Tomorrow Is Another Day...

The Friend Fade

I don't believe it's possible to live a life without regrets.  Do I think that people should wallow in regrets or let those regrets hold them back in any way?  Absolutely not.  But show me a person who says they truly have no regrets, and I'll show you a liar.  Heck, just today I've racked up at least a dozen--I regret not going for a run, I regret that I forgot to file my unemployment claim last week so now I won't get paid, I regret not making a hair appointment sooner because my hair is driving me absolutely batty.  I could go on at length, but those are a pretty telling random sampling.

But I have big lifetime regrets as well.

There are two people whose friendship meant the world to me for a brief moment in my life, but because of time or immaturity I didn't hold on to.

One was a friendship that died because of the inevitable impossibility of three teenage girls being able to sustain the "best friends" relationship long term.  I'm not even sure that three adult women are capable of being best friends without any friction or hurt feelings, but leave this task in the hands of three fifteen to sixteen year old girls and there are bound to be fireworks.  The bad kind.  More like Surface to Air Missiles, actually.

The other girl was one with whom I became close friends my senior year in high school and then bonded with further through our college years.  In retrospect, I realize that friendship also started out with three of us, and quickly deteriorated into a two person situation.  I'm like the Grim Reaper of friendship--make friends with me and fear for the life of your outside relationships.  I leave behind a blazing trail of razed and mangled friendships.  Anyway, that one was all well and good until I graduated from college and moved out of state, leading to an ever-slowing trickle of emails and phone calls which eventually ground to a halt.

The first friend, I actually did hear from when I was in college.  She emailed me with a much justified and understandable, "Hey, so after all of these years, can we talk about what the hell happened?"  I wrote back and we traded a couple of emails and talked about meeting up, but then I went through a nightmare of a breakup, the whole world became all about me and my woes and heartache, and I can't exactly remember how that correspondence fell off the wheels.  I was too busy starving myself and reading self-help books and angsty poetry.

There are still days when I think about reaching out.  Through the magic of the internet and my overwhelming curiosity, I have a basic idea of how their lives have turned out, at least in the big picture sense.  If I really wanted to, I know that it would be pretty easy to get in touch with both of them.  So, I guess my biggest regret is not losing their friendship in the first place, but knowing that I'm not brave enough to make the first step toward reconnecting.  Is it a regret that I lose sleep over, or that haunts my every waking moment, no.  But it is one that crops up in a big way from time to time when I'm feeling particularly nostalgic.

I know that even if we did touch base again and exchange a couple of emails, nothing would ever change the hurt that I caused one friend or compensate for the length of time we've been out of touch.  It's a sort of "let sleeping dogs lie" response, and sure, that may be cowardly, but after all of this time I find it hard to believe that they're sitting at home on a Monday night wondering about me.  So, that's the excuse I've allowed myself to use, and I just make do with a google or facebook search here and there to quell any lingering curiosity.

Oh my God, I am such a stalker.  I definitely regret that, but not as much as I regret the fact that I haven't eaten a brownie today.  At least that last one can be fixed, pronto.

Fallness

I don't think that Washington is aware of the fact that it is now Fall.  Shhhh.  Let's just keep that fact between you and me.  I remember once upon a time in a land of endless summer, wishing desperately for just one day below 70 degrees so that I could wear my sweaters, jackets and boots at least a couple of times over the course of the year.  Oh, how the tables have turned!  I'm sure by next year I'll be back to praying for a couple of cold snaps around September.  But for now, I am perfectly happy with our sunny 80 degree Washington days

Would you like to know what else I am happy with?  All of those other lovely Fall events.  School is back in session which means I am making money.  With that money, I can once more afford new sweaters!  With those sweaters, I can go to exciting Fall festivals, like Oktoberfest in a tiny, Bavarian-themed Oregon town.  At that Oktoberfest I can drink overpriced wine and learn to polka!

Yes folks, I have learned to polka and I nearly died trying.  You try hopping from foot to foot at a frantic pace as a German gent in leiderhosen flings you around a dance floor.  You will probably die trying too.  But at least it would be a pretty enjoyable way to go.  Seriously, how did the polka go out of fashion, let's bring it back!  And the Charleston too while we're at it--I think it would be rather precious to dance the Charleston in Charleston, don't you?

Oh, and also, Fall television?  I welcome you back with open arms.  There are so many shows that I am L-O-V-I-N-G right now.  I'll have to do a run down once I get my schedule fully set.  I'm still on a trial period with some of the newer shows, but let's just say that Glee and Community have nothing to worry about.

This is kind of all over the place, isn't it?  I'll be honest, I'm blogging because I can't think of a concluding paragraph for a paper that I have to turn in tonight.  And next I'll probably watch Glee, then sometime around 11:30 pm, I'll bang out 75-100 words in random order and call it a day.  Hey, at least it wasn't another Hawaii post, right?

Growing Up Optional

It's a Friday night that I sit here, waiting for my husband to get home from a work trip and pondering the strangeness of life.

For one thing, I have a husband.  I've been married for almost two years, and I still can't really quite wrap my mind around that particular development.  And not only do I have a husband, but I'm married to the boy I had a silly crush on when I was seventeen.  If I could go back in time, find myself in the quad where I would frequently "run into" him accidentally on purpose, I would love to deliver that bit of news to seventeen-year-old Angela and see the look on her face.

Another weird thing?  I own a house.  My name is on a title for a HOUSE.  I mean, only grownups own houses right?  So what does that make me?  I certainly don't feel like a grownup.  I don't feel any different than that seventeen-year-old Angela--and if we're being really honest here, ten-year-old Angela.

One of my favorite family stories revolves around my grandmother on my dad's side.  In her 80s, as she was slipping away from us into the haze of dementia and I suddenly realized that there was no way that deep, nut-brown hair color was real as her last dye job faded away and she didn't bother with a touch up, in a moment of rare clarity she said, "You know, sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder how a sixteen year old girl got trapped inside this old lady's body."

In just a few short months, I'll be turning 27.  I have a husband.  I own a house.  People my age and younger are having babies.  On purpose.  And, in most cases, no one seems to think they're making an unwise decision.  Sometimes I pick up a shirt, or a dress, or a headband that I really love, but I put it back down because really it's too young for me.

I wish I could pinpoint the exact time in which I made the transition from girl to woman.  Maybe then it would feel more real that all of this is really my life.  But maybe that leaves the portal open.

Maybe you never do have to grow up.  Not in a Peter Pan way--yes, there are responsibilities that must be accepted and certain social mores that should generally be followed--but sometimes maybe it's okay to wear a headband with a bow or to put off laundry for one more day in favor of a play-date with your friends.

Because isn't that the part of being a grownup that you always dreamed of when you were a kid?  Making your own rules and eating ice cream for dinner?  Growing up is a weird and strange evolution, and I know that the next sixty years will fly by in what seems like minutes and then I'll be the one sitting in front of a mirror, staring into the wrinkled face of a stranger.

But I think as long as you always know that there's that sixteen year old inside of you, you'll always be okay.  You'll always still be you.

"You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old."
~George Burns

Well, It's Not A No...

The one aspect of marriage that I find most difficult is the whole "joint decisions" thing.  Generally speaking, Colby and I are pretty in sync on most things, so it's really easy most of the time.  Which tends to make the times when the joint decisions AREN'T so easy stand out in kind of stark relief.

I've always wanted a cat.  Even before I was begging my parents for a dog, I was patiently writing to Santa Claus year after year with my cat requests.  One year, my parents hinted at the fact that I may actually get a cat, and I actually did--a stuffed cat.  Ha.  Ha.

Fast forward a bajillion years to my life post-college.  I really wanted a pet, I knew that Colby really hated cats and I quite loved dogs and had experience raising them, so a dog it was.  And then another dog.  And then I got married and as we started building our beautiful life together, I realized that I wanted something more.  Something that I could cuddle and love and raise, together with my husband.  A dog of course, you sillies!  But the more I've thought about the idea of a third dog, the more the it kind of exhausts me.

Scene: A friend's house, watching So You Think You Can Dance.  Enter stage left, a delicate little kitten of only a few months old, curling up on my lap and purring contentedly as we watched our show.  Why, yes, I think to myself, this is what I need in my life!  A self-reliant, independent, yet cuddly kitten.

Once upon a time I would have found the kitten of my dreams, marched down to the local animal shelter and procured her.  Now, there is a little more finesse involved, a little more effort on my part to make my kitten dreams come true.  I think I might need to work on my technique, as evidenced by this facebook conversation this morning.

Angela: So, did you see our kitten?

Colby: Our what?

Angela: I've named her Pigwidgeon!

Colby: Define "our".

Angela: It's the kitten you're going to give me when you get home!

Colby: Ohhh, is that what it is? How about them' apples.

So, what do you think, I've got a pretty good shot, right?  He's coming home tomorrow, so I think a visit to the shelter might be in order this weekend so that he can visit little Piggy and fall in love!

This Isn't Productive, It's Procrastination

We are more than halfway through July right now.  In fact, we're pretty close to what could be considered the end of July.  I've been on my summer break for more than a month now.  It's times like these when I would give anything for a Time Turner.  The summer is just flying by far too quickly, and there is not time enough in the day for me to get anything accomplished AND be a disgusting couch potato all at the same time.

This past weekend, I spent some time helping a friend pack up her apartment as she is leaving us for greener pastures--or at least pastures where she was offered a pretty job offer.  That, combined with a news article I read got me thinking some kind of deep thoughts about best friends that I'll be writing about at some point when my brain feels like cooperating.

