Month: November 2012
What makes a night perfect? Let me indulge you for just a minute or two…
Spending as much time as I want roaming the aisles of Barnes and Noble (and getting an approving nod from several guys as I checked out the Star Wars and Lord of the Rings book sections), splitting a burger and fries with my sister, and enjoying a cold pale ale.
I’m a happy clam right now. Plus I have a new Hunger Games calendar to peek at while watching Love Actually for the first time this holiday season. Throw in an iced tea and a bowl of ice cream, and I’m crawling into bed with a wide smile on this face.
Why was tonight so great? I really don’t know. It was leisurely. There was good food. I was surrounded by shelf after shelf of new books just waiting to be cracked open. Every once in a while I’d catch a whiff of coffee from the Starbucks shop off over my shoulder. There were several good-looking men who apparently never realized a girl could be into really geeky things (Hello? I’m the Modern Jedi 😉 )
Now I’m watching The Office (I still can’t believe its the final season!), and I’m giggling my butt off. I may or may not still have some of that beer left in my system.
It was simply nice to sit down with my sister and talk about things, like the wedding of the year, the groomsmen of the wedding, the jerks I’ve dated in the past couple of months (okay, not all of them were jerks, but a majority), places we want to travel in the next year, how I’m doing in the professional world, how if I’m not married by the age of 32 how I’m heading down to the sperm bank and choosing the future father of my child, and things my sister wants to improve upon in her new house.
“Maybe it will take a woman to clean up the House.”
Nancy Pelosi, a Congressional leader, has always been at the top of my Awesome Ladies List, even though not too many people can be counted among the ranks of her fans. She’s a ballsy lady. She took the lead of Congress, and quite frankly, made men step back and listen to a new perspective.
Trust me. My vision of being the Press Secretary to POTUS? Still very much alive. They need more of a female touch throughout the government. I’m talking the entire federal system, and they need women who haven’t shut down their emotional sides. Women who feel, hear the words being spoken to them, but those also not afraid to swing a heeled foot at a man’s crotch seam when he over steps his boundaries using the reason “he’s a man using his God-given right.”
Men and women were created equal. Oh, wait. No we weren’t. We have the capability of carrying a child inside us for 9 months and then pushing anywhere from 7-13 lbs of a screaming, crying baby out of ourselves. Men and women were not created equally. If men could give birth, I don’t think they’d be quite as obnoxious when it came to PMS.
I really shouldn’t be so mean towards men. But, given past experience near and far, it’s hard to have a different view of them. The same could be said for the other side. Ugh, why do I always get caught up on this topic?
Old habits are incredibly hard to break. I’m working on it.
These fits of frustration and anger towards no one in particular need to end, and they need to end now.
They come completely out of nowhere, too. Well, that’s not entirely true. Lately, I’m set off my the littlest sign of affection between two people clearly in love with each other or clearly enjoying the genuine flirtation of another human being towards them. The worst? When I’m in a room and my sister decides to start macking on her husband. Yes, I realize they are newlyweds and this is totally acceptable behavior. When my lucky day comes when I get to walk through my front door and come home to a delicious hunk of men, I hope I do the same thing.
But right now? Not only does it make me want to chuck a teacup at the back of their heads, but I also want to vomit. After the wave of nausea passes, I then proceed to sulk out of the room. I could exit with my own theme music blaring through the room, and I bet you they wouldn’t even notice. So now what have I started to do? Whenever they happen to enter the room I’m inhabiting, I just slip out. Unless I’m cooking. I can’t exactly leave the stove on with a pot of soup about to boil over.
I knew this was going to happen. It was bound to. It’s not like I didn’t have enough forewarning. But lately, I just can’t handle. Why? Oh, I don’t know…Maybe because another member of the male race reared his ugly head and proved just how downright awful men can be. Now, let me stop you. I’m not saying all men are scum. Not true. Each of my sisters has found a gem, and they better hold on to them with all their might.
Me? I’m keeping the scum occupied so every other woman on this planet can find their true, genuine soul mate while I’m left in the dust wondering what the hell just happened.
“Good judgement comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgement.”
