Overall, 2008 has been, by far, the best year of my life. Let's face it, I pretty much hit the trifecta of all trifectas. To review: In May, I found out the love of my life and I had reproduced a mini-us. Since I think C is darn near perfect and he likes me alright I suppose, the idea of bringing a baby- OUR baby- into this world has brought us more excitement and confusion and fear and love, love, love than two people should be allowed. In July, we bought our first house. I'm pretty sure it will forever be a work in progress, but it's our home. In October, we joined our hearts forever in marriage. Better late than never, though I really couldn't have imagined it any other way. Except for maybe being several pounds lighter, but sometimes life just doesn't give you everything.
The thought of all we've achieved in 12 short months makes my head spin- but in the I've-sucked-too-much-helium-and-I'm-not-sure-my-feet-are-still-on-the-ground kind of way. I've been trying to sit and reflect on it all, but it never fails that my brain shifts to something I need to do right that very second. I've never been very good at reflecting.
Sure, there have been valleys mixed in with our mountain tops, but I have faith that this man of mine and I can get through just about anything. Faith is a very important thing to me. I have faith that I will figure a way to be a good mother and wife. I have faith that though I may not be Betty Crocker, I'm finding my way around the kitchen- I just needed a second.
I have wonderful girlfriends who have been next to me through this wild ride of 2008, too. These girls have calmed my nerves, been my lifeline and my biggest cheerleaders. I hate the miles between us and even though we may not talk as much as we used to, I know they're only a phone call away. And they know the same goes for me... basketball belly and all.
And so, 2008 ends. The coming of a new year always excites me because it's a chance at change- out with the old and in with the new. I can't imagine topping 2008, but I have a feeling 2009 just might give it a run for its money.
Happy New Year, Internet.
Lately my response to people telling me not to do something has been, "What's it going to do- make him come out?" At this point, it would be emergency surgery, but what I wouldn't give to have my hips back. It almost ticks me off that I'm going through all this "natural" childbirth pain- the normal stuff that happens to everyone- for naught. I've been lamenting to C about not being able to hold a 27 hour labor over his head, but I guess having a scar is just about as good. If "good" is even the right word.
The only part I'm anxious about is the surgery- just because it is major abdominal surgery and let's face it. I haven't been admitted to a hospital since I was five years old. My mother the health nazi will have me doing sit ups and walking several miles as soon as she possibly can, so I'm not too worried about the recovery. I'm a little worried about the possible harm I may do her, but that's the risk she runs.
Here's something I haven't told anyone-- we have a semi-complete nursery! We bought a crib and dresser and my beautiful bedding is all ready for my baby boy! C bought me a glider for Christmas that will be perfect for mid-night feedings and we replaced the ceiling fan. I'll take some pictures after I get the valances hung. Nothing is on the walls yet, but I'm working on it. Well, I will work on it at some point.
In all appearances, we're ready for the baby. A place for him to lay his noggin, a place to rock him, a place to change his stinky hiney, a place to swing him and a seat for him in the car. (My sister and mom bought us the carseat/stroller combo for Christmas.) And clothes- lots of precious little clothes, thanks to my dear friends. I've washed and folded just about everything I need, so now we wait.
All this talk inspired me to buy some Todd Snider. I've had some difficulty downloading it, but hopefully Amazon will be snappy in remedying my problem. I also bought Rodney Crowell's Sex and Gasoline. I guess I was feeling a little militant or something. So far, I highly approve of S&G.
I'm not doing a darn thing today and I almost feel guilty for it. I reckon it'll be ok, right? We have NO plans for NYE and I'm pretty ok with that. We'll probably buy some fireworks and try to light the world on fire. Yeehaw.
Whatever your plans are, please be safe. My hope is that all of my angels will have a kiss on NYE and a smile. Happy 2009... I'm positive it will not be boring.
I saw my doc this morning. Word on the street is that I'm tentatively scheduled for a 01/13 c-section around noon. I say "tentatively" because they're going to confirm it with the hospital on Monday. It's not exactly the route I wanted to go, but since my son has chosen to be stubborn, it appears to be the way things are going to be. The baby is still breech and as of Tuesday, weighed 7lbs 13oz-- putting him on track to be a whopping 9lbs+. His head measured 41 weeks already, so even if he were to turn (which I don't anticipate), the chances of me being able (or wanting to) squeeze that giant melon out are slim.
I'm not thrilled, but it'll be fine- and probably for the best all around. She checked me for dilation, but she said I'm closed up tight. Yay. She could feel his little butt "right there" though, which explains the WONDERFUL kicks to my hoo-ha. I'm seriously waiting for a foot to pop out!
Christmas Eve and Day were great around here. This afternoon we've been playing with our new stuff, including a game camera, pressure washer and my travel system (stroller/carseat combo). I can't wait til the last one is full of baby fat!! 17 days or bust!!
He's also still breech. Yay me. The sonographer said there was plenty of fluid left for him to turn, but I'm not hopeful. Apparently he rather likes having his head under my left boob. Figures. Men. Other than that though, he was perfect. My mom went to the appointment with me so the lady took a little extra time and showed her all sorts of views. We tried and tried to get a good shot of his face, but ended up only getting the cutest pouty lips and perfect little nose. The picture is frameable it's so cute! He's also a pro at breathing already. It was so cool watching his little diaphram move up and down. Oh! And hair! He's got hair!
After that we toured the hospital, which I learned is a "breastfeeding hospital" (Trinity Mother Frances). There is no nursery (they stay with mom the whole time except for baths and the circumcision) and they don't even give the babies a pacifier. They really, really want the baby to go straight to the boob- which I'm all for. She also told me about the C-section route since that was the first thing she said after I said he's still breech. "Sounds like a 'section to me". I'm ok with either, actually... I know I'll recover and I just want the baby to be healthy. I'm not scared of the surgery, but I guess I do kind of want to experience contractions and pushing and all that someday.
I see my OB on Friday to discuss the results of the sono and to have my first internal (check see if I've dialated any). I'm anticipating that she'll either schedule an induction or a c-section for after the first of the year. I hope so, anyway... I just need a plan- for my sanity, you know?
I haven't had any real contractions, I don't think. I've actually started having noticeable Braxton Hicks last night and today. I don't know how painful the real things start out as, but last nights were on the cusp of painful and came about every 10 minutes for an hour. I think I was just a little dehydrated, though.
