Sniff sniff, cough cough

The fam at one of Dad's many ceremonies...my gift to you, Dad?

Being able to enjoy springtime. Love always, Stacy

When I decided to move to Virginia back in 2004, the one thing I didn't think about was the pollen. The ridiculous cartoonish amounts of pollen that falls out of the trees this time of year. The pollen that coats every car in the neighborhood. The pollen that clogs ones windshield wiper sprayers, so your car can't even fight off the pollen. The pollen that causes my eyes to water, my ears to sound like I'm underwater, my throat to burn. Ahh...the first sinus infection of the season!

And as I was sitting at work this week, sniffling-sneezing-wheezing-coughing, I had a thought. Has anyone ever done a study on military dependents to see if they're more susceptible to allergies and sinus issues? I've heard the theories about eating local honey because it exposes you to the pollen that the local bees are eating, blah blah, and if you think that it works, then you're immediately buying into my theory that military kids are already prone to having worse allergies, because they're moving around from place to place during their childhood years.

Because I don't think there's a way I can capitalize off this theory, since I'm not a scientist or pharmacist, so I share the idea with you. Considering that two out of the three people I know with the worst allergies (J-Gib and me being two of them) are Army brats. Lived everywhere this side of Timbuktu. Theory PROVED. Please add that to the list of sacrifices made by military families.

On Donating

I donate my old clothes, right? It's not like I keep all of my clothes to myself forever. No. Once the old ones don't fit me or my style any longer, I donate them. To someone who needs them. To keep someone else warm and comfortable and fully clothed in public. It would be completely unnecessary of me to keep things I don't need from people who do, especially when I have the means to replace them.

I am taking this same logic with me this afternoon to the Red Cross. I'm not going to lie, I am nervous about it. But as my wise soon-to-be-former boss/mentor reminded me, "Think of why you're donating, not what you're doing while you're doing it." So at 4:30 today when I go to give my first donation in ten years, I won't be thinking about how I hate needles or how I hope I don't pass out. I'll be thinking about how someone in my local area means as much to their friends and family as dear Laura means to me.

Random Factuals of the Moment

- My company's new health plan had an incentive to register for a free pedometer to upload your daily steps, eventually leading them to give you a discount on your plan. Or something. I didn't care because I was blinded by the new pedometer...it's so beautiful. I've worn it every day since...even though it's pretty bulky on my waistband. I love the challenge. Today's count? Over 13,000.

- When we say goodnight to the babies each evening, J insists that Mary needs to hear her name both first and last. As in, I'll say, "Goodnight, Mary. Goodnight, Leo." And J will add, "Goodnight Mary." He says it comforts her. We end up giggling about it every single night.

- I had a work lunch today with a very interesting group of gentlemen, including a foreign liaison officer from Singapore. He was very, very smart and nice. I got to spin class tonight and lo and behold, there he was, on the bike next to me. I wonder how long we've been sitting next to one another without knowing it. He's better at jumps than I am.

- I've finally started reading "A Thousand Splendid Suns." It may be the best book I've read in years. I love it and don't want it to end. If anyone can recommend a book to help ease the pain, please share.

- When we were designing our wedding website, music was a huge decision. We needed one more song to add, and I wanted, "Heard it in a Love Song" by the Marshall Tucker Band. Yes I know it's actually anything BUT a love song, but it was also the first song on the radio when we got back in car after the hike when J proposed. :) Followed immediately by "Power of Love" by the one and only Celine Dion. Both songs now have a very special place in my heart. PS, he'll deny it now, but on that euphoric drive home, we both belted out that Celine song. 'Cuz I'm your laaaaaaaaaadyy......and you are my maaaaaaaaaaannnn.....

- I was heartbroken yesterday at some very, very upsetting work news and spent my evening in a seriously sad funk. Today I came home to a clean house full of good smells and a "German feast!" that J had prepared...and there was no more funk to be found.

