Bedraggled

I have been dragging at work today. Sometimes I feel like I run through life and never slow to see the scenery beyond a rushing blur.

Monday, after work, FHE was early. Instead of our normal 8:00, we met at 7:00 to move The Cookie Lady. Frankie aptly stated that it was the most over powered move in the history of moves. She had a total of thirty things and with thirty people there, it did not take long to load her up. After everything was in the truck, I realized I could not find my keys. It did not take long to realize they were in my purse, that I had securely locked in the trunk. When I bought the car, I bought a hide-a-key and put it in the wheel well. I retrieved it, and the nine years of dirt coated on it was quickly transferred to my hands and then to Peter-Peter’s as he struggled to open it after my failure. The unloading on the other end was just as quick as the loading. So fast in fact that there was no time to arrange anything and consequently the place looked like we took the entire place and shook it like a Boggle board.

Done early, Peter-Peter, Moe, Frankie, and I headed off the gym. I really enjoy working out with others. It pushes me. I am not sure if it is the need to avoid the humiliation of being called a panty waist or the enjoyment of keeping pace with everyone. This group was perfect because after abs, the boys went to lift and Moe and went and did more girly things. The ab workouts are still rocking my world, but I have started to notice lines below my hip bones which I am enjoying greatly.

After the gym we made an impromptu stop at Fiesta of all places. I am not sure how I feel about stores that sell tripe by the pound or whole boar heads. I was slightly disturbed as food was staring back at me. Alongside the enjoyment of roaming the aisles and finding candy made out of cactus and fruit big enough to hallow out to and make a canoe out of, I got a pleasant surprise. Pulling out my phone, I saw The Aggie texted me. Thrilled I texted him back and the banter kept up until I got home. Once in front of the computer I added him as a Facebook friend, and we chatted well over three hours. Number one thing going for him is he is smart. I cannot tell you how nice it is not to have to dumb down conversations or feel like you are embarrassing him because he keeps having to ask what you mean. Quite enjoyable, and rather darling to boot.

Yesterday ran by in another blur. I was home for a mere 45 minutes at home, I jetted off to Institute. I brought along my mini Dell along so I could work on my John The Baptist lesson. I got a bit of a reprieve since I did not have to teach this Monday, but I was feeling like I just was not quite getting it. I feel like I am a smart girl, and was wondering why I just was not getting it. On the verge of giving up, I asked Frankie for some help. He told me he could after he went home teaching. I went home and got on Facebook hoping to chat it up again, but to no avail. We did exchange some pleasantries via Facebook messages.

Frankie then called to say he was on his way home. I got over there and we talked for about an hour. I have previously blogged about my need to be filled with the Spirit, and finding my weekly activities lacking. I gloried in the conversation. Our conversation was elevating, the kind where I felt like I was not just going over well worn topics, but actually growing and learning. I lapped it up and for one of the few times in recent memory, I was satiated. Reading out of the New Testament course manual, I felt a stab of regret that I had not gotten more out of my required religion classes in college. I was a member a mere three months when I started and was still on the milk, while others feasted on meat. As I was leaving I felt a stab of guilt. While I buoyed my spirits, I failed to notice that I had taken the one hour of the whole day that Frankie had to himself. I will have to be more aware in the future.

Tonight I think I will stay in, enjoy the house I pay rent on but never really get to enjoy. Hopefully I will be able to get to bed before I collapse of sheer exhaustion.

Boys, Boys, Boys

week, my prayers were quite poignant. Among the myriad of issues that I poured my heart out over, boys, as usual, were on the list.

I was having a hard time finding a date for Friday night and it was causing undue stress on top of everything else. I finally came to the conclusion that I was weary of it. I am weary of the hunt, weary of obsessing, weary wondering if he is ever going to call. I felt like of all the thing I could let go, this was on of them. After some extensive time on my knees on the issue, I feel like I finally got my answer. In the simple, still, small voice, I was told not to worry about it, to surrender my will unto him and let him take control.

I cannot tell you what a relief this answer was. The only thing I can equate it to is feeling holding your breath to the point where you get dizzy and tiny stars appear in your eyes and then exhaling. That sweet release leaves you refreshed as the old stale air rushes out and you are able to fill that space with the new and fresh.