Rita Mae Brown, a high-profile book writer, where were you when I started to get all interested in this dating business? Where were you to shake my shoulders like the demon devil himself was festering inside of me? To be fair, I can’t really say no said ‘I warned you.’ There were plenty of warnings. I simply made the decision to “have fun” and see where the wind would take me, but even “having fun” starts to wear on a person’s soul pretty heavily.
Is this going to be the never-ending story to my love life? I really hope not.
The fact is, I let myself be happy for a few minutes. I was aware I was letting my guard down, and as I walked to my car one night, I felt it all trickle in. I felt the ooey-gooiness take over, and I reminded myself not to feel like that. Something was bound to happen (the wise and powerful Force speaks loudest when we need to really hear something). So I made a choice. I allowed myself the drive home to smile like an idiot, to sing wildly to the songs on the radio, and fall onto my couch with an equally ooey-gooey romantic comedy to settle down for the night.
Not even ten minutes after I hit play, I read a text message that I had forewarned myself against. Good thing I was prepared, and my defenses weren’t far behind. What I couldn’t prepare for? Two days later, it was like walking through a door someone booby-trapped with a bucket of water. Drenched and unsuspecting, I sat staring at the text messages on my phone, and vowed right then and cut off all ties.
God and I had a very serious talk that night. I told him I was done with duds. I was done with being run over and taken and being thought of as a piece of pie. I am done with putting in too much with no hope of getting anything back in return. I told him a few choice words, too.
The best part? Once I was done, I didn’t feel frantic, scared, or worried I would never find my match. Instead, I felt incredibly calm, like God was patting me on the back, saying “No worries, girl. I got your back. Until then, you’re going to be okay. Promise.”
I sure hope you’re right, G-man.
How was your Thanksgiving?
Mine was awesomely fantastic, and I really want to go back and relive the long weekend. It’s so heartbreaking not knowing the next time I might see my entire family all together in one single place again. It will happen, there’s no doubt about that, but as to when? It’s a major mystery to be sure.
Instead of dwelling on what may not come, I shall recap the highlights of the glorious weekend:
Thursday: Woken up by a 6-year-old boy jumping on me screaming “Happy Thanksgiving!”. Changing into my newest purple sweater (Thanksgiving is always a sweater holiday). Playing Mario Cart with my nephew until lunch was ready. The BIG Thanksgiving feast of turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes. Falling into a food coma. Exchanging family Christmas presents (I got a new pair of pjs and a gift card.) Played more Mario Cart, and then fell into a very deep sleep.
Friday: Coffee with my girls at the breakfast table. My niece Lizzie fell down and bonked her head pretty good, and started to cry from a combination of pain and tiredness, and when I picked her up, she promptly fell asleep on my shoulder (I heart little baby cuddles!) Pizza for dessert and a Wii dance party (Note to others…It’s a good idea to wear a bra when playing this game.)
Saturday: My morning to cook breakfast for 14 people. Total success! My nephew Avery actually complimented my scrambled eggs and he never, ever eats eggs. We exchanged knucks. Played a few board games with my family. Drank our holiday slushie while eating tacos for dinner. Wrote my latest guest blog. Chased my nephew Aidan and spooked him after his idea of “hiding” was laying on the floor behind Lizzie’s new pink Princess Shopping Cart. Watched my godson Domanick for my brother and laughed until I cried when he pulled apart a toy potato (held together my velcro) and then growled like a bear after he succeeded.
Sunday: Early morning coffee with the girls again. Took care of my 2nd godson and instead of getting upset with me, he simply fell asleep in my arms. For an hour, and it was wonderful. Ate a huge breakfast. Went upstairs and packed up all my bags, made my bed, and started the tearful goodbyes. (No one ever thought I would be the blubber of the family, but guess what? I am.) Slipped Josh Groban’s Noel into the car CD player. Drove through numerous snow flurries. Made it back in time to unpack, watch a movie or two, and fall asleep to end the weekend.
Can I do it all over again? Puh-leeeze?
“Human beings are sloshing sacks of chemicals on the move.”
