(The Marine whom I met through a friend and only ever talked to on the phone doesn't count. Neither does that custodian.)
Today is the anniversary of the day I broke your heart on the dance floor at your frat cocktail.
I promise I didn't mean to do it. I really was interested in you, and I really did love spending time with you, and I really did think of the possibility of dating you in the future. I promise I considered your offer, and I meant it when I said maybe; I'm not the kind of girl who will say it just to disguise a no.
I tried to call you several times over the next few days. If you had answered my calls, I would've told you that I was not ready to be your girlfriend yet, that we needed to spend some time together outside of work, away from all our friends, and really get to know each other. I needed to know how we interacted when it was just you and me. I would've told you that after a month or two of the casual stuff, I would probably be ready to make some kind of further commitment. The kind of commitment you were asking for that evening, that I told you I would consider.
You must remember that we were just juniors in college, and as much as I play the part of a silly, boy-crazy girl, I take quite seriously the decisions I make regarding my heart and my future plans. I know that every relationship ends with either marriage or a break-up. I was not ready to make a decision like that on such short notice, and I wish you had realized that all I needed was time.
I know the probability of you reading this is negligible, considering you haven't spoken to me other than in necessary work conversation since that night, you deleted me from Facebook a couple years ago (yes, I noticed), and you're busy finishing up law school, probably in tip-top fashion. I always loved how much you were able to connect your historical and political knowledge with the law. I'm still writing this to you because I never got a chance to tell you any of it, and I am tired of feeling like I wronged you somehow.
I'm sorry I broke your heart. I wish you had let me explain. I wish it hadn't ended like it did.
I hope you're doing well.
Goodbye, my friend.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
DOWNTON ABBEY...and weird dreams.
Remember how I said that I have imaginary friends and I pretend like they're real?
MY FAVORITE IMAGINARY FRIENDS LIVE AT DOWNTON ABBEY.
There they all are, in their imposing British loverliness. I can't get over how much I love this PBS miniseries, people. I can't get enough of it. I watched this week's episode tonight, and holy cow, I had to call Brandi ASAP to tell her how unbelievable it was. She, of course, was like, "Calm down, Laura, it's not real life."
PS I'm about to MURDER this stupid formatting. Seriously. Add this blog's formatting to the list of casualties, but it won't be circumstantial because I'm telling you now I'M GOING TO KILL THIS FORMAT. The end.
MY FAVORITE IMAGINARY FRIENDS LIVE AT DOWNTON ABBEY.
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| [photo credit] |
Oh, but it IS.
She asked me what storyline got me this time. I said EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM THEY ARE ALL CRAZY AND THEY'RE ALL UP IN IT.
I've been eyeing my DVD of season 2 that just came in the mail today. It's been calling to me, just begging me to open it up and watch the final episode of the season. The Christmas special. I LOVE Christmas. How am I supposed to resist this?!
I just hope I can fall asleep tonight. My sleep was fitful yesterday, which isn't surprising considering I dreamt I was a high-up person in a local yet large prostitution operation. I wasn't one myself, but I was basically like a mob lieutenant in this human trafficking ring. Not to mention that our operation was linked -- only circumstantially, thank goodness -- with several murders, so we were always trying to cover our tracks. I swear I wanted to get out of the business, in case you're worried my subconscious is trying to tell me to change careers. They wouldn't let me, though. Who's a lieutenant in a mob-run network of brothels and is connected to murders, then gets to just walk away? NOBODY. Phew. What stress.
Clearly I have trouble separating fiction from reality. Let's hope I don't ever get to the point where I think that dream could really be the truth....
PS I'm about to MURDER this stupid formatting. Seriously. Add this blog's formatting to the list of casualties, but it won't be circumstantial because I'm telling you now I'M GOING TO KILL THIS FORMAT. The end.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
I gots a big head.
This is Barry Bonds. Sorry I don't know how to get the picture on the page.
He's a real live bobblehead doll, thanks partly to genetics and probably some to steroid usage, too (is it true that steroids make your head huge?). I don't like him because he's a cheater, but that's beside the point.
I thought about including Kanye's song about having a big ego, too, but I thought that might be too risky for mass consumption. Feel free to check it out on YouTube yourself if you're okay with gratuitous innuendo.
Anyway, both of these guys are analogues of myself today. One has a big head in the literal (well, and figurative) sense, and the other has a figurative big head (his literal head is in reality quite proportional and quite attractive, no matter what nonsensical ridiculous mess comes out of it). My literal head size is debatable if not on the large side, but my figurative head size is undoubtedly ENORMOUS.
I've got a big ego.
My friend Melissa always says how I'm my own biggest fan (Have I blogged about this before? If I have, I'm sure it's worthy of double coverage. Hello, it's ME.). I'm always commenting on how much I love my outfit, or how hilarious I am, or how neat it is that I know so many exciting and interesting facts (which I've learned is yet another debatable subject, at least in others' eyes). I was just reading one of my Facebook statuses, and I began giggling to myself. I thought, "I'm so cool! I want to be my best friend!" And then I giggled some more, because I'm just so darn funny.
I don't mean to make this a post all about how amazing I am, I swear. I honestly do try to tone it down as a rule, for I know that it can be pretty obnoxious to be around someone who thinks they're so great. I just thought, though, maybe I could share a couple things that have helped me out over the years. I haven't always been a conceited egomaniacal narcissist, you know (how's that for redundancy?).
When I was about thirteen or so, I was feeling pretty awful about who I was. I started to make a list of all the things that were wrong with me -- frizzy hair, crooked teeth, not athletic, never had a boyfriend, overweight, a serious procrastinator, unreliable -- the list went on for all thirty-two or so lines on the notebook page. There were some pretty good ones on there, too, if the aforementioned list doesn't convince you. It's not a fun way to see yourself, reduced to a list of all your negative qualities.
Here's what I did after that, though: on the opposite page, I took every single negative and turned it into a positive. Frizzy hair? Well, I can straighten it, put it up, or scrunch it, and the little face-framing curls can be cute sometimes. Crooked teeth? I've got a date with the orthodontist someday; and if not, crooked teeth aren't the end of the world. If it's that big a deal, I'll smile with my lips together. Not athletic? Is it a requirement to play sports? Nope. You have plenty of other strengths. Never had a boyfriend? YOU'RE THIRTEEN. **Note: Now, keeping that one on the list as a however-old-I-am lady (I know you're shocked that someone incredibly magnificent like me is still un-dated), I can look back on all the dear friendships I've had, and still have, and know that's enough.**
I won't continue with all that, because I hope you get the picture. If it's something that can't be changed, know that it's not a big deal in the grand scheme of YOU. If it's something that can be changed -- and is REASONABLE to need to change, not something like "I'm not a blonde :((( " -- then fix it. If you have no friends, maybe it's because you're either too shy or you're a party pooper. Put yourself out there a little bit, even if it's smiling at somebody, and stop pooping on people's parties.
Maybe you think you have no talents, nothing to bring to the table. First of all, if that's the case, go ahead and add IDIOT to your list. Everyone has something to bring to the table. You might have an infectious laugh. You might have really good fingernails (again, probably something you can change if that's not the case). You might be great at making someone's day with a well-placed compliment or bit of encouragement (ALWAYS a good thing to add to your repertoire!!!). Your momma might love you, or the creepy neighbor down the street might be obsessed with you. Seriously, there's a positive side of everything.
I have to say it, friends: the biggest thing is the Golden Rule. If you're kind, and if you're welcoming, and if you're complimentary and helpful and good, then you've got all KINDS of positives on your side. It's amazing what a little bit of sweetness will do for you. You don't have to be sweet all the time. Just be sweet some of the time, and don't be a jerk for the rest of the time. AND for those of you who think sarcasm is awesome and funny, I'm with you on that one. I love sarcasm. Just DO NOT USE IT AT OTHERS' EXPENSE. That would put you in the jerk category. Nobody likes a jerk, no matter what other superlative qualities you have on your side.
There you have it. I think that pretty much covers the Laura Strategy for Thinking You're the Best. It helps if you are crazy smart and pretty and interesting and funny and talented and sweet and all of that (sorry, did I overdo it?), but really, anybody can think they're awesome.
True story, kids. Try it. Then tell me how fantastic I am for thinking of it.
He's a real live bobblehead doll, thanks partly to genetics and probably some to steroid usage, too (is it true that steroids make your head huge?). I don't like him because he's a cheater, but that's beside the point.
I thought about including Kanye's song about having a big ego, too, but I thought that might be too risky for mass consumption. Feel free to check it out on YouTube yourself if you're okay with gratuitous innuendo.
Anyway, both of these guys are analogues of myself today. One has a big head in the literal (well, and figurative) sense, and the other has a figurative big head (his literal head is in reality quite proportional and quite attractive, no matter what nonsensical ridiculous mess comes out of it). My literal head size is debatable if not on the large side, but my figurative head size is undoubtedly ENORMOUS.
I've got a big ego.
My friend Melissa always says how I'm my own biggest fan (Have I blogged about this before? If I have, I'm sure it's worthy of double coverage. Hello, it's ME.). I'm always commenting on how much I love my outfit, or how hilarious I am, or how neat it is that I know so many exciting and interesting facts (which I've learned is yet another debatable subject, at least in others' eyes). I was just reading one of my Facebook statuses, and I began giggling to myself. I thought, "I'm so cool! I want to be my best friend!" And then I giggled some more, because I'm just so darn funny.