Relieved of my need to constantly be on the prowl like a hungry lioness, I moved about my week. Friday came and after an amazing dinner, we went to the abysmally disappointing dance. The awkwardness of the thing was overwhelming, but was broken up by a bright spot. I met a boy, a very nice Aggie boy.

This boy was down to visit his parent for the weekend and was talked into attending said abysmal dance. The Aggie and I danced a slow dance where we exchanged the usual first dance pleasantries. It is always interesting to dance with a stranger, because before you even know each other's names, he is touching you. Our conversation yielded that he is a Master's student in International Agriculture and teaches undergrad courses. Well, if that isn't a good start, I don't know what is.

Later a swing song came on and we danced and snowballed into the slow dance after that. While dancing, I could see my friends the mutiny in their faces by the shared light of all their cells phones out. I warned the Aggie that my friend were about the exit stage left. I didn't realize that they were going to do it so quickly and did not even have time to finish the dance when I was ushered out the door. As I was leaving their was a weird moment, and I asked for his number. We exchanged number, he declined my movie invite, and I left.

Moments into the movie, I received a text stating that he wanted to come. He got there no more than 10 min later. He must have felt awkward as the entire row had to shift down so he could sit by me. The first hour and a half of the movie was great, we were whispering and giggling to the point that I thought someone would say something. Then I reached down and popped in a mint because of all the close talking. He asked if I had one from him. I said I didn't but I had gum. I gave him a piece and he leaned back in his chair but away from me. The rest of the movie there was whispering, but not the same. I chalked it up to sleepiness.

The next morning, I sent him a text telling him thanks for coming to the movie and after a few text back and forth, he asked if there was the activity that day. I told him time and place, which then obligated me to go. After I got there, I quickly found out that this activity made last night like a blast. He never showed, and upon advice from The Peacemaker, I am going to wait to see if he calls again.

Today, Sunday, I was so tired, I rolled out of bed and in yesterday's make-up went to church. I trudged through three blocks and near the end of the third hour, I was told that a new boy had just aged out into our ward. We walked over the priesthood together and stalked him until he came out. He walked down the stairs and as we were level with each other, I could not help but notice him towering over me with his entire 6'3" stature. Seriously, he is like the Sears Tower. Well, no one is perfect.

We had a pleasant conversation where I learned that he works a "boring" IT job, but is a workaholic. He recently got a promotion and that is why he moved from Minnesota to Austin. And he has his own set of friends from Mt. Bonnell, so he must have moved a bit ago. My neck still hurts from the conversation. Seriously, where are all the 5'5" guys hanging out?

I love how the Lord works. Tuesday I had not a single guy to ask out, and in one weekend I meet two guys who are older and are doing things with their lives. I will keep you updated on both The Aggie and Sears, and any other guy that randomly pops up when I am least expecting it.

My Body Hates Me

In the spirit of being back with "The Plan" this week, I pretty much ruined my entire day.

First, eating out on the plan is, at times, a nightmare. The girls at work are trying to eat out only once a week, which works perfectly with the plan. Friday we were going to eat Chinese, that was until I remember that Peter-Peter, Moe, and I are going to eat at a fancy French restaurant and I didn't want to eat out twice in one day. So we decided to go today.

I am not sure what kind of angry monster was living in my stomach today but I was already talking about lunch at 9:30 in the morning. I looked over the menu, drooling about each deep fried, sugar laden choice at my disposal. And then it was only 9:32. Here is where the problem starts. I should have had a snack. I get in these weird mind set that if I just wait and save my points till lunch that I can have what I really want. Needless to say that by the time we got there I was STARVING. Like quietly sitting without talking, no energy to join the conversation, kind of starving.

I ordered my meal and asked the waiter if he could please bring me a bowl of rice while the other girls ate their soup. He did not bring it, so I asked again. Somehow my starving / rice problem was not his problem. I asked the other waiter in the room to please bring me some rice. When I saw the other waiter return with no rice I was almost on the point of tears. I asked him again, and he said, "Oh, I told your waiter and he said he would bring it". He never did. In fact, when he brought my meal it was wrong. He had brought me chicken fried rice instead of the white rice I have now asked for five times. I was done with my chicken before I finally got my stupid rice. The ravenous wolf in me almost had to eat my own hand, but once I had my meal, mood greatly increased.