Diane Ackerman, a noted naturalist, sure knows how to make a girl feel good about herself. Especially one who is already a big ball of tears every time something upsets or moves her in a new way. I hate to admit it, but I cry more often than not. I don’t think there is a movie out there that I haven’t cried at.
Literally cannot concentrate on any one thing for more than 5 seconds right now.
No, I don’t have ADHD. Okay, so I might a little bit, but I’m not on medication or anything so clearly I am not one of these so-called “short attention span” victims. Ugh, my heart is literally racing right now. What’s the deal? And now *just like that* I am sweating profusely. What is up with me right now?
I may be having a caffeine attack…except I had milk for lunch. Hmmm lack of caffeine possibly? I had a smoothie for breakfast, a cereal bar to hold me over until lunch, and then for lunch I had a turkey sandwich…and I haven’t had anything since. A mint. I had a mint. Those are like .00006 % caffeine. So what is going on here?
I realize I should put the forewarning out there again that I will not be writing for a few days. I’ll be heading back home for the quickly approaching holiday of Thanksgiving, and will be out with no laptop around me. Honestly? I’m looking forward to being able to plop down with a book and a handful of magazines, and then maybe get some writing done at the same time. While I miss having a laptop, and hopefully will have a new one soon, I don’t mind the disconnection from the internet 24/7. I like being able to break away, and I fear once I own a laptop again, I won’t be able to break myself away from it long enough to acknowledge that I live in the real world. Isn’t that a scary thought?
These racing emotions might be due to the fact that I have a last-minute date which was prompted from a message of ‘I have to see you before you head out for Thanksgiving.’
Doesn’t this make a thought or two race across your mind? Why ‘must’ he see me? I know we’ve hit off on the last few dates we’ve been on, but I didn’t think it warranted we were on a ‘must’ see each other basis before heading out for the holiday break. Maybe we’re not on the same page? I should bring that up tonight…HA! No I shouldn’t. We’ve been on a handful of dates, and I was honestly settled with the idea of not seeing him until next week sometime…but now this changes things a little bit. Not dramatically, but it changes things.
Either that, or he’s looking for a way into my pants. Not going to happen, broski. (Yes, I did just use the word broski.)
“In adult life I discovered that November was, astrologically speaking, the month of sex, death, and regeneration, and that November First was the Day of the Dead. It still wouldn’t have been much good for birthday parties, but it was just fine for poetry, which tends to revolve a good deal around sex and death, with regeneration possible.”
I like the way you think, Margaret Atwood, a Canadian literary sensation. The dream I had last night? Totally falls underneath the columns of Death and Regeneration. Maybe a little sex…eh, not really. There were flames, but not of the heart and loins.
“I’m walking across a prestigious looking college campus (Think Yale or Harvard) and there’s a small group of people following behind me. We’re decked out in black attire, my hair is loose around my face, and there’s something clanking against my leg every time I take a step. I look down and I’m carrying a rather large rifle in my hands (WTF? is my first though immediately. Seriously, what am I doing with a giant rifle in my hands?)We’re not trying to conceal ourselves, we’re not hiding, but we are walking with purpose.
One of my teammates turns to me, and says, “Oh, hey. I meant to return this to you earlier.” He hands me a silver spoon with a blue handle. (This is the SAME EXACT spoon I’ve been carrying around in my work bag for the past couple weeks because I keep forgetting to return it to the work space kitchen. Weird…) I thank him, when suddenly a siren goes off. Oh my God, it’s happening. The negotiations or whatever didn’t go well, someone shouts behind me, and suddenly we’re running like I’ve never ran before. The rooftop lines erupt with gunfire from people I had not noticed, and my black-clad brethren and I are breaking for a stone wall a couple hundred yards in front of us. Somehow, I know this is the safe zone from what is coming. (How I know what’s coming, I have no freaking clue…My subconsious is really, really smart sometimes.)