- My friend was just certified to be a yoga instructor after a 15-day session in Arizona. She's a vegan now. With crazy-toned arms. So when she offered freebie classes to her gals this month I jumped at the opportunity. It was my first ever instructor-led yoga class and I loved it (yes I realize I'm 10 years late jumping on this bandwagon). I'm still sore from Tuesday night's class. Yay for making it into crow pose!

- I can't stop listening to "Cold December" by Matt Costa. It's been one of my highest play counts in iTunes for a few years now, but I've recently found myself on another kick.

- I'm going to Berkley's second birthday party next weekend. Cannot believe our wee baby niece is turning two...I remember meeting her when she was just a mere 8 days old. She's not really turning two though, since she was born on Leap Day, after all.

- My favorite water bottle broke yesterday at the gym. I mean, it really broke. I went to take a sip and it squirted ALLLL over the guy on the elliptical next to me. There was an awkward moment where we both just kind of slowed down, glanced at each other, and then went back to working out. On the hunt for its replacement, I could not find a perfect water bottle. I have two of the metal ones, yeah yeah, I'm over that trend**. As far as I'm concerned, they always make my water taste awful, I don't like the smell, and they're not easy to open when you're in motion. I think I could make a cool million designing a sturdy liter-sized BPA-free plastic bottle with a easy to open squeeze-y cap.

**No offense to those of you who enjoy the metal water bottles.

It's so ur-gent.

When I was in college, there was a funny little tradition with my girlfriends. Specifically Joanna. Whenever we'd come out of a movie or restaurant, we'd check our cell phones to see who'd called us. More often than not, it was usually zero. But being the wise crackers that we still are, we'd say, "Geez, FIVE missed calls???" It never got old.

So imagine my surprise when I was leaving work yesterday (Side note: Uncle Sam keeps my cell phone locked up farrrr away from my desk, so I usually check it once at lunch and then pick it up on my way out of the building), and I see that I've missed EIGHT calls? And THREE voicemails? And THREE "urgent messages"??? First off, I didn't even know what this crazy urgent text message sent from my voicemail was, but it brings me back to: someone way reeeeally trying to get a hold of me. And from an unknown number at that.

Just having made it through the conclusion of "Jetta: A VW in Crisis, part 83" I am still on edge when I receive phone calls from unknown numbers, especially during the day. That's when evil insurance companies (not my own!) like to do their bidding. I called my voicemail.

Urgent message 1. "Hi, umm, this is ________ from the City Treasurer's office. I need to speak with you about the license and paperwork you sent in for Leo last week. Please call me." Hmm...can't figure out what would be urgent there? Is Leo being deported? Have they found out this is his first city license in 5 years? Are they back-billing me?

Urgent messages 2 and 3 were quite similar, only the young man was audibly more nervous at the end of the workday. So I called him back. Do you know what that poor underpaid city employee told me? That he'd misplaced my check for Leo's license in what he kept reiterating as a change over to a "new process." And could I please, pretty please oh please, get a new check in the mail to him so he doesn't get in trouble?

Perhaps it was the fact that I was prepared for impending doom, perhaps it was because I was in a good mood at the end of the day, or perhaps it was knowing that this young man had spent his day agonizing over how this unknown person-on-paper would take this news. It isn't a commercial business, after all, where he could just comp me the $5...this is the City we're talking about. And I'm sure working in the Treasury office he's dealt with his fair share of REALLY PLEASANT PEOPLE.

After taking control of my giggles (seriously, this man was being so polite and I counted no less than 10 "I'm So Sorries!"), I said, "Don't worry about it, it's a Monday, things happen." And after about 10 "Thank Yous!" I got off the phone, chuckled a little more, and silently prayed that this little bit of humor, some patience and a dash of understanding would initiate the next round of good karma. Better yet in my case, Car-ma. Either way, Leo will be a legal man come Friday.

PT Woes: Part Seventy-Four

When my mom and I were getting in the PT Cruiser to go on a random errand the other day when I noticed some rust. A scratch. A few dents. As if something large and heavy had fallen on it. Perhaps a tree branch. Perhaps a tree branch during a recent Nor'easter. I didn't let it bother me. I went about my business, mentioned I'd call my best friend* soon and talk to them about it, especially since I haven't spoken to them in a few days. Put it right back out of my mind.