After work, I decided that I must literally hate my body. But my atonement for food vacation requires actual sacrifice, so went and paid someone for the torture of bikram yoga. The room is a stifling 110 degrees with 40% humidity. Have you ever been dumb enough to camp in Texas in July? You know, just laying in the tent in a puddle that you created, well that is pretty much bikram yoga. An hour and a half of you literally dripping more sweat off your body than you thought possible, clothes completely drenched, and muscles feeling like you are actually trying to kill them. My body that was eating pizza with such bliss a week ago, now is hates me.

After this torture, I decide that I did not quite get enough and met Frankie at the gym just to ensure that I would not live to see tomorrow. We thankfully skipped cardio, and went straight to abs. Died a little inside. Then I did his arm work-out with him. Oh, me, oh, my. Working out with Frankie makes me feel like a sissy. I am glad I have no man card to be repossessed as I peeled myself off the gym floor to go home.

I should sleep well tonight. So well, that I might never wake again. But if I do, I will try to be a little nicer to my body tomorrow and I will be back for another round of punishment.

Haikus

One of my best friends, Holden, is soon to be wed. Upon recommendation from Emily post he has sent out a Facebook invite asking for addresses so that they mail me an actual paper invitation to his nuptuals. Being a relatively young (hold for sniggers to die down) Mormon, I get one of these invites about once a week.

Holden's invite was a little different, Holden has raised the stakes. In addition to asking for our address, he is holding a haiku contest. I have put off posting my address so that I might craft a brilliant haiku that will surely put all other haikus to shame. What follows are my drafting for haiku submissions.

* Destest when someone
Uses asterisks that goes
To no reference

DVR can hold
Great treasures or total junk
Tonight total junk

Diet takes hostage
If see hungry girl crying
Save with Twinkie STAT

Bed enfolds like womb
Pillows cup like mother's touch
Never want to leave

Gym is stealing soul
Not the soul, but will to live
Run, run, puke, run, die

Some like it hot, me
Stiffling, oppressive hot
Verge of sweating, best

Unicorn busts in
Hearts shoot from my niece's eyes
Best drawing on fridge

Snap camera goes
Shots of everything I do
No one can see all

Reads Amber Spyglass
A book written for children
Smarter than many adults

Audio books keep
Me company life's task
I am such a nerd.

I ended up submitting the first one, but feel free to let me know which you liked best, or write your own.

Food Vacation

Sorry for the absence from blogging, but for the past ten days I was vacationing. Vacationing from Austin, vacationing from blogging, vacationing from my life, and most importantly vacationing from my diet.

Do you see that amazing picture over there? That one that looks like it came from the cover of Food and Wine Magazine? Well it did not, that was my actual french toast, and I actually took that picture.

Let me tell you about this French toast like I was selling food porn. This French toast started with two slices of fresh baked Texas toast that were amply coated on both side with a mixture that was so savory that you could taste everything from the real vanilla to the egg that must surely have been laid by a free ranch chicken. Piled on a plate, it then was drizzled with a vanilla infused maple syrup reduction, topped with organic fresh mixed berries, and topped with a dollop of hand-whipped creme fresh.

This meal was amazing, and even more amazing was I ate every last bite. I ate every last bite of that French Toast and for ten glorious days just about everything that was put in front of me. I gorged myself on slice after slice of my favorite pizza ever, Metro Pizza. I sat down and devoured an entire plate of fresh lemon crepes at Mon Ami Gabi. I glutted on 12 inches of gooey cheese steak goodness at Capriotti's. I slurped down noodles at Noodles and Company. I ate bowl after bowl of rice, soft pretzels, sliders, macaroni and cheese with real bacon in it, deep fried cod, fries, smoothies, nuts, candies, cookies, and just about anything else that has been banned from my pantry for the past two years. I even indulged in a $14 dessert at Serendipity 3, that's base was made up entirely of deep fried Oreos.

Apparently I was also vacationing from reality, because somehow it was not until I got back that I realized that my stomach now roughly resembles beach ball. I gained five pounds in ten days. I know, I have already contacted Guinness to see if that is some kind of record.

The plan is to eat every meal at home this week, to eat within my points, and exercise. With any luck it will only take me 10 weeks to undo my 10 days of reckless abandonment. As I shopped in preparation for my upcoming week of sheer food boredom, I got seriously food depressed. I had to reach over Twinkies to grab that oh so tasty double fiber bread. I had to sprint past the rows and rows of perfectly packaged cookies and glittering packages of chocolates and other confections to get to the rice cakes and Melba toast.

