It has been months...and then, today

Today I woke up with a dull headache. The kind I have gotten every day for the past two years and three months.
I thought about the wreck in the shower, and was thankful that I am a changed person because of it.
That my headaches, short term memory loss and ever aching injuries serve as a reminder that my life is mine to live and it can end at any moment.

Today someone told me that they loved me in purple, that Wednesday I looked amazing. On the drive to work, I couldn’t imagine what purple shirt I owned, much less what I wore Wednesday and wished I could go home for lunch to look through my closet to remember.

Today, someone asked about my scars.
I was shocked because no one has noticed them in months.
I told the story of my wreck, the one everyone seems to remember, but me.
I know what the police report says; “flew in the air, flipped about seven times”
The memories are increasing slowly but still, just the three stand out vividly.
Praying while flying in the air, lying broken in the mud, and a man whispering “this is a helicopter baby.”

Today I thanked God for the eight hundred and eleventh time.

Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tube Man

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZEKiuo_C2s&feature=related

Another way of thinking

Yesterday I had to run home to grab a department laptop for our press secretary. I was driving at my usual "get out of my way" speed and looking at the clock every few seconds as if to will it to tick slower.

I took the back way behind the hospital to cut straight into my neighborhood, when a car pulled out in front of me. I was just slightly startled and didn't even have to tap the brakes. The car had a bright orange license plate and stickers all over the back, but I couldn't tell you what any of them said, because somehow my eyes went straight to the tiny bumper sticker that I had to squint to read. I read it three times. It hit me harder each time and has had a pretty open minded person really thinking.

"It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish."
-- Mother Teresa

This one is for me and the girls

So, my mother is on this Goodwill binge where she shops their daily and calls to update my sister and I on what “great deals” she finds. I however, couldn’t even find accessories for my grease monkey mechanic Halloween costume.


Regardless…I went to Lafayette this past weekend and found myself near a Goodwill store, so I decided to go in to rummage through the records (my new hobby since I got the antique record player). With eight records in hand from Bette Mitler to UFO, I came across a purple silk Victoria’s Secret top on a manikin with TAGS ON IT…I ripped it off like I expected one of the frumpy looking shoppers to challenge me for an XXS silk cami.

I approached the counter and stumbled into a skinny mini tweener with an arm full of tops that had tags hanging off of them. As to not divert too much attention, I went to the opposite end of the isle as her and worked her way, to avoid going behind her only to find what she had already picked over. Within the 6 feet of isle I covered, I had already collected enough banana republic, Ann Taylor and BCBG to make my adrenaline start pumping. I slyly grabbed a basket and made a plan. I would start in one corner of the store and cover it entirely. I couldn’t help but think of how I have been feeling sorry for myself because “everyone else” gets to shop all of the time and I have “The Mortgage.” Well, not today.

I would leave the store with tons of tops, skirts, blazers and even a pair of J Crew classic chinos. The 300.00 St John twill Jacket with oversized buttons that I snagged, had a dry cleaning tag for 25.00 attached to the sleeve right next to the Goodwill “reduced 7.99” sticker. I am assuming that these people have no idea what they have in inventory for a slim girl with conservative taste, but I’m sure the gasp I let out when I checked out was some indication. “Your total is $129.00.”

As I handed the saleswoman most of the cash I had withdrawn from the ATM for my weekend away, I realized that complaining just slows down the time that is passing until you unexpectedly catch a break.

So, in my new outfits and "staple" tops, I just say "thank you" when they are complimented; and when someone wants in on one of my new looks, I just respond that I picked it up in "just some little shop in Lafayette."

Bungy Love

My tour of Louisiana weekend flew by. I returned home to the three neighbor kids ready to help me pick up the limbs and sticks from the yard as thier excuse to play with Dodge. The house smelt stale, the way it always does when i leave it for days. Belle was perched on top of the clean clothes that have been waiting for weeks for me to hang.

A long bath and a pair of sweats later, Bungy and I sat down for what I thought was a semi normal movie, but turned into a gorey vampire movie that i actually covered Belle's eyes during twice. Bungy wiggled and squirmed, and true to form, forced my hand to receive the most optimum attention possible. This went on for about 5 minutes, until an ear rubbing coma set in. This made me smile.

A Case of the...Thursdays?

I am drinking diet dr. pepper. i hate diet drinks.
I am choosing paint colors for my new office, but nothing matches the only wall in the department that i like...that was JUST painted, but apparently by a phantom paint swatch.
I have post it notes on top of post it notes and am only 1/3 through on most of the projects on my desk.
I need to go to the supply store, but i am too busy.
I need to eat, but the canned soup in my desk is encouragement enough for me to just skip a meal.
i just got really excited to eat a homeade macadamian nut cookie that i have been saving, the first bite made me gag. I didnt know cookies could taste so terrible.

The Louisiana Wife.....

A man married a woman from KANSAS. He told her that she was to do the dishes and house cleaning. It took a couple of days, but on the third day, he came home to see a clean house and dishes washed and put away.


Another man married a woman from MICHIGAN.. He gave his wife orders that she was to do all the cleaning, dishes and the cooking. The first day he didn't see any results, but the next day he saw it was better. By the third day, he saw his house was clean, the dishes were done and there was a huge dinner on the table.



The third man married a girl from LOUISIANA . He ordered her to keep the house clean, the dishes washed, the lawn mowed, the laundry washed, and hot meals on the table for every meal. He said the first day he didn't see anything, the second day he didn't see anything but by the third day, some of the swelling had gone down and he could see a little out of his left eye, and his arm was healed enough that he could fix himself a sandwich and load the dishwasher.