We've got just a little over two weeks left until we leave for Hawaii.  I can't remember what I've talked about here as opposed to Facebook and Twitter, but we are leaving on August 6 for six days in Kauai and five in Oahu.  I'm trying desperately not to over-plan the trip, and instead only book in advance the activities that tend to fill up, and then just go with a list of things we'd like to do.  I have this idea that vacation spontaneity will be more relaxing, but honestly, I'm just feeling a bit stressed that we don't have an itinerary.  We do, however, have rental cars!  I was gasping in horror at the price of a rental car on the islands until I found a most magical website that cut the cost in two, and now we have the cars for the full time that we'll be there for a bit under the price that expedia was quoting for the first week in Kauai.  Of course, we'll probably show up at the airport and they'll be like, "rental car, wha?" but I feel that the price makes it worth the risk.

I was planning on getting a lot of writing done this summer, but so far have spent most of my efforts on editing the steaming pile of mish-mash I've already written.  Then, last night I had a dream about it that is making me want the change EVERYTHING, including the time period it takes place in and a pretty big portion of the back-story.  Sigh.  Writing is frustrating.

So, instead of being productive, I've been watching heaps of BBC period pieces as "research" for my writing.  Let me tell you, if you enjoy Pride & Prejudice, there is a whole world of non-Austen romance out there just waiting for you to discover it.  So far I've quite enjoyed Wives & Daughters, The Buccaneers, and my new all time favorite, with Margaret Hale and John Thornton stealing my heart from Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy, North & South.  Not surprisingly, I've been spending a significant portion of time staring off into space, daydreaming of exchanging smoldering, illicit gazes with aloof, yet dashingly handsome young men of means.  I think it is very much past time for my husband to come home.

*Tap Tap*

I swear, I have not forgotten about my blog.  In fact, I think of multiple blog ideas per day, and am constantly composing epic posts in my brain while refereeing kickball games at school, gasping through a run, cursing Jillian Michaels, or trying to fall asleep at night.  I just cannot seem to find the time to both live my life and actually write those posts down.

Times like these, I really miss the days when I filled endless hours sitting at a boring job with this darling blogging hobby.  I got paid a lot more then too.  Man, what was I thinking quitting that gig?  Oh, right, that I needed to find something more meaningful to do with my life.  But really, what is so wrong with meaninglessness!  Front desk girls are important in their own coffee providing, package signing, office organizing way!

Anyway, right now my life consists of: work, sleep, school, eating, trying to maintain some semblance of a social life, and from time to time, working out.  In exactly one week, work will be gone from that equation, which should give me an extra 40+ hours per week to dedicate to blogging and other amusements for the summer.

Until then, let it be known, I am buying not one, but two pairs of Crocs today.  Truth.  Commence with the hurling of stones in my general direction.

Washington Bucket List

There's so much I want to talk about right now, and the past three days have been jam-packed with fun and productivity, but I have a paper due tomorrow that I've only just begun, so I'm going to insert a cop out post today.  This may be a bit premature as apparently the email that Colby got a few weeks ago about receiving his assignment in June with a report no later than (moving) date between October and January apparently gets sent out every quarter and only applies to a select few of the recipients.  But still.  My mindset is still that we won't be here through the winter, because honestly, that's the only way I'll be able to make it through another winter here.

So, Colby and I have begun compiling a list of all the things we want to do before we leave Washington.  From the length of the list, you'd think we did nothing but sit around the house twiddling our thumbs, but it's just that the longer we've lived here, the more things we keep hearing about that we must do before moving.  Plus there's a bit of Oregon and Canada thrown in just for good measure.  And, to our credit, we've done almost all of the major tourist attractions in the area, so our bucket list is sort of a graduate level Washington course.  I'm definitely taking suggestions as well, so if I'm missing something it's either just because we've already done it or we haven't heard about it yet!

◊    Woodland Park Zoo

◊    Asian Art Museum

◊    Whale Watching—San Juan Islands?

◊    Seattle Opera

◊    Weekend in Port Angeles

• Start at Port Angeles, and drive west on highway 101. You will see one of the most spectacular alpine lakes in the region. Crescent Lake is nestled amongst deep green firs, which rise in dramatic slopes from the waters edge. Nearby, Marymere Falls and Sol Duc Hot springs are great diversions in you’re staying in the area.
• Forks

◊    Sounders Game

◊    Mt. St. Helens

◊    Bainbridge Island Ferry

◊    Victoria, B.C.

• Tea at the Empress
• Butchart Gardens
• Craigdarroch Castle

◊    Winery Tour

◊    Discovery Park

◊    Lakeview Cemetery

◊    Steilacoom Beach

◊    Alki Beach

◊    Dash Point State Park

◊    Rhododendron and Bonsai Garden in Federal Way

◊    Saltwater State Park

◊    Southern Oregon

• Ashland, Oregon Shakespeare Festival
• Crater Lake

Hm, maybe we will need a few extra months in town to get this all scratched off the list!

The Internet is for Porn

This past Friday, I celebrated the annual occurrence of Angela Breaks Her Blog when I realized that because I am an idiot, I didn't renew my domain name and hence it had been overtaken by a vile and probably very successful porn site.  I would imagine that the moment that change took place, that URL instantly saw more traffic in one hour than it had seen in the previous year of its life.  So, I wish it well, and have moved on to greener--or at least less morally corrupt--pastures.

In the general sense, I'm not terribly distraught by the situation.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that I'm a little glad that this happened.  It probably won't surprise too many of you to hear that I'd been seriously toying with the idea of throwing in the blogging towel.  I recently read an interesting post about the death of a blogger, and will confess that a lot of the points mentioned hit very close to home.  Almost all of the blogs that I was reading in the early years of this endeavor have fallen by the wayside or are only very infrequently updated.  I've added some more wonderful blogs to my reading list over the past year and a half, but in the past few months I have been very unmotivated to invest the effort into finding new blogs to read and forming relationships with other bloggers like I did in years past.

I also managed to acquire a hateful little troll, hailing from the lovely city of Atlanta, Georgia according to a WHOIS search.  A troll that felt entitled to peppering posts with nasty little comments and then becoming self-righteous and highly affronted each time I deleted one of her rude personal attacks without any response.  Here's the thing commenters, if you're going to be horrid and hide behind a mask of anonymity, I have ZERO qualms about deleting and blocking your hideous little self.  So, anyway, moral of the story, by changing my URL maybe I've managed to shake her, and if not, recent IP blocks seem to have taken care of the issue anyway.

All this to say, I was beginning to feel that maybe a blog just wasn't in the cards for me anymore, and that I would quietly close down operations without fanfare and slip into oblivion.  Then my blog went kaput of its own volition, I felt a little relieved for a nanosecond, and then immediately thought of approximately fourteen things that I had been meaning to blog about and realized that no, I'm not ready to give this up quite yet.

So, here I am, all moved into my new digs.  I'm sending out change of address cards, updating my address with the internet postal service, and hoping that everyone can come along for the ride.  I'm still working through the standard move-in kinks--for example, why on earth have all of the photos in my posts vanished??  And why did my little favicon disappear??  That didn't happen the last time I changed URLs!  But I think this was the shake up I needed to get back on track with the blogging world, and I'm looking forward to becoming a more active member of blogging society once more and kicking things up a notch around here!
 

The Mechanics of Falling Book Tour

(Note: I was contacted a couple of months ago and asked if I would be willing to read and review a new collection of short stories by Catherine Brady, entitled The Mechanics of Falling.  Because I was intrigued by the description and will do just about anything for a free book, I immediately accepted and here we are today!)

Generally speaking, short stories aren't really my bag when it comes to reading for pleasure.  Often they either feel too rushed or too long and I don't feel as connected to the characters as I do when I spend 300 pages of a novel with them.  I had my reservations when I began reading The Mechanics of Falling, and I could not have been more pleased to discover that these short stories completely broke through my prejudices and made me fall in love.

Brady won the 2002 Flannery O'Connor Award for Short Fiction, an award that seems completely apropos as O'Connor is one of the few short story writers that I will actively go out of my way to read.  I would also compare her style to Joyce Carol Oates--perhaps not embodying the gritty tone that Oates often trends towards, but in the way that her stories stay with you even after you have read the last sentence, and you find yourself reading the last few paragraphs again, looking for that something that will bring you some sense of closure.  The writing is stunningly beautiful in its subtle symbolism and metaphor, and there are so many lines that are almost shocking in their wisdom and stark truth.

The description on the bookjacket begins, "In all our lives, there are moments when the seemingly fixed coordinates of our existence abruptly give way... Brady's brilliant new collection, set in and around San Francisco, explore such moments.  The characters... share a fundamental predicament, the struggle to name and embrace some faith that can break their fall."  It is that feeling of giving way, of falling, that remains vividly in the reader's soul long after the book is closed.  The end of each story feels like the beginning of a freefall--a feeling that can be exhilirating or terrifying, and often inevitable.

"When the pond became clotted with algae scum a few years ago, the channel from the creek slowly filling in, Nna had accepted this next small loss, the pond growing murky the way her memories of summers here as a child had silted up over time." From Much Have I Traveled, p. 162

"From somewhere below them, there's a thud as a carpenter hammers at the wall, and Laurel flinches.  She cannot get used to the construction noise, the sound of blows raining down as men rebuild her house.  The gods have poor aim too.  There are only these bungled missives that may or may not encode ruin." From Seven Remedies, p. 188

To purchase The Mechanics of Falling, please visit Amazon or Powells.com.