Well, today, I found out that I won this gorgeous ornament storage box via Design Mom's 12 Days of Christmas giveaway! And honestly, when I saw that they were being given away, I lusted after them, but decided that even at the sale price of $99, they were just too rich for me. I did just buy some cheap ornament storage boxes from Lowe's over the weekend, but this is so much prettier!
Also, I received my most recent cute baby purchase:
I can't wait to squeeze his big head in it.
If you start peeing your pants just go to the hospital, okay? Just go.
Now's when I confess that I'm more than a little scared I won't know when it's "time". Sure, there are all sorts of things that are "supposed" to happen, but guess what- they don't always. Apparently, it's not always like on tv. How will I know that my back ache is actually "back labor"? Or, like today, if my super hard belly is a contraction or just my child in a ball (still don't know)? I've never done this birthin' business before and I think I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, so what if I confuse contractions with heartburn? I should also mention that I live a solid hour away from the hospital. Forty-five minutes if I'm coming from work. So, some people prefer to "labor at home" until they're really going good. Me? I'll probably be in labor for three days before I realize it and I'll have the baby in the floorboard of the Camry. Nice mental image, eh?
This morning, I got an email notifying me I'd won this adorable onesie from the Etsy Baby Blog giveaway! Yay for PeaPie!
AND, I just got word that the art I commissioned for my kitchen is finished! Too bad the kitchen isn't!
I say all that to say this: One of the "founding fathers" of the site has fallen on some really rough times. Last week, he lost his job to this damn economy and just yesterday, while at a job interview, he returned home to find his apartment burglarized and all of his belongings (including Christmas gifts) stolen. Jon Paul has poured more than his heart and soul into this music industry we love and for someone to steal his joy and his very livelihood just really, really stinks. You see, he is an incredible web designer by trade and the bastards even stole his computer which really leaves him up a creek.
When I heard the news this morning, my first thought was what I could do for him. Not what gifts to buy for my own family, but rather if my family would mind if I gave to JP instead. If you're inclined to help someone with a heart bigger than Texas, please follow this link, read the story and click to Donate. Just think, if all the members of just that website donated $1, we could raise $11,000 which would surely help the Christmas cheer!
Thanks in advance, if for nothing more than happy thoughts for JP and his family.
I'm really trying not to be neurotic. I'm honestly trying to just be calm, cool and collected and just go with the flow. But. Somehow, that's just not working out for me.
I'll be 35 weeks on Friday, which means I'll have five weeks left IF I make it til my due date. Big "if", in my opinion, but what do I know? Anyway, at my last scan, they estimated his weight at 4lbs, 6oz (32 weeks). Assuming his weight will about double by birth, that means I'm going to push a damn near 9lb baby boy out. Drugs, anyone?
So, I've been having this internal arguement with myself about what size clothes I need to get ready for him. A sidebar about myself is that I HATE pulling tags off clothes (or anything for that matter) that I'm not going to use. C makes so much fun of me for leaving tags on clothes until the moment I wear them, because you just never know if I'm going to take them back. I just hate being wasteful, you know? So, here I've got these adorable newborn clothes that my extra large kid may not even fit into. Do I wash them anyway, just in case? Do I wash the 0-3 month clothes, too? It's been a real tough few weeks in my head- to the point of avoidance.
Last night, the clouds parted and angels sang though. My sister-in-law sent two bags of barely used hand me downs from her 6 month old boy. Problem. Solved. I'll just use her clothes until I know what size my chunky monkey will actually wear! Seriously, this sounds like nothing, but I'm so grateful! (Wow, this really is boring baby talk. I apologize.)
Today, it's been hard just to keep my eyes open at work. My maternity t-shirts no longer cover my whole belly. You know you're huge when MATERNITY clothes no longer fit. He's been moving an awful lot the past few days, but I don't think he's turned yet. I swear he was laying "transverse" (across my belly) on Sunday, but I think he's back to butt down now.
But I'm pretty sure I don't know what the hell I'm talking about.
- He's still a he.
- He weighs "approximately" 4lbs 6 oz.
- His head is big (measuring 36 wks).
- His tummy is plump (measuring 34 wks).
- As of Monday, he was breech, but with all the moving he's doing, I'm not sure if he still is or not.
- My hips hurt.
- My thighs feel like I've been horseback riding (I haven't).
- Stretch marks.
- My lower abdominal region aches when I stand or sit up or roll over in bed.
- Sleep is a luxury. I can only imagine how much more true that statement will become AFTER he's here.
- My doc said labor at 37 weeks would be A-Ok with her. Yes, that means Christmas.
- My complaints are superficial and a very small price to pay for what's in store.
- I have a poopload of thank you notes to write, but I shouldn't complain. I am so very truly blessed. Blessed and to be envied.
Have a great weekend, internet. I never thought I'd be saying this, but I'll be cheering for OU on Saturday. It will be painful, but it's in the best interest of my 'Horns afterall.
Somehow in my 28+ years on this earth, I've became a very tolerant person. I understand that some people don't think the way I do and that a lot of people prefer to live with blinders on to the fact that there are other, valid ideas out there than the ones in their narrow little minds. I'm cool with "disagreeing without being disagreeable". I don't force my ideas on anyone, nor do I condemn anyone for their beliefs. However, being tolerant doesn't mean I haven't been angered, shocked and so disappointed in comments I've heard and read by friends, family and acquaintances over this election. That's all I'm going to say, but if you think I'm talking about you, I probably am. Angered. Shocked. Disappointed.
So, look at that, I managed to make my intended post by accident. Now I'll get to my real reason for writing today.
Yesterday I took the day off to take some pictures of my best childhood girlfriend's family while she was in town. I didn't actually have to do that til afternoon, so I took Kit (She's a seven and a half yr old Cocker Spaniel) to the vet first thing yesterday morning. Let me back up and say that she and I had a really bad night Wednesday and I'm embarrassed and ashamed of the way I treated her all because her poor ears were giving her fits. I've treated her like a step-child and that stopped yesterday because I knew my sanity was in danger. Not to mention her life if she didn't stop with the damn dars. So, we made it to the office about 9:30 and didn't leave until 11:30. At least an hour+ of that time was spent with the doctor- this can't bode well, right? Right. It had been several years since she got her shots or had a checkup of any kind, so I told them to give me the full meal deal. Let's just start by saying the only good news I heard was that she didn't have worms. It all goes downhill from there. She needs her teeth cleaned due to some "significant tarter build up and gingivitis", but even that wasn't a big priority by the end of the appointment. Her ears were "typical cocker ears" and while she didn't have mites, she had a pretty raging infection and irreversable damage. So, we're doing a 10 day clean and treat with antibiotics and then we'll go back to see if he can actually see her ear drums. She's also on steroids to reduce the swelling in there. I know she hates the cleanings (which I've successfully done on my own twice now, thankyouverymuch!) but it's for her own good, dammit. Now comes the BEST (read worst) news of the appointment. He started rubbing on her "undercarriage" and all of her glorious 10 (or 13 if you count the strays) titties. He started feeling lumps- or nodules- as he called them, on her the left side. And as nonchalantly as if he were talking about the weather he says, "Yep. That's probably cancer." Now there I was trying my best to love that dog as my own and make her understand that I was really sorry for getting so mad at her the night before and he has to go throw out "CANCER"? Dammit all to hell.