That is, until I called them today. And reported the "damage

" like a good samaritan. Guess how much it's gonna cost me? Oh, just my $500 deductible. When I originally got the Cruiser I was only supposed to have it for two weeks so I didn't accept any of their supplemental coverage. I'm still waiting for the silver lining in this PT Cruiser experience to show itself.

*USAA

(This is not "my" Cruiser, this is the Cruiser we took to Tennessee last year.

Have I mentioned I've rented 4 of them in my life?)

Out with the old

I got up this morning to start the process of swapping my summer/winter wardrobes, and in the process, filling up a load headed for the thrift store. Once I got my closet all nice and cleaned up, and a donation bag completely filled (seriously need to do this more often), I decided to tackle a more sensitive area in my closet: shoes and purses. Oh what a trip to the past...mostly to one place specifically -- Springfield, Missouri.

Here's what I found when cleaning out the 8 purses I'm donating:

- $30 in change. Seriously.

- Approximately 62 bobby pins, all of them the black variety as I had much darker hair in college -- J will be so excited there are more in the house! :)

- Not one, but TWO Harrah's rewards cards. Strange, I don't have any memories of ever being at a Harrah's...girls am I missing something?

- A one-inch by one-inch square picture of LEMonade's face -- I have no idea what this was about?

- A ticket stub from when we went to see Seinfeld.

- The ticket stub from going to see "The Notebook" at Campbell 16 Cine. Ahh I remember that night well. And for the record, it was June 25, 2004, in case you wanted to know.

- An ID card for blood donation -- that was before they decided I can't give blood anymore because I lived in Germany in a certain span of years.

- A punch card for Rock-n-Roll...no surprise there.

- About 10 half-used packs of gum.

- And possibly my favorite: a receipt Trolley's on May 11, 2004, for one Pineappletini and one Sunshine Wheat. I bet that was a fun night. :)

A Lesson in Law -- from a graphic designer

In five more days, it'll be a month since the car wreck I was in. Apparently I downplayed the severity, and people are still shocked to find I'm still tooling around in a rental car. Which means in five more days, that's right, my car will have also been gone for a month...and then some more. So in light of distracting myself from the pain and agony of driving a PT Cruiser, I'll share with you some new words I've learned through the accident/insurance/car repair process.

Subjugate: I don't know what this means other than something having to do with who pays for what. Anytime they say it to me I black out.

Diminution: As in "Diminution of Value" claim. More easily called "depreciation" because I cannot, for the life of me, pronounce "diminution." Say you have two Jettas. Same graphite blue, same lovely interior, same price, same everything. You find out one has been in an accident and had serious body repairs. Which one do you buy? The difference between the offer you pay for the unwrecked Jetta and what someone appraises my Jetta to be worth, that's the diminished value. Yes, I shall be filing a claim.

Tort: This is a refresher, guys, you remember this one from high school. Since future "father-at-law" had been giving me legal advice following the accident, it really inspired me to do some research on my own. Diminished Value claims fall under Tort Law. Or something.

Third Party: This is the ticket. When filing a DV claim, it's most assuredly tossed out when it's your own insurance company (AKA first party). But in my case, since I was hit by another person who was obviously breaking the law, her insurance company has accepted liability. Which means that when I file with her insurance company, it falls under a third party claim -- which they usually always pay. Because they just spent nearly $4,000 fixing your car. How can they tell you that didn't affect the value of your poor car that you officially bought a year ago last week?

I also fear I won't be able to drive a manual when Ludwig comes back.

Free Association

I watched two episodes of Jon and Kate + 8.  I love Jon and Kate + 8, by the way, seriously one of my favorite shows.  It made me think about how I can't wait to have like 8 of J's babies.  Or 2.  Or 1.  Or 8.