The ground shakes underneath my feet, and I fall to the ground. Looking over my shoulder, I see a bright whitish-yellow mushroom cloud burst upwards into the dark night sky, and my heart drops as I realize I have not only fallen behind everyone in my team, but I’m not even close to the “safe” wall and if I don’t make a move now, I’m probably going to die. There’s a whitish-yellow wall of hot smoke rushing towards me, and instead of running forward, I turn and run for a cobblestone veranda hut off to my left. Instead of running full-out, my body suddenly feels like frozen rubber and it takes immense effort to put one leg in front of the other at a running pace. (Picture this…If you’ve seen either of the Sherlock Holmes movies starring Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law, it’s like the effect of the fight scenes and when they’re running through the woods amongst machine gun fire. Suuuuuper slow and you can see every single muscle ripple beneath the skin, the air blowing the hair from my face, the fabric of my shirt creasing against my body…all of it in Hi-Def and slow-mo.)
Somehow, I make inside the hut and leap for my life behind the cobble-stoned wall, and I hit the ground hard. The blast erupts over the top of me as I curl into the fetal position and hug the wall as tightly as my body will allow. It’s hot and I can feel the wind against my ears. It hurts, and all I can think is “I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead.” (The whitish-yellow light was really beautiful, if you can throw that thought in there, too.)
It grows quiet very quickly. Carefully, I stand up. No one shoots at me, no one fires. Or breathes. Or moves. It’s eerily quiet. All I see if blackness and charred stone from the building that barely stands before me. I hadn’t noticed, but chunks of cobblestone lay around me, blackened and broken. No longer the proud maroons and greys it once was a mere few seconds ago. I look behind me and see the “safe” wall still stands, but no one has emerged from behind it yet. (Pulling into he parking lot at work this morning? Same eeriness and it creeped me out!)
I adjust my hat, look around me again, but still don’t see a living being. I walk the short distance to where I dropped my rifle prior to the blast, pick it up, and cock it once. Somehow, it still works just fine despite sitting in the direct blast path. I take one deep breath, raise the rifle to my shoulder, and walk towards the “safe” wall.”
I may have watched the Red Dawn trailer starring Chris Hemsworth a little too much last night. Dark, and very, very creepy when I got out of my car and there was NOTHING to be heard around me except for my own breathing. Then, we had an emergency evacuation test run this morning in the office, and that did not help my mindset. Not after a dream like that.
It’s not going to be so dark anymore because Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I’m going to be with my family. So enjoy the start to the holiday season, and enjoy the crap out of your families. I don’t get to see them hardly enough, and the food! I’m drooling already. Be safe in your travels, and I shall see you around, my fellow Jedi.
Until I return…May the Force be with you!
I have felt like death for the past 12 hours, and it’s not because I’ve been drinking.
Well, I was drinking, but not to the point where I am throwing my guts up in the morning. My female body as turned against me as it is that special time of the month. I HATE this time of the month. Plus I’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for almost 36 hours, and my feet are starting to hate me as much as my lower abdomen is. I haven’t been able to bring myself into the bathroom quite yet, either, so my mouth is tasting rather funky still.
The joys of beings an awesome lady!(Are you grossed out yet?)
Yesterday I had brunch with a group of ladies I used to work with and it was a melancholy reason why we were getting together to share memories and have a few laughs. One of our past coworkers, someone who was my direct manager, is dying. Breast cancer decided to take it toll on her, and there was a brief amount of time where we thought it had all been beat. We weren’t so lucky. It’s now spread into her brain and spine, and doctors are giving her from a few weeks to a few months to live. Chills still wrack my body thinking about this sudden mark of death. Less than three months ago, she was walking around our office, a big smile on her face, saying ‘Aloha’ to everyone while bringing us a granola parfait because she knew how many of us are awful at eating a good breakfast in the morning.
Why her? Why someone like her? It’s a question we’ll never have an answer to, and it makes me incredibly sad knowing I’ll open my email one morning, and there will be the final email telling us all the bad news. I’m not looking forward to that moment.
You don’t realize how much someone as affected your life until they are gone. Such a sad reality of life, but so so true. She’s taught me a lot over the years, and she’s seen me grow from an awkward Academy freshman to s confident, ready – to -take-on -the – world super senior. There’s another teacher about life i will greatly miss, and his name is Mr. Feeny.
“I’m not a witch.”