I don't mean to make this a post all about how amazing I am, I swear. I honestly do try to tone it down as a rule, for I know that it can be pretty obnoxious to be around someone who thinks they're so great. I just thought, though, maybe I could share a couple things that have helped me out over the years. I haven't always been a conceited egomaniacal narcissist, you know (how's that for redundancy?).
When I was about thirteen or so, I was feeling pretty awful about who I was. I started to make a list of all the things that were wrong with me -- frizzy hair, crooked teeth, not athletic, never had a boyfriend, overweight, a serious procrastinator, unreliable -- the list went on for all thirty-two or so lines on the notebook page. There were some pretty good ones on there, too, if the aforementioned list doesn't convince you. It's not a fun way to see yourself, reduced to a list of all your negative qualities.
Here's what I did after that, though: on the opposite page, I took every single negative and turned it into a positive. Frizzy hair? Well, I can straighten it, put it up, or scrunch it, and the little face-framing curls can be cute sometimes. Crooked teeth? I've got a date with the orthodontist someday; and if not, crooked teeth aren't the end of the world. If it's that big a deal, I'll smile with my lips together. Not athletic? Is it a requirement to play sports? Nope. You have plenty of other strengths. Never had a boyfriend? YOU'RE THIRTEEN. **Note: Now, keeping that one on the list as a however-old-I-am lady (I know you're shocked that someone incredibly magnificent like me is still un-dated), I can look back on all the dear friendships I've had, and still have, and know that's enough.**
I won't continue with all that, because I hope you get the picture. If it's something that can't be changed, know that it's not a big deal in the grand scheme of YOU. If it's something that can be changed -- and is REASONABLE to need to change, not something like "I'm not a blonde :((( " -- then fix it. If you have no friends, maybe it's because you're either too shy or you're a party pooper. Put yourself out there a little bit, even if it's smiling at somebody, and stop pooping on people's parties.
Maybe you think you have no talents, nothing to bring to the table. First of all, if that's the case, go ahead and add IDIOT to your list. Everyone has something to bring to the table. You might have an infectious laugh. You might have really good fingernails (again, probably something you can change if that's not the case). You might be great at making someone's day with a well-placed compliment or bit of encouragement (ALWAYS a good thing to add to your repertoire!!!). Your momma might love you, or the creepy neighbor down the street might be obsessed with you. Seriously, there's a positive side of everything.
I have to say it, friends: the biggest thing is the Golden Rule. If you're kind, and if you're welcoming, and if you're complimentary and helpful and good, then you've got all KINDS of positives on your side. It's amazing what a little bit of sweetness will do for you. You don't have to be sweet all the time. Just be sweet some of the time, and don't be a jerk for the rest of the time. AND for those of you who think sarcasm is awesome and funny, I'm with you on that one. I love sarcasm. Just DO NOT USE IT AT OTHERS' EXPENSE. That would put you in the jerk category. Nobody likes a jerk, no matter what other superlative qualities you have on your side.
There you have it. I think that pretty much covers the Laura Strategy for Thinking You're the Best. It helps if you are crazy smart and pretty and interesting and funny and talented and sweet and all of that (sorry, did I overdo it?), but really, anybody can think they're awesome.
True story, kids. Try it. Then tell me how fantastic I am for thinking of it.
Bad Potato, Bad Potato
First of all, this is what has been going through my head now for the past ten minutes:
Second (and those of you who are my friends on Facebook will quite possibly have already read this), here are eight lessons I've learned in the past few minutes.
1. If something smells funny in your house, don't ignore it.
2. If you think a funny smell is your washing machine, but washers don't usually (or...really don't ever) smell like that, don't assume it's still your washer.
3. Potatoes don't like it when you put a warm towel straight out of the dryer on top of them.
4. Correction: most potatoes DO like warm towels. Bad potatoes DO NOT.
5. Bad potatoes make your hands smell TERRIBLE no matter how much you wash them -- your hands -- with lemony antibacterial soap from Bath and Body Works.
6. A rotten potato turns mushy, not green or anything. Who knew.
7. Other potatoes aren't really affected by rotten ones. They just keep on being happy and growing eyes until you use them.
8. Put away your clothes and towels when you take them out of the dryer. Especially if you're tempted to put them on bags of food.
Now, I'm off to wash and scrub and cube the good potatoes, and hope that they don't make my beef stew smell like teenaged boy feet. If so...there will be a lesson #9.
Second (and those of you who are my friends on Facebook will quite possibly have already read this), here are eight lessons I've learned in the past few minutes.
1. If something smells funny in your house, don't ignore it.
2. If you think a funny smell is your washing machine, but washers don't usually (or...really don't ever) smell like that, don't assume it's still your washer.
3. Potatoes don't like it when you put a warm towel straight out of the dryer on top of them.
4. Correction: most potatoes DO like warm towels. Bad potatoes DO NOT.
5. Bad potatoes make your hands smell TERRIBLE no matter how much you wash them -- your hands -- with lemony antibacterial soap from Bath and Body Works.
6. A rotten potato turns mushy, not green or anything. Who knew.
7. Other potatoes aren't really affected by rotten ones. They just keep on being happy and growing eyes until you use them.
8. Put away your clothes and towels when you take them out of the dryer. Especially if you're tempted to put them on bags of food.
Now, I'm off to wash and scrub and cube the good potatoes, and hope that they don't make my beef stew smell like teenaged boy feet. If so...there will be a lesson #9.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Then ya really might know what it's like.
There was a song by Everclear...wait no, Everlast...back in the day all about the unfairness of judging others by appearances and stereotypes. There were lots of bad words in it, so at certain points it was kind of like listening to a pinball machine, or really just a DJ who's a little too exuberant with his scratching. It was like my favorite song ever even though I only figured out what the wiki-wikied words were maybe a month ago. It's still really good. Wanna watch? Me too. But maybe don't if you like to judge people, because then you might feel bad.
Alright, well I know Valentine's Day is way far away, and I'm sure I've posted about this who knows how many times before, but I figure I'll tell you again what it's like to be THIS single for THIS long. We all know that I love not being tied down
which also means that I can end this blog post because my dryer just buzzed and I'm late for a date with my bff, CookOut chili-cheese fries, and some movies. Later frizzendz.
which also means that I can end this blog post because my dryer just buzzed and I'm late for a date with my bff, CookOut chili-cheese fries, and some movies. Later frizzendz.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
What piece-of-junk timing.
Why did I have to make up my stupid diet rules right before a super-stressful week? Thank GOODNESS I haven't used any of my alcoholic beverages yet, but I tell ya, I want some sausage dip right now. And I want my sausage dip to be paired with buttered grits, topped off with the rest of my Reese's milkshake from yesterday. I want to break all my rules, then go to bed by 8:30 (which clearly didn't happen, but I can pretend). Iss thaaaat baaaadddd?
Don't worry, I'll only eat half the bowl of sausage dip. It's not like I banned it from my diet forever. Plus I have to have some for my next craving.
Something for you to enjoy as I go get my milkshake from the freezer --
Don't worry, I'll only eat half the bowl of sausage dip. It's not like I banned it from my diet forever. Plus I have to have some for my next craving.
Something for you to enjoy as I go get my milkshake from the freezer --
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Bustin' through.
My diet and the buttons on my pants, that is.
I'm a stress-eater. Today was a really bad day. I mean, not a really really bad day, but a not-so-good day for sure. I felt unprepared a few times, I felt disrespected a whooooole heck of a lot, I got tired of kids with zero impulse control, I briefly yelled at an out-of-control class (then struggled to hold in my giggles when I saw their shocked faces), I got off topic a lot, forgot to do what my assistant principal asked, had to call two parents and forgot to call a third, stayed until six with a kid who was supposed to be gone at four-thirty, and got yet ANOTHER collections call from Time Warner (even though I've already paid the money [twice] AND the outstanding balance was their fault anyway).
I've already finished my chili-cheese fries and my chicken quesadilla, I've got my burger unwrapped and ready to be demolished, and the Reese's shake is currently defrosting a bit.
I'm sorry, cute dress, but today you are simply not that important. So back off.
I'm a stress-eater. Today was a really bad day. I mean, not a really really bad day, but a not-so-good day for sure. I felt unprepared a few times, I felt disrespected a whooooole heck of a lot, I got tired of kids with zero impulse control, I briefly yelled at an out-of-control class (then struggled to hold in my giggles when I saw their shocked faces), I got off topic a lot, forgot to do what my assistant principal asked, had to call two parents and forgot to call a third, stayed until six with a kid who was supposed to be gone at four-thirty, and got yet ANOTHER collections call from Time Warner (even though I've already paid the money [twice] AND the outstanding balance was their fault anyway).
I've already finished my chili-cheese fries and my chicken quesadilla, I've got my burger unwrapped and ready to be demolished, and the Reese's shake is currently defrosting a bit.
I'm sorry, cute dress, but today you are simply not that important. So back off.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Le shopping bug is BACK!!
I don't know if it's the imminent change in seasons (yes), the decreased rate of shopping I've done over the past few months (yes), the upcoming trip to Hawaii (awwww yeeeeahhhhh), or the fact that I'm trying to save up money (ugh) that's making me feel like I have to shop. I tell you what, though, I feel like if I don't drop a couple hundred bucks on some quality items within the next few days, I just might...not explode, but be really sad and anxious, and probably discombobulated. It's like a vegetable-less diet for my psyche--it leaves me feeling mentally bloaty. Nice picture, right?