The second to last place I want to be...

I am sitting in a chair that smells of cheetos. The carpet has stains and hardened gum and the trash is overflowing with Subway bags and dirty diapers. The elevator music is almost unbearable; it has that annoying prodiminant flutist that plays a thirty minute solo that makes me Imagine I am at Morrison's or Ryans waiting for the overweight woman to finish being creative with her version of a taco salad when the buffet bins are filled to the brim with perfectly intact taco shells. The air is musty and coming out of a whistling vent on the wall that has been painted so many times you hardly notice the buried screws holding it up. A saleswoman is in the hall discussing her ploy to get free medical advice this afternoon when she drops off samples to the doctor. A woman is glaring at me with a "how dare you" or "you are too old to wear that" as she gives my polo dress the once over. I probably would glare at me too if I was at the end of my third trimester and wearing an entire bolt of fabric. Her husband looks happy, which I'm crediting to the cute young nurse just referred to his wife as "the patient" and him as "daddy." This is what I am surrounded by as I wait for my named to be called, already thirty minutes after my appoinent time, so I can head back to one of the too cold rooms with too rough paper sheets and gowns for an all too familiar procedure. This moment may fall right under my twelve hour Monday, but just above my four hour class tonight on my "shitty ways to start a week" scale.

The Perfect Man

Miss Shreveport: passing down the crown

Girls Gone...Fishing

A story is not needed-for this trip-quotes will suffice.

Christina: "Hand me the trout, I'll size him."
Chloe: "Okay, just make sure you measure it from the 1 and not the zero."

Lauren (opening the live well): "OH SHIT! The shrimp are ALIVE!!!"

Chloe: "The boat hurts my boobs!"

Christina: "No, I'm good we have snacks, beer and beef and cheese."
-four minutes down the road-"I want McDonalds fries!" (Truck U turns on Highway)

Lauren: "Can I have one more Peanut Butter and Jelly Uncrustable please?"

At this point, Christina is drunk, Chloe is hyper and Lauren is snoring. All signs of a perfect day.

The Saturday from Hell

We painted and tiled the addition to my house, set up a garage sale, hung 100 signs and made a 1,000 bucks in 24 hours...all while consuming 5 cases of beer and a fifth of crown. Now that friends...is talent.

Not much has changed

Her stories always began with “Once upon a time” and inevitably there was always a little boy and a little girl-walking home from school more often than not. In her stories there was a mother and a father, a Nickel and Dime store, which I imagined with wood floors and candy jars, and a small family dog. Some of them were about dresses and some about buying candy, but they all ended living happily ever after with a quick pause interrupted by her familiar sweet voice-“ the end.”

When my sister and I were little, we shared my Aunt Tangea’s bedroom. She was my father’s little sister and we had grown up hearing how much more spoiled she was than him.

I never fell asleep after “the end” but my sister always did. Even at 5 I remember thinking that maybe she had a clearer head than I did because I would lay awake every night covering every topic I possibly could in an inescapable compulsion to figure out something I may have missed before. I am still an avid scenario generator.

Cheryl always got to wear maw maw’s robe, it was green. Not a pretty soft green or spring time Kelly, but an outdated pea green with a missing button and the piping that was just a shade lighter. However aesthetically displeasing; it was hers.

The smell of my grandparents’ home was overwhelmingly inviting. It smelled of fabric softener, Bryll cream, and Chap Stick. The bathrooms smelled of almond cherry lotion and mouthwash. The water had an unforgettable smell, tinted yellow and so soft you could never rinse the shampoo out. I remember that few of the towels matched, but all were thin and soft.

Their carpet was brown shag and perfect for playing putt-putt in the hallway. Their TV was the large wooden cabinet kind with the extra channel box sitting on top so we could watch Nickelodeon, but had to get up to change the channel.

My grandmother used to ask me to help her clean out her cabinets every time she called to check on us. It was quite the event. We would cover the floor in clean sheets and wash our hands, then unload them one at a time just to stack them back up. It made me feel important, like I was the only one that could help her organize things like she wanted. I remember graduating to the pantry, then my job became much specialized, being sure that all of the green bean cans faced forward and the diet cokes stacks remained steady.

In my life I have rarely felt safe. I have continually been plagued by restless nights and daily anxiety and until last night when I dreamt about a specific night when I was taking a long bath listening to Norah Jones singing “Don’t know why,” did I remember that the last time I truly felt safe was in the bed beside my sister and Raggedy Ann in my grandparent’s house.

Just the highlights

Countless people, well, I guess I could count them…have asked why I have not been writing. Well, I have been writing. Just nothing anyone would want to read. However, to everyone’s relief, after turning in a far too long paper on the problems associated with health care and my half ass answer for them..I am officially back.
So, what anyone concerned enough to read this is wondering…friend, foe or stalker-here is what’s new.

Surgery last Monday went well. Just like those “sent from mom” Tupperware containers in your freezer that you’re not “quite” sure about; my cervix was frozen, defrosted, frozen and thawed during the most painful procedure that I have had yet. I am most proud that I didn’t cry. I did however have 3 pain pills, a klonopin and the remainder of my week-old fingernails. I spent 3 days on my sofa/chaise bed I created in the living room watching 52 inches of estrogen filled movies with my girlfriends eating every comfort food available complete with sundaes, beef and cheese and lucky charms. What the pain pills and heating pad couldn’t handle, the Michelob and Crown did. On a positive note, I have felt what childbirth contractions feel like, actually experience my uterus contracting…and I am convinced that my pain threshold had stretched further than ever before and I could feasibly deliver a child with no epidural. On the same note, there is no way in hell I plan to.

