My life, in numbers:

43 days til a new last name...

34 days til a new apartment...

22 days til spring...

42 minutes til the weekend...

30 seconds til my next application of Carmex (cherry...because that makes it cool?)...

...I believe the word you're looking for is WOOOOHOOOOO!


Are we really having this conversation?

Him: Hey, uh, I need to sign up for a computer.
Me: Sure!
Him: Yeah, I, uh, missed my court date...
Me: Oh...?
Him: And I guess the only way to get approved is if I have a signed letter from a doctor.
Me: Hmmm. Yeah that makes sense.
Him: So hey, can you help me write that?
Me: What?
Him: That letter. From the doctor. So, you know, I'll be off the hook. (big grin)
Me: Ummm, no I cannot forge a doctor's letter for you. That is illegal.
Him: Yeah...well, can you at least help me make it look official? Like with a logo and all that?
Me: ...!??!?!?!...I'm afraid you're on your own. Because that, too, is illegal.
Him: Awww...man...okay. Alright. I get it.
Me: (Do you???)

Weekend me, please.


Reason to use your hairbrush as a microphone...as if you need one.

You know how some days are just plain crappy?

That would be yesterday, thanks to $600 worth of charges to my account (thanks a freaking lot, you Floridian identity thief, you!), running all over the place and hitting massive road blocks every.which.way.

(Okay, massive is debatable, but when your manager asks "Um, how's your heart rate right now?" after you breathlessly spill your life story, you know you need a break.)

Luckily, I'm marrying someone who speaks my love language and thus naturally decided the night must consist of to-die-for burgers, a mass quantity of ice cream and snuggly sweatpants. Perfect.

And now it's a new debit-card kind of day (Commerce, I love you), one step closer to being done with a little thing called INVITATIONS (!!!) and this spunky little number running through my head:

Not too shabby.

p.s. This video is completely ridiculous, so maybe just have a listen...

p.p.s. I know it's a cheesy song but HEY SOMETIMES A GIRL JUST NEEDS TO LET LOOSE OKAY?! Ahem. Carry on.


On broken dreams and wishing things.

He shuffles in every day, grinning impishly and spouting off smart comments.

Lord, have mercy, I think and brace myself as I see him walk through the door.

He's online for hours--hours--each day. Sometimes he's here before me in the morning and is still signed on when I leave.

His life is one big computer game and his eyes are empty. Lifeless. Bored as all get out.

Around noon, he'll take a break and lounge in the foyer, eyes closing as he drifts away for awhile.

My co-worker stopped one day and sat down next to him.

"What are you doing?" she asked him sternly.

"Huh?" he said. "Just sittin. That okay?"

"No, I mean, what are you doing? With your life. Why are you here all day?" She looked at him unwaveringly, eyes saying don't you even try to wiggle out of this one.

He shrugged. "Nothin else to do."

And she's telling me about this later--because we are all so curious about this guy, this kid, whose life is passing him by and he doesn't seem to mind one bit--and I'm thinking well, hmm, does this mean he may take his sass somewhere else for a change?

And then she looks at me, the edge dropping off her voice and says, "I asked him what he wanted to be and do you know what he told me? He said someday, he wants to be a doctor."

Then she looks at me fiercely, eyes flashing and says, "And I told him to get up then. To get up and get his GED and take.the.first.step. Because he's an able-bodied man and there is no excuse to be just sitting around like that.

"And there are options--there are doors to be opened--there is life to be lived if he would just get up.

Then she paused and gets quiet and says, "Because he is far too young to be giving up on life like that."

And as she walked away shaking her head, I thought oh but aren't we all?


Where I've been and where I'm going:

Excuse me. First, let me peel off a few Post-Its from my eyelids.

Because that's pretty much what I do all day. Write Post-Its. Lose Post-Its. Write Post-Its of Post-Its.

And sometimes, (OH THE HORROR!) leave said collection of Post-Its in the car and totally.lose.my.MIND!

(Deep breath)

So, here we are. Two months from the Big Day, my friends, and how am I doing, you ask?

I can pretty much sum it up in three words: massive.caffeine.consumption.

(OKAY FINE--and chocolate, too. But dark chocolate. Because I am all about antioxidants...)

And, friends, I really wish I could give you something deep today. Or gritty. Or touching. Or rather clever.

But, you see, I am in total list-making mode and thus, I merely offer a few blips of updates. That most likely makes no difference to anyone but HEY, WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF SOCIAL MEDIA! Where we all share way too much and never hang out in person! WHOOOOO!

(Speaking of social media, how does everyone feel about Google Buzz? Yes? No? Maybe?)