Christine O’ Donnell, a Tea Party politician, speaks the words many woman must feel like proclaiming when they are being attacked for expressing beliefs that make sense to dozens of other people. I’m sure Feeny himself had this thought run through his head a million and a half times as student complain and hate his guts.
There are a handful of lessons Mr. Feeny has taught us throughout the years, and I’m sure my supervisor only capitalized off of them the longer I worked with her. I’m sure you’ve all had a mentor, or more than one, at some point in your life, and they’ll touch on a variety of things that will stay with you long after you and they part ways.
Here is what I have learned from several greats in my short lifetime — and I’m sure there are plenty more to come.
1.) What a true hero is: “But, to me, a real hero is someone who does the right thing when the right things isn’t the easy thing to do.”
2.) Take risks: “Sometimes a sure thing is not the best thing.”
3.) Be yourself: “If you let people’s perception of you dictate your behavior, you will never grow as a person.”
4.) Don’t worry about what other people think: “Unfortunately, we live in a society where they tell us we have to look a certain way, so we’re all under pressure to live up to unrealistic expectations.”
5.) Life is crazy: “We live in a random and chaotic universe.”
6.) Technology should benefit you, not distract you: “Gutenberg’s generation thirsted for a new book every six months! Your generation gets a new web page every six seconds. And how do you use this technology? To try and beat King Koopa, and rescue the princess. Shame on you. You deserve what you get.”
7.) Family can be anyone: “You don’t have to be blood to be family.”
8.) All about love: “There is no greater aspiration than to have love in our live.”
9.) What friendship is: “Friendship, for example, is a real gift. It’s given with no expectations and no gratitude is needed, not between real friends.”
10.) You can change the world: “See, it’s not enough to leave school and just desire to succeed in this cold, cruel world. Because then you’ve simply become a part of it. You must also have the desire to change it. And to change it, you’ll need your fine mind, and his good heart.”
11.) That the things you hate the most might just be the things that mean the most: “Sometimes the things we complain about most are things you care about most. Unfortunately, we don’t always know that until it’s too late.”
12.) Do good: “Believe in yourselves, dream, try. Do good.”
My prayers and thoughts are with my supervisor more and more each day, and I send out a wash of prayers to those who have suffered or who are suffering through this same fate. To put it bluntly, it sucks and it’s not going to be better for some time.
May the Force be with us all.
Ode to he who will become my future mate, my other half, the Han to my Solo. This is for him (whomever HE may be):
Let’s get something straight right off the bat. I’m not perfect. Neither are you. So now that we have that cleared from the air, you need to understand just how awesome I am and how awesome I’m going to treat you because of who you are.
Who are you, you might ask? You are my other self. You are me possibly in male form. You are what romantics call my soul mate. Was it love at first sight? I surely hope so, but at this point in time, until I have the ring on my finger and I’m telling some handsome devil ‘I do,’ I don’t know who “you” are exactly yet.
Still…I know how wonderfully I’m going to treat you.
Pizza, beer and football? You got it. The occasional surprise shower buddy? I’m all over it. Letting you have your guys night? Me and my girls have a few place to head ourselves.
Tell me your favorite meal. I’ll cook it at least once a month, just the way you like it. Every time I go shopping, I always keep a sharp eye for that certain color that brings out the color in your eyes that I love so much, and when I find the perfectly colored shirt, you better know I’m going to bring home to you. I want my honey looking good!
As can be expected, if I’m treating you this wonderfully all the time, the favor is expected to be returned.
Another thing to clear from the air? I have high standards. Having high standards can sometimes mean I’m pushy, slightly hysterical, and nit-picky about the tiniest of details. If you don’t notice my hair cut, new dress, or kiss me every once in a while just because, I’m going to notice and probably get a touch upset over it.
I may cry. I might yell. I might swear up and down I’m going to end everything between the moment you step out that door. It’s possible I might call you 95 times in order to make sure everything is okay between us after a major fight.
However, I will never go to bed angry at you. Even if I am angry at you when I roll over to close my eyes, I’ll still kiss you good night and tell you how much I love you. I’ll still pour you juice in the morning, and pick up a copy of your favorite magazine when I know you have nothing planned for you Sunday afternoon.