So, I told her daddy last night over the phone so he'd know what to expect when I start asking him what the hell he wants to do. The vet recommends bloodwork and a chest X-ray to see if it spread to her lungs or liver, then surgery to remove it. It will then be biopsied to see if it was the agressive kind or the kind that stays in the mammaries. Adn then.... Ugh. And again I say, Ugh.
Needless to say, I'm not really having a hard time loving her right now. We bonded in that exam room sometime between having her blood drawn and having her ears cleaned and being told she has cancer, just like any other woman could. She needed me in those moments to keep her calm and safe and she counted on me to make sure of it. Once we got home, she was my shadow and hasn't stopped. She's forgiven me and shown that she loves me even though I'm a crazy hormonal bitch. And she still respects my authori-tie.
So there's my news. Our dog has cancer.
Boys born to mothers who drank lightly were 40% less likely to have conduct problems and 30% less likely to be hyperactive, even when the differences between social and economic circumstances were taken into account. They also scored more highly in vocabulary tests and were better able to identify shapes, colours, letters and numbers.
“Whatever you give a woman, she’s going to multiply. If you give her sperm, she’ll give you a baby. If you give her a house, she’ll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she’ll give you a meal. If you give her a smile, she’ll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her. So - if you give her any crap, you will receive a ton of shit.” - Unknown
- I was just in the copy room and a lady walked in and said, "Wellllll, whatchu got goin' on here??", gesturing towards my belly. Then she proceeded to tell me that by the looks of it, my boy will be extra big and healthy. Thanks.
- I went to the bank and to Walmart during lunch and at both places women asked me when I was due- or more specifically, "how much longer I had". I love that I'm obviously pregnant now and not just sporting a questionable beer belly. I totally should have rick-rolled them and said I wasn't pregnant at all. I just swallowed a bowling ball...
- The other day, I came out of the restrooms here at work and went straight to my boss's office. I told her that in a couple of weeks, I was going to have a bathroom emergency where I'm stuck in a stall because the doors open inward and, well, there's just not going to be enough room for it, me and my belly when that happens. Can't you see it now? Me standing on the toilet just to have room to open the door? Handicapped accessible, I think not.
- There are certain things I just can't do anymore, but new skills I've picked up. Like, I can't wash my hair in the kitchen sink or over the side of the tub anymore (not that I did that often, but sometimes you just need to wet it and start over). But now I can push a shopping cart with no hands!
- Last week, I had my 28 weeks checkup and was told that my belly is measuring two weeks ahead. My doctor glared and started the Spanish Inquisition over what I had been eating and how I didn't want this baby to be too big to deliver and for the love of all things holy, STOP EATING! Ok, so it wasn't that bad, but she did tell me to watch my sugar intake. Too bad that's the only craving I've had this entire time. Sweets- nom. nom. Wedding cake doesn't help my case.
- As of this weekend, I officially have some new stretch marks on my hips. Does that mean they're getting wider (say it ain't so!)? Is the skin just pulling towards my belly? Ugh. That's really all I have to say about that.
- Yes, I've been moisturizing the buddah. A lady at work gave me a bottle of Vitamin E with strict instructions to use it daily. And so I do, every morning after my shower. Too bad IT DOESN'T WORK. (Just kidding- it might work since I've really only been concentrating on the belly and so far it's mark free- *knocking furiously on wood*)
- I also think I've developed a very light linea negra that looks like the front seam of my pants - but it's not.
- We received our first official shower gift Friday night from Nick and Allison. *high five to them* for the Boppy Newborn Lounger and mobile! Now if only I had that newborn....
- Speaking of, I'm already feeling angry anxiety (you know the kind that makes you want to drop kick something at the very thought) about C's precious dog and my baby's things. She is NOTORIOUS for curling up and making "her bed" in anything soft on the floor. Clothes, blankets - you name it. I'm seriously not going to be able to leave my child's pallet on the floor because that damn dog will be on it. I had horrific thoughts of her curled up on the lounger the moment I took it out of the package! I tell you one thing though, it'll be a cold and rainy day in hell the day I let her win.
- My sister bought me some pj's last week when she was at an outlet store. I know she was well intentioned but here's how our conversation about them went (before I'd seen them). "I bought you some really soft pj's this week- they're at mom's. They're not "pregnant" but I think I got a size big enough to fit you. They're sooo soft and I know how you like to sleep in sweats." For the record, I haven't slept in sweats since high school when my mom refused to turn on the heat upstairs. Let me also say that I hate fleece. (I know it's great for keeping babies warm and I'm ok with that, I just don't want to wear it.) So, I saw them on Saturday. Fleece. Size? 3X. Thank you for that blow to my self esteem, dear sister. I didn't try them on, nor did I take them with me.
- Man, I'm a pregnant b*.
- We haven't picked a name yet, nor have we started the nursery.
- *Knock on wood*, but my boobs haven't grown in a while. Go me!
- My baby shower in Dallas is this weekend- I'm so looking forward to seeing my girlfriends!
That being said, I have a strange addiction to checking my baby registries online. I won’t worry til Friday if nothing else is bought. Honest. Not even when I check it three times a day between now and then. No worrying til Friday. And even then- who am I to expect gifts? I’m channeling my zen buddah and rubbing my own belly. Just seeing my old friends will be present enough for me. Honest.*
- Man, that sounded really selfish- but this is a "where I am in my pregnancy" post, riiiiiight?
- June's running a marathon this week. A freakin' marathon- in NYC. Me? I'm rubbing my belly for luck.
*Edit: The more I thought about it, the more I felt bad for writing that, but clearly not bad enough to delete it completely. Let my shallowness be on display for all the internet to see.
Dave Barry, Nationally Syndicated Columnist
1. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.