Anyway, lately:
  • Tried on The Dress for The Day and it still zips, ladies and gentleman! (Can I get an HALLELUJAH?!?!)
  • Bought tickets to go here after we become The Robertsons...(!!!)
  • ...not to be confused with the ROBINSONS...because, people, we have now watched this (thanks to this) and while I do find the theme song to be a catchy little number, it is so.not.applicable.NOW OR EVER, THANK YOU!
  • Frequently visiting here because I'm totally engrossed in this book...and yes, I know that me visiting without buying is not supporting my heartfelt cause that book books are way better than e-books anyday. (controversial? Try to sell me on Kindles, etc. I dare you!) --but also, um, I work at a library (and am getting hitched) and thus, I do not have the cash to throw around to buy a book book that I will only read once. Please forgive me.
  • TOTALLY disappointed in this these days--but still marking my calendar for March 4 anyway (duh). And while I'm not-so-secretly hoping this season is Dunder Mifflin's last...I am hearing great things about this show, so maybe it'll be a suitable replacement?
  • And all in all, just trying to soak up this chapter, while looking forward to starting a new one. And wondering how I could be living a better story--and further, what is stopping me?


A love story:

My co-worker's elderly mother passed away this week from a prolonged battle with Alzheimer's.

One afternoon, my co-worker received the call from her sister-in-law and began to make preparations to attend the funeral.

And while it was clear this was a very difficult, very painful, very raw time, she shared a beautiful insight on the later chapters of love:

"Mama was on her last leg," she said, "and towards the end, she wasn't eating, she no longer recognized anyone...we all knew it was her time.

"But Daddy, well, every time he held Mama's hand, her heart would pick up again. Her pulse would get faster. Every time. It was incredible. He just sat there, hour after hour, holding her hand. And her heart kept beating.

"And Daddy just sat there--despite all those who told him to take a break, or get some rest--he wouldn't take his hand from hers. He couldn't.

"Finally, with Mama asleep, he finally agreed to the many urges to unwind his fingers from hers and take a shower.

"And it was then--that short window of time--that Mama finally passed away. I think she just needed him to let her go."

For all who grieve this week, a reminder that Love does not end.

That you will be comforted.

And that death is not the end of the Story.



Stumbled across this gem and thought it was worth passing on...

Because, ya know, who doesn't want to absorb information through bright colors and interactivity?!

Oh, and the whole "become globally aware" thing is nice, too.



I'll be darned.

If there's anything I hate more than waking up at the crack of dawn, it's getting my oil changed.

(Put them together and the only thing that will get me through the day is three cups of coffee. AND OKAY FINE, a chocolate cupcake smothered in frosting for breakfast. WHEEEEEE!)

Where was I? Ahh, yes, the definition of humiliation:

Somehow, with one tiny, tinny ding as the door swings open, I lose all self-respect and become a bumbling, fumbling moron who answers nearly every question an apologetic "Ummm...yeah, I don't know..." and a nervous smile.

I even psych myself up before entering, and am all: You can do this. You are an independent, fully-functioning adult. Be tough. Nerves of steel. You got this.

But then--ding--and an offhand "How many miles are on your car?" and ohhhhhhhhh crap! How many miles? Whaaa? Like.I.Know."Umm...well...I'm, uh, not exactly sure?"

Then a rushed, "Oh, and, um, also, my car has been making this weird noise every now and then? And the light comes on but I think maybe it's just a sensor problem? Or uh...spark plugs? Or something?"

Because suddenly everything is a question?

And later, the inevitable follow-up phone call that's just as embarrassing when I'm all, "Have I ever changed the what? Do I want you to flush out the--huh? Dude, I couldn't tell you the first thing about a gasket and I haven't even finished my first cup of coffee so please HAVE MERCY ON ME!"

Upon my shame-faced return, wanting nothing more than to get.the.crap.outta.there, you can imagine my surprise when The Keeper of the Keys asked me about my upcoming wedding with a quickly-followed: "Marriage, huh? Well, let me give you my marriage spiel--"

I braced myself for a cynical, "Ohhhh man, your life will be OVER! (snicker, snicker)" or "Hey, my advice--run now before it's too late (har, har, har)" or "Just let him win once in awhile, would ya? (wink wink)"...and instead heard:

"--Marriage is forever. You commit, and when you commit, you commit to the good times and the bad times. And there will be bad times. But you'll get through it. You will. Been married 30 years now, and I wouldn't change it for nothin."

Well, whaddya know, Gene. Looks like we speak the same language after all.

Pleasure doing business with you, sir.

(And uhh...sorry about all that.)