ModCloth was/is/idk having a 70% off sale, so you know I had to take advantage of that yesterday. I bought two cheap funky necklaces and a SWEET lightweight white jacket with black embroidery on it. The embroidery looks like constellations. That, or an epidemiology map. It was originally $173.99 and I definitely got it for $51.99. I think that's worth being infected by whatever contagion is diagrammed on it.
I spent hours on Lands' End's overstocks section today. I had three coats/jackets in my shopping cart (Did I make it up that one of my distant cousins invented online shopping carts? I might've made that up.) after doing super-sleuthing through sizes and styles and Not-Quite-Perfect offerings. Unfortunately, after I did some account-checking (ya gots to have the monay to buy 'em), two of the three were out of stock. Shimmenyboogers. And they were my number-one and -two choices.
Now that that purchase has been frustrated and aborted, I've still got the itch. I'm wrestling with God on this one, I think -- it was probably His doing to make my coats go away, you know, to save me money -- and I feel guilty for wanting to buy anything else. But buddy. I am dying to buy stuff.
Mom sent me an article a month or so ago about compulsive shopping, its tells, treatments and t-somethings (I had to do three things, and they all had to start with T!); I didn't think it was me at all, even though it said that many teachers and others in caregiving roles are often...victims? Sufferers? Sad faces? Anyway, it also said that many compulsive shoppers have issues with eating (psh SO not me...and please ignore my last post) and get an adrenaline rush from the shopping (uhhh...). It also said that many suffer from depression, and I'm not depressed, so I'm good.
That still doesn't explain why I feel this need, this craving, this strong pulling desire to shop. Maybe it is God, just in a different way than I'd thought.
Ooh, or maybe it's de debil. Yikes. Never mind, no shopping for me!!!
ModCloth was/is/idk having a 70% off sale, so you know I had to take advantage of that yesterday. I bought two cheap funky necklaces and a SWEET lightweight white jacket with black embroidery on it. The embroidery looks like constellations. That, or an epidemiology map. It was originally $173.99 and I definitely got it for $51.99. I think that's worth being infected by whatever contagion is diagrammed on it.
I spent hours on Lands' End's overstocks section today. I had three coats/jackets in my shopping cart (Did I make it up that one of my distant cousins invented online shopping carts? I might've made that up.) after doing super-sleuthing through sizes and styles and Not-Quite-Perfect offerings. Unfortunately, after I did some account-checking (ya gots to have the monay to buy 'em), two of the three were out of stock. Shimmenyboogers. And they were my number-one and -two choices.
Now that that purchase has been frustrated and aborted, I've still got the itch. I'm wrestling with God on this one, I think -- it was probably His doing to make my coats go away, you know, to save me money -- and I feel guilty for wanting to buy anything else. But buddy. I am dying to buy stuff.
Mom sent me an article a month or so ago about compulsive shopping, its tells, treatments and t-somethings (I had to do three things, and they all had to start with T!); I didn't think it was me at all, even though it said that many teachers and others in caregiving roles are often...victims? Sufferers? Sad faces? Anyway, it also said that many compulsive shoppers have issues with eating (psh SO not me...and please ignore my last post) and get an adrenaline rush from the shopping (uhhh...). It also said that many suffer from depression, and I'm not depressed, so I'm good.
That still doesn't explain why I feel this need, this craving, this strong pulling desire to shop. Maybe it is God, just in a different way than I'd thought.
Ooh, or maybe it's de debil. Yikes. Never mind, no shopping for me!!!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Next I need to tell you about food.
Remember way back in the day when I lost like twenty-five pounds on Weight Watchers Online? Yeah, those days are over. And just about every one of those pounds is back.
Related news: I have a very cute dress that I ordered from ModCloth.com that does not fit. It said size down, I sized down, I failed. They no longer have the normal size, so I can either part with this gorgeous dress, or I can part with my lipid collection. Tough choice.
Do you SEE how cute this thing is?!
Anyway, I've decided that I'm setting a goal and making some rules. My goal is to fit into this dress by spring break, which is in March or April, hopefully April. Hopefully March for sanity's sake, hopefully April for my waistline's sake. If that ends up not being realistic, my goal is to fit into it by summertime. That should be extremely attainable.
Here are my rules:
No drinks other than milk, water, tea, coffee, and anything diet/unsweetened. So basically no sugary drinks.
No dessert. If I crave chocolate at school, I need to man up. And I need Traci or Melissa or Shari to punch me in the jaw so I can't eat it anyway.
No creamer in my coffee. Maybe. Ohhhhh geez, I might not be able to do this one. Not since I bought my favorite creamer for school.
Seconds only for vegetables. Which means I might ought to start cooking some vegetables in the first place.
I can't eat after 9pm unless I'm actually starving, in which case I can only have cereal. Only one bowl. And not an overflowing bowl that spills over so I eat loads of cereal off the counter.
No mindless snacking, but if I'm really hungry, Reduced Fat Ritzes are the best. Otherwise, drink something instead.
Only two alcoholic beverages per week (this shouldn't be too hard, since I don't often drink; however, on a bad week, you better BELIEVE I'm gonna be hating this one).
Sausage dip is no longer a viable meal.
When I eat out, if it's something that I can eat later, I need to save some of it for later. Like an actual almost-meal's worth.
I might also need to abstain from bolding only mildly-key phrases. That can be my exercise.
Sigh. This dress had better get me a hot date or something. Otherwise, I'm going to be really mad about all the sausage dip and bad-day alcohol I'll be missing out on.
Related news: I have a very cute dress that I ordered from ModCloth.com that does not fit. It said size down, I sized down, I failed. They no longer have the normal size, so I can either part with this gorgeous dress, or I can part with my lipid collection. Tough choice.
Do you SEE how cute this thing is?!
Anyway, I've decided that I'm setting a goal and making some rules. My goal is to fit into this dress by spring break, which is in March or April, hopefully April. Hopefully March for sanity's sake, hopefully April for my waistline's sake. If that ends up not being realistic, my goal is to fit into it by summertime. That should be extremely attainable.
Here are my rules:
No drinks other than milk, water, tea, coffee, and anything diet/unsweetened. So basically no sugary drinks.
No dessert. If I crave chocolate at school, I need to man up. And I need Traci or Melissa or Shari to punch me in the jaw so I can't eat it anyway.
No creamer in my coffee. Maybe. Ohhhhh geez, I might not be able to do this one. Not since I bought my favorite creamer for school.
Seconds only for vegetables. Which means I might ought to start cooking some vegetables in the first place.
I can't eat after 9pm unless I'm actually starving, in which case I can only have cereal. Only one bowl. And not an overflowing bowl that spills over so I eat loads of cereal off the counter.
No mindless snacking, but if I'm really hungry, Reduced Fat Ritzes are the best. Otherwise, drink something instead.
Only two alcoholic beverages per week (this shouldn't be too hard, since I don't often drink; however, on a bad week, you better BELIEVE I'm gonna be hating this one).
Sausage dip is no longer a viable meal.
When I eat out, if it's something that I can eat later, I need to save some of it for later. Like an actual almost-meal's worth.
I might also need to abstain from bolding only mildly-key phrases. That can be my exercise.
Sigh. This dress had better get me a hot date or something. Otherwise, I'm going to be really mad about all the sausage dip and bad-day alcohol I'll be missing out on.
First I need to tell you about food.
Last weekend, I was a cooking machine. I'm not really sure what got into me -- actually, I'm pretty sure it was just the combo of a clean kitchen and a freshly-stocked pantry -- but I ended up making all KINDS of food. I thought I'd give you a quick recap of the stuff I made, along with semi-complete instructions.
Moroccan Couscous
I stole this idea from Mediterranean Deli in Chapel Hill. Sauté some onions in a pot, add water and chicken bullion, add raisins, roasted red pepper (you can sauté red pepper with the onions if you'd rather not roast them), lots of curry, and garbanzo beans if you want them. I decided I won't be using the garbanzos next time. Stir it up, bring it to a boil, add your couscous and cook according to package. Stir eat enjoy.
Spicy Sausage Dip (Dippity Do-Da, as Shari calls it)
This one came from a friend at school. Simply cook up some hot country sausage (the ground kind), add in two cans original Rotel, and two packs cream cheese. Feel free to add milk if it's too thick, more cheese if it's too chunky, or less Rotel/mild sausage if it's too hot, red pepper flakes if you want it hotter. SO GOOD.
Spanish Rice
Not really sure if it's legitimately Spanish, but I'm pretending like it is. Cook up some rice with a packet of saffron (I use Goya saffron) and some garlic, add in black beans and Rotel. That's it. Add onions if you want (I ALWAYS want) and that's good too. This with some garlic-y chicken, SON.
Apple-Baked Pork
I made this up. I win. Mix up some cracked black pepper, the coarser the better in my opinion, with a fair amount of ground mustard, dried rosemary, salt, and a little bit of apple cider vinegar. When that's had time to get all happy and matrimonious, rub a little olive oil on your pork chops, then rub the rub into them. Let them sit while you cut up some apples (I used ones well past their peak so as not to waste them, and it was a success). Dump the apples in a baking dish or dutch oven. Brown your pork on both sides, not cooking through (it's not necessary), then put them in the dutch oven, too, mixing them in among the apples. Bake half an hour at 350, or really whatever time and temp you want, as long as the pork cooks through. Eat it up and lick the dish, no lie.