Speaking of J, he was at work tonight...so it was just me and the condo and the dogs and my thoughts.  I've been quite irritable this week so it was nice to have a night alone.  But when I called J to say goodnight and said if he gets off work after 2 or 3 could he please sleep in the guest room because I need my precious sleep, his response was, "But it's cold in there without you."  I missed him tonight.  And that's pretty big considering we've been on broke-people's budgets the past 2 weeks spending every minute not at work at home together.

I am so lucky in a lot of ways and one of the biggest is that I haven't lost very many people in my adult life.  Of my grandparents, I only have one living grandmother, so I've lost elders in my life, but I mean people around me in day-to-day life.  This past weekend one of my coworkers who had since moved on to a new job committed suicide.  It hit me harder than I'd expected.  Ever since I knew him I could sense an unrest in him, but it was a huge shock, and I think I was numb for most of the phone call when I found out.  Such a sad situation that is still leaving tragic ripples afterwards.  I haven't finished sorting through my thoughts on it, but I have to just say that yeah, I am still thinking about it.

For the amount of extreme exhaustion I've felt this past week, tonight is my first night solo.  I thought I'd go to bed early after a bath, perhaps with a book or my journal.  Here it is, half past 11 and I think I'm waiting up so that when J gets home I can hug him and tell him thank you. I put up a vinyl quote on my wall in my office tonight (another blog in itself) and it says, "May you live all the days of your life in love."  I think I picked it out of the 100 other choices because the other night when I was making dinner, J came up behind me as I chopped vegetables, kissed me on the back of my neck, handed me a cocktail that he'd made and said, "When we're ninety, I'm going to bring you a drink at cocktail hour just like Gramps does for Grams."  And even though it was a small statement, the sentiment behind it gave me goosebumps.  And for all the things that will happen between now and ninety-three, I am excited to experience them.  But for a second, I closed my eyes to try and catch a glimpse of us, God willing, talking about submarine races and politely demanding cheese and crackers at cocktail hour.  Old and weathered and gray and still thanking God every night for giving me this man.

Home Sweet Home

So after packing up everything we own, a couch being broken (and later replaced) by the movers as it was hoisted up over our balcony, all but one of our fish passed away (bless their hearts), and a few other heart-clenchers of this past week, J and I made it into our new home. So far so good. We love it. We're pretty sure it loves us, too, because it's cuter than ever. The dogs are happy (albeit Leo is still getting used to things. Translation: he barks at things) and they love the balcony, as do we. We worked our tails off this past week trying to get as much nesting in as possible.

Have to admit, it was hard to get myself up at 4AM yesterday for a week away from everything that's consumed my thoughts for the past month or so. I only had to endure a delayed flight from Detroit to Minneapolis which consequently made me miss my Minneapolis to KC flight, which landed me in the Breadbasket at 5pm vice noon thirty. But I was unscathed and luckily, taught well by my father, with luggage in hand since you'd be hard-pressed to catch me checking luggage. Even for a week's stay.

My parents picked me up swiftly, since they had an inkling I might go into shock since it was a crisp 7 degrees here, a sharp contrast from Virginia's 63. Whoa. But they brought me home, fed me, gave me wine, I romped about with Ruby (romp is a funny word, perhaps trampled-on is better--this is the biggest golden I've ever seen!), and watched some hi-def "Cold Case" by the fire with my mom and dad. Bliss. This is what it's like being home for me. Relaxation at its best. Snuggled up inside a warm house, resting above a snow-covered field (J, the back 40 is breath-taking), with my blanket-brandishing father always ready to cover me up, knowing I'm never too far from a nap.

My mother just ran over to Betty Nell's house to take her trash out for trash day tomorrow. The fact that my mother is basically a care-giver to her sickly little old widow friend amazes me every day. My mom is such an amazing woman who gets far too little credit for her enormous heart. We're running around today to help finish her Christmas shopping, and then later my sis and my g-ma are coming over for dinner.

I'll get to see my girls later this week/weekend, but for now, it's about spending time with my family. People who I didn't get to spend much quality time with over my summer trip. Sitting around, possibly playing a game of Mexican Train Dominoes, catching up, and reminiscing. As Ruby snoozes at my feet, I think I can hear my mom pulling into the garage. Off we go.