2. If you had to identify, in one word, the reason why the human race has not achieved, and never will achieve, its full potential, that word would be ‘meetings.’
3. There is a very fine line between ‘hobby’ and ‘mental illness.’
4. People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.
5. You should not confuse your career with your life.
6. Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance.
7. Never lick a steak knife.
8. The most destructive force in the universe is gossip.
9. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight savings time.
10. You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think
she’s pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.
11. There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age eleven.
12. The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above average drivers.
13. A person, who is nice to you, but rude to a waiter, is not a nice person. (This is very important. Pay attention. It never fails.)
14. Your friends love you anyway.
15. Never be afraid to try something new. Remember that a lone amateur built the Ark. A large group of professionals built the Titanic.
16. Thought for the day: Men are like fine wine. They start out as grapes, and it’s up to the women to stomp the crap out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.
So, anyway. Back to Kroger. I decided that I would make grilled chicken sandwiches ala Pioneer Woman so there I was, happily standing at the meat section pondering my options. Then, the overly friendly and talkative meat lady comes breezing by. She stops. She turns. And then she says (loudly, I might add): "How much longer ya got?"
"Three months", I say- somewhat startled.
"What?!! Naw! You'll never make it! I say you'll last til the first of December, if that! You're HUGE!"
"Really? Uh... Ttthhhanks?"
"My daughter was 8lbs and they took her two weeks early! My husband, back in 1958 when he was born, was 12 POUNDS! Can you believe it?"
"That makes my hips hurt just thinking about it", though actually I was thinking his mother was probably a gestational diabetic but they didn't test for it back then.
"You sure it ain't TWINS?"
"Yep. I'm sure. Just a big ol boy, apparently."
"Huh. Well, good luck!"
I got home and told my darling husband about it and he assured me I'm not "huge" but that I have kind of "blossomed" in the last few weeks. I don't know if it was what I wore yesterday, but the sales girl at the local department store also asked when I was due. Those are the first and only two non-family/friend comments I have received. I'm starting to get a complex. What if I'm having a freakishly large baby? (Breaking Dawn, anyone?) I have been tested for GD (gestational diabetes) and I was negative- well, I assume I was because no nurse ever called me and they told me they'd call if there was a problem. Ugh. I promise I will upload and post a picture from last weekend (TX/OU - Ahem, E!) and maybe I'll even throw in one from this week since I'm now 27 weeks and not 26. Funny how that happens, isn't it?
And since my story wouldn't be complete if I didn't continue rambling about what we had for dinner, his nose turned up at the chicken I brought home, so he replaced it with deer meat which he cooked while I propped my feet up. Not bad for HUGE.
In my college biology class I was bored and underwhelmed and had three hours twice a week to sit in a wooden chair and daydream. That was when I developed a theory about relationships. It became a pretty robust theory and I called it “The Brick Wall.”
So, anyway, at age 19 it seemed to me that men came at a new relationship with a woman as if she were this cute, adorable, perfect little brick wall. But then the guy would discover some flaw and whoops, take out one brick. Or maybe he finds out she is grumpy in the morning. There goes a brick. She’s jealous about his ex-girlfriend calling night and day? There goes another brick. Maybe two. And before long, this perfect woman he’s met is just another partially exposed pile of bricks and not the delightful picture of completion he expected. She’s a big messy pile of bricks and he goes looking for a new, perfect brick wall and the cycle starts all over again.
In the Theory, women come at it a different way — not better or worse, just different.
Women start with one brick: A man. They get a brick each time they find out something new about him (likes animals: add one brick, good kisser: brick, calls the day after the first date: six bricks…) and so on. Before long she is putting together a picture of this man, assembling her brick wall of him out of the things she’s uncovering. And here is the key to my teenage mind’s theory: when there are big open spaces in the brick wall, the woman will use her willpower and love to fill in the gaps. Sometimes this holds that brick wall together for a long while. But if the gaps are filled in with her personal mortar of love (instead of real bricks from him) the whole thing just collapses. And just like the guy, she finds herself staring at a big pile of bricks.
(Also, it is possible I was deep in my existential literature classes at the time, duly noted.)
I didn’t draw a final conclusion from my old Brick Wall Theory. It was just a way of explaining how I thought men and women approached romantic love differently. Gave me something to think about while staring out the window in Biology class.
Now that I am much older and many bricks along, I think my theory was a pretty accurate one in some ways. Sometimes I feel like my life is just one big classroom full of what I fondly call AFGOs. (That stands for Another F***ing Growth Opportunity.) (I am also very classy.) Learning about perception was the class I took in 2007. I woke up, showed up for life, and got a big lesson in bricks. For one thing, nothing exposes you to “input” faster than putting a piece of your life out to the public. And then meeting said public. I wouldn’t change it for the world, because it is how I developed my Bricks Don’t Float theory.
Bricks Do Not Float
* Also, note to self: develop catchier name for theory
Bricks don’t float. When you are flowing down the river of your life and you reach out for bricks, you will slow the flow and get to see a whole lot less of your river in your lifetime. If people are always throwing bricks in your river, and you see those bricks and start gathering them and holding on to them and keeping all those random, mismatched bricks other people throw at you, you will again slow down and maybe even stop and you’ll be stuck in the same stagnant pool of water for a really long time.
But bricks happen. People will try to tell you who you are everyday and twice on Sunday. If you just ignore the bricks, let them sink to the bottom, you can keep going with the flow of your life. Keep moving on up, along, forward. Sometimes the bricks hurt and you may pause for a moment, but then you let go of it, drop that brick and just keep going.
Anyway, bricks are your pre-conceived notions of a thing. Bricks are what you bring to the wall. They aren’t what the wall brings. Maybe the wall wants to be made of stones. Or clay. Or maybe the damn wall wants to be a boat.
(My apologies to my token Okie, E and to V- she can't help it. I can't let this weekend go by without a little friendly ribbing.)
Sure, my mom was stressed out and mad at my sister. Sure, I felt a tad bit guilty for not helping with dishes or loading chairs/tables. Sure, I didn't get to talk to everyone there- but dammit, that was the best day of my life. No kidding around.
I started the day with my two favorite, indispensible girls. We trekked to my mom's and worked on my hair, then trekked to the church and worked on my makeup. They got me into my dress and lit all 100+ of my candles. They herded people for pictures and (tried) to keep people from seeing me in my underwear. Big, huge thanks to Heather and Cori. You girls are my awesome.
