (But NEVER will I find anything better than my fav pair of jeans ... even if they do have more holes than Swiss cheese.)

For today, I tried the chocolate shake at Which Wich. A minor feat, but if you only knew how loyal I am to Sonic's hot fudge milkshake, then you would give me a high five or a slap on the bum for branching out in the milkshake world. Anyhoo, it was cold, creamy and kind of made my belly hurt. Ohwell.

Until next time ...

UPDATE (9/10): You may notice a few posts dated before this official "welcome". Well, I moved a few entries over today that I had posted on another site because life is complicated enough without having to keep up with two blogs. I also kept them posted on the original dates, just to make my life easier. I like to keep it simple -- so enjoy!

The Dallas Cowboys -- My Two Cents

2008-01-29T21:56:00.004-06:00

"Individual commitment to a group effort -- that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work." ~ Vince Lombardi

It seems everyone has their own opinion of why the Cowboys didn't pull through this year, getting knocked out by the Giants in the first round of the playoffs. And everyone is entitled to their own opinion. BUT, if I have to listen to another accredited journalist carry on about how Jessica Simpson is to blame for the fall of the Cowboy empire, then I'm going to trade in my Journalism degree for one in basket weaving.

Why is everyone resting the loss on the shoulders of Tony Romo anyway? Now, I'm not saying he didn't have a few key mistakes –- but the Cowboys lost as a team. Just as they won as a team prior to the playoffs.

Perhaps if the coaches hadn't been concentrating on interviews elsewhere, they would have been better prepared for the game at hand. Maybe if the Cowboys didn't acquire 11 penalties during the game, they would have been able to gain a few more yards, leading to a few more points on the scoreboard. Or, maybe if the offensive line would've kept the pressure off Romo in the second half, he wouldn't have gone down like a sack of potatoes every 5 seconds. Maybe if Jerry Jones hadn't paraded down the sidelines, shouting sweet nothings in the players' ears, they could have focused their hearts on the game. Maybe Crayton could catch a ball every once in awhile.

My point? Pressure knocked -– and everyone cracked.

The team is still evolving. The Cowboys are in a better place now than two years ago. So why is it that they aren't getting at least a little more credit for what was a pretty damn good season. I think everyone expected this to be Tony Romo's glory season with a fairy tale ending. But that's not how football works. Experience, preparation and cohesion are what work. And now, maybe the Cowboys are finally in a place to achieve that.

Stepping off my blue soapbox ...

An Inner Battle of Sorts

2007-12-07T20:37:00.001-06:00

I'm currently fighting an inner battle about my current job situation. My previous contract position ended last week and I now have two offers for new positions on the table: Job A is a higher level position but requires four days a week in Chicago for at least one year; Job B is along the same lines as I was doing but working from home.

Sure, many might think "But dear, you're married, why would you want to be gone four days a week?" Because Job A presents a fantastic opportunity to gain awesome experience and exposure. Hubby's being as supportive as he can, but of course it's hard for him to be happy about it. Especially when Job B would allow me to work from home -- and the pay would be about the same.

Job B would be perfect for raising a family. And I tend to be a bit of a hermit and kind of relish the idea of working in my pjs. But will I gain enough to advance later in life?

My old boss says I need to figure out what I want out of life. He's the kind of person that lives to work. I think I work to live. The idea of Chicago is exciting -- but I know the glamour would wear off in a month or so. I would miss hubby. But would I regret not taking it later? Do I want the corporate career, the 8-6 schedule, wearing suits, networking with the company's elite?

Or do I want to have time to breathe during the day, enjoying life outside of work, having the opportunity to start a family sooner rather than later? We've been talking about building a new house, one that we can raise a family in, and that's exciting too. And I've always wanted more time that I can spend volunteering like I used to -- Job B would allow that. Flexibility is a rare gift these days.

Some say that I'm young, take the job in Chicago, it's a great career move. Others say I'm young, newly married and it would be too hard on the marriage. Then there's those who believe career will always be there later, so choose your marriage/family first.

I visited Chicago last week -- I do love big cities. But, the things that make Chicago wonderful are things I wouldn't experience because I'd be working or flying home. If the job was writing for a magazine, then I would sign the papers and hubby would back me 110%. But Job A is not my dream job and he knows that.

So I sit here now. Wide awake just like last night, and the night before. I'm waiting for a sign, it seems -- a huge blinking arrow that will fall from the sky and point me in the right direction.