Vegetable Soup
Mom's invention. Get a bag of frozen veggies (I got the California blend, but basically anything with broccoli or cauliflower or carrots or squash will be fine), cover them with water in a big pot, and boil them with a couple doses of chicken or veggie bullion in there. I happen to use both bullion types. When they're well done, blend the mixture (immersion blenders are the BIZNAZ) and add two cans of fat-free evaporated milk, and I add a liberal amount of cracked pepper as well. Party in my mouuuuuth. If you prefer not to feel like you're in a home for those with soft minds and plenteous gingiva, you can chop your veggies ahead of time and not blend anything. By the way, cheese with this will blow your mind.
Berry Smoothie
This is not for the faint of texture. I start my smoothies normally -- yogurt, frozen raspberries and blueberries, milk -- but then I add oatmeal. Uncooked quick oats, to be exact. I think it's the best thing in the whole entire world; however, there are those out there who think it looks gross and the oatmeal gives it a strange raw-almond taste. Which I LOVE. Note: if you don't like super-thick smoothies, this one gets thicker with time. You might want to add more milk later. Also, if it's not sweet enough for you, honey is a great combo with this!
There you have it. Six things in one weekend, enough to share, and freeze some as well. I am one happy camper.
Moroccan Couscous
I stole this idea from Mediterranean Deli in Chapel Hill. Sauté some onions in a pot, add water and chicken bullion, add raisins, roasted red pepper (you can sauté red pepper with the onions if you'd rather not roast them), lots of curry, and garbanzo beans if you want them. I decided I won't be using the garbanzos next time. Stir it up, bring it to a boil, add your couscous and cook according to package. Stir eat enjoy.
Spicy Sausage Dip (Dippity Do-Da, as Shari calls it)
This one came from a friend at school. Simply cook up some hot country sausage (the ground kind), add in two cans original Rotel, and two packs cream cheese. Feel free to add milk if it's too thick, more cheese if it's too chunky, or less Rotel/mild sausage if it's too hot, red pepper flakes if you want it hotter. SO GOOD.
Spanish Rice
Not really sure if it's legitimately Spanish, but I'm pretending like it is. Cook up some rice with a packet of saffron (I use Goya saffron) and some garlic, add in black beans and Rotel. That's it. Add onions if you want (I ALWAYS want) and that's good too. This with some garlic-y chicken, SON.
Apple-Baked Pork
I made this up. I win. Mix up some cracked black pepper, the coarser the better in my opinion, with a fair amount of ground mustard, dried rosemary, salt, and a little bit of apple cider vinegar. When that's had time to get all happy and matrimonious, rub a little olive oil on your pork chops, then rub the rub into them. Let them sit while you cut up some apples (I used ones well past their peak so as not to waste them, and it was a success). Dump the apples in a baking dish or dutch oven. Brown your pork on both sides, not cooking through (it's not necessary), then put them in the dutch oven, too, mixing them in among the apples. Bake half an hour at 350, or really whatever time and temp you want, as long as the pork cooks through. Eat it up and lick the dish, no lie.
Vegetable Soup
Mom's invention. Get a bag of frozen veggies (I got the California blend, but basically anything with broccoli or cauliflower or carrots or squash will be fine), cover them with water in a big pot, and boil them with a couple doses of chicken or veggie bullion in there. I happen to use both bullion types. When they're well done, blend the mixture (immersion blenders are the BIZNAZ) and add two cans of fat-free evaporated milk, and I add a liberal amount of cracked pepper as well. Party in my mouuuuuth. If you prefer not to feel like you're in a home for those with soft minds and plenteous gingiva, you can chop your veggies ahead of time and not blend anything. By the way, cheese with this will blow your mind.
Berry Smoothie
This is not for the faint of texture. I start my smoothies normally -- yogurt, frozen raspberries and blueberries, milk -- but then I add oatmeal. Uncooked quick oats, to be exact. I think it's the best thing in the whole entire world; however, there are those out there who think it looks gross and the oatmeal gives it a strange raw-almond taste. Which I LOVE. Note: if you don't like super-thick smoothies, this one gets thicker with time. You might want to add more milk later. Also, if it's not sweet enough for you, honey is a great combo with this!
There you have it. Six things in one weekend, enough to share, and freeze some as well. I am one happy camper.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
My gas light's on.
My mom talks about things that "fill people's tanks" -- a spa day, a note from a friend, an atta-boy from a boss. Things that take all the bad stuff and make it all seem a little less significant. Things that make us feel like we're worthwhile, intelligent and needed.
I'm well aware of things that fill my tank. I like warm, protective hugs from men I care about (thank goodness I care about so many men who give good hugs); listening to music, especially music I can sing along with soulfully; watching a good chick flick; hanging out with dear friends doing nothing but enjoying being together; spending down time with family; hearing someone say I'm good at my job; children who think I'm funny and lovable; adults who enjoy hearing what I have to say; being told I'm hilarious or sweet or lovely or intelligent; sitting by a fire, or better yet napping by a fire; holding my sweet cat (who died five years ago, so I can't really do that); having a child understand a concept that's been frustrating them, or get interested in something they are learning about; jazz and candles and wine; sitting outside and tending my plants; writing; having alone time; cooking things that require chopping.
While you're thinking of all the things that fill your tank, please feel free to take a minute and revel in this virtual hug from Amos Lee. The quality isn't great and it cuts the song short; however, the vocals are some of my favorite I've ever, ever heard:
I'm also aware of things that deplete my tank. I don't like feeling inadequate; comparing myself to others; having to give bad grades to kids who try hard, or really giving any grades at all; knowing I can do better, but not doing better; eating too much junk food; sitting in a messy living room, but being too tired to clean; not having time or energy to be with people I care about; missing dear friends and family who are far away; getting up early; being disrespected or disregarded; being in one place for too long; darkness; not being able to afford things, especially trips (even gas for my bitty car has taken a toll lately) or regular-priced clothing; always being alone except for church and school; feeling like I'm not good at my job because I'm not organized enough, or not differentiating enough, or not meeting the individual needs of all 110 of my students.
I have an excellent self-esteem, and I know that I have a lot to give others. I struggle with guilt, though, feeling like I am not living up to my potential. I also struggle with feeling like my view of myself is inflated compared to how the rest of the world see me (which may not be hard to believe for those of you who've ever heard me extol my own wonders, but in actuality, I have a less elevated view than I exhibit). Sometimes I think that if I had a job with more respectful surroundings -- imagine having groups of thirty children ignore you, talk back to you and try to be more grown than you, repeatedly, all day long, then have to explain to their parents how it's not actually your fault their child does nothing and is failing -- then maybe I would have more left in my tank for other things at the end of the day, I'd be able to take a pottery class or have dinner with a friend more than once a month. Or if I had a job that allowed me to leave my work AT WORK (novel idea, right?), then maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty when I came home and did more than just worry about what's going to happen the next day. Or if I lived closer to home or friends, would I be happier just by spending more time with them? Do I need to find a random man who lives nearby, and ask him to hug me, strongly, for a full minute, every Tuesday and Friday? Should I plant plants and get a living cat?
Just over a week ago, I was stressing over a parent who was having issues with how I was teaching. It was keeping me up at night and making me feel ill during the school day. It was pretty awful, and it made me really face my doubts about how I am as a teacher. The Sunday before, though, the preacher used Psalm 139 as his text, and I found myself reading it, out loud and with more passion than I ever would've expected, for the next few nights.
I'll include that text in just a moment; but while you're reading it (if you so choose), I want you to think about all the things that drain your tank. There may be a jillion of them, and that's okay. I'm with you. I want you to think, too, about all the things you try to do to fill your tank back up. Now, I'm convinced that I would find much of my ease in the arms of a man, especially if that man happens to be Amos Lee. I'm convinced too, though, that Amos Lee can declare his undying love for me in a song that lasts for days and feed me chocolate and carrots and sausage dip and milk all the while, and I still wouldn't really be happy.
How come I never give God the chance to give me a hug even though he's the one consistent, good, strong thing in my life?
Psalm 139, verses 1-18
O LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.
You hem me in -- behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, oh God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you.
I'm well aware of things that fill my tank. I like warm, protective hugs from men I care about (thank goodness I care about so many men who give good hugs); listening to music, especially music I can sing along with soulfully; watching a good chick flick; hanging out with dear friends doing nothing but enjoying being together; spending down time with family; hearing someone say I'm good at my job; children who think I'm funny and lovable; adults who enjoy hearing what I have to say; being told I'm hilarious or sweet or lovely or intelligent; sitting by a fire, or better yet napping by a fire; holding my sweet cat (who died five years ago, so I can't really do that); having a child understand a concept that's been frustrating them, or get interested in something they are learning about; jazz and candles and wine; sitting outside and tending my plants; writing; having alone time; cooking things that require chopping.
While you're thinking of all the things that fill your tank, please feel free to take a minute and revel in this virtual hug from Amos Lee. The quality isn't great and it cuts the song short; however, the vocals are some of my favorite I've ever, ever heard:
I'm also aware of things that deplete my tank. I don't like feeling inadequate; comparing myself to others; having to give bad grades to kids who try hard, or really giving any grades at all; knowing I can do better, but not doing better; eating too much junk food; sitting in a messy living room, but being too tired to clean; not having time or energy to be with people I care about; missing dear friends and family who are far away; getting up early; being disrespected or disregarded; being in one place for too long; darkness; not being able to afford things, especially trips (even gas for my bitty car has taken a toll lately) or regular-priced clothing; always being alone except for church and school; feeling like I'm not good at my job because I'm not organized enough, or not differentiating enough, or not meeting the individual needs of all 110 of my students.