My classes are taking a little more of my “free” time than I expected and I have had projects, papers and homework so I am feeling teen-ish again.

Bungy may or may not be a girl. I am crushed. I have googled, youtubed and even bought a book with a “how to sex a rabbit” chapter and I still cannot tell. When they say it is tricky-they are not exaggerating. I am taking her/him…it to the vet on the 28th for a checkup, aging test so I know when to spay/neuter the poor baby, and finally find out if I should be buying pearls or argyle sweaters for Christmas.

Work is not worth writing about. I apparently am taking on some new projects but I’m not sure of any details and have no concrete idea of what I will actually be doing. So I am not going to speculate just to clarify later.

I am animal sitting this weekend-One dog, one cat, a saltwater aquarium, a fresh water aquarium, two doves and a goldfish pond. I initially thought to myself that how ridiculous it is for one person to have such an extensive petting zoo and then I realized this guy only has two more exhibits than I do. I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to find me knitting on the front porch before Halloween…I’m just saying.

I plan a girl’s blowout every Halloween, parties and costumes but this year, I want to sit at home and pass out candy to the little hellions in the neighborhood. I’m feeling old.

The wing of the airplane on my Tiffany’s bracelet is bent and that pisses me off. How can you charge hundreds for tiny charms that bend and break? On second thought, obsessed women as myself are how they charge that much-scratch the “pisses me off.”

I saw Sorority Row last night, save your money, time and energy required to see this movie. I can never get that hour and fifteen minutes back.

I am buying a powerball ticket today. I don’t know how to, where to go or even how much they are, but I am willing to learn for a chance at 120 million dollars.

Finally, I would like to hit pause on life for a few days. If someone has that figured out-sell me the secret.

It's A Girl!

I walked into the pet store for a few new saltwater fish for my tank at work and somehow found myself asking about the feeding and life expectancy of the little bunny I was holding in my arms. I have NEVER wanted a bunny, but I hate cats too and Belle is the love of my life. Somewhere between the tortoise boxes and the hamster cages, my biological clock decided for me that I didn’t just want this little bunny, but I NEEDED it.

So there I was in my usual form, reaching for toys and bowls and the best of the best vitamins thinking at the checkout which pet store I could go to next.

I went to three pet stores that afternoon and got Bungy everything that she could ever want along with numerous accessories that are held conveniently in her little pink purse with pearl strung handle.

I wonder if my pets know that they won the Lottery of owners

Bungy's First Bath

This was a pretty monumental occurance. Now she smells like Rosemary mint...and love.

Nothing taste as good as looking HOT feels

I am not a fan of fad diets or wasting my time reading books about what foods I should eat to live longer. I am a fairly healthy person, but I do have a hidden love affair with bar food. There is nothing like a plate of nachos at 2 am. However, in an effort to grab the proverbial reins of my life, I have decided to try some new things.

I just started Isagenix. I ordered the box months ago and it never made it farther than the trunk of my car. I finally decided to open it yesterday and inside I found some pretty intense and very intimidating information. The first step is to measure all of your body parts and add up your “total inches.” My total inches are 283.75; however, I’m sure without my Victoria’s Secret push up, I would have a significantly lower total.

So I had two days of “pre-cleansing” where I had a sensible meal and snack and two shakes. The Vanilla shake taste more like a stale cinnamon roll and the wild berry cleaning drink taste exactly like watered down robitussin. BUT, to my excitement, a bottle of “snacks” were included. I unscrewed the cap and ripped out the cotton to find white wafers that look like industrial strength Tums. They smelled like cake icing so I went for a little cheat of a nibble. To my dismay, they were probably the worst product in the box coming in just past the “natural accelerator” supplement pills that taste like my pee smells after I have too much asparagus. It’s wonderful.

So, I am 2 pounds down in one day…I am trying to continue to cautiously embrace this Cleansing, but really…all this may do is make me hate life.

Ps, I am going to the LSU game AND the Saints game this weekend. Great fun you would think right? I did too until I read the tiny little green “success tip” box which read “Cleanse days are a good time to reduce and eliminate any caffeine, alcohol and/sugar consumption.” Really? This is day 2 of a 9 day process.

My apologies if you are unfortunate enough to encounter my harsh mood if I continue on this borderline starvation plan.

Maw Maw and Paw Paw-outside of Mississippi...that means "grandparents"

Her stories always began with “Once upon a time” and inevitably there was always a little boy and a little girl-walking home from school more often than not. In her stories there was a mother and a father, a Nickel and Dime store, which I imagined with wood floors and candy jars, and a small family dog. Some of them were about dresses and some about buying candy, but they all ended living happily ever after with a quick pause interrupted by her familiar sweet voice-“ the end.”

When my sister and I were little, we shared my Aunt Tangea’s bedroom. She was my father’s little sister and we had grown up hearing how much more spoiled she was than him.

I never fell asleep after “the end” but my sister always did. Even at 5 I remember thinking that maybe she had a clearer head than I did because I would lay awake every night covering every topic I possibly could in an inescapable compulsion to figure out something I may have missed before. I am still an avid scenario generator.

Cheryl always got to wear maw maw’s robe, it was green. Not a pretty soft green or spring time Kelly, but an outdated pea green with a missing button and the piping that was just a shade lighter. However aesthetically displeasing; it was hers.