To read some of Catherine Brady's insight into her writing and stories, you can visit the following links:

Guest Post on First Books

Interview with Liz Saint John for ALICE 97.3

interview with Ann Ryles, published online at The Rumpus.net

T.G.I... Wait, I Just Said That

(Edit:  As an aside, why does Google Reader hate me so much lately?  My posts have been taking 4-5 hours to show up in recent weeks, but this particular post was published over 12 hours ago and Reader has yet to pick it up.  Is anyone else having this issue, or is even Google deciding that my entries are too mundane for publication??)

This week... happened.

I think I've just kind of given up, accepted that I am hugely boring, and come to terms with the fact that I can no longer scrape together enough interesting material to blog more than once a week.  It's not a conscious decision, it's just...I've kind of lost the plot.  I don't know what to say other than variations the following:

This morning I woke up at a time that I consider to be the middle of the night.  I went to work for a couple of hours where I attempted to keep grade schoolers from committing any sort of illegal or life threatening activities.  Then I came home and ate/took a nap/watched tv/folded laundry until it was time to go back to work.  Then I came home, ate, watched tv, and will go to bed around 9:30.  10:30 if I am feeling particularly energetic.

Can you imagine anything more dull?  And can you imagine that more than once a week?  If I'm being entirely honest with myself, I'm not even narcissistic enough to believe that I'm in any way interesting enough for even a weekly post, but I'm just not quite ready to put this horse out to pasture yet.

So, here I am.

Super bummed that Alexis Grace went home last night.  Still trying to figure out if I love Megan Corkery (who seems to have changed her name?) or if I find her affected and irritating.  My feelings on this change daily.

I went to the dentist today for the first time in over two years, and was astounded to discover how much dental hygienists have in common with Billy Mays.  I suppose I was just sheltered by Air Force dentists who weren't forced to make a buck shilling xylitol based products, Sonicare toothbrushes, and at home bleaching kits, but crap.  Just massacre my teeth and gums for the agreed upon fee and let me out of there.  I did at least get some free gum samples.

Colby left yesterday for a five to six week school in Oklahoma.  I never thought that I would be jealous of that fact, but it was sunny and in the 70s there today, while Washington is still firmly in winter's grip and the rest of March is projected to look something like this:

I want to cry on a near daily basis.  I blame poor parenting and rain clouds.

My dinner tonight consisted of a single serving package of pepper jack Tillamook cheese, a bowl of Golden Grahams, and a buttered english muffin.  If I die of malnutrition or depression during the next five weeks, I am blaming the Air Force.

I can't even believe I am hitting "save" on this steaming crap pile of a post.  But, alas, I am.

Much Needed Perspective

I was still feeling like a grumpy puss throughout Friday, and despite the copious amounts of wine I drank on Friday night when we went out to dinner with friends, I was still in a dour mood when Saturday rolled around.  I was stewing about all of the injustices inflicted upon me by the world--you know, no trip abroad, a husband who clearly doesn't give a hoot about me, the cold, dreary weather.  We decided to head up to Seattle to see Lucy at the Pacific Science Center, before she left Seattle for the next leg of her American tour, and then go out to dinner with friends.

On the way to the city, I pulled out a piece of gum, casually tossed the wrapper into the console of Colby's car, and became infuriated when he snapped at me to please not just throw my garbage in his car.  I mean, sure, I was the one who threw the garbage, but who was HE to talk to ME that way?  Never mind the fact that I had probably rolled my eyes at least four times at him throughout the course of the day and made a few not so nicely phrased comments myself.  We finished the rest of the long, construction extended drive in silence, each glowering out our respective portions of windshield.

We got the the science center, and slowly began to thaw as first we were forced to talk to each other to figure out how to get to the museum from our parking garage and eventually ended up engaged in a friendly game of mancala.  The rest of our stay was relaxed, and we finally got our chance to enter the small, dark room that housed the bones of Lucy and an artists rendition of what she may have looked like.

I stood over the glass case, staring down at the brittle, ivory colored remains of a creature that lived millions of years ago.  A mammal somewhere between an animal and a human, a 3 foot 6 inch skeleton of a female who was on the cusp of an entirely new species.  A creature who had lived her life, died under unknown circumstances, and was now on display for her ancestors 3.2 million years down the road.  Something about that moment gave me a catch in the back of my throat.

Our lives are truly so insignificant.  In the grand scheme of things, who are we really but self-important beings that lucked out by being at the top of the food chain, here for maybe 80 years if we're lucky and then gone.  In the blink of the eye as far as the earth is concerned.  It's easy to think that our small worries and sadnesses, celebrations and happy moments, grudges and angers can change the course of the universe, but in reality, life goes on every day, whether we're happy or sad, angry or joyful, and it is our choice in each moment of our lives to choose our attitude.  To choose our paths.

In 3.2 million years the world will never know or care if you were a millionaire or a pauper, if you had a happy life or a sad life, if you were alone or surrounded by people you love.  If we are anything to them we will be bones, fossils, relics of an ancient time, a mere stepping stone in the timeline of the past.

After spending time with Lucy, Colby and I went out for drinks while waiting for our friends to arrive in the city.  I downed a rasbperry lemon drop and then told Colby that lately I'd been feeling he hadn't really been registering many of my hopes and desires if they didn't affect him directly, or if he didn't feel that they deserved the same amount of importance I did.  I told him that I was still hurt that he had forgotten the talent show, that it came as a surprise to him every time I mentioned a trip this summer, or a vacation in France next year.  It all came rushing out, some of the things I had been feeling, I didn't even realize until that moment.  We sat together, quietly sharing a plate of garlic fries, both thinking about the things that I had said.

Yesterday, I woke up in an empty bed.  I came downstairs, bleary eyed and still a little tired, to find a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts waiting for me on the counter.  I took a glazed with chocolate frosting and sat down next to Colby on the couch.  "July 14-August 22," he said, as I took my first bite.  "I put my name in the leave books for the whole time since I wasn't sure when you'd want to go.  I can always give some of it back."  We started looking at airfare later that morning.

Life is what you make of it.  In 3.2 million years, not a single person will care that I spent two weeks in the Northeast in the summer of 2009, but while we spent those few minutes together remarking on the fact that the fares were cheaper than we expected, to me, it felt like the most important moment in the world.

Hope

Just about everyone, myself included, likes to blog about the good things in life, particularly when they're in a happy, loving marriage or committed relationship.  I like to get all mushy, and sometimes banging out some sappy, heartfelt blog post is just a really fun way to spend a Friday morning.  But the thing of it is, sometimes being married can be kind of hard.  I know!!  Big shocker!

I'm not even talking about in the big ways that you always hear about in those stories about why the divorce rate is so high.  Like, obviously money issues can cause problems.  You want five kids, he was thinking more like one kid and some new golf clubs.  That stuff can certainly have an impact on a relationship, but I'm talking about the little things.

Like, you want to set the thermostat at 72 because you both make a decent wage and can probably afford to pay the gas bill, but he wants to keep it at 68 because he's kind of miserly and wears a lot of fleece.  So, you compromise and set it at 70, but no one is ever really happy about a compromise, so you both make disparaging comments about the other's temperature preference from time to time.  Or maybe you like the feel of crisply, tightly tucked sheets when you climb into bed at night, and he's more of a "tornado just hit the house, leaving the bed intact but rumpled" kind of a guy.  So you keep your side tucked in and he kicks the sheets out on his side, which SEEMS like it should work, but in reality, every morning the entire bed looks suspiciously more like the tornado situation, and it is POSSIBLE that one time you actually cried, because seriously, is having the sheets tucked in really THAT HORRIBLE??

And then of course, maybe I--I mean, YOU--want to get a third dog, so you kind of joke about it all the time, but in a way that makes it pretty clear that you're not actually joking, and then he's like "the yard is too small, and you aren't the one that picks up the poop, anyway."  Then, completely by accident you stumble across an adoption listing featuring this adorable, Fraggle-like face:

So, you kind of once more jokingly bring up that whole crazy third dog idea, and you're once more kind of jokingly shot down.  And then you get seriously sad, and you think guiltily to yourself that if you weren't married and didn't have to make joint decisions, you'd just get the damn dog.  And then you realize that you're a horrible person, and obviously being married and having someone else to pick up the poop of the two dogs you're already lucky enough to have and to share your life with is about a million percent better than getting a third dog.  But you still obsess about the dang Fraggle dog and pray that someone else out there will adopt her and give her the love she deserves, and then you just hope that the dreams about Hope go away some time soon.

Because really, what kind of moron has multiple dreams about a dog she's never met anyway?  Not me, that's for sure...

Confessions Pt 2

Welcome to another round of brutally honest, potentially inappropriate thoughts that been circulating in my head recently.  No topic is safe from the wanderings of my little feather brain.

* Our Christmas tree is still up.  Oh yes, it is.  And I have no plans to take it down any time soon.  Not because I am feeling particularly festive, but because I am lazy.  And we have a lot of ornaments on that damn tree.

* I am horrified at the state of parenting and children's behavior in general these days.  I know that makes me a bitter sixty-five-year-old man, but I don't care.  My generation was far from perfect, and I was a bit sheltered as a child, but I honestly don't think that as a whole we were nearly as dreadful as children AS A WHOLE these days.

* I find Ryan Seacrest mysteriously hot this season.  He seems somehow more mature and dignified.  We'll see how long that lasts before the frosted tips and shiny shirts make their come back.