The ceremony was everything I imagined it would be and more. My mom walked me down the aisle in her pretty new purple dress. I carried my great, great aunt's handkerchief and wore my grandmother's and great-grandmother's wedding band on my right hand. The roses were white, the candles were ivory. I entered the church to "To a Wild Rose" by MacDowell and my mother gave me away. I handed off my bouquet and took his hands in mine- both squeezing and rubbing the others in reassurance and happiness. We managed to laugh and smile and shed no tears through our vows. I tried to say them with meaning and I'm fairly certain he just tried not to pass out. When I say it was perfect, I mean it. There's not one thing I would have changed. Although we did light the unity candle, there was not awkward song to stand through. No readings or extra prayers or singing. Quick and to the point. And beautiful.
We took some quick pictures, then hightailed it to the my mom's house where everyone waited for us with cake and punch and finger foods in the back yard. There were twinkly Christmas lights and a fire pit- and more of my candles. Yet again, perfect.
We managed to talk and laugh and visit until around 9:15 when we finally changed clothes and headed to our room at the Horseshoe Casino in Shreveport. I won't go into the details of my wedding night, but I will say that we lost. Oh well... by that time it was the wee hours of the morning, so I can't include that as luck on my wedding day, right?
Until I get pictures from my fabulous photographer, I've included the best one my sister got using my camera. See? You get the bride and groom, the dress and suit (isn't he handsome?!) and the cake. (The grooms cake was chocolate with strawberries on top).
Thank you all for the well wishes via text and tweets. I haven't stopped talking about how wonderful it was yet-- and don't plan to. Not even when.... we are parted by death.
I can’t defend or explain or even make sense of it. All I know is that the picture breaks my heart. It’s the picture of a father who just because associated with the word “murderer”. It’s the picture of a father who will never see his son again- who won’t even be allowed to attend his funeral. It’s a father who will have to live with his decision for the rest of his breaths. And maybe it’s deserved… I just can’t help but feel he didn’t mean to and if he could take it back, he would hug his son so tightly that a gun would be the last thing he would want to hold. I can’t help but mourn the lost life of a son- and that of a father as I prepare to bring my own son into this world.
Good Lord… I just don’t have any words.
Update: From what I've heard, it appears to have been self-defense. The son was threatening his dad with a tire tool and apparently was on drugs. He's out on bail and at home. For what it's worth...
That's the sound my insides make after a big meal.
I'm getting married in 7 days, to a man I fell for instantly upon seeing way back when I was 17. Hope is a funny thing... when you don't lose it. So, back to the wedding part. Most brides are working out and dieting and trying not to gain an OUNCE so as to not disrupt their dress figure. Me? I've gained six pounds in a month. I also bought a new, bigger bra this week. Yes, I'm terrified to try the dress on because I'm not certain it will fit anymore. Seven days cannot go fast enough, because in baby time- that's a LOT of growth. I think I went through one growth spurt over the past couple of weeks and I hope the next one holds off for just seven more days.
C jokes that he's going to start a betting pool for when my belly button is going to pop like a turkey thermometer. It's getting pretty shallow, but I don't think it's going to pop for at least another month. (Please Lord just give me seven days.) Other than that, I'm great. Really great. Like, I haven't been to bed before midnight this entire week great. So yes, that really means I'm tired. I'm taking tomorrow off, not to rest, but to do wedding stuff. I'll get up at my normal time and be at my mom's by 8:00 (or so). Then we'll meet with the florist and hopefully some cake people. We'll be done in time to meet C so we can drive to Dallas to get our rings and a good meal and then fly back home.
While I've been working on wedding stuff this week (invitation HELL anyone?), he's put up can lights in our living room. They look really awesome. Last night we bought a new ceiling fan and trim to finish out the ceiling. I'm excited that hopefully we can press pause for a couple of weeks so our bank account can catch up.
Today, the lady in the office next to mine wanted to take me out for a "de-stress lunch" at the local mexican food joint. Once we got there, I quickly realized that that table full of the other ladies in the office, covered with wedding gifts and a CHEESECAKE with a cake topper was for ME! (The topper was hilarious and featured the bride dragging the groom.) So, it was a complete surprise to me and very, very sweet. I got lots of lotions and perfumes and other goodies. Plus, I got mexican food which is always a good thing!
So, there's your 24 week update. Seriously though. Before anyone starts thinking that my "order" of things is the way to go- please think twice. House, baby, marriage all in a six month span is a bit much- even for me. But, I'm a trooper.
The time has come for the tough things to be said.
I'm getting married and you're not invited.
It's not because I don't like you or because I don't want you there- well, it kind of is. I've never ever ever wanted a big wedding. I've always pictured a very intimate gathering of family and a couple of choice friends, but nothing extravagant. Please know that I value my friendships with you and I know that if we could all get together it would be a wonderful thing, but I know for certain that the time and place for that is not my wedding. Maybe Adair's on a Thursday night, but not my wedding. I hope you can understand, because planning this "intimate affair" for a rapidly growing guestlist (since my lovely fiance wants to invite his entire regional work team) is grating on my nerves.
Last night my mother suggested a tent (briefly I thought she was suggesting it for me to WEAR), which was quickly followed with "and maybe a dancefloor and band". I had to let her down gently by saying "I'm not staying out til midnight entertaining people. All I want to do is get married!" Honestly, I don't even want a reception- but "a 6:00 wedding means food" and "we at least have to have cake". I was also told that the cake isn't for me, it's for the guests, so even though I don't even like cake, I have to have it. I suggested cheesecake instead, because I love me some of that. *Incredulous stare* followed by, "You've GOT to be kidding me." At least my mom liked that idea. She wants to do a "toppings bar" where you can top your slice with chocolate or cherries, etc. I kind of think that's a great idea, though my better half asked if we would also be having banjos and a hoedown. I'm marrying a very..... traditional kind of guy. Someone who doesn't do different very well.
So, here I sit with a notepad next to me trying to decide what kind of flowers I want (because "we need centerpieces for the tables at the reception"). I'm trying to figure out food for the reception I don't even really want. Here I thought I was doing good by finding a dress! (In my defense, I also have secured the church, pastor and a lovely photographer... which is all I thought I was going to need- WRONG).
So internet, perhaps you should be glad you're not invited to this event. Hopefully we can at least achieve the objective and then someone can slip me a valium and I can float through the evening. Just kidding... but not really.
*P.S. I thought I'd title this entry with something I do want. Desperately.
As for that bitch, Ike- we survived no worse for the wear. We lost two trees, but they were on either side of the house and down the road a bit. Below is a picture of one.