I love you dear food, I really do, but only get to spend four days a week in scrubs and know that a bathing suit will no doubt be in my near future. Like a fling, it was good while it lasted and now have to return to my hum drum existence without the trill of reading words like cream, rich, or decadent on the package. I am glad we got a chance to get reacquainted, even if it was for such a short time.

The Meaning of Home

That familiar feeling is creeping back in. On the eve of a big trip, I always get a twinge of apprehension and sadness. Tomorrow a ton of steel will whisk me away to my hometown and I will leave behind where I have made my home. The house becomes deathly quite as I power down everything that normally whirls, buzzes, and hums in preparation for my absence. Everything here is me. I bought this couch with one of my first paychecks. I remember hauling that table home and worrying about it flying out of the back of the pick-up the entire way. It is my name on the mailbox. It is my stamp that makes this more than a domicile, it makes it my home.

For the past ten years now, I have cultivated a relationship with the city. I can tell you were to get the best pizza, which streets to avoid in rush hour, and what that building used to be before it was a Target. This is where my friends work and live. This is where I want to raise my family. This is where I planted roots. Austin has permeated me with her essence so profusely that I know myself not without it.

Tomorrow I will sleep in a bed I know almost as well as my own. My parent's home is full of all the things that used to be me, before I was old enough to have an identity of my own. There I will be able to navigate to the fridge in the dark. I can tell you which pictures hang on the wall before I look up. The hum of the soft water heater is all the white noise I need to feel like nothing will ever change.

If Vegas is so familiar, so much a part of my childhood, so vivid in my imagination that I could close my eyes and be there; then why do I sit here and feel so lonely. I think the answer lies in the adage, "Home is where the heart is". If my heart has a time-share in Vegas, does it ever really invest itself here? The pull of adopted city is so great that is hurts at my heart to leave it. Here is where everything that I love about myself is. There is everything I love about everyone else.

While I am gone, Austin's world will keep on turning. Without me the sun will rise and the sun will set, boats will still sail, traffic will still flow, bats will still fly. When I am away, a part of me stays here. I can be standing on the corner of Trop and Blvd, my mind will still wonder what my city is doing without me like some sort of jealous lover.

The feeling is there when I leave Vegas, my first home, but fades rapidly when I again bask in Austin's perfumed air. The metaphor of lovers is so apt that it is fair to say that Vegas is my first love. Vegas will always have a place in my heart as does any one's first love, but it's memory quickly fades once you are back in the embarrass of the one you have committed yourself to. So Austin, my love, forget me not while I am gone. I will be back in your embrace in less than a fortnight. Just know, no matter how far I roam, a piece of you will always be with me.

Bugacide

Here in Texas a few things are a fact of life. You can’t go an entire year without a hurricane, a heat wave, or the inevitable arrival of legions of household pests. They come in the form of ants, fleas, ticks, and the hideous water bugs. What is a water bug you ask? That is the nice word that my landlord uses for cockroaches. I call and say, I saw a cockroach in my house and she responds, water bugs are really common this time of year. A rose by any other name is still a big, ugly cockroach.

This year, like the inevitable arrival of the summer solstice, the “water bug” arrived. He was HUGE. He was either the Arnold Schwarzenegger of his kind or he has found a source of toxic waste that he was spending most of his days swimming in.

I first spotted him on Sunday. I was in the guest bedroom putting away games from that night’s funtivities. As I set the boxes on the closet shelf, I saw a scurry out of the corner of my eye. When I turned my head and looked at the beast full on, I got that shot of heat that ran through my body. I know that it is adrenaline, that it is a relic of my ancestors that needed such fail-safes that were built in to run from bears and mountain lions, but why do I get this response over a bug. Logically there is no innate reason for me to have a flight / fight response over something I out weigh by 300%. Logic be dammed, I was scared of the gargantuan insect that was now cohabitating with me. It was too late to call anyone to help me slaughter the thing, so I skirted out to get a shoe.

I returned with my instrument of death and was ready to bring the pain. The bugger must have sensed my murderous intent, for he was now nowhere to be found. I did a cursory look and decided that I had better things to do at 2 am than hunt down my great, white cockroach. In my brilliant thought process, I shut the door to the guest bedroom and went to bed.