The smell of my grandparents’ home was overwhelmingly inviting. It smelled of fabric softener, Bryll cream, and Chap Stick. The bathrooms smelled of almond cherry lotion and mouthwash. The water had an unforgettable smell, tinted yellow and so soft you could never rinse the shampoo out. I remember that few of the towels matched, but all were thin and soft.

Their carpet was brown shag and perfect for playing putt-putt in the hallway. Their TV was the large wooden cabinet kind with the extra channel box sitting on top so we could watch Nickelodeon, but had to get up to change the channel.

My grandmother used to ask me to help her clean out her cabinets every time she called to check on us. It was quite the event. We would cover the floor in clean sheets and wash our hands, then unload them one at a time just to stack them back up. It made me feel important, like I was the only one that could help her organize things like she wanted. I remember graduating to the pantry, then my job became much specialized, being sure that all of the green bean cans faced forward and the diet cokes stacks remained steady.

In my life I have rarely felt safe. I have continually been plagued by restless nights and daily anxiety and until last night when I dreamt about a specific night when I was taking a long bath listening to Norah Jones singing “Don’t know why,” did I remember that the last time I truly felt safe was in the bed beside my sister and Raggedy Ann in my grandparent’s house.

An ommission of the truth...is a lie.

Is it because they love me? Is it because I’m tough, weak…or intimidating? Lately the scales have fallen from my eyes, the wool is at my feet and I can see a little clearer.

I am easy to lie to.

I pride myself in my intuition and it takes a great deal of “follow through” for me to really trust someone. Yet lately I have found myself surrounded by little white lies.

I’ll never do it again. I will help you. I will call. We are just friends. I was just working. I forgot. I am listening. I do care; I just didn’t think you wanted to talk about it. I never meant to hurt you. I am done sowing my wild oats. I will pay you back soon. Rent…is it the first? Just call, sure I’m down for whatever. I would love to have a girl’s night out. I was asleep. You are over qualified and should find something else. I didn’t drive drunk-he did. No, I’m really happy. It was only because I was working. Everything will be fine. I will start to communicate. That dress looks great on you, don’t change. We will bring the family and come visit. I will never lie to you again.

I am surrounded with people who love me. Overwhelmed with requests to hang out, have lunch, just talk…and yet I still hang on to the ones that hurt me.

Really? Unfortunately my filter has worn down and I can take it no longer. I cannot physically handle one more lie whether it be “white,” accidental or blatant. Today was the last time that I will allow myself to be lied to.

Remember "I" before "E," except in Budweiser.

Reflective thoughts from many men much smarter than I...

BEER THEORIES-How can anyone possibly argue with such logic.

Sometimes when I reflect on all the beer I drink, I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. I think, "It is better to drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver." -Babe Ruth

"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day." -Lyndon B. Johnson

"When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading." -Paul Horning

"24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence? I think not." -H. L. Mencken

"When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven!" -George Bernard Shaw

"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." -Benjamin Franklin

"Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza." -Dave Barry

BEER: HELPING UGLY PEOPLE HAVE SEX SINCE 3000 B.C.! -W. C. Fields -Professor Irwin Corey

To some it's a six-pack, to me it's a Support Group Salvation in a can! -Leo Durocher

One night at Cheers, Cliff Clavin explained the" Buffalo Theory" to his buddy Norm:

"Well, ya see, Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members! In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine! That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."

...And it makes your singing voice sound better, too.

Two Ants dancing on a blade of grass

Today I added Grumps to the tank. He is a pretty active little hermit crab who has been filtering the sand like he is on speed. I ate half of a pint of Blackberries, an oatmeal cream pie and drank two cokes after my six inch sub...and I'm wondering why I have gained weight-shocker.

Today has been laughably mundane. I delivered mail, ordered supplies, looked over the office budget, and entered time. The excitement was only interrupted once by my trip back to the Dr.’s office where I sat for over an hour waiting for my appointment. This time, it was NOT my fault. They called my name at 12:15-my appointment was at 11:30. To the dreaded scale…no change since Monday, not even an ounce.

I sat in the tiny exam room on the crisp paper and stared at the stacks of latex gloves that could so easily be my demise. I glanced at “Phoebe,” my new fever blister and almost gagged at how gross it looks. I have not had one in 9 months, but something about huge, stressful changes and lack of sleep just brings them out. I glanced down at my super white knees peeping out from my Polo dress and wished I had had the extra five minutes to slather on some Jergens Express tanning lotion-but I willingly accepted mediocrity today. Escada and Versace couldn’t make me feel cute on a day with a fever blister.

My Dr. strolled in like she was an hour early rather than late and invited me to the more comfortable room across the hall-this is never “good” news. She sighs as she sits and I immediately break a sweat and remember how great of a deal I got on deodorant at Albertson’s ten for $10 sale. As she asked question after question that amounted to nothing I quickly saw that there was a bomb brewing just as soon as this fuse burned down. And then she came out with it. She gave me diagnosis in a way that made me imagine her in front of her bathroom mirror repeating her tactful soliloquy until she had each perfected and ready to place neatly in her mental file.

As she pressed on, she dug deeper into me with questions that left me more than vulnerable. I humbly answered all of her questions, while simultaneously wondering what problems she had dealt with to bring her to a profession that would force her to deal with everyone else’s. You have to wonder who reciprocates on her behalf; who hacks away at her emotions and helps her embrace positive thinking? I glanced at her rather impressive emerald cut diamond and imagined tiny ice skaters circling atop and being charged admission.

I left relieved and yet questioning, but loved how communicative she was and allowed me to be. I stepped outside and the cool air reminded me of James Taylor-September Grass. I can’t wait for football.