We lost power Saturday morning and it came back on about 3am Sunday. We didn't think things were too bad until we decided to go to town looking for gas for C's truck (since the do-do brought it home empty) around 2:30 Saturday afternoon. Goodness gracious! There were trees uprooted EVERYWHERE and the nearest big little town only had sporadic power. Leave it to Walmart to be the only joint in town with gas though. Lowe's was doing major business, too! We drove to Shreveport Saturday night to see a movie and kill time since we knew once it got dark, we would have NOTHING to do. That drive was pretty interesting too and we saw more than one tree mangled in power lines. It's also very eerie to know where two huge truckstops are but for them to be pitch black. We did "cleanup" yesterday which consisted of two trailers full of limbs from the yard, but nothing from the roof which was a miracle!
About 2:30 this morning, I woke to C yelling at his dog and popping the fire out of her ass. Seems she got into the partially open trashbag in the kitchen (lesson learned for everyone involved). Little did I know the level of destruction of "Hurricane Kit".
Please ignore the portion with the blue "x" as that's trash which NEEDS to be taken to the dump by my fabulous fiance. It's only been there a week or more.
So, that's about all the updates I've got for now. I best get to work. What's going on with y'all?
Anyway, the reason I'm writing is to ask your opinion. Yes, it's true I have a sister, but she graduated high school the year I started kindergarten, so we were really raised as two only children who happen to share a mom. That said, I'm used to my stuff. Sure, I got hand-me-downs, but my mom also had to make/buy a ton of stuff because my sister's just didn't stick around. I did throughly enjoy her Barbie airplane and RV though. Those 70s yellows and oranges ROCKED. Anyway, I like NEW stuff these days- like pull the tags off new. I don't shun used items and in fact welcome them because I'm very thrifty, but there's nothing like knowing something has never been used by anyone else.
Ramble, ramble, point. My soon to be sister-in-law had a baby in June- as in three months ago. It was a boy. She has tons of boy stuff. Do you see where I'm going with this? She just sent me a text message saying she wants to give me her stoller and carseat- which are essentially brand new. And VERY cute (brown with green and blue polka dots). But, I'm kind of wistful at buying my baby's own stroller and carseat. I've never done that before, ya know? And who knows if peapie will have a sibling someday.
So, what I'm asking internet, is am I being petty and selfish? Should I welcome these items with open arms and be grateful that I can save those hundreds of dollars for something else? Or, should I welcome them (because I have the inability to say no) and then go ahead and buy my own anyway?
These are the hard questions, folks. Lemme hear ya.
In case you're curious, here are pictures.
We live this life like what’s down here is what it’s all about. We’re temporary, son, like a wisp of smoke. - Jerry Reed
No, I will not actually be naming my child Jerry Reed, but how badass would that be?
I WANT… more time.
I HAVE… two pimples.
I KEEP… receipts.
I WISH I COULD… take a daily nap.
I HATE… waiting.
I FEAR… the unknown. And taxes.
I HEAR… voices telling me what I should and should not do.
I DON’T THINK… I'll ever be thin again.
I REGRET… regrets.
I LOVE… completely.
I AM NOT… perfect.
I DANCE… rarely. Unless a shoulder wiggle counts.
I SING… classic country in the shower.
I NEVER… watch the news, but listen to GMA on XM daily.
I RARELY… go a day without doing dishes.
I CRY WHEN I WATCH… pitiful animal movies.
I AM NOT ALWAYS… right. Don't tell him though. ;-)
I HATE THAT… that weight-gain part of pregnancy.
I’M CONFUSED ABOUT… how to calculate PPV.
I NEED… Tylenol for this headache.
I SHOULD… go pee.
*I stole this. You should too.*
That's the amount of rain we've gotten on the Ponderosa in the last 24 hours. If you could see me, you'd see me doing a happy dance. Not really, but I'm doing one in my head. I don't know what kind of total that makes for the last week or so, but I'd say we're over 6", which was much needed in my neck of the woods. My pond was low and my grass was crunchy- the woes of living in the country, right?
Speaking of my head, it's congested. Apparently, that's one of the many
Yes, I referred to "it" as a "him", but I won't know for sure until Monday, August 25 at approximatly 2:30pm. Let's all say a prayer for "open leg vibes" so we can see the weiner that I know is in there. Good Lord if it's a girl, You better help us all.
We are in the process of painting our bedroom Chocolate Chip. We're also convinced that the paint smells like an M&M. And by "we", I mean "him", because (and I quote) "I don't know how to paint". Fine, whatever. I need to schedule all household projects during pregnancy- this rocks. The room looks awesome- dark brown walls with eye popping white trim. I can't wait for a finished product to post a picture of. No before pictures, but I'd rather not remember it anyway. He's also going to turn the built-in "vanity" that looks like it should be in a 1950s hotel room into shelves and storage. My man is so handy. IFyouknowwhatImean.
For those of you dying to know, Shiner in the dog house is going very well. I only feel guilty about once a day, but he's taken to it like a pig in slop. Especially with all this rain, I'm so glad he's got a safe and dry place to rest his paws. He's such a good boy. Kit, on the other hand, (remember, she's the princess?) is slowly losing her marbles. Last night, I opened the door and told her to go potty. She looked at me and without hesitation, ran out of the room and down the hallway to her bed. She did this not once, but twice. It left us both scratching our heads... silly dog. He finally convinced her to go outside where she took yet another dinosaur shit after getting into two leftover sausage patties and a breakfast taquito. Yes, it was my fault for leaving it on her level. Yes, I was pissed at her, but I really couldn't justify it because she did exactly what I knew she would do. So now she's perfect and predictable. *eye roll*
So, Sunday. I open the kennel, then open the back door and out they go. That's when I smelled it. The poo. My precious little angel of a dog had taken two dinosaur shits in his kennel and also puked twice in the corners. Nice. That's when I realized it was time for him to become an outside dog. Or maybe it was when I was scraping up the poo with a paper towel. Or when I almost threw up while flushing it. It might have been when I was hosing off the bottom of his kennel outside and his puke slid off in one piece into the grass. *barf*
When my love returned home around 11:30, I informed him of what he'd missed and what our task for the day would be. Operation dog house.