Monday night, I got home from the gym, went upstairs, and started to undress. I only had my pants off when I looked up and saw him on the wall above my luggage. I can’t be sure, but I think he might have grown another inch overnight. After being denied the joy of the kill last night, I went to the closet and was again wielding a shoe. Being above the window, I had to climb up on my hope chest to get close enough to deliver my lethal blow. Now, I want you to get this picture in your head. I am half-dressed, balanced on the hope chest, one hand on the ceiling, shoe cocked back in the other. I am convinced the dog was sniggering under his breath. I pulled back the shoe and brought it down on him. His size should have been the first clue that his genetic mutations would make him no ordinary bug. I hit that bug square on and it bounced off his indestructible exoskeleton and now he was mad! The thing jump / flew at me. Screaming, I made my own leap over to the bed. Completely freaked out by the extraordinary resilience of this freak of nature, I just got under the covers. With nothing left to do, I went to sleep. The whole night I was dogged by the feeling that the bug was going to extract his revenge in the night and took special care to make sure I had no exposed flesh for him to snack upon.

Tuesday night I had forgotten about the previous night’s battle royale and went upstairs to go to bed. Laying down, I spotted my nemesis, directly above my bed. Jumping up, I cursed my luck that our showdowns only occurred after the rest of the world has gone to bed. His habit of midnight stalking is how you can tell he was a minion of the devil. I contemplated the logistic of killing a gunk filled bug above my bed and decided I must move the bug to a secondary location to commit my bugacide. I pulled comforter over the bed and hatched a plan. I am going to throw a shoe at the ceiling and the vibrations would scare it to moving to a more appropriate location. The vibration part of the idea worked great, the location part did not. After 15 min of moving the bug around the ceiling like some sort of bad video game, he finally moved to the corner. Success! I moved in for the kill. I hit him and he falls / scurries straight down … right into the dog bed. The dog bolts out of the bed with his tail between his legs, looking back confused at how bugs were raining down on him as he is trying to sleep. Serves you right for laughing at me last night. Shoe, shoe, shoe, and the thing still crawled away and is now under the bed somewhere. I then had to spend another night scared that I would wake up with cockroach eggs laid in my ear.

This morning, I get up to take a bath. I started the bath and when I turned around, there that jerk was! He is the bug that won’t die. He is like the bad guy in a movie. The good news is that he was in the process of dying. I must have hit him good last night or else someone finally pierced him with a silver bullet while I slept. He is about six feet from the toilet, where I can get rid of him forever. I cursed under my breath that I had no man in the house to trick into this task. I contemplated toilet paper, but imagined his guts squirting out and getting on my hands. The disgust with this plan lead me to settle on using a washcloth. I got the washcloth, picked him up, and shook it over the toilet. Toilet empty, no bug; I start to freak out. Did I drop him and he is now crawling up my leg? Nope, worst. I turn the washcloth over and there he is! He has enough strength left to hold on to cloth and is now crawling up the cloth to surely attack me for my cruelty. Not knowing what else to do to stem the assult, I threw the washcloth in the bathtub, cockroach and all. Now I am standing, looking down at the mystical thing die, wondering if I should call the Enquirer or not. Finally I got up the gumption, scooped him up in the cloth and at least a gallon of water in the process and got him in the toilet.

Flushed down, done gone. Nope! After I drained the bath, refilled it and got done with my bath, he was in the bowl. He was doing this sad side stroke thing where he made pathetic little circles. I flushed again, and saw him, with my own eyes, go down. I hope this is the end of the Yeti sized bug and I do not wake up tomorrow with him again hanging out on my wall. Jerk.

My 31st Fourth

Yesterday was the Fourth of July and the day could not have been better.

Friday's late night bled into a late morning. I did not even get out of bed until noon. I love those days when you wake and then lay with your eyes closed, just letting your mind wonder. I tried not to think of packing, how much the A/C was costing me, or my five year plan.

This year we had a pool party over at Frankie's patent's house. I was not in town last year. I was in Portland, fighting my way onto the MAX train along with every other Oregonian from Clackamas to Hillsbro. It was nice to spend the holiday with my brother but it offered a weird feeling of maturity when the two of us were the ones who were looking up firework times and holding place in the bathroom lines instead of the ones running off our sugar highs.