* On a somewhat related note, I haven't been as excited about an American Idol contestant as I am about Alexis Grace in a very long time.  Maybe ever.  This is interesting since I wasn't even planning to watch American Idol this season.  If she makes it to the finals, there is a 57% chance that I might make an actual effort and text in a vote.

* I can't remember the last time I thoroughly cleaned our bathroom.  There is a layer of hairspray and makeup about an inch thick on the counters, and my sink looks like a Jackson Pollack painting.

* Even though know that I drastically cut the number of blogs I read a few months ago and am no longer a terribly consistent commenter, sometimes I get a little sad that I don't get the same number of comments I used to get.  Then I remember that there are far greater problems in the world (see: state of bathroom above), and I get over it.  Until I get a little sad again.

* This has absolutely zero bearing on the amount of my love for Colby, but I would really love to get some fabulous sparkly jewelry from him on romantic holidays.

* I am seriously, hopelessly addicted to Facebook and at a slightly lesser level, Twitter.  As such, I am giving up both for Lent.  Jesus is probably rolling his eyes, like, "I fasted in the desert for 40 days and this twit is worried about her ability to stay away from social networking sites for 46?" but in a nicer way, of course, because he is Jesus.  I have had multiple friends contact me, worried that they will never hear from me again, but have no fear, I will still be blogging and emailing.  But still probably not ever answering my phone.

The Green Eyed Monster

I'm sure by now, pretty much everyone who has turned on the television, listened to the radio, surfed the internet, or read a newspaper has heard about the pre-Grammy's activities in which singers Chris Brown and Rihanna were involved.  For those not in the know, the two have been dating for quite some time, and on the eve of the Grammy's, the two apparently got into some sort of altercation that ended with Brown allegedly beating Rihanna pretty seriously, but neither has released an official statement, so the details are all hazy at this point.

What has piqued my curiosity about this story, more that most celebrity gossip stories, is that the reason witnesses and friends have given for the violent outburst from Brown was that Rihanna was angry with him for flirting at the party they'd attended together and the fight snowballed from there, ending with her in the hospital and Brown turning himself in on domestic violence charges.  Jealousy.  Even celebrities aren't immune.  And jealousy and I have a long and complicated past with one another--one that I'm still working through to this day. 

When I was a freshman in college, I got involved in my first "serious" relationship--if you've been around the blog long enough, you may remember me mentioning Evil Ex and if you know me in real life, you couldn't possibly mistake to whom I am referring.  I trusted him completely, mostly because I was too dumb/naive to do otherwise.  He pushed the relationship along at warp speed, dropping the "L" bomb about a month into the relationship, and I was completely swept off my feet.  However, after a couple of months, things started changing.  If I had plans with friends he wanted to know who they were, where I was going, when I would be back.  Once he'd met all of my friends, he was contantly criticizing them, and he would always manage to find a way to convince me to blow them off and stay at home with him.

When we went out he would harp on my makeup or the clothes I was wearing, and if I so much as spoke to another guy, even if it was a mutual friend of ours, he'd become angry and moody.  At the time, I thought this was normal, that this is just how relationships were.  You started dating someone and they became your life.  I remember that I brought a male study partner who was an old high school friend to Ex's apartment once, as we were all but living together officially at the time, and when he came home and found us reviewing biology terms together, he was furious.  He was icily rude to my study partner and as soon as we were alone, he exploded, yelling and telling me that I had disrespected him and so on and so forth.  I will say, he never laid a hand on me, but he knew the exact words to use to cut me to the quick.  And of course, if you know me, you know that I'm not the meekest, mildest girl in the world, so I would give back as good as I got.

After about a year together I had virtually no friends left, all of my days and nights were spent either at school or with Ex, and my self-image was completely destroyed.  I probably weighed 110-115 pounds at the time, but he had pointed out my saddlebags, buddha belly, and flat chest enough that I saw myself as a hideous cow.  I had completely stopped trying, wearing no makeup, doing nothing with my hair, and dressed in jeans and t-shirts every day.  Even though we did nothing but engage in epic arguments, he had somehow managed to make me feel completely dependent on him and that he was the only person in the world who really wanted me in his life, and I had convinced myself that that was love.  All because of his jealousies and insecurites.

Another thing that had changed about me was my own personal jealousies.  I had never been jealous of any boyfriend in the past, but he taught me to be mistrustful, and when he began spending more and more time with a female friend of ours, my radar went crazy.  Only thing is, my radar was right on target and shortly after it was over between us. 

It was like an atom bomb had been dropped on my life.  God bless my friends, because they were all still there waiting for me and I credit some of them, together with my family, for quite literally saving my life.  The aftermath was that bad.  But still, I had zero self esteem and I didn't know what lesson to take away from what had happened.  Another person's jealousies and insecurities had almost completely destroyed me, but then all of my own jealousies were entirely founded.

Then, years later, it happened again with Colby.  I met one of his female friends at one of his military training programs, and immediately, those exact same alarm bells went off in my head.  Colby told me I was being completely ridiculous, but sure enough, when the February rolled around that he decided to break things off with me, he immediately turned to her and they dated briefly.  I'd been telling him for years that she was after him, and he'd almost convinced me that I was crazy, but then once again, my jealousies were validated

Now, I should say that Colby did eventually see the error of his ways, and I was able to forgive his temporary lapse in judgment, and from the moment that we mended fences and got back together, I have not felt a single smidgen of jealousy, so that's all kinds of awesome. And I also should put in a disclaimer here saying that Ex seems very happy now with the woman he began dating and then married after we broke up, and it is distinctly possible that he treats her like a queen and I just brought out the worst in him, so you know, everything has a way of working out in the end.  I suppose.

But I'd like to put it to you, since my life experiences have done nothing but confuse the issue.  What is your opinion?  Is jealousy always completely unacceptable and a tendency toward it a major character flaw, or is it just your intuition's way of telling you something is really wrong and attention should be paid?  Or does it really just depend on the situation and the people involved?

Freakin' Brrr

Dear Winter,

I'm writing to you in regard to the recent chilly temperatures that have spanned these United States for the past few months.  You see, when I first moved to the Seattle area, I was assured that it was really quite temperate and that the winters weren't too bad.  And of course, to make up for the dreariness that envelops the region from October through March, the summers were absolutely magnificent.  I suppose when I compare the winter weather here to that of say, Fargo, North Dakota, no the winters aren't that terrible.  However, for this southern girl who has been conditioned to begin shivering once temperatures dip below 65 degrees, Washington winters are indeed miserable.  And the summers?  Honestly, they just barely miss being categorized as Spring: The Sequel.

It doesn't help that I was also assured that it practically never snows here, a fact that I am beginning to doubt after spending two winters dealing with snow and ice on the roads in a county that has approximately zero concept of how to deal with such hazards.  And as if ice on the road isn't bad enough, now I have to scrape ice off of a giant 15 passenger bus every morning--and not just on the outside of the windshield.  Oh, no, that would be silly!  The ice coats the inside of the windshield and windows as well.  It's really an interesting discovery when you realize that the reason you just can't scrape that damn ice off of the windshield is because it is INSIDE the windshield.  High-larious!

So, here's the thing, Winter.  I think it would be best for both of us if you would just go ahead and leave now.  This is clearly an unhealthy relationship, and I don't see it getting any better any time soon.  We both just have different interests--you enjoy coating the world in frost and black ice and I just really want to bitch and moan about how hot it is outside.  I really thought that things would be different for us.  When I was a little girl, I dreamed of white Christmases and being able to bundle up in scarves and mittens without breaking a sweat, but I guess I didn't know what I really wanted.  And what I want is just not you.

Know that there are plenty of people out there in the world who are happy to have you in their lives.  People who think I'm crazy to let you go, and would give anything to trade places with me and experience your dismal grey days and constant blustery winds.  So, go to them.  Be well.  I can't say that I'll miss you, but maybe someday, when things are getting a little stale between Summer and I, we can rendezvous for an illicit (and brief) tryst beneath the clouds.

No longer yours,

More Ghostly Occurences

Hey, remember when I was being haunted by a numismatist from the great beyond a few months ago?  I think he (or she) might be back, and this time has more than coins on the mind.  I was just sitting around, minding my own business, bemoaning the fact that Britney apparently did not surprise us all with a VMA performance that hearkened back to the good old days and had decided that while waiting for Mad Men or Army Wives to come on, I might as well get a head start on my homework for next week.  So, I reach over, click on my table lamp and the light bulb sparked momentarily before dying a spectacular death. 

I grumbled about the extreme hardship that now faced me of uprooting myself from the sofa to go in search of another light bulb, and foraged around the house for about fifteen minutes until I finally remembered where I keep my stash.  (This happens to me EVERY TIME I have to change a light bulb--I can NEVER remember where they are and they are ALWAYS in exactly the same place.  Please tell me I'm not the only one with this affliction.)  I discovered them in the top corner shelf of the laundry room (there, now I can check my blog next time I forget), clomped back downstairs, changed the bulb, and sat back down ready to begin my reading.  I reached over to turn on the lamp, and... it sparked momentarily before dying a spectacular death.

GAH!

I repeated the aforementioned process once more, and hey howdy, guess what?  The dadburned light bulb went out AGAIN!  The hell??  Really, the only logical explanation is that my numismatist buddy is hanging out somewhere in the general area of my right shoulder, sucking up all of the energy produced by each light bulb I attempt to turn on.  I'm beginning to think it's time to do some research to find out if our house is built on top of some ancient Indian burial ground or something.  And also, why do these things always happen when Colby is not at home??