“That’s what I love you for: your inability to perceive all my hideous flaws.”
I couldn’t sum it up any better than Audrey Niffenegger, novelist, in The Time Traveler’s Wife, already has.
The point is, I will love you through everything. I can only hope and pray that you’ll love me through it all too; the serious and the silly. The Star Wars marathons, the endless nights where I struggle to figure out the next plot point my one of my many novel plots, the menstrual cycle induced ice cream binges. Real down and dirty fights, the ups and downs of trying to get pregnant, temptation from others (let’s face it, we’re both going to be amazingly good-looking), losing the baby weight, keeping our love life spicy, and growing old together without breaking a hip.
I want it all. As Noah said in The Notebook, “Well that’s what we do, we fight… You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you’re back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing.”
I imagine that’s exactly how we’ll be, and I don’t want it any other way.
Ode to my future mate, my husband, my lover, my best friend: I will love you to the ends of the earth and back.
A week ago, I was waking up blurry eyed, legs hurting, and blissfully happy because I’d left it all on the dance floor in celebration of my sister and her new husbands’ wedding. A week ago, I had the time of my life. A week ago seems so very long ago.
The post-wedding blues have certainly settled down on my shoulders since last weekend. When you’re looking forward to something like a wedding for about 10 months worth of time, it all comes to a head in 2 days’ worth of time, and just like that its over. It’d leave you depressed, too.
“Powerlessness corrupts: absolute powerlessness corrupts absolutely.”
Rosabeth Moss Kanter, a business-trend tracker, knows how I’m feeling about this wedding being over. I am powerless in making it happen all over again. The annoying part out of all of this? The unending stream of questions concerning when I’m going to be hitched. How about ‘not anytime soon’ for an answer?
But instead of wallowing in misery and self-pity (which I allowed myself to do the other day), it’s time to look back and remember the awesome times that were had merely a week ago. The newlyweds came back from their honeymoon last night, so it’s once again a bustling house. I am no longer the sole tenant, but I walk around with a little apprehension when I see their cars in the driveway, but don’t her a sound when I walk through the door. I may have to invest in ear plus for instant insertion as soon as I walk through the front door. As a precaution, people. I know when I get married, those first few weeks are going to be absolutely crazy…in the bedroom. HA! Too much? 🙂
By remembering, we relive. By reliving, we remind oneself about all the good times. By reminding ourselves about the good times, I can happily avoid the post-wedding depression constantly knocking on my emotional gate. Plus, Thanksgiving is just around the corner (OMG!), so it’ll be good for the soul to see my family again. And it’s the holidays (almost!)
I shan’t lie. I’m very excited for Christmas music to start blaring through my speakers.
In the spirit of remembering the wedding of the year, here are my favorite moments from last weekend:
– Learning the song ‘Marry Me’ by Train from scratch in my sister’s friends hotel room the night prior to the ceremony, and then rocking it in the church the next day.
– Slipping on my Katniss Everdeen boots for the infamous Boot Dance around the groom during the wedding dance.
– Towards the end of the night, dancing with one of the honorary ushers and as he tried to dip me in a fancy-manner, ended up dropping me cold in front of everyone on the dance floor. (I still have a bruise on my ankle from this moment!)
– Bustling my sister’s wedding dress and having a few private moments to talk to her in the middle of all the chaos.
– Freezing my toes and arms off in the city park in 30 degree weather for outdoors wedding photos
– Rocking my cream and black laced dress at the rehearsal dinner (and having one of the groomsmen say, “Day-um, that’s a good-looking girl!”)
– Seeing my sister walk down the aisle, and bawling my eyes out
– Seeing how my parents are still very much in love with each other 39 years later from their wedding day
– Beginning my Maid of Honor speech with ‘A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…my sister asked me to keep Star Wars references out of my speech…well, I’m breaking the rules.”
– Watching my niece and nephews get dolled up in their little mini-man tuxedos and her little fluffy dress
– Talking to the Best Man pretty much all night long (too bad he lives in Arizona.)