It's not you, it's me.

It started back when J and I had only been together a month or two.  We stopped by a neighborhood dive for a lager and were enjoying ourselves when we overheard the conversation of the couple seated next to us.  They were in the middle of a break-up.  He had cheated on her, but insisted it didn't mean anything.  There were tears and a really long awkward hug.

The awkwardness of that situation was once again realized when we were out celebrating a special occasion at a really nice (and romantic??) restaurant.  We were seated next to a couple who just weren't speaking to each other during their meals, and then decided to have it out after the check came.  They were ending things too.  You could tell they were going to continue that one after they stormed out.

Just tonight we were out walking the dogs and decided to stop at one of our favorite sandwich shops where we can sit out on the patio with the poochies.  While J was inside ordering a grilled veggie sub and philly cheese steak (I'll let you figure out which was mine), I couldn't help but overhear the conversation of the couple next to us.  It wasn't hard; this girl was practically yelling.  It was obviously a terrible conversation to be having, believe me, I don't think back on those days fondly.  But what was interesting was listening to this poor girl.  She was trying to reason with him about why he should stay with her, and not the OTHER girl he was leaving her for.  She kept asking him why.  Why not her.  Why the other woman?  It broke my heart listening to it.

We discussed our tendencies to sit next to couples in the process of ending their relationship, and it's happened to us at least four times, possibly five.  It's kind of an odd occurrence and we recognize this, but it also makes us remember how lucky we are and we should never take that for granted.  We've both been in that poor girl's shoes.  We've both been dumped.  We both know the pain of having someone tell you that no, you're not the right choice.  But the thing I couldn't help but think as we walked away with our matching mid-size rescued mutts, the thing I wish I could've told that girl is that you should just leave him now.  Because you can't get here from there.

A good laugh

My pal Joanna and I used to send each other hilarious church sign quotes...ya know the kind.  "God answers knee-mail" and the such.

Well, today I passed what has to be my new favorite.

"God loves you...and He approves this message."

Who said I haven't updated?

Two of my great gal pals mentioned to me in the past two days that I haven't been updating my blog regularly. Well, take this: three posts in one day! A little something I stole:

i am: trying to empty my brain so I can sleep
i think: Leo's paws smell amazing...just like Frito's
i know: how special I am to have so many great friends
i want: to stop worrying so much. About every.little.thing.
i have: no idea what my life would be like if I hadn't moved to Virginia
i wish: I had more PTO so I could take a longer trip home next week!
i hate: when people chew loudly
i miss: seeing my best friends every day
i fear: many, many things; some rational, some irrational
i feel: the muscles in my arms getting stronger
i hear: Leo snoring softly on my bed
i smell: smoke from the wildfires in North Carolina...nature is such an amazing and terrifying thing
i crave: Rita's custard...mmm
i search: for my tiny clear hair-ties all day every day...why don't I just buy the black ones?
i wonder: why people think they have to settle?
i regret: living so many years of my life not being myself for fear that people wouldn't like me
i love: hearing "Goodnight, baby girl" every night before I fall asleep
i ache: from my incredible workout yesterday
i care: too much about what some people think sometimes...I'm working on that
i always: have Chap Stick on my person. The blue variety.
i am not: going to be ready to come back from my trip home next week
i believe: I've been incredibly blessed by meeting such a loving man who knows *me*
i dance: around my room in the morning when I get dressed
i sing: in cars, in showers, sometimes by accident at the gym
i don’t always: return calls when I should
i fight: back the urge to speak my mind when it isn't appropriate
i write: when it tickles my fancy, and I should start really writing again
i win: trivia games
i lose: my freckles every fall
i never: leave my house without saying, "I'll be back, Leo."
i confuse: my coworkers when I say things like "negative space"
i listen: to white noise when I sleep...it centers me
i can usually be found: picking up after J and the dogs
i am scared: of something bad happening to my loved ones
i need: to a better job staying in touch with my people
i am happy about: the way my life has turned around in one year's time

Reasons I know my boyfriend is smarter than me

Because we're almost 70 years old, we bought a crossword puzzle book. It just sits around, and we'll flip through and answer the ones we know. And then it'll sit around a while longer, and then one of us will try and answer the ones the other didn't know. I get very few of these correct. J, however, got this one:

Clue: Do the Wright thing (6 letters).