I have an excellent self-esteem, and I know that I have a lot to give others. I struggle with guilt, though, feeling like I am not living up to my potential. I also struggle with feeling like my view of myself is inflated compared to how the rest of the world see me (which may not be hard to believe for those of you who've ever heard me extol my own wonders, but in actuality, I have a less elevated view than I exhibit). Sometimes I think that if I had a job with more respectful surroundings -- imagine having groups of thirty children ignore you, talk back to you and try to be more grown than you, repeatedly, all day long, then have to explain to their parents how it's not actually your fault their child does nothing and is failing -- then maybe I would have more left in my tank for other things at the end of the day, I'd be able to take a pottery class or have dinner with a friend more than once a month. Or if I had a job that allowed me to leave my work AT WORK (novel idea, right?), then maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty when I came home and did more than just worry about what's going to happen the next day. Or if I lived closer to home or friends, would I be happier just by spending more time with them? Do I need to find a random man who lives nearby, and ask him to hug me, strongly, for a full minute, every Tuesday and Friday? Should I plant plants and get a living cat?
Just over a week ago, I was stressing over a parent who was having issues with how I was teaching. It was keeping me up at night and making me feel ill during the school day. It was pretty awful, and it made me really face my doubts about how I am as a teacher. The Sunday before, though, the preacher used Psalm 139 as his text, and I found myself reading it, out loud and with more passion than I ever would've expected, for the next few nights.
I'll include that text in just a moment; but while you're reading it (if you so choose), I want you to think about all the things that drain your tank. There may be a jillion of them, and that's okay. I'm with you. I want you to think, too, about all the things you try to do to fill your tank back up. Now, I'm convinced that I would find much of my ease in the arms of a man, especially if that man happens to be Amos Lee. I'm convinced too, though, that Amos Lee can declare his undying love for me in a song that lasts for days and feed me chocolate and carrots and sausage dip and milk all the while, and I still wouldn't really be happy.
How come I never give God the chance to give me a hug even though he's the one consistent, good, strong thing in my life?
Psalm 139, verses 1-18
O LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.
You hem me in -- behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, oh God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with you.
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Here's what my life would be like if I were fabulous.
In high school, our Senior English teacher had us write 100-word stories, which is quite a challenge. Trying to fit all the elements of a story into 100 words is like trying to put on a brand-new pair of control-top pantyhose. The one I wrote got mixed reviews from the class; it was perfectly constructed as far as mini-plot and character development go, resulting in praise from many, but the subject matter was powerfully disturbing. I still think it was a stroke of dark genius, if I may say so.
Here's my challenge to myself today, though -- I want to write a 100-word story that is still a stroke of genius, but maybe not quite so abhorrent. Here comes the old post-college try: a story about what my life would've been like last night had I not been pining for my bed by nine.
I hang my purse on the coat rack, then turn to survey damage from being late this morning: two scarves and a turtleneck, dismissed; milk forgotten on the counter; shoes splayed awkwardly everywhere. All a mess, just like my day.
My phone buzzes, the third text asking if I'll be out tonight.
I look beat -- this week took a toll. I ought to stay in and relax, clean up, get some rest. But a red dress revives like nothing else....
Another buzz. Be calm, gentlemen, it's only 7:30.
I wash my face, grin at blank canvas.
The mess can wait.
Now, here's the real story of my Friday night.
I hang my purse on the coat rack, arms flailing as I sink into the couch. Reaching for my takeout, I realize the box next to me is from earlier in the week. Today's is on the coffee table outside my reach. Of course.
I watch Easy A via DVR, lapping up chili-cheese that dripped on my hand. The movie is good, but too long. It's 8:30 and I'm tired.
I shut my computer and plug in my iPod, choosing sweatpants and sweatshirt for pajamas. My phone buzzes -- it's Mom, and I pretend I'm not in bed.
Busted.
Sigh.
Goodnight.
Awwwwllllriiiiiiiight. Who's the wordsmith now, y'all?!
Here's my challenge to myself today, though -- I want to write a 100-word story that is still a stroke of genius, but maybe not quite so abhorrent. Here comes the old post-college try: a story about what my life would've been like last night had I not been pining for my bed by nine.
I hang my purse on the coat rack, then turn to survey damage from being late this morning: two scarves and a turtleneck, dismissed; milk forgotten on the counter; shoes splayed awkwardly everywhere. All a mess, just like my day.
My phone buzzes, the third text asking if I'll be out tonight.
I look beat -- this week took a toll. I ought to stay in and relax, clean up, get some rest. But a red dress revives like nothing else....
Another buzz. Be calm, gentlemen, it's only 7:30.
I wash my face, grin at blank canvas.
The mess can wait.
* * * * * * *
Now, here's the real story of my Friday night.
I hang my purse on the coat rack, arms flailing as I sink into the couch. Reaching for my takeout, I realize the box next to me is from earlier in the week. Today's is on the coffee table outside my reach. Of course.
I watch Easy A via DVR, lapping up chili-cheese that dripped on my hand. The movie is good, but too long. It's 8:30 and I'm tired.
I shut my computer and plug in my iPod, choosing sweatpants and sweatshirt for pajamas. My phone buzzes -- it's Mom, and I pretend I'm not in bed.
Busted.
Sigh.
Goodnight.
* * * * * * *
Awwwwllllriiiiiiiight. Who's the wordsmith now, y'all?!
Monday, January 02, 2012
Fo eva eva?
Before I get into this post, I need you to watch the video of one of my favorite songs of all time. Then, if you want more plus some eye candy plus some UNBELIEVABLE 80s fashion, try this one on for size.
Wasn't that great?!
Anyhoo, I'm here to tell you about my friend Brandi. She is the best. I'm not going to do a whole long drawn-out thing about all the fantab-awesome things we've done over the years, but I do want to let you know how much I appreciate her for being an exemplary friend.
Brandi and I have always rejoiced in our shared strangeness. We're big fans of belting Luke Bryan or NKOTBSB in the car with the windows down, watching cheesy movies and eating junk food for hours and hours, making strange noises that portray our exact feelings, taking hypothetical situations to the extreme, and generally enjoying being twelve-year-olds at heart. We're very cool, be assured.
It's been about five years since Brandi and I became fast friends in college, and we've spent a lot of time together since then, so I was both hype out of my mind and a little apprehensive when she started dating this guy Jeremy a few months ago. Again, no need to go too much into things, but throwing a man into the bff-game definitely changes things. Y'all feel me?
Here's the deal, though: Brandi couldn't handle it any better. Not only did she pick a great guy that I love to hang out with as my own friend (HELLO, he enjoys my craziness, makes my best friend happier than can be, will talk football with me all day even when it's all I can do not to sigh and giggle at the hot players, AND he loves my spicy sausage dip enough to request it frequently!!), but she's being incredibly respectful and conscious of our girl-only hangout time.
When you have a great guy, it's easy to only hang out with "that man" at the expense of your friendships. That's not cool, but it's understandable. But not cool. Brandi makes time for all of us to hang out, but she makes time for the silly girliness, too. I appreciate that more than I can say.
Nice work, B. I'm happy for you. Happy for all of us. :)
Wasn't that great?!
Anyhoo, I'm here to tell you about my friend Brandi. She is the best. I'm not going to do a whole long drawn-out thing about all the fantab-awesome things we've done over the years, but I do want to let you know how much I appreciate her for being an exemplary friend.
Brandi and I have always rejoiced in our shared strangeness. We're big fans of belting Luke Bryan or NKOTBSB in the car with the windows down, watching cheesy movies and eating junk food for hours and hours, making strange noises that portray our exact feelings, taking hypothetical situations to the extreme, and generally enjoying being twelve-year-olds at heart. We're very cool, be assured.
It's been about five years since Brandi and I became fast friends in college, and we've spent a lot of time together since then, so I was both hype out of my mind and a little apprehensive when she started dating this guy Jeremy a few months ago. Again, no need to go too much into things, but throwing a man into the bff-game definitely changes things. Y'all feel me?
Here's the deal, though: Brandi couldn't handle it any better. Not only did she pick a great guy that I love to hang out with as my own friend (HELLO, he enjoys my craziness, makes my best friend happier than can be, will talk football with me all day even when it's all I can do not to sigh and giggle at the hot players, AND he loves my spicy sausage dip enough to request it frequently!!), but she's being incredibly respectful and conscious of our girl-only hangout time.
When you have a great guy, it's easy to only hang out with "that man" at the expense of your friendships. That's not cool, but it's understandable. But not cool. Brandi makes time for all of us to hang out, but she makes time for the silly girliness, too. I appreciate that more than I can say.
Nice work, B. I'm happy for you. Happy for all of us. :)
Sunday, January 01, 2012
What is...NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION!
The JEOPARDY! "answer" probably would have been something like, "This is something most people make once a year, but rarely keep for more than a few weeks."
Resolutions are almost laughable in our culture. When we tell people what our new year's resolutions are, we tend to tack on a disclaimer -- "...but we'll see how long that lasts!" The word resolution, though, is the fraternal twin of resolve. If you resolve you will do something, you've set your mind to it. If someone has great resolve, they are driven towards a goal. Resolutions aren't to be taken lightly. In the interest of being persnickety (that's not true, I just really wanted to type out persnickety, apparently twice), I am changing my wording.