Let me tell a little backstory. (Forgive my rambling, because I get my storytelling skills from my mother who cannot tell a good story to save her life.) Just after we moved into the new house, C began a campaign to make Shiner an outside dog. He's a Boston Terrier for pete's sake- he's not made to be an outside dog! I cried. I blamed hormones. My heart broke into a thousand pieces each time he cocked his head to the side and looked at me through the door not understanding why he couldn't come in. And so, he stayed outside during the day but came inside to sleep once it got dark. You know, so the boogie man wouldn't get him. C relented, grumbling. His point is that he sheds something terrible and if we're going to bring a child into this world, it did NOT need the additional aggravation of Shiner-hair on it's sinuses and neither did we. I knew he was right, but my emotions were just too much.
Fast forward to Sunday morning. Those heartbreaking feelings were stifled by the smell of his shit and I no longer cared if he would be scared at night. He was going outside and I had no remorse. Poor little devil. So, he became the proud owner of a super cool, rain resistant "lounging space" that is cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter thanks to the "structural foam". All I know is that effer cost me $100 and he damn well better LOVE it.
That being said, guess where he slept last night? On a pile of moving blankets on the back porch, when he slept, that is. He was up and down barking at every. single. noise. til the sun started to come up. C claims he doesn't need a soft bed in there because it's the summer time and the plastic bottom feels good. Me? I think he's just like everyone else- who doesn't want a soft place to lay their head at night?
So, the saga continues. What do y'all think? Will he tough it out? Will he continue to look pitiful at the door waiting for Mom to save him? Will he turn into Snoopy and turn his dog house into a castle? Only time will tell, I guess.
- I have a list of blog topics. Literally. It's on a little yellow sticky by my keyboard at work. Yes, I'm making this list from that list.
- Sometime last week, I had a delightful dream about John Mayer. Don't ask me why, because I was happily sleeping next to my handsome fiance, but it was John Mayer just the same. And he was in love with me. I kept asking him why me because he didn't even know me, but he never would answer. He was flying me all over for shows and giving me the star treatment and I happily went along- but I just couldn't believe that he was in love with me. Dreams, ya know?
- I'm currently digging a band called The Steeldrivers. They're a little bit country and a little bit bluegrass and a lot wonderful. Check 'em out.
- I have on my list to bitch about the lack of rain, but thanks to
Eduard Eduord Eduoradthat tropical storm, we've gotten a few showers on our crunchy grass. It's no longer crunchy, but I wouldn't complain if it were to rain say, all weekend?
- My nearest and dearest (save for my Cori and June) are gone to Idaho for Brauns and Ragweed and RRB. I should've gone, but let's face it. I've got other places to spend my money. I know they'll have a great time without me, though. Doesn't mean I'm not jealous, though.
- This should probably be it's own post/rant, but let's face it- that may take another month. In case you don't know, I've moved back to east Texas. Land of two lane roads and speed traps. But, most highways are 70mph. And that's what I drive + 2-3 mph. I would like to issue a statement to other residents of the roads I travel of this speedlimit and the fact that WHEN YOU PULL OUT IN FRONT OF ME, PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM GOING 70MPH, NOT 40, YOU M'EFFING, BACKWOODS, NO DRIVING, lovely, lovely people. It pisses me off to no end that waiting five seconds for me to pass is too much to ask, so I should be happy to slam on my brakes or defensively weave around you, hopefully not into on coming traffic. I'm carrying precious cargo, you fool.
- Speaking of, I'm pregnant. Surprise! (If you know my mother, please do not forward the link to my blog to your mom who will then read the whole thing and tell my mother about all of the un-lady like things I've said, mmmmk? Just tell your mom the news- no details about where you found out needed, ok?) I'm due in January and let this be the warning that baby talk will soon be invading this space. FINALLY.
- Also please know that just because I'm pregnant does not mean that's why C & I bought a house and are getting married. Yes, it's the ultimate shotgun trifecta, but it was all going to happen eventually- we just got put on the fast track. We can't be happier- and, well, you should be too.
- Sorry, SLM, for making you shit just now.
I am selling raffle tickets for a $100 gas card (from Walmart) which benefits the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life. If you are interested in gambling, please email me (link on the side if you don't know it by heart). Tickets are $1 each or six for $5. I'll hold your tickets for you, or mail them to you. The drawing is August 27 at 2pm at my company's break room. Holla!
I'm moved to our new house. What a wonderful thing to say. He and I moved most of his big things yesterday, so now he just has to pack the rest of the house. I wonder if I can get out of helping since I packed mine all by myself. Yeah. I bet.
I need about three weeks off to fully get this house in working order... but then, what are the next 30 years for? Still, we will pack as much work into our waking, non-working hours that we can, I'm certain.
Yesterday, we went to Lowe's twice in one day to buy such things as a new showerhead, replacement switchplates, a replacement toilet fill valve and flapper, a sprinkler head, and plumbers putty. OH! And a garbage disposal. Did you hear that? That clouds just parted and the angels sang. Garbage disposal, how I plan to love thee fully and completely.
Busy week at work + one hour commutes each way make for a tired girl. But, I have a new house to come home to... wonder when that will get old. Never sounds good to me.
Now taking recipes for pears and figs. Also taking bets on how long my evolution into Suzy Homemaker will take.
It's now 11:25am. Goodbye morning...
After spending Saturday and Sunday watching the Rangers lose and win, respectively, I feel a great sense of pride while reading this article. These two guys are misfits in every sense of the word. The angry black man and the tattooed, recovering drug addict. But, they're also two of Texas' greatest assets and they're first time American League All-Stars. Watch for Hamilton during the HomeRun Derby tonight... I'm hoping for a show. And Bradley? Yes, his attitude aggravates me. It ticks me off when he slings his bat into the stands. But, the guy's got talent. Take a moment to read the article... it's not half bad.
Big news coming, people. Just warnin' ya.
Five Habits Meme
What was I doing 10 years ago?
Hmm... I would've been 18. I also would've just finshed high school and would be preparing to move to college in August. On any given Tuesday, I'd say I could either be found at the river or at the neighbors pool. I was a spoiled child, what can I say?
Five snacks I enjoy in a perfect, non-weight gaining world:
Campisi's Pizza - I can thank V for this obsession since she first introduced it to me back in 2004 or 2005.
Red Rind Cheese (rediscovered this weekend- Heaven!)
Five snacks I enjoy in the real world:
Fiber One bars - Oats and Chocolate, please
Red Rind Cheese
Green Apples, preferrably Granny Smith
Calamata Olives... or any olive for that matter
Five things I would do if I were a billionaire:
Make sure our families are set, even my sister who won't work
Never worry about the cost of gas or mortgage payments
Travel and photograph the world
Buy the Texas Rangers and pay for decent pitching (ugh!)