Answer: Aviate

I mean, I get it now, but I never would've gotten that one. And all the other ones around it were blank. He's a genius, I tell you.

A change of tee shirt

In preparation for departure on Wednesday, we both agreed to make some CDs for the trip. I decided that since we're headed to Tennessee, and since we'll be driving through such famously country-esque places like Roanoke, Chattanooga, and Johnson City, I'll be returning to my roots: COUNTRY! And as I flipped through my old CDs to compile an awesome mix of George Strait, the Chicks, and others, I started seeing some other CDs that made me a little misty-eyed.

These were CDs entitled, "608 New Hall Soundtrack," "Spring Break NOLA," and "PCB Mix." Special soundtracks we had crafted to capture our emotions of the moment, or to provide us with tunes for a trip. And they were compiled by 4 girls between 4 and 8 years ago, and they included songs like Born in the USA, Benny and the Jets, and that dang Crash Test Dummies song. They were songs that demanded we sang along, or pumped our fists in the air. Mind-boggling, isn't it? I'm celebrating my 4-year graduation anniversary this week, and it is crazy to think in those terms. Not so much where I am in my life now, but where I used to be.

Aside from the fact that I was dating a sociopath who broke my heart every other week and I refused to listen to reason (and our solution for this was the "Man-hater CD"), I remember being ecstatic all the time. I had the best friends a girl could ask for, and what's even better, is I still have them. Every day was an adventure...and 9 times out of 10 it was an adventure that required we made new t-shirts for the trip. And if that wasn't enough, sometimes we purchased t-shirts when we got there, too.

By the time I left school, I had a delicious array of shirts proudly proclaiming where we'd been, and what we'd done. The Endymion Ball in New Orleans, the Elvis Presley hot spots tour en route to Panama City Beach...even one that said "I suck heads" on the front--HEY, HEY, now, we were talking about crawfish in Louisiana, sick-o!

As I am getting ready to set out as "Queen of the Open Road" with a new roadtrip partner, I keep thinking it's just too bad we don't have matching customized outfits to wear. As I crawl into bed in a few minutes wearing my Graceland t-shirt, just know that I'm thinking about you guys tonight. And I miss you so much it hurts to breathe. Well, that, and my new roadtrip partner farts a lot.

Lallie Beth -- fashionable baby extraordinaire

I had such a wonderful day yesterday. I left work at 1 and met my dear friend Lex and her gorgeous 12 week old baby girl Lallie Beth for a shopping date. I wish I'd taken pictures...sigh. Little Lallie Beth is not only seriously adorable, but she was quite the lady, with only one small fuss session. But once mama taught me how to hold her to alleviate her gas pains, Lallie was just fine! It was so much fun pushing her bright red Mutsy around the mall, being Alexe's baby-pusher while she had some mommy shop time as I gladly ogled the sleeping baby.

After we parted ways, I of course gushed all night to J about how lovely Lallie Beth is, and how lucky Alexe' and Andy are. And how when the time comes (read: several several years from now) it's going to be so much fun to have one, too. One of the truly fantastic things about my boyfriend is that he shares my excitement for the future. There are no more "ifs." Only "whens."

One thing I regrettably did not get to do was buy some mini-me things for Lallie Beth before they had to go home. My first baby clothes shopping experience was in February, and whoa, I almost didn't make it out of there alive, because everything was too dang cute. The bumblebee onesie was the one that got me all choked up, and in J's words, "You don't have a baby to wear the clothes you want to buy, you buy clothes for the baby you already have." Sooo...I guess until that day comes, you buy clothes for the babies around you. And for me, that's Lallie Beth, Berkley, and the much-anticipated arrival of Baby Winstead.