Loaded with soda, ketchup, two kinds of mustard, and nine ears of corn, I made my way over there mid-afternoon. The triple digit temperature almost had it feeling like home, but the humidity quickly reminds that this is far from a desert. The afternoon was full of hot dogs, sun, pool time, and generally great times.

Red ensured that the party ran smoothly. She is ever the hostess. Recently, with my new calling, I came to a realization that just like my brother and I at Portland fireworks show, that someone has to plan things. I know that sounds like something so obvious, but it has really hit me hard in the last couple of months. How many lessons have I sat through and not given any thought to who prepped them? How many activities have I showed up at and had nothing but a bad attitude? How many parties have I gone to and given no thought except to show up?

Earlier this week, no one had mentioned doing anything for the Fourth. I was asked several times, and in turn I asked others several times. It wasn't until July 2, my mother's birthday, that this party's invite went out. Just like everyone else, I was relieved that I had somewhere to go and did not give thought to what went into actually making that happen. Two separate conversations enlightened me.

The social strata in the ward has somehow made it so that certain people have become responsible for every one's good times. The point was epitomized when Frankie was approached and asked what the plan for after the party was. He said I don't know, and then was asked again in another way. Frankie again, said, I don't know. I felt a stab of guilty that if I was not currently under going my whole self improvement project, and currently working on "going with the flow" and trying to be less of a planner, how easily could it have been me bugging him. How many times in the past was it me? Perspective is an amazing thing.

Along the lines of my self improvement, this Fourth brought me face to face with two things that everyone who knows me, associates with me. A couple of months back, in talking with Frankie, had made the rash decision to try corn. It is a well known fact, and I receive much guff about it, that I do not eat veggies. Not a single one. I am probably the most picky person you have ever met. I like things plain, dry, and bland.

In our conversation we discussed how much easier it would be if I liked more things. I would not have to send things back, could eat what I was served and eating within my points would be so much easier. When / If I get pregnant, I am going to have to face this particular beast. It would be plain selfish to not eat a balanced diet when it affect someone other than myself. Plus, I can spend all the time I want in the gym, but a balanced diet is really the way to health and weight management.

So ear in hand, because I should, I bit into my first corn on the cob. We will say that it wasn't disgusting. I did not particularly enjoy it, but if served to me at dinner, I could eat it. My displeasure was emblazoned on my face and told me to just put the ear down if I hated it. I told him how I at least had to give it a chance. It took me six weeks to make the switch from regular soda to diet, I could barely make it through a bowl of cereal when I switched to skim, and ten years ago you could not have caught me dead with a yogurt. Now are all staples in my diet. He mentioned that my palate just might be in a jag and I just might need to be more open. That is exactly what I am hoping for. If I am really going to be a better person, to change to be someone that others seek out and want to be with, I need to step outside of my comfort zone.

Number two, on my list of things that I am not so great at is swimming. I know, who at my age does not know how to swim? Both the veggies and swimming go back to childhood. The veggies was a control thing, and the swimming, well the swimming just was not exactly something that you did when you were still working on things lower on Maslow's hierarchy of needs.

Every year when it comes up that I can't swim, invariably, someone says that they are going to teach me how. Honestly, this is really the first time that anyone has taken the time to try to teach me. The lesson only lasted about 1/2 hour, but covered important lessons like close your mouth, don't try to breathe underwater, and why the doggie paddle is so inefficient. Even though I scrapped bottom several times and got the worst chlorine headache I have had in a long time, all in all, I think we made some headway. I may not be able to enter a triathlon any time soon, but the fact they took the time to try to show me was heartwarming and worth the near drowning I had to endure.

As the sun sank into the West, those who were left set about the task of cleaning up. With the grill closed, net wrapped up, dishes washed, doors locked, we left to eat one mighty fine burger and then rolled over to watch the fireworks. Fireworks were done and then we went and watched Transformers. Curled up under a blanket, with the smell of the sun still on my skin, I smiled a secret little smile to myself. What a great day my 31st Fourth was.

Blogging In Bed

Tonight I blog from bed. I have been moving since my alarm rang this morning and am just now getting a chance to be still.