– Taking a very large shot of tequila with the same usher that dropped me on the dance floor
– Jamming to Bohemian Rhapsody with my other brother-in-law while he decked himself out in the longest-nastiest black hair wig I’ve ever seen in my life.
– Watching the Father-Daughter dance (makes me tear up every single time…especially when I already know the song I want played for my Father-Daughter dance.)
– Being greeted by the entire groomsmen party with a rousing “GOOD MOOOORNING!” at the brunch the morning after the wedding.
– Dancing like a maniac ALL NIGHT LONG! (and having my legs still hurt 4 days later.)
Guess what? I’m sure there are at least 100 more I could list, but I’ll spare you from them. I’ll keep them to myself 🙂 My memories, not yours!
I’m going to go finally unpack from last weekend. Sad, isn’t it? My duffel bag is still sitting on my floor 8 days later…I’m a terrible housekeeper. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday! I’m rocking the pigtail and robe look 4 hours after getting up.
This is what Sundays were made for.
Noon. That was the time I rose and shined. It’s been a long time since I have slept in that late. To be fair, I did wake up at 6:30 and 7:00 before I actually crawled back under the covers and say ‘Screw You!’ to the early morning fogginess. Seriously, it’s sort of disgusting out…and I told myself I was going to hit up the gym some time today. Well, the day is young.
Yet here I sit in my pajamas eating TGIFridays Potato Skins: Cheddar and Bacon flavored. Two words: Rough Night. In more ways than one. It further proves to me why I’m a terrible person. I really am, but deep inside, I’m okay with that. At least I think I am. That, or I have a burning desire to see how many people will buy be drinks before they decide to throw them in my face. Girlish tendency? Perhaps.
“When you jump up the earth wants you back.”
Okay, Jenny Lewis, singer and songwriter. If you say so.
But every once in a while, I wish I could jump up and I could simply float away, find a new landing ground, a new landscape, a new place to belong. I guess that’s why nomads broke all the rules back in the day…they didn’t want to belong to anything or any place other than themselves.
Plus I slept in my new favorite Bulldogs hoodie last night, and now I don’t want to take it off. I think I might slap a ‘Emotional Recovery’ stamp on this afternoon. Sad, yes, but I’m feeling pretty low for multiple reasons.
However, there is one way to turn a frown upside down with me, and that is with my Fabulous Friday. Here is what made my Friday extra Fabulous this time around:
Fabulous Cookie Recipe:
Fabulous Spooky Make-Up:
Fabulous Fall Treat:
Fabulous Post-Wedding Moment:
Fabulous Wedding Accessory:
Fabulous Bathroom Organizer:
Fabulous Halloween Decorations:
Fabulous Kitten Action:
Fabulous Elf Trick:
Fabulous Tan Line:
I seriously need a bowl of soup with a Gatorade or something along those lines. I’m just not having a good day here. However, there is a gigantic tub of ice cream in my freezer. I bought that ice cream before the wedding, convincing my sister I was allowed a bowl every night if I wanted. It was slow-churned frozen yogurt, after all. You know what? I didn’t even touch the stuff.
Granted, I also abandoned by entire workout regime that same week, but I also stuck to fruits and veggies a whole lot more…and more chicken strips I probably should have consumed, but hey! I looked great, the bride looked great, and I didn’t falter on a single note of either song or reading. Damn good prep on my part.
But now I’m going to lie in self-pity on the couch, and pray those ambulance sirens aren’t carting off anyone I know to a local mortuary because there have been a lot of them in the last 12 hours.
May the Force be with them this afternoon.
I’ve gotten a little behind with everything. Guess that’s what happens when you head to the boonies for 5 days and refuse to access a laptop or Wi-Fi internet while you’re gone. Going home is like a mini vacation for me. So I’m allowed to leave the my online life behind for a few days.
Walking out in the woods on a beautiful fall day will never compare to any day spent entirely on a computer.
I had quite an assortment of dreams last night. One very, very steamy one, and another where I drew on experiences from what is happening in my real, conscious life, and I was President of the United States of America. And they say life doesn’t influence the art we create in our heads. Pffft. I’m actually not sure if that’s true. I may have made that up.