Taking the Cow out of "Cowboys Cheerleaders"

2007-11-05T20:30:00.004-06:00

Hubby's out of town, so I'm curled up on the couch, watching Chick TV, munching on handfuls of chocolate. Which is great fun until I get warped into watching shows like "Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders", a reality show on CMT following the cheerleaders from tryouts to their first game.

I will admit I was enjoying the show. That is until they cut a girl from training camp because she was "fat". This girl weighed less than me, looked great in tiny spandex shorts, had a beautiful face, but neglected to have the washboards abs the coach was looking for.

Extremely frustrating. She was an AMAZING dancer. Even the coach said her technical skills were the best of the group. So why was she cut? I thought the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders were supposed to be great role models. But by cutting the "fat" girl on national television, the coach is sending the message that America would rather watch a so-so dancer with washboard abs, than an elegant and amazing performer with a slightly softer middle.

It's shallow. And disgusting. I thought beauty rested in the overall woman, not just the midsection.

Tick Tock to the Boat Dock

2007-05-18T16:22:00.004-05:00

Today has been a long day. Not really due to work, more like I just want to get outside and enjoy the beautiful weather. Last week at work was a doozy, let me tell ya. But today, the minutes have seemed to flow like molasses, a thick oozing of time that won't release my butt from this chair. Or my hands from this keyboard. My eyes from this screen. Tiiiiiiiccckkkk Toooocccck. So to help pass the time that, some day, I'll complain I don't have enough of, I figured I'd write a much delayed blog ...

Hubby and I have decided to buy a boat. Sure, probably an unpractical decision but, if you really know us then you know how much we enjoy hanging out on the water and fishing. We like to call it Couples Therapy, and I HIGHLY recommend it.

For those who know boats, we're thinking of the Stratos 486SF. (If you've heard something terrible about them, please let me know before we sink like the Titanic.) We've done a ton of research and looked at more boats than I truly have patience for, and this "fish and ski" seems like a great compromise for what we both want.

Not that we ski, but it would be nice to have a bigger boat so we can hang out on the lake, have room for company (and the little ones someday). And I wouldn't mind learning to wakeboard, though I've heard it's insanely rough on weak bodies like mine! As long as I have a cup holder for my adult beverage and plenty of room to cast, I'm set.

And I can't tell you how many city slickers tried to sell us floating pieces of rusty crap for almost the same cost of a new boat. FRUSTRATING. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that a deep gouge in the bottom of a boat isn't a good thing. Neither are live wells filled with nesting insects. Okay, so that last one is easily fixable with some pesticide and a hose, but I'm not reaching my hand in there.

For once I won't be pasty white all summer. I'll be glowing with skin cancer (but still glowing, nonetheless), cheeks kissed by the sweltering summer sun. And heck –- if I don't catch the 10lb bass of my dreams, I'll just pop a top to a new day …

The Wedding

2006-08-08T20:13:00.002-05:00

"I dreamed of a wedding of elaborate elegance, a church filled with family and friends. I asked him what kind of a wedding he wished for, he said one that would make me his wife." ~ Author Unknown

The decision to get married in Colorado was a difficult one -- while we loved the notion of a destination-type wedding, we hated the idea of not involving friends and other loved ones. In the end, we opted for the cooler weather and (my) dream wedding in the mountains, and neither would trade it for the world.

On July 25, surrounded by close family and lush mountains, we promised to cherish and love each other for the rest of our lives. As ominous rain clouds hovered in the near distance, we shared our first kiss as husband and wife. Perfection.

17 Days

2006-07-03T08:08:00.001-05:00

I'm starting to get ancy, unable to sit still. In 17 days, I'll no longer pull into the all-too-small parking lot here at this ol' building, driving around the half lot looking for a smidge of shade to park under.

I'll no longer have to exchange false small talk and awkward quips on the weather with the lanky guy who works downstairs. A nice guy, but my social skills aren't fully operational anytime before lunch ... or dinner. Maybe I'll run into him again at next year's Wheel of Fortune tryouts.

It's weird to feel like my life and work are entangled in one -- leading to some big changes here in the very near future. It's hard for me to grasp everything that I'm sure is to come, to test the boundaries of the connections that I've made here.

Like a wise woman said to me not so long ago, in 17 days I'll be staring at the rest of my life ...