Anyway, I'm going to attempt to change the light bulb once more and get to that thrilling reading on the educational psychology of personal, social and emotional development, but assuming that I am not struck dead during the night by my ghostly visitor, I'll be back soon to dish on Disney World, The Hills, my new job, and whatever else might strike my fancy between then and now.

Oh, and if you know of any get exorcised quick techniques, do please feel free to share.

Blogging About Blogging = SO BORING

I've been spending the past week or so mentally composing my goodbye letter to the internet.  I think upon review of my past couple of months of blog posts, it seems more than a little bit apparent that I began reaching blog burnout long before I realized it.  I've been writing sporadically, I've been stressing over comments and page views and return visits to new visitors.  More recently I haven't been able to keep my Reader at a manageable level and feeling guilty about writing on my own blog before reading and commenting on my blog friends'.

At first I blamed it on the fact that I was busy entertaining one set of friends at my house, then visiting another set of friends in San Francisco, then having my parents in town for another full week.  Combined with school my attention was completely diverted from blogging and I spent all of my computer time writing papers or outlines and trying to keep up with email.  But then I was alone again, and once more I had plenty of time to blog.  But then I got caught up in Smallville and I started job hunting and once again, there was always something to do other than blogging--even though I was on the computer practically non-stop.  Anytime I would click over to Google Reader, I would immediately recoil in horror at the absurdly high number of unread items glaring back at me accusingly and then I would just click the X on the tab.

The thing is, I just can't keep up anymore.  Joining 20 Something Blogs was like Dorothy leaving Kansas and landing in the beautiful Technicolor world of Oz.  Prior to that day, I read mostly mommyblogs or infertility blogs, and I LOVED them all--still read them in fact--but I was so envious of the community that those bloggers had that I didn't fit into.  But with the 20 Somethings, I found blog after blog written by amazing women (sorry boys, I'm sure yours are great too!) whom I completely identified with and I promptly began adding one after another to my list of daily reads.  It was so great, but at the same time, the burden of blog interaction got a little heavier.  That unwritten, unspoken social contract that states "I comment on your blog, you comment on mine."

That was fine for the world that I was living in a few months ago.  I had a desk job and reading all of these blogs kept me sane and gave me something to do during those long, horribly boring days.  But then I quit, and I started school.  And it occurred to me that the only job I can really take on right now is an hourly, retail job, and that's not terribly conducive to blog reading throughout the day.  And eventually, I'll hopefully be working as a teacher, in a classroom all day, where I think it would be frowned upon to spend the school day glued to my phone, checking blogs.  All of these realizations have hit over the past week and I figured it was time to just throw in the towel.

But then I realized something else.

I have always loved to write.  I have two partial manuscripts and a whole slew of Word documents filled with story ideas, but every time I sit down to work on them, I am paralyzed by this overwhelming pressure.  Pressure to write something that someone else will want to read.  Pressure to write something that someone else will think is "good".  I write a few pages, and then read over it with a critical eye and I want to cry.  Because oh my God, I suck.  But blogging is writing that I used to do just for me.  Before the page views were in the triple digits, before the comments were in the double digits, I still loved it.  Before I started worrying about writing something that someone else will want to read.  That someone else will think is "good".  And I loved my community, even though it was a small one.  It's not that I don't love all of the new readers and the new blogs that I've discovered over the past year, it's just that I find myself unable to live up to my own expectations.

And so, to make this very long story longer, I'm not giving up blogging.  What I am giving up is that narcissistic hope that I'll ever be an Amalah or a Dooce, or even a Molly or an Isabel.  And I'm okay with that.  I haven't totally wiped my Google Reader slate clean, but I have pruned it back a bit.  And I may not comment on every single one of those blogs that remain, but at least now I'll be able to say that I AM reading every single one.  In a day and age where businesses and schools are focusing on getting back to basics, I'm going to try to do the same thing.  I'm going to try to find that same joy in blogging that I felt even if I didn't get a single comment on my post and my most consistent readers were my parents and a creepy Spam-Bot.  So, for now at least, you're stuck with me.  And honestly, I hope I'll be around for a very long time.  That I'll always have this living document, this story of my life, even if it's of absolutely no interest to anyone else.

Not to mention, have you seen the teaser for the next season of The Hills??  I couldn't live with myself if I didn't have this outlet for my recaps...

Still Looking For a Way to Spend That Stimulus Check?

Why not give me the money?  I'll even give you something in return!

Recently the cash flow into our household has been primarily due to Colby's hard work, while the cash flow OUT of the house has been mostly my territory.  It's funny how decorating a house, enrolling in grad school, and eating three square meals a day really eats into your budget.  So, in an effort to make myself feel a little more worthwhile as I troll the Craigslist part time job listings while watching Army Wives, I decided to clean out our closets and hold a little virtual garage sale with the help of half.com and eBay.

So, if you're in the market for a Marc Jacobs purse, some Aldo shoes, or fetching Pottery Barn decor, amongst other items, please have a look at the oh so fabulous deals you can get over here.

And if seventy five cent books are more your speed, well, Barnes & Noble had better watch out, because have I got the bookstore for you!

Anyway, this is the last weekend Colby and I will have together for quite some time, so I imagine for the next week or so, my posting around here will be rather light.  Not that I think you would be on pins and needles awaiting my next post, but you know, I just didn't want you to think that Friday the 13th had done me in or anything.  So, steer clear of black cats and don't open any umbrellas indoors, and you should have a great weekend!

(PS I've heard that buying things is a good way to ward off the evil spirits of Friday the 13th.  It's probably just an old wives tale... that I just made up... but do you really want to risk it?)

Self Indulgent Whining--Feel Free to Look Away

I've always felt very strongly that blogging should be a two-way conversation, otherwise, we'd all just be writing our thoughts down in spiral bound notebooks or moleskin journals.  I remember commenting on blogs when I first started my own site, almost three years ago, and the excitement I felt when a blogger would then comment back on my blog.  And oftentimes that person would return again and again so that a friendship was forged through all of those wires and hamsters on wheels that make up the internet.  I also remember commenting over and over again on blogs and never getting any sort of response to my words, and how that made me feel a little bit invisible, or not important enough to be recognized.

From that point on, I resolved that if a person took the time to comment on my blog, I would reply, even if it was just to say thank you for taking a few minutes out of your day to share your thoughts.  I would visit their blog in return, and get to know them through their most recent posts.  I would comment or add them to my reader and hopefully, over time, another friendship would be cultivated through nothing but through words typed on a computer screen across the miles.  I just didn't want to become another blogger who was too busy to take the time to let her commenters and readers know how important they were to her.

Since I made that decision, I have done a pretty good job of sticking by my resolution, and I've met so many fantastic bloggers and have made so many great friends through our back and forth emails.  But recently, I've felt that resolve slipping away, and it is beginning to feel like more of a chore to open up Google Reader and see 100+ new posts to read or check my email to see those piles of comments that I've yet to respond to.  I get so excited when I see a new face around here, but then I get a little anxious when I realize it's another person that I'll need to visit that day.

I know, don't I sound like an absolute brat?  The thing is, when I was chained to a desk all day with nothing else to do, there was plenty of time to really enjoy the interaction that comes with blogging.  It didn't feel like a chore, because I really liked all of the "duties" I'd assigned myself.  And who knows, probably I'm just going through a phase right now, and with a little time off, I'll bounce back and be ready for some marathon blog'n'commenting sessions.  But for right now, I need a break.

I'm still reading your blogs daily, I'm still loving that you take a moment to comment on my blog, and I'm still adding you to my reader if you're visiting for the first time.  But for at least a little while, I need to step away from all of my self-imposed blogging rules and not respond to every comment or comment on every blog.  Instead I'm going to actually shut down the computer from time to time and enjoy my last month with my husband before he leaves for his deployment.  I'm going to find the perfect duvet cover and curtains for our bedroom that is STILL unfinished after a year and a half of living here.  I'm going to throw the tennis ball for Ellie a little more often, and scratch Jack's belly while we watch Ellen.  And then, after a little time off to reassess the rules for blogging that I made when I got about 50 page views per day, I'll be back.

I'm curious--how do you all feel about this aspect of blogging?  The part that goes beyond just writing down your thoughts and then pressing "Publish Now".  Do you respond to every comment?  Do you try to add everyone who comments on your blog to your blogroll?  Do you comment on the majority of posts, or just when the spirit moves you?  If you're a lurker, I'm quite curious to hear about your thoughts on commenting and how you feel if you do take a moment to comment and then don't get any sort of response.  Look at me, asking for comments after I just spent six paragraphs whinging on about how I'm so worn out from commenting.  I'm such an asshat!

Update: Not Dead From Ghost Attack

Damn, I seriously suck at blogging regularly when I'm not chained to a desk from 9-5 every week day.

Anyway, I just wanted to dispel any fears that I may have been taken hostage by a ghostly being who is demanding one Morgan dollar minted in 1898 and rights to my computer between the hours of 11:00 pm and 6:00 am in exchange for my release.

No, instead I've just been reveling in the joys of having my favorite guy back home from the deployment he was sent out on two days after we got home from Italy.  Yesterday, we spent the entire day rooted to the couch watching a full day's worth of Torchwood and Doctor Who, but today we got a little more adventurous and tried out a new sushi restaurant before taking the dogs hiking at Point Defiance and then rewarding ourselves for our physical exertion with multiple quarts of Cold Stone Creamery signature blends.