Happy?...Tuesday

Yesterday began with a few laughs as I attempted to wake up one of my shacking girlfriends for work (think Frankenstein)-no I’m not exaggerating...she is as bad as me in the morning. I took an hour bath and even a longer shower listening to The Soloist on my waterproof shower cd player. I took my time getting ready. I shaved my legs twice and used microderm abrasion on my face in an attempt to dissolve the stress induced grease factory that has become my face. I exfoliated and used my new Daisy by Marc Jacobs body wash.

All the time and care I was putting into getting ready was an attempt to divert from the appointment I would barely make at 11:30. I threw on a fitted tee and rejoiced at my success of not “looking pregnant” as I did the last time I went to Woman’s’ Hospital. I wore this really pretty orange long maxi dress that everyone loved…and seemed to be the uniform style of every expecting mother in the entire building. I grabbed a denim mini skirt, realizing that I am about 6 years too old to wear anything like this, and pulled my bangs back in my usual school girl style.

I had thirty minutes left. Somehow my attempt to waste time left me with some to spare. I began cleaning bathrooms and threw my new sheets in the washer so they would be fresh for my recovery movie marathon that afternoon. The Parking lot was the usual, deadlocked at a quarter till my appointment, guaranteeing I would be late. Five pregnant women stood in line for the elevator in front of me and one had a head full of grey hair and a little toddler jumping around. It was quite a questionable scene, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would find myself in a mid life pregnancy.

I arrived at the receptionist desk on the fifth floor where I had to sign verification papers because I somehow forgot my insurance card. So I sit in the waiting room for about 3 seconds before I get called to the scale. When I saw that the six pounds that I gained miraculously turned into ten, I instantly thought of the new yoga DVD that I grabbed off of the impulse isle at Marshall’s and vowed to try it…this week.

I answered the usual questions and my blood pressure was higher than usual-shocker-I dropped the tweener teenage skirt and reached for the rough paper sheet as I took my place sitting Indian style on the exam table. My doctor, whose name is ironically Sunshine, stepped in with her predictable chipper banter and went over the last test results and the current procedure options.

After tears, gritting teeth and a few apologies from her, it was over. I lay sweating on the table waiting for the room to stop spinning and for my stomach to descend from my throat. As I checked out and make my next appointment I realized that this is just the beginning and I had better decide to toughen up now or I was really going to fall later.

At home I embraced my rehab plans with The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 1 and 2; both of which are movies I would NEVER watch on a regular basis. I ate ice cream and drank coke from glass bottles in my favorite super soft purple night gown.

The rest of the night was a pretty rapid descent where I cried, debated whether or not to take pain meds or drink whiskey and ignored 8 calls and 3 text because I couldn’t bear to have one more person ask me how I felt or if it was “that bad.”

After two hours of reading Grimm’s Fairytales from my iphone, I eventually surrendered to the Hydrocodone.

Today, will be much better.

The Mafia (also known as Cosa Nostra)

So, I'm doing the girl thing; curling iron in hand running through the house answering text and calls lying that I am "almost ready.” I am wearing heels and not much more else because I can’t decide which tiny dress makes me look the least fat (and don’t act like you have not done this). My beer is sweating because I have not had a second to drink it. I’m cataloging things I can do I the car on the way…makeup, deodorant, jewelry, etc. and I hear Belle start screaming-yes…screaming like I had never heard her before.

I stepped into the hallway and in the kitchen I could see her jumping from the counter to the table then to the microwave-she was losing it! So I run in to grab her and she is chasing a sparrow. I am torn between pride of my little huntress and mercy for the little bird that I am positive is in no real danger as Belle prefers to merely play with her prey as opposed to actually killing it. She pins it between the table and fridge and I panic. I grab her and save the bird, shooing it out of the house.

I gave her treats and told her I was proud of her, but my heart hurt for that tiny little bird. The next day I couldn’t shake the thought of a trembling nervous stomached sparrow in my back yard too nervous to approach a feeder, so I started researching the little escapee.

To my surprise, these little “suckers,” I’ll politely call them, storm other birds nest and kill their young. They push them out like slum lords and take over-pushing out eggs and laying claim to their new greener grassed pent house. Bitches! I thought. I started to get upset, then a little angry, and now I’m FURIOUS!

I let that little ass go when Belle could have killed the bully bird on the block. I began to feel like I failed all of the birds that I feed daily in my back yard. Who am I to keep their food fresh and bath clean further encouraging them to set up shop in my West Side Story style back yard? I’m like a made mobster running things on my street. Sigh.

My "almost" pound puppy

Yes, Pet Head-only the best beauty products for my dog that rolls around in my back yard in between tearing up my potted plants. Dodge-a true phenomenon. He is fast enough to kill birds, meek enough to spoon me during a movie, and yet a great guard dog. I think he needs a little sister....I'm just saying.

Room 248

My office is half the size.

The hall is PINK.

I can’t look out of my fourth floor window and see the sun bathers across the street; I’m now just eyelevel with their privacy fence.

It seems to be 80 degrees in every corner of my office.

I now share a restroom with 68 women instead of 12.

I no longer have a mini fridge or access to a clean-keyword…CLEAN, microwave.

I can’t remember what room number my office is.

I got beautiful flowers…but not from a boy.

I still have the same frumpy blue chair that smells a little funny.

I had to clean out a closet of ancient office artifacts and it took two days.

I have no connection to my color printer.

There is always chatter, talking, passing and whispering-quite a stretch from the
silent halls of the ivory tower I was used to.

I don’t have mirror behind my door.