I resolve to do two things this year.
I resolve to be more intentional about my day-to-day life. I listen to the Yolanda Adams Morning Show on the gospel station every morning on my way to work, and the thing they always want you to do is Live on Purpose. Don't let life happen to you. I like to let life happen to me -- it's easier that way. But it's the lazy thing to do, and I don't think it's the way God has designed us. We are called to follow His will, but we can't do that if we don't put ourselves out there somehow. This means we need to work hard at our jobs, no matter how tired we are; we need to pursue our friends and loved ones, and not just wait for them to call; we ought to keep track of time and fill our moments with valuable experiences (But wait -- it's still okay to sit and watch loads of Criminal Minds episodes. Just not every day. And not spend the remainder of your time on Facebook.); we must make choices intelligently, not impulsively.
I resolve to include God in my big decisions and little moments. I have ignored Him for years, people. Ignored with outright rebellions, with sideways snubs, with placing myself first always. I am my own idol. If it's convenient for me, I pray. If I think about it. I go to church because I like the people there and it's the only time I get to belt out songs with others (clearly I miss being in a choir...). It's been a long time since I've simply communed with God for the sake of the relationship; I'm always trying to get something out of it, and that's not good. Especially since I turn right around and alienate Him again as soon as my holy supplications leave my lips. It's time I praise Him for what He's done and the blessings He's given me. I am who I am completely because that's who He's created me to be. I can't take credit for anything I have, and it can all be taken away in a moment. I need to be okay with life if I'm not amazing...but really, I need to realize that my "amazingness" isn't really mine to use however I choose.
I would expound a little more, but I've got three minutes of battery life on my computer. I encourage you to think of things that you resolve to do this year, and treat them like the life-changing goals that they ought to be.
We've got this one life that is supposed to be a beautiful thing. Don't get in the way of your beautiful life by doing nothing.
Resolutions are almost laughable in our culture. When we tell people what our new year's resolutions are, we tend to tack on a disclaimer -- "...but we'll see how long that lasts!" The word resolution, though, is the fraternal twin of resolve. If you resolve you will do something, you've set your mind to it. If someone has great resolve, they are driven towards a goal. Resolutions aren't to be taken lightly. In the interest of being persnickety (that's not true, I just really wanted to type out persnickety, apparently twice), I am changing my wording.
I resolve to do two things this year.
I resolve to be more intentional about my day-to-day life. I listen to the Yolanda Adams Morning Show on the gospel station every morning on my way to work, and the thing they always want you to do is Live on Purpose. Don't let life happen to you. I like to let life happen to me -- it's easier that way. But it's the lazy thing to do, and I don't think it's the way God has designed us. We are called to follow His will, but we can't do that if we don't put ourselves out there somehow. This means we need to work hard at our jobs, no matter how tired we are; we need to pursue our friends and loved ones, and not just wait for them to call; we ought to keep track of time and fill our moments with valuable experiences (But wait -- it's still okay to sit and watch loads of Criminal Minds episodes. Just not every day. And not spend the remainder of your time on Facebook.); we must make choices intelligently, not impulsively.
I resolve to include God in my big decisions and little moments. I have ignored Him for years, people. Ignored with outright rebellions, with sideways snubs, with placing myself first always. I am my own idol. If it's convenient for me, I pray. If I think about it. I go to church because I like the people there and it's the only time I get to belt out songs with others (clearly I miss being in a choir...). It's been a long time since I've simply communed with God for the sake of the relationship; I'm always trying to get something out of it, and that's not good. Especially since I turn right around and alienate Him again as soon as my holy supplications leave my lips. It's time I praise Him for what He's done and the blessings He's given me. I am who I am completely because that's who He's created me to be. I can't take credit for anything I have, and it can all be taken away in a moment. I need to be okay with life if I'm not amazing...but really, I need to realize that my "amazingness" isn't really mine to use however I choose.
I would expound a little more, but I've got three minutes of battery life on my computer. I encourage you to think of things that you resolve to do this year, and treat them like the life-changing goals that they ought to be.
We've got this one life that is supposed to be a beautiful thing. Don't get in the way of your beautiful life by doing nothing.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Get ready.
I just want you to know...
...I'm suUUuuUUUUper ready for Christmas. I want to decorate everything NOW. I want to burn Christmas candles. I want to hang ornaments and make egg nog (I don't even know if I like egg nog or not, but it's so FESTIVE!!). I want to eat junk food and watch Christmas movies and write my annual letter and not send it to anyone. I want to stand under the red-rose kissing ball and wait for a cute boy to walk by (In my apartment? Where would he come from?). I want to make cider. I want to bake sugar cookies and put sprinkles on them. I want to blast Christmas music and sing along. I want to get caught up in all the twinkle lights on my tree and on my railing and forget to look away until I realize my eyes are burning. I want to smile and give hugs and say "Merry Christmas!" to strangers.
I can't wait.
...I'm suUUuuUUUUper ready for Christmas. I want to decorate everything NOW. I want to burn Christmas candles. I want to hang ornaments and make egg nog (I don't even know if I like egg nog or not, but it's so FESTIVE!!). I want to eat junk food and watch Christmas movies and write my annual letter and not send it to anyone. I want to stand under the red-rose kissing ball and wait for a cute boy to walk by (In my apartment? Where would he come from?). I want to make cider. I want to bake sugar cookies and put sprinkles on them. I want to blast Christmas music and sing along. I want to get caught up in all the twinkle lights on my tree and on my railing and forget to look away until I realize my eyes are burning. I want to smile and give hugs and say "Merry Christmas!" to strangers.
I can't wait.
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Man-Repelling at its finest. Because I'm fooiiine.
There's a blog I follow that is HIGH-larious. It's called The Man Repeller. It's all about wearing whatever kind of fashion makes you feel good, even if it's man-repelling (which, believe you me, some of it REALLY is), and letting your confidence and personality and natural beauty be what reels 'em all in. Sounds like my kind of thing, right? I thought so too. That being said, I think it's a good thing that the kind of fashion that makes me feel good is also really cute. Because let's be honest, the track record when my personality is it? Well, about the same track record as when fashion's involved. Nada. But we've already talked about that in depth, so...no more now.
Anyway, even though my fashion isn't man-repelling, I do all KINDS of things that aren't necessarily magnetic as far as men go. I decided to make a list of things that I've done TODAY ONLY that make me ME, but that also need to be hidden away until somebody puts a ring on it. Otherwise, whoops, done. Thanks for playing. [and of course, since they need to be hidden, it's a great idea to document them online forever and always]
1. I looked cute today, like REALLY cute if I may say so myself, and then as soon as I got home from church, I traded the grey suede ankle boots for too-big men's UNC slippers, and the fetching sweaterdress for a freeing waaaaayyyyy huge grey sweatshirt. The leggings remained. Alright, Flashdance, I swear I'll only hang onto your clothes until tomorrow morning. Maybe a little longer.
2. I talk to myself, and I talk to people who aren't there. There's no psychosis involved, I just do it. I would even venture to say that I talk as though another me is standing there. Just now, I was getting ready to cut up some carrots for chicken and dumplings, and I got a knife and said, "Ooh, hey look, I get to use my new knife! Haa!" Very cool.
3. Right after I got excited about my new knife and told myself all about it, a carrot rolled off the cutting board and I swiped it up superfaaaast, and before gnawing on it I went, "OMM NOMM NOOMMMM" in my best carrot monster voice. Again, very cool, if you're three.
4. I'm playing Christmas music on November 6th. I've been playing it since about October 10th. And I like to mimic all the instruments and voices as I sing along, including the foghorn-like bass singers whose notes I can't quite hit.
5. I have thirty pairs of shoes lying around my small apartment. I counted. I like to leave them out because I like to look at them and try them on all the time.
6. There are four different scented candles burning right now, and that's only because two plus the twelve votives have burned out. It's enough to make any man get five headaches, but ask me if I care. Go ahead, ask me.
7. Apparently, there's a noise for everything. Drop a carrot? "Mhrrrr." Drop another? "Bhoooooopp!!" Does dinner smell good? "Hoooooly cow, mbuhhhhuhurrr!!!" That new detective on SVU looks pretty good, doesn't he? "Ayoooooooo! Meeehehehhe!!" Did you just type something funny, Laura? "Gulllghughugheeee..."
8. Speaking of good-looking men, I feel the need to point them out, or to giggle, or to say, "Ayoooooooo! Meeehehehhe!!" when I see them. That doesn't exactly foster affection and happiness from my significant other. I hope this will go away when I find someone or when I turn thirteen, whichever comes first. But...I hope. I don't guarantee.
That's it for the night. This is getting ridiculous. Plus, my chicken and dumplings are almost ready, and the carrot ends and chicken scraps I've been sneaking just aren't cutting it.
Anyway, even though my fashion isn't man-repelling, I do all KINDS of things that aren't necessarily magnetic as far as men go. I decided to make a list of things that I've done TODAY ONLY that make me ME, but that also need to be hidden away until somebody puts a ring on it. Otherwise, whoops, done. Thanks for playing. [and of course, since they need to be hidden, it's a great idea to document them online forever and always]
1. I looked cute today, like REALLY cute if I may say so myself, and then as soon as I got home from church, I traded the grey suede ankle boots for too-big men's UNC slippers, and the fetching sweaterdress for a freeing waaaaayyyyy huge grey sweatshirt. The leggings remained. Alright, Flashdance, I swear I'll only hang onto your clothes until tomorrow morning. Maybe a little longer.