I promise to get my act together next week and knock out those Italy reminiscences and then move on to the always exciting topic of I'm Going to a Wedding At the End of the Month, and Must Look Mind Blowingly Gorgeous Because There Is a High Degree of Possibility That Stupid Jerk Boy Will Be There, So What Should I Wear (Not That It Really Matters, But Come On, Who Doesn't Want to Be The Winner in Life)?

But right now, I am going to go collapse into bed next to the very unstupid, nonjerk boy that is snoring like a chainsaw upstairs, and who agreed, without hesitation, to accompany me to the theater this weekend to see My Fair Lady.  Am I not the luckiest girl in the world?  A bientot!

WTF??

I was planning to write about our time in Rome today, but that has been trumped by a very bizarre incident that has just taken place.  An incident that I'm hoping maybe the internet will be able to explain away so that I am able to sleep tonight.

Because you see, I have just discovered that there is a very strong possibility that I am being haunted by a coin collecting ghost.

I suppose out of all of the different variations of paranormal phenomena to inhabit ones house, the spirit of a numismatist with a penchant for 19th century coinage would probably be one of my safer bets.  But still, y'all, I am more than a little weirded out.

Let me explain.  I spent the early part of the afternoon catching up on season 3 of Weeds on my computer, and when I got to episode six, the video was taking a little longer than usual to load.  Instead of sitting around, watching the percentage bar increase, I decided to do a little much needed housework.  Well, before I knew it, an hour and a half had gone by, it occurred to me that Weeds had probably finished loading.

So, I finished wiping down the counters and then moseyed back over to the sofa to resume my previous Weeds watching position.  Before I hit play I did a quick email and Facebook check, and that's when I saw it--a secondary window hiding behind the Firefox window I was using.  I clicked on the window, mildly curious, but mostly thinking it would just be an ad, and what to my wondering eyes should appear?  No, not an ad--an eBay search results page.

The search term?  Morgan Dollar.  And in case you're wondering, like I was

The Morgan Dollar is a silver United States dollar coin. The dollars were minted from 1878 to 1904 and again for one more year in 1921. The Morgan Dollar is named after its designer, George T. Morgan, who designed the obverse and reverse of the coin. Morgan's monogram appears near Lady Liberty's neck on the obverse. The dollar was authorized by the Bland-Allison Act of 1878. It has a fineness of .900, giving a total silver content of 0.77344 (24.057 grams) per coin.

Thanks Wikipedia!  Also, HUH???

Fortunately, it does seem that my coin loving ghost is not a permanent resident of my house, as he (or she!) set the shipping calculator to a different zip code.  However, if you happen to live in or around Carson City, Nevada, you may want to keep a close eye on your change, or at least any Morgan Dollars that you happen to have lying around.

Thank God Colby is coming home tonight and I won't have to go to bed alone, because for the next few days, every single noise I hear in the dead of night will have me convinced that a being from another world has come to raid our change bowl or use my computer.  And I mean, I know that my shiny white MacBook is very pretty, but seriously ghost, use some of that change you love so much to buy your own!

The Geeky Fun Never Ends!

Update:  Okay, so feed readers are having problems picking up on the domain change.  Prepare yourself for some technical speak while I explain what I think is the issue.  Currently katiescarlett36.com and wickedlyscarlett.com are both mapped to katiescarlett36.typepad.com.  I think because I have two domains mapped to the same blog, the feed readers are seeing both of those URLs as one and the same, so when you try to update, it's telling you that you're already subscribed.  The domain forwarding has gone into effect, so now when you type in katiescarlett36.com, you are automatically forwarded to wickedlyscarlett.com.  The only solution I can come up with is to deactivate katiescarlett36.com next week, and hopefully at that point everyone's readers will still pick up the feed for the blog.  If not, well, I don't know.  As Ashley put it, the internet is hard.

So, I think we're pretty close to being in business with this whole domain switch over thing!  Thanks to a person who is far more intelligent in the ways of the internet than I, www.wickedlyscarlett.com has been whipped into shape and now seems to work properly as a URL for my site.  Permalinks are still defaulting to katiescarlett36.com, but within the next few days the website forwarding should be all updated, and wickedlyscarlett.com will be the main link.

I'll keep katiescarlett36.com up and running for a little while longer, however, I would just love, love, love it if you could all start switching over your linky loos and feed readers to www.wickedlyscarlett.com, please, please cheddar cheese with a cherry on top.

Strangely enough, while www.wickedlyscarlett.com appears to work beautifully, wickedlyscarlett.com does not.  I (read: my far more intelligent friend) am working on getting this straightened out, but in the meantime, please let me know if you're running into any broken links or having problems commenting or just gazing upon my beauteous page.

Finally, I have noticed that a rather larger number of Angela's have begun popping up around internetland than in days of yore, and there is nothing that feels stranger than writing a comment as "Angela" when two other Angelas have commented before me.  It makes me feel like I'm suffering from some kind of multiple personality disorder.  So, I am toying with the idea of commenting under the name "Wickedly Scarlett".  1) To set myself apart and 2) Because it sounds freaking awesome.

Anywhozit, I'm hoping that when I hit publish, everything will go smoothly and the internet won't blow up in my face.  I am remaining cautiously optimistic.

I Hope I'm Still Here Tomorrow

Oh good God, I am so technologically inept.  Trying to manage a blog is so very humbling, and it's resulting in a case of severe Internet Multiple Personality Disorder.  Seriously, knowing how to check your voice mail, set a DVR to record multiple shows at the same time, and forward your email to your phone all make you think that you are totally technology savvy, but then you attempt to change domain names and the internet just blows up in your face.

I feel a little bit like Tom Hanks in Castaway, just floating all alone on a sea of endless internet waters that I have no clue how to navigate, on the tiny little raft created from the four things I know about how the internet works.  I'm a little bit afraid that I'm going to break the whole internet.  One false move and the entire thing is going to come tumbling down around my ears.

Anyway, what I am trying (so far unsuccessfully) to do is move my blog over to a new URL--www.wickedlyscarlett.com.  (My dear mother won that contest that we'd all forgotten about, and I'm hoping that I'm not going to be slammed with numerous nepotism lawsuits now.)  I also contemplated moving over to Wordpress because hello, it is FREE.  So, I exported my blog, bought the new domain name and started setting up shop... and I did not like it.  Typepad is so easy for the less than advanced internet user and with Wordpress I felt like I really couldn't make all of the customizations that I wanted to without knowing how to actually build a website.

I'm only one chapter into my web design textbook, and quite frankly, I'm already confused, so I've got a long way to go before I'm diving into the deep end of the CSS pool.

So I think I'm rejecting Wordpress, even though it is free (sob!) and now I'm trying to get my Typepad blog to redirect to both katiescarlett36.com AND wickedlyscarlett.com until my claim on the former URL runs out in August.  I'm not sure how this is going to work.  I'm afraid to delete my Wordpress blog because I bought the domain through them, and I'm worried that might delete my claim on the domain.  And yet I'm skeptical as to whether or not Typepad will be able to redirect to wickedlyscarlett.com because the Wordpress blog is already hanging out at that URL.  So now my blog can apparently be found at three, maybe four different URLs, and I don't think that any of them are completely correct.

My head hurts, and I'm at that point where I don't even really understand the questions I'm asking.  I think I finally understand that saying about a little knowledge being a very dangerous thing.

Ultimately, what it has taken me seven paragraphs to say, is that I am in the midst of a lot of technical internet crap, and if my blog disappears or looks weird over the next few days, that is why.  Please, send chocolate.  And a web designer.

This Weekend I...

...Finally finished writing and addressing all of our wedding gift thank you notes!  Today I have to go buy stamps, but by tomorrow, those suckers will be in the mail and winging their way to our patient and generous friends and family!

... Had a fun filled movie night courtesy of On Demand and my evil DVR.  At least it managed to record all of Pride & Prejudice without chopping off the last half.  And is it just me, or would it have been all that difficult to find a somewhat more smoldering Mr. Darcy?  I know Colin Firth really made the role his own, but Matthew Macfayden's portrayal really is just a pale imitation.

... Managed to beat Colby at Scrabulous even while thousands of miles apart.  I will have the grace to admit that it was indeed a very close game.  He's a worthy opponent, although I still reign as the undefeated champion in our household.

... Broke in our lovely new elliptical machine with two 30 minute workouts that left me sweaty, breathless, and with the realization of how horrifically out of shape I've gotten in the past few months.  I've got a long way to go if I want to be a svelte, elegant American in Italy in just a few more weeks!

... Watched six episodes of that classic 90's television series, Party of Five, again, courtesy of On Demand.  I spent most of the nineties watching Nick at Nite, ABC's TGIF lineup, and The X-Files, so all of those favorites of my peers such as Party of Five, Beverly Hills 90210, and My So Called Life are a whole new world to me now.  I really had no idea that Matthew Fox existed before Lost, and I'm loving him with his long flowing locks.   And this was probably giggled about 15 years ago, but does anyone else find it amusing that the surnames of two of the leading actors are "Fox" and "Wolf"?

... Made two decisions regarding The Great Shoe Quest!  The results really will be coming this week, I promise!  I know I said the same thing last week, unfortunately, Zappos' new shipping policy has made reorders a bit difficult, and apparently Privo shoes have a HUGE disparity in size compared to the rest of the shoes in my closet.  Watch this space--results coming SOON!!

I've reached the conclusion that it's a really good thing I married Colby, so that I'm forced out of the house from time to time.  If I had my way, I'd never change out of my pajamas and cross the threshold unless we were running low on dog food.  How was your weekend?  I hope you managed to leave the house at least once!