I don’t know when my boss is in because he is now 40 plus steps or a 2 minute elevator ride away instead of 5 yards.

Of the 6 days spent in my new “lair,” my boss has not ventured inside the door once.

To end my vent…I spent 2 days in a conference room with my iphone, a post it note
pad and my book Wicked, went without my computer for 4, spent 2 days cleaning and nursing my moving dust induced sinus attack and now, here I sit-knowing little more than about 6 people’s names on the floor. The way I see it, it can only get better.

A poem for Belle

I have a black cat
And her name is belle
She really likes to eat
So her poo poo really smells.

Sometimes she gets frisky
And runs all through the house
She’s a curious little kitty
Not much bigger than a mouse.

Sometimes she likes to fetch
And flip and purr and scratch
And sometimes when I sleep
Its my feet that she attacks

And her tongue is pink and scratchy
When she kisses me sometimes
So I wake up and feed her
To stop her pouty cries.

Happy Wednesday

So my day started at 5 am...I awoke to "EA Sports...It's in the game!" Apparently my tenant enjoys early morning Madden. Belle brought me a little mouse I bought her yesterday that she is pretty proud of. I tried to pretend that my sister telling me she was pregnant was a dream-but it wasn't. I wanted to stay home and clean, buy more things to mail my nephews for school, paint my mud room...anything-but come to work. But, as most of my inner circle knows...I dont have that option. So, I cried. I thought about how I was looking forward to school for the first time in my life. I looked over at my new 50 inch plasma and thought about how much fun my Sex In The City Marathon will be with the girls this week and still...it was not enough to make me excited to come to work.
Before i knew it, it was after 7 and I had 30 minutes to get ready. I did the "speed of light shower" thing that I have become so accustomed to and threw on a polo dress-my old standby-for the second day in a row.
I recieved 58 emails last night and 7 text messages-I chose to ignore them all until I arrived at work. The real coke and Oatmeal Cream pie for breakfast helped for about five minutes until I calculated the calories. (I have gained six pounds btw.)
But, I am here and smiling my usual smile, excercising my usual wit to the usual suspects counting down until I, very unusually...get to leave for lunch.

Maybe If I type it...

I have made mistakes. I hate to sound “condescending” but sometimes I just don’t understand how the decisions that some people make-made good sense in their head at the time. People are are often so much more than how they act. I think men should concentrate on having the back bone to live how they know is right. Then people around them, especially women, will respect them and hopefully, their stand will shed light on others shortcomings and bring them to raise their own standards.
I have really tried to work on things myself. Women are terrible at telling guys no-In the past I was way too nice and felt sorry for them-now im a beast-they wont even come towards me because I now have a pretty solid reputation that im not an idiot and when a guy is brave enough to talk to me I respond immediately with “ I admire your confidence in approaching me, im not interested in meeting anyone-it doesn't matter if I am single, but thank you for approaching me respectfully-(if they did in which case if they didn’t im more of a bitch).
I have had to work hard to learn to say im sorry, and I honestly feel like I have apologized immediately whenever I have felt that I have been wrong for the prodominate part of the last year.
I used to “be cool” and act like things didn’t bother me-leading only to an uprising down the road...or my ever-famous profession that there is “nothing wrong” and I am POSITIVE we can both agree that there certainly was.
I know the grass is not greener, no one really feels that sorry for me so i shouldn't feel sorry for myself and as far as the things in my life that are “NOT” okay-I'm changing them too. Its not okay for me to turn my head when something is going on that is not right.
Its not okay for me to be late for work so I've started getting up earlier, having half the drinks I used to if I go out and have begun letting the “dirty laundry” sit if my sleep is more important.
Its not okay for me to make fun of people-and I don't remember the last time that I did.
Its not okay to judge peoples actions-I just let it be known that I disagree and I cease 100 percent participation if the night goes in a direction that I don’t agree with.
I know that I have grown a lot this year and finally, for the first time in my life, started to trust people.
I want to marry a man that I trust. I need to know that I am the only person on the planet that they will ever want…for their sake as well.
Its not just that I need to feel secure about how they feel about me.
I never ever want to feel trapped in a marriage, or have to go through a divorce.
I have abandoned really great guys-it never hurt me.
I fear that I will fall for a man to whom I am not exactly what they want and i don't want to be someone's "good enough" or "settle."
I don’t want to date around-I want to date the person I want to marry and commit myself to them-for good and bad-through fat times and mid life crisis-and if they can imagine a chance that some beautiful woman could whisp them away-I would suggest a slow down in their pursuit.
I want a man who actively works on being the best person that he can be.
I don’t ever want to stop examining myself either.
I want to marry someone who admires me and adores me and appreciates who I am becoming.
I know I will annoy them and they will annoy me.
I want to be with someone that exudes love for me.
I want to be on the same page.
I want a man to take me to church, appreciate my cooking and run my bath water.
I don’t want to think the search has ended if in reality one of us still feels like we are taking a chance.
My commitment phobia I justify with with the excuse that I am tired with work and school, but I think it’s a bad excuse.

My favorite little secret

I've been know to be a "johnny hard ass" and yet I cry during horror films. Regardless-I wanted to share a little known fact about me. Since my hospital stay after an auto accident last August, I have not slept alone. I am completely co-dependant upon my bulldog shredder. He was a gift and only leaves my bed when i take him to travel or my dog Dodge steals him away. He was made by TY and I love him...and the thing is-for some reason, It's not that embarassing anymore.