2. I talk to myself, and I talk to people who aren't there. There's no psychosis involved, I just do it. I would even venture to say that I talk as though another me is standing there. Just now, I was getting ready to cut up some carrots for chicken and dumplings, and I got a knife and said, "Ooh, hey look, I get to use my new knife! Haa!" Very cool.
3. Right after I got excited about my new knife and told myself all about it, a carrot rolled off the cutting board and I swiped it up superfaaaast, and before gnawing on it I went, "OMM NOMM NOOMMMM" in my best carrot monster voice. Again, very cool, if you're three.
4. I'm playing Christmas music on November 6th. I've been playing it since about October 10th. And I like to mimic all the instruments and voices as I sing along, including the foghorn-like bass singers whose notes I can't quite hit.
5. I have thirty pairs of shoes lying around my small apartment. I counted. I like to leave them out because I like to look at them and try them on all the time.
6. There are four different scented candles burning right now, and that's only because two plus the twelve votives have burned out. It's enough to make any man get five headaches, but ask me if I care. Go ahead, ask me.
7. Apparently, there's a noise for everything. Drop a carrot? "Mhrrrr." Drop another? "Bhoooooopp!!" Does dinner smell good? "Hoooooly cow, mbuhhhhuhurrr!!!" That new detective on SVU looks pretty good, doesn't he? "Ayoooooooo! Meeehehehhe!!" Did you just type something funny, Laura? "Gulllghughugheeee..."
8. Speaking of good-looking men, I feel the need to point them out, or to giggle, or to say, "Ayoooooooo! Meeehehehhe!!" when I see them. That doesn't exactly foster affection and happiness from my significant other. I hope this will go away when I find someone or when I turn thirteen, whichever comes first. But...I hope. I don't guarantee.
That's it for the night. This is getting ridiculous. Plus, my chicken and dumplings are almost ready, and the carrot ends and chicken scraps I've been sneaking just aren't cutting it.
Monday, October 10, 2011
The pros and cons of imaginary friends.
I've had lots of friends my whole entire life. I've never needed to make up imaginary friends, and honestly, my non-sleeping imagination is a little bit lazy (but my sleeping one -- whoa). Now, I'm a homebody for sure. I'm not a fan of going out, or spending all my time with people, or steering clear of alone time at all. But let me tell you what, living in a new city can suuuure make a body relish relationships.
Just for the sake of juxtaposition, let me tell you a bit about my college years. I already told you I never really went out; however, living in campus housing for three years and with a dear, dear friend for the fourth, I was never left wanting in the friend department. That's actually my favorite thing about college, and the thing I miss the most by far: having at least twenty friends within walking distance, many of whom would be happy to hang out on short notice. Choices, immediacy, and no need for pre-planning. Perfection. No, wait -- the scheduled weekly dinners with my darling dinner group were the highlight of it all. I miss those times more than anything.
Now let's take a look at my current situation. My best friend lives over half an hour away, so we see each other once or twice a week. That wouldn't be often enough...if I actually had the energy to see anybody on a weekday. But that's beside the point. Anyway, she lives far away, and so does her fun roommate, and my friends from school are either A.) tired like I am B.) live far away C.) have families that they need to spend time with or D.) all of the above. I love them, but our lifestyles don't make for easy regular hang-out-ness. We have a BLAST at school, but I personally would like to have a blast outside of school every now and then as well.
That's where my imaginary friends come in.
Are you familiar with personality projection? Oh, I am. That's because I do it all the time. Here's how it works: I choose someone who is famous or somehow noteworthy, and I decide what they're like. I generally do this under the guise of psychological hypothesis, but it's really just me giving traits to people I don't know. Case in point? The entire college baseball team the four years I was there. In my head, we were all best friends, or we would be if we ever would've met. I would think stuff like, Oh, that guy, I can tell by his musculoskeletal structure that he enjoys outdoor activities, so he would probably take me fishing, and his alpha-male-ness would like the fact that I don't bait my own hook. And his easy smile probably means that he is kind, but he's got that mischievous twinkle that means he would love bantering with me and playing jokes on each other. Did he just order Mexican food from that place in the dining hall? I LOVE Mexican food. We would probably go on dates to places that have Mexican food, and I bet he would be a big fan of my chicken tacos. We're totally MFEO.
That's pretty much the way it goes for me, baseball player or not. Creepy, right? I know.
So, that's kind of how I spend my time. I'm sad right now, because I just watched a few episodes of last season's The Office, and Michael Scott left. And I cried. And I cried the most when Jim Halpert got a little teary about it...because Jim is one of my crushes. My poor Jim is sad that Michael is leaving, and he said Michael's the best boss ever even though he's ridiculous. That just shows how quality Jim is, and it shows that he values a person's motives and character instead of their actions, and that's really sweet and understanding of him. That's so adorable. We're totally MFEO.
When Law & Order: Criminal Intent ended not this past season, but the one before, I bawled when the captain died. BAWLED. And don't even get me started on how Vincent D'Onofrio and I are soul mates simply based upon how well he plays Bobby Goren in that show. But we have so much in common, and he's smart, and I'm smart, and he's probably a melancholy-choleric, and I'm a sanguine-phlegmatic, so we're totally MFEO...
...except that he's not REAL.
So. Pros to having imaginary friends? They do what I want, and they're always there (as long as I have books to read and television episodes saved on my DVR...speaking of which, have I told you about that Criminal Minds episode with Alex O'Laughlin in it yet? Oh my goodness. He's a serial killer, but it's because he's OCD, and with my people skills and psychological intuition, I could SO help him. We're totally MFEO.). Cons?
Ehh, I don't know...I can't really think of anything. Oh well.
Just for the sake of juxtaposition, let me tell you a bit about my college years. I already told you I never really went out; however, living in campus housing for three years and with a dear, dear friend for the fourth, I was never left wanting in the friend department. That's actually my favorite thing about college, and the thing I miss the most by far: having at least twenty friends within walking distance, many of whom would be happy to hang out on short notice. Choices, immediacy, and no need for pre-planning. Perfection. No, wait -- the scheduled weekly dinners with my darling dinner group were the highlight of it all. I miss those times more than anything.
Now let's take a look at my current situation. My best friend lives over half an hour away, so we see each other once or twice a week. That wouldn't be often enough...if I actually had the energy to see anybody on a weekday. But that's beside the point. Anyway, she lives far away, and so does her fun roommate, and my friends from school are either A.) tired like I am B.) live far away C.) have families that they need to spend time with or D.) all of the above. I love them, but our lifestyles don't make for easy regular hang-out-ness. We have a BLAST at school, but I personally would like to have a blast outside of school every now and then as well.
That's where my imaginary friends come in.
Are you familiar with personality projection? Oh, I am. That's because I do it all the time. Here's how it works: I choose someone who is famous or somehow noteworthy, and I decide what they're like. I generally do this under the guise of psychological hypothesis, but it's really just me giving traits to people I don't know. Case in point? The entire college baseball team the four years I was there. In my head, we were all best friends, or we would be if we ever would've met. I would think stuff like, Oh, that guy, I can tell by his musculoskeletal structure that he enjoys outdoor activities, so he would probably take me fishing, and his alpha-male-ness would like the fact that I don't bait my own hook. And his easy smile probably means that he is kind, but he's got that mischievous twinkle that means he would love bantering with me and playing jokes on each other. Did he just order Mexican food from that place in the dining hall? I LOVE Mexican food. We would probably go on dates to places that have Mexican food, and I bet he would be a big fan of my chicken tacos. We're totally MFEO.
That's pretty much the way it goes for me, baseball player or not. Creepy, right? I know.
So, that's kind of how I spend my time. I'm sad right now, because I just watched a few episodes of last season's The Office, and Michael Scott left. And I cried. And I cried the most when Jim Halpert got a little teary about it...because Jim is one of my crushes. My poor Jim is sad that Michael is leaving, and he said Michael's the best boss ever even though he's ridiculous. That just shows how quality Jim is, and it shows that he values a person's motives and character instead of their actions, and that's really sweet and understanding of him. That's so adorable. We're totally MFEO.
When Law & Order: Criminal Intent ended not this past season, but the one before, I bawled when the captain died. BAWLED. And don't even get me started on how Vincent D'Onofrio and I are soul mates simply based upon how well he plays Bobby Goren in that show. But we have so much in common, and he's smart, and I'm smart, and he's probably a melancholy-choleric, and I'm a sanguine-phlegmatic, so we're totally MFEO...
...except that he's not REAL.
So. Pros to having imaginary friends? They do what I want, and they're always there (as long as I have books to read and television episodes saved on my DVR...speaking of which, have I told you about that Criminal Minds episode with Alex O'Laughlin in it yet? Oh my goodness. He's a serial killer, but it's because he's OCD, and with my people skills and psychological intuition, I could SO help him. We're totally MFEO.). Cons?
Ehh, I don't know...I can't really think of anything. Oh well.
Thursday, October 06, 2011
If I were...
Favorite non-human things to do. GO!
If I were a monkey, I would pick things up with my toes.
If I were an elephant, I would pretend like my trunk was a helicopter. Or hit other animals with it. Or make it into a sprinkler and watch the wiggly rainbows.
If I were a mink, I would rub my belly all day long.
If I were a cat, I would chase spots of light and invisible bugs. And I would sleep as much as possible. But let's be honest, I would do that no matter the form in which I existed.