A Contest and Some Housecleaning

I am sick.  (Warning:  This next sentence is not for the faint of heart.)  This morning, when I was brushing my teeth I discovered that my mouth was bleeding profusely, and I know not from where.  My gums seemed fine, but my throat was exceedingly sore, and I decided that must be the source of the Carrie reenactment going on in my sink.  I don't know if this is actually true or not, but I do know that every time I swallow, it feels like a thousand knives are fighting their way down my esophagus.  The result of this mysterious throat Ebola is that I'm going to be a big old slacker about posting today, and leave most of the work up to you guys.

1. You may have noticed that I turned off the captchas that used to come on when you would submit your comment for approval.  I feel like they're a giant pain in the arse, but I've started having some spam issues again, so I may turn them back on just so I can stop deleted comments about penis enlargements and online casinos.  So, tell me honestly, just how much of a hassle are those things?  (The captchas, not the penis enlargements.)
2. I've found this really spiffy program called Blurb that will turn your blog into a book.  I'm not going to tell you how much of my time is spent worrying that I'm going to wake up one morning to find that Typepad has been hijacked by terrorists, with Jack Bauer nowhere to be found until 2009, and all of my years of drivel will be held at gunpoint and then destroyed before my very eyes.  Also, I would like to think that maybe someday I'll have kids who will want to read about my life before they were even a glimmer in my eye, and I think they would be more likely to read something in book form than a sprawling website.
3. My domain name registration will be expiring in August, and I think the time has come to maybe relocate to a little more high class neighborhood on the internet.  When I first signed up for a domain name, I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing, and I just entered in my email address at the time, thus giving birth to the dumbest URL ever--katiescarlett36.com--how great is that?  It's my favorite character in literature combined with my old BRA SIZE.  Brilliant.  Anyway, this is where the contest comes in to play.

THE CONTEST!!

I suck at titles.  I think that has been made very clear over the course of the past few years on this here website as well as in my own personal writing.  I mean, come on, the one thing I've had published was titled... wait for it... WORKING TITLE!!!  It makes sense in context, but still, come on!  I've always sucked at titles, and am so envious of people that have really clever, catchy URLs.  I thought about using my name, but for some reason, that freaks me out a little bit.  I know I'm not anonymous, and I splash my picture all over this joint, but having my name just blazing away up there in the address bar kind of unnerves me.  I thought about tomorrowisanotherday.com or fiddledeedee.com, alas, both of those are already taken.  And that's it, I'm pretty much spent.

So, I am thinking that with all of the clever, witty bloggers, friends, and family that read here on a regular basis (or semi-regular, that's fine too!), maybe someone would have a great idea for a catchy URL.  There really aren't any rules.  You can throw out any ideas, and at the end of an arbitrarily set date, lets say... the last day of March, I'll choose one of the ideas and the winner will get a $15 gift card to the retailer of their choice--Target, Starbucks, Barnes & Noble... it's up to you!

Interview with a Blogger

Oh, dear readers.  Be grateful that today's scheduled blog post is an interview with Erin of The State That I Am In, because otherwise, you would be subjected to a very long sob fest about how I woke up this morning, not with crows feet around my eyes, but PTERODACTYL feet.  It is true.  Lines so deep and so large, I actually thought for a moment that I had been tricked into some kind of hundred year sleep by a crew of spritely elves only to wake up and find that the world had been taken over by Daleks and I was a shriveled old version of myself.  Then I would whinge on about how ooooold I am, which depending on your own age, you would either completely agree with or have to resist the urge to sucker punch me, and how much it sucks to live in a society controlled by evil mutants without emotions.

Sigh.

Anyway, I had the pleasure of interviewing Erin for The Great Interview Experiment that I participated in last week, and I must admit, after the time I spent reading her blog to get ideas for my questions, I kind of love her.  She's a fan of Harry Potter, Project Runway, shoes, and books, and on top of all that, she is a teacher, which I happen to think is just about the noblest profession.  I had a great time reading her answers, and hope you all enjoy this little glimpse into the life of a fellow blogger.

1) Are there any specific experiences you've had that inspired you to work as a teacher to young children with special needs?  Which of your own childhood teachers has left the most lasting impression on you?
I first read about Helen Keller when I was in 2nd grade. I found her story absolutely fascinating, and I really consider that the beginning of my interest in people who have different abilities. I taught myself to fingerspell and to identify braille letters by the time I was in 3rd grade. My friend Heather and I played Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller in a play in 3rd grade. In fifth grade I wrote a speech about a great American Invention, and I chose American Sign Language. I guess my point is, that the education of people with different abilities was a passion of mine that started very early in life. I can't imagine doing anything else.

Growing up, I was always very inspired by my teachers. I always thought about what it would be like to teach the grade I was in. However, one teacher always stands out in my mind -- Martha, my teacher at the Montessori school I attended. Yes, I called her by her first name. In Martha's classroom, I felt free to explore my interests, supported in the areas I struggled with, and valued as a person and as a learner. I try each and every day to create that supportive type of environment for my students.

2) Rufus and Kaya are adorable.  What is your favorite story to tell about each of them?
Let's see, my favorite Rufus story?  That's tricky, there are so many good stories.  Rufus is a short little dog, but he thinks he is the big dog on campus. I always get a laugh when we go to the dog park. "What a cute little puppy!" Yes, he's short, but he's tough! Rufus always goes charging up to the biggest dog in the park to make sure that they know he's the boss! All the other dog owners get worried that Rufus is going to get hurt, but Rufus is a super-dog. He can take on any dog in the park, and he does so quite willingly!

As for Kaya, we haven't had her for that long, but I still love to think about how she learned to cuddle with us. Kaya is a high-strung and anxious dog. She always wants to be close to us, but she has a hard time slowing down. When we first got her, Kaya wanted to sit on the couch with us all the time. Trouble was, when she would get on the couch, she just couldn't stop moving...I don't mean shifting positions either. Kaya couldn't stop walking in circles all over us. Not comfortable for anyone involved. Eventually, after we held her still a few times, she started to get the hang of laying down on the couch. Now she's a couch laying pro, even if she does crush us a bit!

3)  You're a Project Runway fan!  Which designer this season would you choose to design your own personal wardrobe and why?
This is a tough question! I think that I would have Jillian design my everyday wardrobe. She is meticulous and has great attention to detail. Her designs aren't always my favorite, but I think I could talk her into making me some stylish, yet functional, teacher clothes. However, if I ever had the need for fancy evening wear, I'd call on Rami. I love his draped dresses....although I do wish he'd come up with something new once in a while!

4) If you could travel anywhere in the world, for as long as you wanted, where would you go and who would you want to bring with you?
Well, I'd bring my husband, of course. There's no one I'd rather travel the world with. And if we could travel anywhere, I really think we'd travel everywhere. However, the places I'd be most excited to visit are: England, Ireland, Spain, France, Italy, India, Australia, and my beloved Africa. I think we would spend the most time visiting as much of the continent of Africa as we possibly could. It might make up for the Peace Corps stringing us along and then rejecting us right before we were supposed to leave (I swear, I'm over the bitterness. Really!).

5) You've made the life-changing decision to try for a baby this year, congratulations!  What traits of yours do you hope your baby inherits? Which of your husband's?
I hope the baby inherits both of our love of reading. That baby is going to be awfully out of place in a house full of books if he isn't a reader! As for my husband's traits, I'd like the baby to inherit his creativity, his musical talent, and his cooking skills...oh, and his curly hair. I'd like the baby to inherit my paper writing skills (I can't stand to watch Ted write a paper), my organizational skills, and my crazy sense of humor....oh, and the ability of my hair NOT to fall out!

6) If you were to receive that very special invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, into which house would you hope to be sorted?
I would have to be sorted into Gryffindor.  How else would I get close enough to Ron for him to fall in love with and marry me?

7)  How long have you been blogging, and what made you decide not to blog anonymously?  Do you ever regret that decision?
I started blogging in 2004, shortly after my wedding. Someone I knew at the time had a blog, and I thought it looked like fun, so I started my own. In the past year, I have become a much more dedicated blogger. It helps that my computer is now in a room that I actually use, rather than tucked back in the scary office of our old apartment.

I feel like I blog semi-anonymously. I use my first name and photograph....but if you google me using my full name, my blog doesn't come up. Since I started blogging before I was an actual teacher, it never occurred to me at the time to use a pseudonym. Now that I blog about work, I feel like I have to be very careful about what I say on my blog. I have actually considered password-protecting my "teacher" posts....wonder how my readers would feel about that? So, no I don't really regret not being more anonymous, but there are days when I would like to tell a teacher story that I just don't feel comfortable telling....more to protect my students and families than myself.

8) The writer's strike is over now, joy of joys!  Did you find that you missed your tv shows, or was it surprisingly easy to entertain yourself in other ways?  What show are you most excited about returning to the airwaves?
I missed my tv shows a lot less than I expected to. There was plenty of crap on tv for my to rot my brain with. Plus, the writer's strike allowed me to go to bed early without worrying about missing shows. I am waiting for Pushing Daisies to come back. It was the only show that I really missed watching, and now I've got to wait until next fall to see it again! Lost is on now, so I don't have to wait for it to return. The only other show I kind of missed was Grey's Anatomy...and the truth is, the longer it was gone, the less I missed it.

9)  What is your favorite wedding day memory?
Well, besides the whole getting married part, I think my favorite wedding day memory is of my own personal paparazzi. We got married on a large charter boat, and we rented out the top deck of the boat for our reception. The lower deck was rented out by an Korean tourist group....and the lower deck was also the location of the bathroom and dance floor. Let me tell you, those Koreans couldn't have been more excited that we were getting married. I think my picture was taken at least nine million times.....including when I was trying to go to the bathroom. It was fun, and I felt like a celebrity for the day!