Early morning the alarm summoned me out of a sound slumber to tell me that it was time to go to work. I could not be to mad at said alarm because it did wake me on a Friday and even better, a half day, and most wonderful of all, the day I got to wear my boots.

Work moved along so smoothly, that I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never did and we left the clinic at 12:30. A small miracle with all four doctors in clinic. The phones were light and since we rescheduled all our routine lab draws, we only had to take care of the those who had to be seen that day.

Stepping out of the office, I was greeted by an amazingly warm and inviting day. With windows down, I called to Red to see about her lunch plans. I was in luck and she was free. After passing an unusually vigilant security guard, she came out as I pulled up. We drove down to Torchy's and I got to eat a taco with egg in it. A sign sadly informed us that there were no more Democrats available. Red was safe though, she brought me.

After dropping Red back off for her to finish out a whole day of work, I hit the market to pick up supplies for tonight's and tomorrow's twin parties. They are only two different parties because we have a sleep break in the middle. After I got home, I realized I forgot the cream cheese needed for the chicken dip and would have to go back to the store later for it.

Status post grocery shopping, I had to jet over to get my haircut. With my vacation rapidly approaching, I would have no other time to do it. No one in the family has seen it since I removed the bottom 15 inches. The stylist drove me crazy the entire cut by repeating over and over again how bad my last haircut was. I went to Great Clips, what do you expect?

With my new do, I scrambled back home where I whipped together the chicken dip. Then a nice, relaxing bath enveloped me for far to short a time. Out of the tub, make-up applied, western gear on, and back downstairs to bake the chicken dip. Chicken dip out of oven and directly in the car.

With the smell of amazing chicken dip wafting around, I took the toll road up to the burbs to eat Red Lobster with some co-workers. Let me tell you about the looks you get when you roll into a Red Lobster in vintage boots and a belt buckle large enough to eat off of. I didn't exactly eat while there. I had three Diet Cokes and four biscuits. Still probably had more points than if I had actually just had a meal.

I was there for a whole 45 min before I had to leave to make the now half-hour drive to the complete opposite side of town to get me and the chicken dip to the Hoe-down. The turn out was small, but I must say that I had a great time. I spent an incredible amount of the evening talking to APO. Sometimes you forget just how great the people you surround yourself with are, and then it blind sides you.

Party over, clean up ensued, and we had some giggles when just the girls were there. Most of the laughs came from us just being ridiculous. R introduced me to "head-shake photos". They are just photos where you let you face relax and then you shake your head back and forth while someone takes your photo. Long and short of it, you end up looking like a retard.

As we were leaving, Frankie calls and asks us if we want to join them for a movie...a movie that has already started. A mad race over there and a quick car change later and we arrive just as the feature presentation is starting. Movie so-so, lead man amazing, scenery mind-blowing. All in all, worth my free movie ticket.

Today was a great day, full of friends, laughs, and memories. I must go so that my body can take another day of much of the same. Tomorrow I may pontificate on Independence Day and the true meaning of Christmas...wait, what? Stay tuned.

Boot Scootin' Boogie

Tomorrow I am officially attending a "hoedown". Ever since I heard said event, I have gotten the outlandish idea that I need a pair of cowboy boots. I have lived in Texas since I graduated college in 1999. With ten years vested, I think that I am now officially allowed to buy boots and not look like a tourist. While buying them I realized that I am now officially a Texan and at the same time that my father's worst fears about me moving to Texas have finally come true. What can I say except, heel toe, do si do, come on baby let's go boot scootin'.

When I woke up this morning, I fully expect to have to use a trapeze to get my self out of bed. To my surprise I bounded up and was relatively pain free, which was surprising given the amount of pain I was in when I went to bed. It was not until mid-afternoon that I began to feel the repercussions of the ab workout. After that point, getting up out of my chair, laughing, lifting, and generally just breathing has the sore reminder that I was less of a sissy last night than I thought. I am hoping to repeat the torture next Monday. I think I need to train so that I am in shape enough to train.

Facebook brought me a nasty surprise today. The Boy unfriended me! Can you believe that? The positive side of things is that at least now I know that he is not dead in a ditch somewhere. It is the most active thing he has done in well over a month. For the life of me, I cannot understand why he would go out of his way to unfriended me when he could just hide me on his feed and not send up the flag that he is actively avoiding me. The Peacemaker says that her and her husband have a long standing theory that he had someone else on the line, and the reason he unfriended me was that they are official now and he did not want me to see. Could be, at least that makes sense. I cannot imagine any other reason. It seriously irks me, and I cannot tell you why it vexes me so.