Hire a personal chef, housekeeper and trainer
Five jobs I have had:
Summer School Teacher
Sales Tax Auditor
Expense Account Auditor (so fun!)
First thing every morning, I check Myspace. No access at work, so it's done every morning.
I'm obsessed with chapstick. So much so, that I think my tender, overly moisturized lips were chemically burned by the hot sauce at Wing Stop. Ooops.
C has turned me into a hair-face-body washer in the shower. Same way everytime. You don't want to wash your butt before your face, people! He's making me as neurotic as himself.
Google Reader! I think I've said enough. Although, I rarely check it over the weekend.... it makes for a very fruitful Monday morning.
I start every morning with a Diet Dr. Pepper. If I don't get it, the day is fouled.
Five places I have lived:
Pasco, Washington (no, I don't want to talk about it)
Five people I’d like to get to know better:
(Meaning, you're it!)
Addie Baby (or her mom)
Building My Ladder to the Stars
Life On the Run (every time, I want to sing Bannnnnd on the Ruuuuun)
A Million Miles From You
Since I've divulged my google reader obsession, I thought I'd follow up with some of my favorite new finds. I have lots of photographer blogs that I follow just to gain inspiration, but I won't bore you with those.
- Confessions of a Pioneer Woman - I'm well aware that I've been missing out since oh, 2006, but I've finally given her a shot and oh my gosh. She is my latest blog crush. Recommended: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels - the story of how she met and fell in love with her husband.
- Bring the Rain - Nicole first recommended this one to me and it promptly broke my heart. Now, I find inspiration in every post and look forward to it. Recommended: The beginning Oh, and have some kleenex handy.
- Girl's Gone Child - A pretty irreverant look at motherhood.
- better now - because it is. I just love that.
- mackin ink - Diane over at Martinis for Two toasted mackin ink recently and I've been a fan and reader ever since. She's an American living in the Middle East and raising three beautiful girls. Her posts always include great art, too.
- Matt, Liz and Madeline - Thanks for the heads up, Meg. Liz, Matt's wife, died of a brain anneruism shortly after giving birth to their first child. His words, while simple, really show a great deal of love and heartbreak over now having to raise their first child alone. It's another one I read as quickly as possible. Recommended: If you haven't been here before.
So, there's a few to start with. I love new suggestions though. Feel free to leave one of your favorites in the comments. :) TGIF, everyone.
Your goals, your wishes, and your hopes are your own -- you cannot let them be defined by pressures from other people, especially your boss. If you aren't hungry for that corner office, then why pretend that you are? The extra effort will only make you miserable, and there will be no payoff at the end. Remind yourself why you chose the path you chose, and stop focusing so much on a dollar figure. Happiness has nothing to do with a paycheck. It has to do with following your heart.
Now excuse me while I go to lunch with the higher ups. Ugh.
It's logging in and seeing my Google Reader overflowing with new items. Seriously, I don't know how I lived before just clicking random links only to be disappointed that it wasn't updated. Also, the reader shows me other blogs that I might be interested in based on my current subscriptions. That Google...they really have a finger on my pulse, don't they?
The only links I have to click now are Deidre and Woodrow. Deidre's private, so I get that, but W? I guess I just like him that much.
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along
I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense
And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose
But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break
And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows
So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows.
-And So It Goes - Billy Joel
(What it is it about sad songs?)
Not much has changed except the massive number of people I can disappoint now. I try so very hard on a daily basis to say the right things and do the right things so that no one is unhappy with me. Most days, making a decision is left for someone else because my choice may inconvienence them. I try to point out the silver lining in everything so others can find some happiness, too. I try.
To be honest, it's exhausting. And the trouble is, I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to not care. And what is worse than disappointing someone else? Well, nothing- but disappointing myself is a close second.
I've grown tired of wondering
What I should or should not do
When I'm staring down the silence
Of disappointing you
"Honey, y'all can pretty much buy whatever you want. Your credit scores put y'all in the top 5% in the nation. For your ages, y'all should be very, very proud."
*big, huge sigh* That was out last hurdle... you just never know for sure until you hear it from a professional.
It is a huge responsibility- I get it. So is the rest of my life. It's daily and you get used to it and I bet I'll only get nauseaus once a month when I have to pay the bank that ENORMOUS sum of money. If'n.
Last night, I spent the better part of an hour with the Rangers game on mute (since we LOST) buying songs off iTunes. Here's what I bought. It's ok to admit you dig my tunes. I'm also looking for more suggestions- please and thank you.
- Sail On - The Commodores
- Drinkin' My Baby (Off My Mind) - Eddie Rabbitt (off the album "Great Divorce Songs for Men)
- Kentucky Rain - The King
- Something in the Way She Moves - James Taylor (not the Beatles song)
- Country Road - James Taylor
- And So it Goes - Billy Joel
- She's Got a Way - Billy Joel
- Oh Girl - The Chi-Lites
- Operator (That's Not the Way it Feels) - Jim Croce
- With a Little Help From My Friends - Joe Cocker
For the third time this week, I've brought my lunch. Twice it's been in a cooler packed with a pb&j sandwich, carrot sticks (with ranch), apple slices and cheese cubes. It's better than fast food, which I'm very tired of. Go me!
I have a doctor's appointment in the morning, so chances are I'll only have to work half a day. Woo-woo! It's practically Friday, bitches. (And Kathy Griffin is on tonight! Speaking of, I made C watch Tori and Dean with me and I'm convinced he's hooked. I had to fill him on the backstory for everything. Next thing you know, he's going to be watching it at his house by himself. ha!)
She's got a way about her
I don't know what it is
But I know that I can't live without her
She's got a way of pleasin'
I don't know why it is
But there doesn't have to be a reason anyway
- Galveston was great and I have pictures which I'll upload just as soon as I'm home long enough.
- I love short weeks, but damn if they don't end up feeling longer than a regular one.
- Thanks to those of you who sent me birthday wishes. It didn't feel any different than a normal day, especially since I drove over four hours home. But, I'm 28 now and all grown up.... if you only knew.
- I'm considering taking some classes at a local junior college. Maybe they'll get me closer to living my dream.
- Brandon Rhyder had a baby girl yesterday... I can't wait to meet her. Hell, at this point, I'd just love to go to any show. For you DFW people this weekend, Radney Foster is at the Horseman Friday night. Color me JEALOUS.
- My life is a snore. Which now that I mention it, a nap doesn't sound to bad right now.