December 14, 2005

This is an entry from my myspace blog on the above date. I had just had my car broken into and the associated negativity was ruining my karma so I was trying to be positive in making this list. It's funny for me to read now, because although a great majority are still true, there are a few that are so long gone, that just make me giggle. Namely, #13.

1. I say "God bless you!" to my dog when he sneezes, which is actually quiet often.
2. If I'm in the car with someone who's going into a gas station, I always ask them to get me a cherry Jolly Rancher lollipop.
3. When paired with Mia, I can eat three baskets of chips at Guads.
4. 80% of the people in my life have no idea how I got the scar on my arm.
5. I think I was born 10 years too late.
6. My favorite smell is gasoline.
7. I will cut off my nose to spite my face, again and again.
8. I actually know what that saying means.
9. I've listened to "Put Your Lighters Up" by Lil Kim three times in a row now.
10. One of the things I'm most excited about doing on my trip home is eating wings at Adobe with Laura.
11. I believe I have some psychic tendencies.
12. When my car was broken in to, (ok, one mention of the unfortunate incident) I had exactly 10 pairs of shoes in my car.
13. I honestly believe the man I'm supposed to end up with is currently married and I'll meet him right after he's been separated from his wife.
14. I whistle all the time but it really annoys me when other people do it.
15. Wet toilet paper on the floor of a public restroom triggers my gag reflex faster than, well, anything.
16. If a relationship with a guy came down to whether or not I'd make Leo stop sleeping on my bed, I'd choose stinky Leo.
17. If life were so awesome that you could have a song play whenever you entered a room (think, "Can't Hardly Wait"), mine would be, "My Best Friend's Girl," by The Cars.
18. I do not think 3 tattoos is nearly enough.
19. I've never seen a single "Rocky" or "Star Wars" movie. And after people freaked out about that, I started avoiding them for the matter of principle.
20. Joannie, I don't know if you read my blogs, but I still miss your mother's lumpia.
21. I go days at a time without listening to my voicemails.
22. I am a firm believer in signs, so much so that I can spend hours discussing them.
23. My favorite word is 'actually' and I say it wayyyy too much.
24. This morning, I took pictures of a wild turkey eating berries on a bush outside my office.
25. If I'm channel surfing, and the movie "Showgirls" (starring the ever-talented Jessie Spano) is on, I have to stop. It's like a train wreck that you can't stop staring at even though it is awful to watch.
26. Sometimes I wish I was Carmella Soprano...actually, most of the time.
27. Despite all the BS, I've never been happier than I am at this very moment.

Reflecting

One of the perks of living close to the largest military conglomeration known to man is that occasionally my father comes out here for business. He's in town for the next day and a half and so we met for dinner tonight. That was much-needed therapy. Just to have my dad in my car, across from me at the table, sitting on my couch, it was all very much appreciated tonight. Getting a hug from my most favorite man in the world was a very nice cap on my saddening day. Have I mentioned how awesome my father is?

In honor of the fact that tomorrow is my 4-year anniversary as a dog owner, I thought I'd share

some progress I'm having with the Cesar book. A recurring theme in his book is that whether you like it or not, dogs are a mirror of their owner (with severe behavioral issues aside). And sometimes you need to figure out what you're projecting on your dog or your environment to help with their issues. I don't really think that I am that much of a worry wort (lie) but I think I am guilty of anticipating Leo to act a certain way, therefore putting the energy "out there" for him to behave accordingly. So there's a huge chance that Leo acts like a crazy watch-dog spaz because I expect him to. I anticipate him to bark at a loud noise, and perhaps am giving off that energy instead of the energy saying, "It's all cool, Leo, I'm not worried, so you shouldn't be either." Currently working on achieving this kind of mythical energy.