My reflection for the day

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our dark that most frighten us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people don't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It is not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people the will to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

My back up plan

So, I was thinking, if it ever gets "that bad," I could always become a game warden. I'm pretty sure they don't make that much but seriously-I already carry a gun, basically live outside, can recite the R.S. numbers of every hunting, fishing and licensing regulation and the penalties associated with them. Maybe its not too late...

The Big Move is Official...

This Morning

This morning I realized that I don't just "feel" trapped-I AM trapped. I need a change and I can't find one. The decisions that I make will not have any effect on on my entrapment. I made my list and even drank three "real" cokes...I went to the library and had a great dinner. And still, I dreamt about being trapped.I am a happy person, I have tons of friends, I am intellegent and talented and not too terrible to look at-and yet I still can't muster a smile this morning.

Today is for me.

I have just spent an entire weekend devoted to everyone else.
Today is for me.
Today I will buy a desk and a new kitchen trash can.
I will de-clutter my desk and make a neat list.
Today I will order books for class.
Today I will ignore the things that make me unhappy.
I will drink a real coke and not think twice.
I will Silence calls that I am not in the mood to take.
I will answer the phone smiling.
I will floss, do pilates and repaint my toenails.
I will make a "house to do list" instead of losing sleep over unorganized thoughts.
I will stop taking other people's actions personally and accept that they, more than likely, will not change.
I will go to bed before midnight.

My latest published article...further solidifying that one day...I may be Carrie Bradshaw.

Citizenship: A Call for Youth Involvement
While many people have heard the importance of voting, I feel that our society is suffering from a lack of understanding of the act. Citizenship is not just the act of voting once every four years for a presidential candidate, but taking an active role in society. It is also more than just the act of involvement that I am addressing, but the level of involvement as well. Many citizens do not take part in our free democracy because they are intimidated by their lack of knowledge or understanding. That is why it is imperative for our country to be educated on the local, state, and national level.

Some may see citizenship as merely casting a ballot, but with a face and voice, its soul can be heard and allowed to move our nation. Lives have been lost while controversy has risen and been silenced, all upon the cause of freedom. In our representative democracy, we are given the opportunity to choose the leaders that make the decisions required to maintain this system. Without the required education, individuals cannot make informed decisions that truly reflect their views.
This problem goes beyond the mere intimidation or apathy that some may feel due to ignorance or simply not understanding how to run the levered machines. It reaches farther into the almost requirement of voting.

With much freedom comes much responsibility. We continue to receive the benefits of our system regardless of whether or not we choose to give back to it. I have completed over 17,000 hours of community service for this very purpose. Giving back to our citizens is what fuels the system and allows it to continue. This is just one example of the extent of liberty we are handed daily.

I do not want to take this liberty for granted and feel that by giving less than what is required of me, I am taking advantage of a system that is too often taken for granted. It is our duty to give back to the system that has handed us the freedom to become anything we dream. It is with the same passion that it hands us the education in order to achieve it.

As recipients of means to accomplish any dream with almost complete freedom, it is crucial that citizenship be given a voice in order to educate and mobilize voters. It is my goal to pour into individuals not only the importance of educating voters and encouraging voting, but the overwhelming and contagious passion to give back to a country that has given us everything. Furthermore, by our involvement, we are continuing to protect the system that gives us the same freedom. Finally, by this act the voices of our people can be truly heard.

Pageant Season

It’s that time-Miss Louisiana (aka the Super Bowl of Pageants) was in June and now every young competitor is racing to prelims in their clear heels and falsies to try for a shot at a title to compete at state. I am producing the Miss Shreveport Pageant Tomorrow. The theme is "One Last Stop Till Vegas" seeing as how the Miss America Pageant has been recently moved from Atlantic City to Vegas. I’ll be driving up tonight and running 100 miles an hour to be sure everyone is in order, prepared and not showing any swim suit liners...that's what I do-it is what I love. For weeks I have gotten emails asking what girls should wear, sing, and answer when asked about gay marriage and now on my desk in a sealed envelope are their on-stage questions. I have been in their shoes so many times-the nerves and excitement, the let down. We shouldn't have favorites, but silently we do. Regardless, we offer all of them help as if we were spray gluing our own daughters’ swimsuit to her butt. Well, I am ready, with music from 2009-no Van Morison at my pageants!-and my new spray tan that smells a little of Vanilla musk...I am on my way to S'port.

Every woman needs a rent-a-husband…or two.

I have discovered that it is impossible to find a man that you are physically and emotionally attracted to, that is also a handy man. In fact, I am pretty sure little boys are pulled aside in school and taught that they must choose if they are to be the “marrying” or “fixing” kind. In my brief experience i have learned that there is a significant difference between boyfriends and rent-a-husbands. In an effort to save anyone an argument, I decided to share the differences so that there is less confusion of what is expected of each

BOYFRIEND
Has to be told to take out trash repeatedly and only does so once the smell is unbearable.
RENT-A-HUSBAND
Buys a new trashcan that is easier to roll with a year supply of liners.

BOYFRIEND
Buys wrinkle releaser and febreeze in an effort to avoid washing or ironing any article of clothing.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Irons your clothes for you so you can get ready to go see your friends on time.

BOYFRIEND Takes Two plus weeks to call a refrigerator repairman and doesn’t even consider the financial loss of food.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Investigates the problem, googles directions, purchases the part and gets rid of your old leftovers to make room for the wine he picked up on the way home from Home Depot.

BOYFRIEND Has no idea how many miles are to be driven on a vehicle before maintenance is required but he knows it is at least a few weeks after the warning light starts flashing.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Washes your car because he was “already there” when he was getting your oil changed and new inspection sticker.