A New Chapter

2006-06-08T17:04:00.003-05:00

So I suppose my departure from this ol' job is now official -- it's funny how things have changed so much since I first started here. If you count the summer I interned, I've almost put two years of my life into this place.

And in those two years, I can honestly say I've grown. Now, I start a new chapter in my life. Between starting a new job, getting married, moving to a new town that's closer to Oklahoma than home -- that's a lot of changes to occur in just two months!

But I'm looking forward to it. Sometimes when I'm at work, I still feel like the college summer intern. For no reasons except my own mind associating the two. And the jeans and flip flops I wear about 60% of the workweek. It'll be an interesting change to go to a more "corporate" environment, where I'll have to re-prove myself, establish new goals, meet new people, wear stockings ...

Scary but exciting. That will be the theme for the next couple of months. I was blessed to have a wonderful job lined up before I even walked the stage at graduation. Now, it's like I'm starting from scratch -- revamping the ol' resume, dusting off the business cards, trying my hand at networking.

And I'm trying to remain focused. I still have clients to attend to and projects to finish. But it's hard not to put all my energy into the next phase of my life. It's amazing how time flies, sometimes slower than you wish it would.

Because Sometimes I Just Can't

2006-05-30T19:51:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I just can't waltz into work like a breath of fresh floral air, ready to pounce on whatever lame or ridiculous project that lay before me, product of an outside evil with no sense of real time.

Sometimes I just can't listen to someone else’s issues because I have my own swirling through the undiscovered cave that is my mind.

Sometimes I just can't deal with the people closest to me and their melodramatic way of showing they care. Middle child syndrome can be conditioned to function in line with the rest of the world, and being an immature Mr. Clean does not give you a license to dole out relationship advice. Turn that mop inward, dammit.

Sometimes I just can't keep a straight face, not fall victim to the devil's advocate, keep comments to myself.

Life is frustrating. But even more so when you feel like a Stretch Armstrong doll in the jaws of a pack of wolves. A feeding frenzy of emotion, a roller coaster sickness, a waterfall of tears. It's an amazing thing to feel that much emotion, even for someone else. Someone else who just can't -- can't put any more heart and soul into the wee hours of the day, who just can't seem to move up the wobbly ladder, prove themselves worthy of another slap in the face.

It seems all anyone would have to do is cry uncle, throw up the tattered white flag, turn the table on the shits who put them in the dungeon in the first place. But sometimes, we just can't ...

A Crate & Barrel o' Fun

2006-04-20T19:22:00.001-05:00

Because time is important and none should fall to waste, I began registering for wedding gifts online today while I had some free time at work. Or more like I didn't really feel like working so I needed something else to occupy my time.

Anyway, as I was surfing through pages of over-priced china, I began to wonder who started this almost-awkward task of listing things you want your guests to buy you because, well, you're getting married so people should feel obligated to get you stuff. It's odd really. Sure, it'd be nice for people to send flowers or whatever as congratulatory offerings, but asking someone to spend 200 bucks on china that they'll more than likely never eat off of? Seems like money could be better spent elsewhere. But where?

So as I began to delete items off the coveted Crate & Barrel registry list that I had so recklessly created, I thought about how nice it would be if weddings weren't soo complicated. If simple meant better. If well wishings equaled Platinum Line Dinnerware.

Now ladies, I too am a hopeless romantic, dreaming of the prince in white armor, fantasizing about a fairytale wedding. Picking out china and fine bed linens used to keep me awake at night with excitement. But then I learned something: anything stamped "wedding" or resembling anything wedding-like automatically ups the price at least 84.9% (a guesstimation, of course).

Even justifying buying fine china for those rare occasions when I'll be serving 8 to 10 guests formerly at the dinner table, using salad plates, dinner plates, soup bowls and the oddly-sized side bowl (and assuming I could slave away in the kitchen long enough to cook more than macaroni & cheese) was difficult:

Serving friends = alcohol = need for non-breakable dishes
Pizza requires no formal dinner pieces whatsoever (and hardly a napkin)
Will the dogs care to lick scraps off china?

And just when I thought I'd actually gotten a start on something, I'm back to the drawing board. What do we really need for those, like Grandma, who won't feel right until they've sent their blessings in a beautifully wrapped package with hand-tied bow?