Leo is stretched out on my bed listening to me type, only opening his eyes when I stop typing. It's times like these where I cannot imagine the last 4 years of my life without him, and all I want to do is rub my face on his face and smell his Frito paws. I think tonight I'll cuddle with a dog who changed my life, who gave me my independence, who made me realize a lil ole gal from Kansas can pick up and move out on her own and actually be ok. And I am, for the record.

As we stroll along together...

Tonight J and I took the dogs on a loooong walk through his neighborhood. It's one of my favorite things to do with him, and the fact that spring has sprung excites me to no end. Halfway through, both of the dogs are content and we can finally just enjoy our stroll, and so we continue on to our next favorite pasttime: talking about houses as we pass them. We love to discuss what kinds of features will be in our dream home (Her: luxurious dark wood floors and oil-rubbed bronze appliances, Him: a flat-top grill in a gourmet kitchen--don't get too excited, it's so he can make huge piles of bacon all at once!), and yes, we both get paid in circus peanuts now, we like to think someday it'll be a reality.

I go back and forth from feeling like this man who holds my hand is really an extension of me, that we share the same thoughts and heart and feelings, and other times I'm fascinated by our differences. After a few blocks on our walk, he says, "Come this way, I want to show you something..." and he led me down a street we have walked down 2,000 times, but this time was new. The sidewalks were lined with dozens of tiny beautiful white flowers...flowers I'm sure I've seen before, but never...noticed. "Star of Bethlehem" he tells me, and he wanted me to see how they'd bloomed so suddenly. And honestly, at that moment, I know they were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Proud to be an Awarican

This past weekend, my boyfriend and I had a Michael Moore Marathon. After he got over his shock of the fact I had never seen a MM documentary (except for Roger and Me, which was pretty much demanded of you in high school), we rented Bowling for Columbine and Sicko. Now, can I just say that about halfway through both of these movies, I just started feeling an icky feeling of un-American-ness?

Having grown up in a proudly Republican and military household, I practically came out of the womb knowing it's not an option to put your hand over your heart when you hear the Star-Spangled Banner...it's the law. So dealing with thoughts like, "Honey, let's move to France," didn't necessarily make me feel the warm red, white, and blue fuzzies. I started questioning why.

I think lately, something that's really been upsetting me is the amount of crazies that keep waking up and deciding, "Hmm, today I'm going to kill at least five or six other people before I blow my head off." Random acts of violence scare me more than just about anything in this life, you know. Just last night we were discussing the most recent mass shooting that occurred in a Wendy's. A Wendy's. Not an abortion clinic, not a church, not a court building, not the usual list of places that get ignorant and/or deranged people all fired up. This is both sickening and absolutely frightening to me.

Bowling for Columbine made me question which came first, the chicken or the mass shooting? Are these shootings the results of a previous shooting being covered in the media hoising the shooter into the public eye, or would they have happened anyway? I can't decide if they are happening at a more rapid pace, or if they are just making bigger headlines. One thing I did agree with Michael Moore about was that we as Americans are a fearful nation. We are afraid of everything and everyone, even our neighbors. My mother raised me to believe that if you left your driveway without locking your car doors, there was a fairly good chance the world would end before you reached your destination. I have been known to get up out of my bed in the middle of the night to check, for the third time, that my front door is locked. One can never have too many deadbolts.

I asked J if he thought it was better to be unaware of the constant stream of horrible headlines that the media sees as newsworthy thus reinforcing our fear, or if it's better to be educated about our surroundings even if they happen to be filled with the evil acts of evil people. He said, "I think it's better that you're aware. You're an aware American, and I think that's a good thing."

And while I do get some personal satisfaction of being able to keep up with current affairs, I can't help but wonder if instead of reading the news religiously everyday, if I got up and walked around outside and looked at all of the wondrous things in our surroundings that the Lord has provided for us...I just wonder if it help make one Awarican just a little less aware of her fears.

A passion lost, a passion found

A long, long time ago I used to write in my journal every single day. Sometimes twice. Somewhere along the lines my daily writings became less and less of a priority until, poof, one day I realized I couldn't remember the last time I sat down and completely emptied my brain of words.

Today was that day.