BOYFRIEND Has no inclination of when you are having “girl time.”
RENT-A-HUSBAND Walks on egg shells and brings you chocolate so you can rest while he hangs the pictures that are too heavy for you.

BOYFRIEND Doesn’t require affection of any kind until he makes the move-which is usually for the duration of at least two commercials.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Doesn’t expect even a hug after working for four hours on your broken central air unit or painting your bathroom.

BOYFRIEND Gets pissed when you yell at him and classifies all serious discussions as a fight.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Enjoys your banter and calls you a bitch to your face…and you love it.

BOYFRIEND Needs assistance locating the lawn mower.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Winterizes your lawn equipment and gets a comfy handle for the rake so you don’t get blisters.

BOYFRIEND Has no idea what cleaners are for what so when guilted into cleaning a toilet-they reach for a wad of toilet paper and call it a good job.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Warns you against using harsh chemicals on your new hardware and bring you a dust mop for your refinished floors.

BOYFRIEND Buys you flowers twice a year as an answer to something terrible they did.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Landscapes your yard, changes out your perennials and knows you hate roses.

BOYFRIEND Takes three hours to respond to a text because he is taking nonstop shots at the bar with his boys.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Buys you shots that he knows you love and then hands you an ice water because he knows you have a sensitive stomach.

BOYFRIEND Tells you to meet him after you are done shopping for household items and paint supplies.
RENT-A-HUSBAND Meets you at the store so you don’t have to lift the 5 gallon buckets or put gasoline in your car.

Hopefully this clears some things up…and give you guys some incentive to step up his game.
Inevitably, we will continue to love the men that love us...and pray each night they act like their crutch-like rental counterparts.

Do people really drink Vitamin Water?

When hunting it is important to stay hydrated.

A blog about me...electronic compliment?

For you
Reasons my Blog will never be as cool as yours:
1. You can rhyme words
2. You've got more hair (on your head)
3. I don' t have your knowledge of fine wines and cheeses
4. I still can't make rotel
5. I don't own a pet
6. I talk to the same 10 people everyday
7. I'm a fake southerner
8. I've never owned a pair of muck boots
9. The only gun I own is of the BB variety
10. I don't cry at the end of every movie, Disney or otherwise
11. I never have any sort of drama to discuss with anyone, ever
12. I have no idea what Blog means, acronym? abbreviation? play on words? pun?
13. I only own clothes from one retailer
14. I still shop the XS women's online sale from said retailer everyday
15. I don't know how a blackberry works
16. All of a sudden, blue grass music is cool to me
17. You are the bee's knees
18. I've never purchased schooner for a feline friend of mine
19. An antique to me, is a old burned CD that I forgot I made.
20. I love you too much to try to show up.
Good night and good luck

Where I’m from

I am from bare feet, from fresh sheets and mason jars.
I am from the treadle sewing machine, wood floors, tire swing, and railroad tracks.
I am from the plum tree, spider lilies, the honey suckles and fishing ponds.
I am from back yard fires and pocket knives, from Milam and Grimes; Polizo and Hendrick.
I am from over communication, compulsive cleaning and a love of music.
From mosquito bites, no shoes in the house and glass coke bottles.
I am from Baptist, Pentecostal, Catholic and “believe what you want.”
I am from Natchez and lightning bugs, drop biscuits, tomato gravy, and vegetable soup.
From the red wagon, barbwire fences, slip and slide, and sacks of pecans.
I am from the family album, rusted swing set, Bambie’s tea cups and summers in Greenville.
From cleaning cast iron skillets and picking my own switches.
I am from the sweet olive tree and magnolia leaves.
From questioning and learning to trust.
I am from my father’s confidence and the face of my mother.

Just a few confessions

1. I can't go anywhere without my cell phone. I am convinced it keeps my heart beating.
2. I want children, but the older i get...the longer i want to wait
document.
3. Fear of Commitment should have been written on my birth certificate
4. I have every journal i have ever written in since i was six
5. I have broken up with a guy for having bad feet.
6. I love to read but rarely finish a book
7. Crown Royal and Redi Whip are basic necessities of life.
8. I hate any kind of daiquiri
9. I kissed one of my professors
10. It is extremely hard for me to say I'm Sorry
11. I have never been scared of the dark
12. I'm alergic to latex.
13. I only own push up bras
14. I can't finish a drink. Litterally, not a bottle of water, a can of coke or even the bottom of a beer-im blaming OCD
15. I pray almost every day
16. When someone is wearing something terrible, i email a detailed description to my friends list
17. I am not very coachable-i have too much pride
18. I run faster than most boys i know
19. I have never been tan-orexic or bleached my hair...i should probably be in a museum
20. I don't care that i have a "dirty mouth"
21. My feelings get hurt when my cat doesn't sleep by me
22. I am in NO way a morning person
23. I'm a compulsive nail biter-i just can't shake it
24.I dont think red heads should ever wear red
25. I think cigarettes make girls look a little trashy, but i love to smoke cigars
26. I play 7 instruments but am a much better singer.
27. I only shave my legs every few weeks...i don't really grow hair.
28. I hate lipstick.
29. I have a Mr. Potato Head, Gumby, Pokey and a sling shot monkey in my desk.
30. I rarely lock the door when i go into restroom stalls.

It is what it is

Ive been told to write a book or start a blog...im opting for the easier option that im more qualified to do. I'm 26 years old, work for state government and am getting my Masters of Public Administration. I just bought a house, I have a great car...a cat named Belle and a puppy named Dodge. On paper, my life looks perfect, but... it is what it is.