A Lot of Nothing

2006-02-22T19:14:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I think I tend to set myself up for disappointment, like I want to find something to help me decide one of life's many questions. I find a clue and then I wish I never had. I think a lot of things aren't meant to be seen or read -- life's just supposed to happen, you aren't supposed to know things that happened while you weren't there. You think you want to know, but in reality I know that I don't. Some things are better left unspoken. You just have to take one's word that they're in the right place now, and that's all that matters. I can be understanding only because I know firsthand that things can be taken out of context. That everything happens for a reason, that you can only grow by living life. But I'm tired. I'm tired of dealing with shit (or the pile of crap I dwell on that gets worse the more I think about it), I'm tired of being confused, I'm tired of not knowing. I'm tired of that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, the knot that won't unwind, cheeks wet with tears. I'm too tired to fill in the gaps, to even spell check or re-read these words to see if they make sense. Frankly, I don't care -- I'm supposed to be writing a newsletter that's due tomorrow but instead I'm dwelling on things I can't change. I'm trying to rid my system, flush out the toxic thoughts that just won't leave, that won't allow me peace ... and just when you think the knot's starting to loosen, one glance is all it takes to feel it tighten, to make the insides quiver ...

(Frost) Bite Me

2006-02-13T10:07:00.002-06:00

"Winter is nature's way of saying, 'Up yours.'" ~ Robert Byrne

This warm(ish) weather is playing tricks on my mind. I've gotten used to the warm sun shining through the car window, eating Subway in the park, trying on shorts and tees at the mall.

Usually, I love winter. Bundling up in warm coats and fuzzy scarves, cheeks kissed pink by the winter air. Hoping for snow days, and then spending them curled up in cozy pajamas by the fireplace. And the beverage of choice for those cold winter days? Hot chocolate. With fluffy marshmallows and whipped cream, of course.

But this "winter" is different. The warm days have been quite calming, an energizing contrast to a freezing cold office. I don't want to wear the bulky coats. I don't want to mess with the little balls of fuzz my sweaters leave everywhere. I don't want to strangle myself with scarves. I don't care for anymore snow/ice/whatever it is here in Texas and I'd rather my cheeks be kissed golden by the sun.

And Jack Frost -- keep your hot chocolate. I'm holding out for an ice cold pina colada.

The Home of Rainbows

2006-02-01T09:48:00.012-06:00

"I have always loved the beach. The smell of the salty water, the wind in my face, the gentle roar of the waves all combine to create a sense of peace and calm." ~ Anonymous

So I'm back from the beautiful garden isle of Kauai. I knew the moment the sun rose on our first day there that it was heaven on earth. I have never been to a place so beautiful, so pristine. The sights, the sounds, the smells -- not too mention the amazing food. My friends and I feasted on some of the best seafood of our lives -- wahoo, hapu'upu'u, crab cakes, crabbed stuffed mushrooms, mai tais and lava flows. My body is now going through pineapple withdraws, too.

Cruising around in my silver convertible, I witnessed rainbow upon rainbow dancing across the lush mountains. It's easy to see why natives call Kauai the home of rainbows! The island is soo free -- not too commercialized or over run by tourists. Endless beaches flow up the east side, with water bluer than the sky.

We found incredible snorkeling on the south shore, with fish of all colors and sizes swirling around us. Urchins filled the tide pools made by protruding lava rocks. And, no joke, even the wild roosters enjoy trekking across the whitesand beaches.

We found a local fishing spot on the west side of the island, Saltpond Park, where we were told was awesome snorkeling. Fifteen minutes in the chilly water, barely able to see 2 feet in front of us due to the incoming tide and setting sun, my friend and I decided we'd take their word for it. Especially when the locals began describing the types of creatures they caught out there.

The fact that we were on vacation didn't seem to phase the weather -- it rained almost everyday, though the clouds would part for awhile in the afternoon. Needless to say, the rain made our Zipline Safari Tour quite the adventure! We kayaked, hiked and ziplined in some of the worst weather possible, making it feel like we were part of the show Lost or Survivor. Our young tour guides pointed out berries and nuts that we could eat, as well as a small purple flower that tasted like mushroom.

And it was amazing the number of stars you could see at night. Thousands of tiny bright lights glowed against the dark sky -- it was simply breathtaking. The whole experience was so incredible that a few of us looked up job openings, toying with the idea of staying through the end of summer, living the life of Blue Crush. Somewhere between eating pineapple cheeseburgers and boarding the cold plane, reality set in.

And now I'm back at the office, bikini and flip flops traded in for pants and heels. Soon the tan will fade and the winter chill will once again take its toll. Ohwell, it was all nice while it lasted ...