If I were a dog, I would dig holes and roll in the loose dirt.
If I were a dragonfly, I would perch. A lot. And let people admire me.
If I were a...an onion was the next thing that popped in my head. Not exactly an animal, but...if I were an onion, I would be in a cheesy chicken and wild rice casserole with buttery corn flakes on top.
If I were an owl, I would turn my head way far around and stare at people.
If I were a bird, I would sing and fly. Duh.
If I were a gorilla, I'd make lots of growly gorilla noises. All. the. time.
If I were a deer, I'd try not to get shot and I'd do a whole lot of loping in the interim.
If I were a fish, I'd just make fishy faces, but not take pictures of myself while doing it. Come on, I didn't say I was a teenaged girl.
If I were an above-earth worm, I'd sunbathe on leaves and munch away at the same time. It would be like sunbathing on top of a mound of chili-cheese fries.
If I were an earthworm, I'd work really hard on growing more hearts.
If I were an eagle/falcon thing, I'd screech as much as possible. Screeching is fun.
If I were a t-rex, I'd probably not be able to stop laughing at my arms.
If I were a hyena, I'd probably not be able to stop laughing.
So...I guess I would do a lot of the same stuff that I already do now.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
How would I live?
That title made me think of the song "How Do I Live" by LeAnn Rimes, so I searched for it on youtube so as to share it with you for your listening pleasure. In the process, I came across this gem:
Oh man. I can't handle the magic that is that video. MAGIC, I tell you.
Alright, so anyway, I've been thinking a lot about my job and how it drives me crazy. I love teaching; it's so perfectly tailored to my personality and skill set. There's a heck of a lot of stuff that I can't stand about the profession, though. Long hours, ungrateful children, being a babysitter, raising teacher expectations while lowering student expectations, terrible pay, etc. All the stuff you hear about and read about, which some of you must put up with daily (can I get an amen?!).
It's got me wondering if, after two years and twenty-two days of teaching, it's time for me to start considering other occupations. I'm not too far into things, so I wouldn't be losing very much time or progress in another field. How depressing is it, though, when you realize that your dream job is so flawed that it can no longer be your dream? When the nightmares you have all center around your job (and losing teeth/getting cavities)? It's kind of awful. I don't like not liking something I love.
To perk myself up a little bit, I spend time thinking of all the cool things I could do with my life, how I would live my life if I weren't a teacher. Yay! A list! You're excited, right?
1. Meteorologist. We all know how much I love weather. It's a problem.
2. Engineer. Just like my dad.
3. Fisherman. Duh.
4. Photographer. That sure won't fix the money problem, though. I take that back. I'd be awesome.
5. Personal Shopper. That way, I can take care of the shopping bug without spending any of my own money!!
6. Talk Show Host. Who wouldn't want to listen to me for an hour? Or more?
7. Dog Walker. Well-behaved dogs only.
8. Governess. It's like a teacher and a nanny, but with rich and hot single fathers just like in all the movies.
9. Potter. Muddy hands = fun job.
10. Candle Maker. Not really sure why.
11. Mattress Tester. I know they exist...I just have to figure out where to look.
12. Food Tester. See #11.
13. Writer. Can we work something out so I don't have any deadlines?
14. Backup Singer. No way am I going to be the front woman, but can you imagine how cool it would be to go on tour? I love riding clean buses, I work well with egomaniacs, and I am cheerful even when sleep deprived!
15. Trophy Wife. Pros? Everything. Cons? Complete relinquishment of individual personality....but let's be honest, my charisma's a big part of the "trophy" for me anyway, isn't it?
There you have it, folks. I'll keep you posted on future career developments. In the meantime, I'm going to watch a montage of intimate moments between Aragorn and Arwen as bad dance music plays in the background. Do you think there's a job out there with "watching bad youtube videos" somewhere in the description?
Oh man. I can't handle the magic that is that video. MAGIC, I tell you.
Alright, so anyway, I've been thinking a lot about my job and how it drives me crazy. I love teaching; it's so perfectly tailored to my personality and skill set. There's a heck of a lot of stuff that I can't stand about the profession, though. Long hours, ungrateful children, being a babysitter, raising teacher expectations while lowering student expectations, terrible pay, etc. All the stuff you hear about and read about, which some of you must put up with daily (can I get an amen?!).
It's got me wondering if, after two years and twenty-two days of teaching, it's time for me to start considering other occupations. I'm not too far into things, so I wouldn't be losing very much time or progress in another field. How depressing is it, though, when you realize that your dream job is so flawed that it can no longer be your dream? When the nightmares you have all center around your job (and losing teeth/getting cavities)? It's kind of awful. I don't like not liking something I love.
To perk myself up a little bit, I spend time thinking of all the cool things I could do with my life, how I would live my life if I weren't a teacher. Yay! A list! You're excited, right?
1. Meteorologist. We all know how much I love weather. It's a problem.
2. Engineer. Just like my dad.
3. Fisherman. Duh.
4. Photographer. That sure won't fix the money problem, though. I take that back. I'd be awesome.
5. Personal Shopper. That way, I can take care of the shopping bug without spending any of my own money!!
6. Talk Show Host. Who wouldn't want to listen to me for an hour? Or more?
7. Dog Walker. Well-behaved dogs only.
8. Governess. It's like a teacher and a nanny, but with rich and hot single fathers just like in all the movies.
9. Potter. Muddy hands = fun job.
10. Candle Maker. Not really sure why.
11. Mattress Tester. I know they exist...I just have to figure out where to look.
12. Food Tester. See #11.
13. Writer. Can we work something out so I don't have any deadlines?
14. Backup Singer. No way am I going to be the front woman, but can you imagine how cool it would be to go on tour? I love riding clean buses, I work well with egomaniacs, and I am cheerful even when sleep deprived!
15. Trophy Wife. Pros? Everything. Cons? Complete relinquishment of individual personality....but let's be honest, my charisma's a big part of the "trophy" for me anyway, isn't it?
There you have it, folks. I'll keep you posted on future career developments. In the meantime, I'm going to watch a montage of intimate moments between Aragorn and Arwen as bad dance music plays in the background. Do you think there's a job out there with "watching bad youtube videos" somewhere in the description?
Friday, September 23, 2011
TTLIF!!!
Thank the Lord it's Friday! Here's why:
1. I don't have to get up early in the morning.
2. Football is on for twelve hours tomorrow.
3. I can shower whenever I want to. It might be tonight, tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon...or not at all.
4. My couch has been lonely. So has my DVR. So has my bff. So have I...except for hanging out in the Queen B club, of course.
5. There is a negligible chance of me interacting with children for the next sixty hours, excluding the neighbor kids who are currently screaming in the yard outside my window.
6. I can light candles and enjoy them all day long.
7. I can stay up late, free of guilt.
8. I don't have to answer questions, repeat myself four times and then again a few minutes later, shush anyone, or hold out protective don't-you-dare-run-or-sharpen-your-pencil-or-skip-in-line-or-walk-on-the-left-side-or-jump-to-another-desk-or-hang-from-my-doorframe-like-a-monkey arms.
9. I will happily exist in a no-whining and no-crying zone, unless I choose to watch Dr. Zhivago. Then it will be game on.
10. I can have lunch anytime I want to, and I can take as long as I want to. I might even decide to chew my food before swallowing it.
11. I can go to sleep in my clothes, and I can wear those same clothes tomorrow.
12. I can make long lists on my blog.
13. I can check out my hot new neighbor (he's a little short, but I'm just looking) who looks good in camouflage and has a pair of black cowboy boots.
14. No one will think my food is weird. Unless I post about it on facebook.
15. Laundry needs to be done, and I just might have the energy to do it.
16. I can go get groceries (maybe) and make chicken and dumplings and chicken casserole and tacos and eat bread and butter and
I just lost interest in my list. But I can do that. It's the weekend.
1. I don't have to get up early in the morning.
2. Football is on for twelve hours tomorrow.
3. I can shower whenever I want to. It might be tonight, tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon...or not at all.
4. My couch has been lonely. So has my DVR. So has my bff. So have I...except for hanging out in the Queen B club, of course.
5. There is a negligible chance of me interacting with children for the next sixty hours, excluding the neighbor kids who are currently screaming in the yard outside my window.
6. I can light candles and enjoy them all day long.
7. I can stay up late, free of guilt.
8. I don't have to answer questions, repeat myself four times and then again a few minutes later, shush anyone, or hold out protective don't-you-dare-run-or-sharpen-your-pencil-or-skip-in-line-or-walk-on-the-left-side-or-jump-to-another-desk-or-hang-from-my-doorframe-like-a-monkey arms.
9. I will happily exist in a no-whining and no-crying zone, unless I choose to watch Dr. Zhivago. Then it will be game on.
10. I can have lunch anytime I want to, and I can take as long as I want to. I might even decide to chew my food before swallowing it.
11. I can go to sleep in my clothes, and I can wear those same clothes tomorrow.
12. I can make long lists on my blog.
13. I can check out my hot new neighbor (he's a little short, but I'm just looking) who looks good in camouflage and has a pair of black cowboy boots.
14. No one will think my food is weird. Unless I post about it on facebook.
15. Laundry needs to be done, and I just might have the energy to do it.
16. I can go get groceries (maybe) and make chicken and dumplings and chicken casserole and tacos and eat bread and butter and
I just lost interest in my list. But I can do that. It's the weekend.
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