What IS true, however, is a fun fact I read the other day while eating breakfast. Apparently, upon first waking up, if we are going to recall a dream, we remember it in its entirety within the first 10 seconds of waking. Another seven seconds, and we can only recall about 1/4 of it. Within ten minutes of waking, we forget the dream entirely.
Fascinating, isn’t it? I’m a little bit different, as I recall bits and pieces of dreams for hours/days/weeks to come after it has been played over in my head. Sometimes, I dream the same dream a couple more times, each time adding on a little bit more than the last time. The mind is an interesting, complicated piece of organized mush. I’m thankful there are people in the world who can cut open a person’s skull, get their fingers in there, probe around and fix the issues that are happening. Someone would crack their skull open near me and I would probably barf from the sound of shattering skull alone.
I’ll spare you the details of the hot and steamy one. But the POTUS one? I’ll share that one:
“I’m pacing in a back conference room. There’s a long, mahogany table shining in the center of the room, and a rather large flat screen TV is fixed to the wall behind where I am pacing. (All I can think at this point is of Effie Trinket from the Hunger Games yelling her infamous mahogany line.)My hands rest on my hips in my slim-cut navy blue suit, and i just keep pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Quickly, the door opens, and a younger man steps in. Camera flashes and the shouting of invasive questions burst from the doorway and are quickly shut away once the door is clicked closed behind him. He walks over to me, I stop pacing, and we simply stare at each other. He has the same curly flop of hair that Josh Groban does, but he is tall, dark and handsome. (He has been in my dreams many, many times before, and I can feel my mouth starting to water just thinking about him now.)I continue to stare at him, waiting. After a short time, he lets out a deep and sigh, looks down to the floor, and only shakes his head once: No.
Instantly, my eyes fill with tears, and I can’t breathe. (I wasn’t expecting this. POTUS does not cry ever!) He tries to reach a hand out to me, but I quickly step away. ‘Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.’ He looks at me with concern, but quietly mutters, ‘I’m the reason our country still has a living leader instead of a scorched body to mourn.’ I turn back to him then, walk over to him, and slap him hard across the cheek. (How DARE he?! But I still don’t know what’s going on…)‘That was my family in that plane. I should have been with them,’ I yell at him.
The door opens again, another burst of blinding camera flashes, and its my Vice President. He’s come to tell me I need to meet with my Press Secretary to draft a statement as to my whereabouts and why I wasn’t on the plane with them when it crashed. Handsome looks at me, and we exchange a painful look. We knew this affair wouldn’t result in anything good for either of us. (Don’t you know you never sleep with someone you work with?!) Never did I imagine it would end with my family dying in a plane crash while I got it on with Handsome here in the fake Oval Office (you know, the one the tours are led through. Not the ACTUAL Oval Office. Too many things of value there.) Nor did I imagine that a private tour was being conducted at the same time my legs would wrap around his waist. (Twitter-verse must have been in heaven.)
I nod, and prepare to follow the Press Secretary through the melee of reporters waiting outside the door.
‘You do know the truth will come out no matter what we say in the next few hours,’ he says to me. I nod, and say, ‘Next time I won’t be so stupid and we won’t be in this mess.’ I give Handsome one more long look and tell him to pack his things. He is no longer a member of my Cabinet. (GASP!)With that final word, I’m out the door, blinded by hundreds of cameras going off all at once.”
This is not a demonstration of how women wouldn’t be competent in leading our country. THIS is a demonstration of A woman who wouldn’t be able to lead our country:
“Refudiate. English is a living language. Shakespeare liked to coin new words, too. Got to celebrate it.”
Remember those words from our last election in 2008? They are from Sarah Palin, a politician who decided to comment about her bard-like brilliance on Twitter. Brilliance…is that what they’re calling it these days? Of all the women John McCain could have picked to be his running mate, he had to choose Miss Russia From Her Backyard.
Whatever. I’m over and so so SO happy McCain didn’t win. Otherwise who knows what Palin might have done, and in case you need clarification, I’d be holding my breath in worry, not in rapt anticipation.
Yoda/Kenobi 2016…Because they are our only hope.