Facebook does not always bring be bad news, sometimes it brings tasty little tidbits. Recently I have discovered a blog entitled The Search for Happiness. It is a new blog with only a scant four entries, but I enjoy every word. Mr. Cool writes of his misadventures in dating, but his quirky writing style make the words slip by unnoticed; you can almost hear him narrating in your head. His blog is scrubbed clean of names just like mine, so I can appreciate the effort that he puts into maintaining the anonymity of the text. I recommend you give it a read.

Sorry for the short post I am exhausted. I have a half-day of work tomorrow, so only have to make it through four more hours before my holiday weekend can start. Then back to work for four days before I am a jet-setter. With an end in sight, I think that I can make it all the way to vacation without having to kill anyone. But I can't make any promises.

Oh My Abs!

When Frankie said that we would shred some abs this week, I did not know that he meant it literally. I could barely drag myself out of the gym after doing an abbreviated ab work out with him, Gizmo, and Peter-Peter. Holy cow, those boys are no joke. My body is still abuzz from the shock. I keep this up and I might be worthy of my new bathing suit.

I had lunch today with Red at Pei Wei. Not only is white rice my favorite food in the whole world, but Red may be my favorite lunch date, so it was a guaranteed good time. We spent the first half of lunch plotting and scheming about Friday night's festivities and how to make it amazing. The second half was spent by Red doing her best to be a one woman marketing campaign for Dexter. All my objections fell on deaf ears. I love when she gets on a roll and does her best mom voice. It always starts, "Listen, all I'm saying is..." It is quite endearing.

Tonight I taught my music appreciation lesson at mutual. My lesson was well thought out, organized, and apparently boring as all get out. As I got further and further into the lesson, I could see that the last thing that the girls wanted to do when they came to mutual was sit and listen to me drone on. Other nights we paint, talk about books, and next week we are making mocktails. I can see how my lesson could be the low point of mutual. I am going to have to do something to keep the every diminishing attention span of a room of teenagers.

The lesson did make me reflect on how many lessons I have sat through and not heard one word of, how many lessons I have passed notes, how many lessons I played solitaire on my phone. All the while the teacher, who has spend hours preparing the lesson, continues in hopes that their lesson will touch my heart or invite the Spirit into the room. I have a new appreciation for all those teachers I didn't listen to, but for everyone that I sat back and criticized, secretly made-fun of the object lesson, or derailed their lesson with questions that changed the topic to something I found more interesting. I am sure karma has a whole heap of bored class members waiting in my future.

After mutual, I went to the gym and in case you missed it...Oh My Abs! Over two years ago, after recovering from several rounds of steroids, I joined Weight Watcher and shed 30 lbs that I had packed on. Steroids does just make you hungry, it makes you insatiable. I can remember sitting in Tacodeli and literally drinking a cup of queso. No wonder that by the time I was back on my feet, I was wearing a size 10. I lost 30 pounds on the program, and cannot tell you how much I love by body..

But loving your body does not always mean that you make good food choices. Once you are at your goal weight you are still supposed to eat within you points everyday. Easier said than done. When you have no goal in mind, it is easier to get off track. Chips turn into burgers, which turns into pizza, which into ice cream. You see where I am going with this.

Of all the parts of my body, my stomach is the hardest to keep trim. It is the first place I put on weight. I can go from beautiful and flat to a cresting rise of fat in a week of eating out. Two weeks of eating out can lead to pinchable fat. Three weeks and I cannot fit into my jeans. It is a slippery slope and summer is not the best time to hide in elastic banded bottoms or my scrubs.

I read somewhere that strong abs not only help you with posture and such, but they will also make you look thinner, even when you are carrying a bit of extra fat. This is why I am subjecting myself to such torture. Their workout made me feel like I just go to the gym to watch TV. They make me feel like I might as well be mall walking. It is nice to have someone pushing you. I am going to try to remember than when it takes a forklift to help me get out of bed tomorrow.

Well, it is off to bed I go, with a song in my heart, and my abs decimated. Tomorrow I will report the aftermath of my zeal, till then...