10) You also love shoes and books--it's like you're my kindred spirit! What is your favorite pair of shoes and your favorite book?  How many times have you read it?
Is it lame that my favorite book is the Harry Potter series? I've read those books more times than I've read anything else...I've read each book at least twice, and many of the books I've read at least 5 times.  The story is great, the characters are memorable, and I just plain can't get enough of it!

I just bought these shoes, and, even though it's been too snowy for me to actually wear them....well, I declare them my favorite anyway! Not only are they cute and comfortable....but I only paid $20 for them!

Homeless in Seattle

When I was growing up, my two experiences with the homeless population consisted of trying to avoid eye contact with the bedraggled men and women who would stand at busy intersections or interstate exit ramps, holding poorly spelled signs begging for money, and the handful of times that my church youth group went to serve food at one of the local shelters.  Aside from that, I didn't really think about the plight of the homeless very much and when I did it was just to say with a dismissing wave, "Well, they should just get a job!"

Now that I live near and work in Seattle, I'm faced with homelessness on a near daily basis, and over the past few months I've begun to feel a great deal more compassion for them now than I did in my earlier years.  The first day I made the journey from the train station to my office building, I was more than a little terrified of the rows of bodies, tucked under their shelter distributed blankets, and the straggly haired men who would leer at me and shout obscenities or ask for spare change.  But as the months passed, the nights became colder and the rain began to fall far more frequently, and my annoyance and fear started to change to sadness and helplessness.  Clearly these people had nowhere else to go, the shelters were full, and so they turned to awnings and bus shelters to help protect them from the elements.

I'm not a total innocent.  I know that a lot of these people are probably where they are because they can't hold a job--whether it's due to alcohol, drug use, or laziness.  But I really believe that there are a large percentage of people who are there because life won't give them a break.  I could guess a million different reasons that all of these people are living on the streets, but the truth of the matter is that we can never really know what has happened in a person's past to bring them to the life they're currently living.

Of course, I still get annoyed when I see someone simultaneously begging for money and chatting on their cell phone, and I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a little dart of fear when someone screams at me unintelligibly or glowers at me from their street corner.  And yes, I do find it a little irritating that it's impossible to sit on one of the benches on the water and enjoy the beautiful view, because they're all taken up by homeless people.  But I've had two encounters over the past few months that have really made me see the situation in a totally different light.

The first time a homeless man approached me from behind and walked with me the last few blocks to work, I'll admit, I was more than a little frightened.  It was broad daylight, we were surrounded by people on a busy road, and it seemed that he just wanted a little morning conversation.  But as I responded to his words with monosyllables and half-smiles, I still felt a tinge of apprehension.  Then, just before we reached the place where I split off to cross the street, he said something that really affected me.  He was talking about his shelter breakfast of Eggos and juice, and how much he would love a big plate of eggs and bacon, but then he said with a sardonic grin, "But beggars can't be choosers!"

As I stood there, watching him walk down the street, his flannel pajama pants flapping in the wind and a jacket pulled tightly around his body, I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said.  It was the first time I'd ever heard the old saying spoken with such a literal meaning, and I couldn't get the self-mocking look on his face when he'd said it out of my head.

Last week there was a terrible grey day when the wind was whipping mercilessly, and there was a cold dampness in the air that penetrated to my bones.  It had been a long day at work, and I was walking with my head down, my cheeks were stinging from the wind.  All I wanted was to be sitting on the train, reading about Rhett and Scarlett for the nine thousandth time, on my way home.  As I stood at the corner, waiting for the light to change, someone walked up behind me and turned to me with a brilliant smile, the kind you can't help but return with a smile of your own.

He asked me how my day was, and as we were walking he related his story to me.  He'd been in Seattle for two years, trying to make it as a musician.  Over the holidays, he'd been playing the piano in department stores, but once January rolled around he'd been released from his job and had spent the past month trying to make it playing at dueling piano bars.  He'd just found out that his 96 year old grandmother in Australia was dying, and his parents were sending him a plane ticket and telling him to come back home.  Until the ticket arrived, he was selling the homeless newspaper, just trying to make it through these final cold, winter days on the street.  He was probably in his late thirties, but he looked at least fifty.  He could have been lying through his teeth for all I know, but he was kind, funny, a little sad, but incredibly positive, smiling during our entire walk together.  As he broke off to go into a corner market, he thanked me for talking to him.  I wish now that I had gone in with him and bought him a coffee and a sandwich.

Because you see, that's where the trouble lies.  I feel so incredibly helpless when faced with these hordes of homeless people, because really, what is there that I can do?  I could give them money, but it would be a fleeting solution to a permanent problem, and I can't afford to be passing out dollar bills on the way to and from work every morning.  I could help direct them to a shelter, but the vast majority of them are already sitting across the street from a shelter, so that seems a little pointless. 

So all I'm left with is smiling at them when they make eye contact, speaking to them as though they're the human beings that they are and not just an anonymous being on the side of the road, and hoping against hope that they make it through another night. 

Blogging is Kind of Like Match.com For Friends

A couple of months ago, Colby and I decided to use some of our wedding gift card money to buy new bedding for the master bedroom.  We have almost the entire house finished now, with the typical exception of our own room.  The walls are painted, and while I hate the blah, neutral color we decided on, it does provide quite the blank slate for decorating.  So, we ordered bedding from Pottery Barn, and then sat back and awaited its arrival while I dreamed up window treatment ideas.

Eventually the package arrived at our doorstep, but unfortunately, the duvet cover was too large and so back in the box it went for the exchange.  The box then sat on my counter for about a week until I remembered to bring it with me to work, where it then resided under my desk while I worked up the energy to take the elevator ALL THE WAY downstairs and then make the brutal trek next door to the UPS Store.

Finally, a couple of weeks ago, I bundled up, tucked the box under my arm and made the long journey next door.  I filled out the shipping paperwork, and then zoned out while waiting for the woman in front of me to go through every possible shipping option available for three different packages all going to different locations.  I was staring off into middle distance, quite possibly slack-jawed when a voice floated into my consciousness:

"Are you... Angela?"

I turned around, trying not to look totally dazed and saw a pretty, and oddly familiar brunette standing behind me in line.  I immediately started flipping through the mental Rolodex, trying to place the face...  A wife or girlfriend of someone in Colby's squadron?  Someone I had met through work?  An old school friend that had relocated to the Northwest?

Thankfully, once I had answered in the affirmative, she was kind enough to identify herself as Ashley, one of my more recently acquired blog friends.  Of course, as soon as she said her name, I immediately recognized her from her picture, and we spent the next few minute laughing about the surreal meeting that had just taken place.  On top of randomly deciding to visit the same UPS Store at the same time, it was revealed that we actually work in the same building.

My world just keeps getting smaller, and smaller.

Last week, after a bit of back and forth emailing, we scheduled lunch together along with another long-time blog friend, Dawn, who has recently relocated to Seattle from Chicago.  I had a great time meeting them "in real life", and as always was taken aback by how very much it felt like I'd already known them for ages.  This weekend, Ashley and I got together again, with one of her incredibly sweet and funny friends and one of my friends, and went for drinks and a movie downtown.

It's a little crazy how many of my friends have come from the world of the internet--be it the long distance relationship message board that sustained me through my trials and tribulations while dating Colby from across the country, or the people who have shared their lives with me through their blogs from across the world.  I have trouble opening up to people in real life--I form lots of friendly acquaintances with really wonderful people, but very rarely do I let people get too far beyond that level of friendship.  I have a small and wonderful group of extremely close friends--most of whom run in very separate circles themselves--and I cherish them with all of my heart.  They are the people that you can live 2,000 miles away from and talk to on the phone once a month and still feel just as close to them as you did when you were next door neighbors, or roommates, or international travel buddies.  But by blogging, and letting you all into my life in a very private way, there's a sort of bond that is formed that can often translate into real life friendship very easily, but unfortunately not nearly as often as it should.

Anyway, I guess this is just a big thank you to all of you who have let me have a peek into your life and have supported me and laughed with me and cried with me throughout the years.  It's very easy at times to get overwhelmed by the feed reader, to open up Typepad and wonder why on earth I do this.  And then I randomly run into a lovely person at the UPS Store that I probably never would have spoken to if it weren't for our penchant for sharing our thoughts with the internet, and I'm reminded why I keep coming back day after day.  I could very easily keep a private diary, or password protect my posts, but then I wouldn't know all of YOU.  And where's the fun in that!

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Well, actually, gone day before yesterday.

BEFORE

(This was the most recent photo I could find where I was wearing my hair down, and it was taken almost two months ago, so try to imagine it about an inch longer.)

AFTER

Horrible self portraiture aside, I really quite like the new hair.  It took about half as long to dry, and now I just have to figure out the perfect combination of styling products.  I really want to try this volumizer to see if it will give my hair a bit more lift, but since I've hit my $300 limit for the month, I'll have to wait until February to test it out.  For now I'll have to make do with the various root sprays, mousses, and serums currently residing in my hair drawer.

I can tell my hair is having trouble hanging on to the color, probably because it's been so blonde for so long.  I usually try to space my hair appointments out to 8 weeks rather than the recommended 6, but I think for the next few months I'll have to go in more frequently than I like until the color builds up enough to not wash out within the first week.

While I'm still working out the styling kinks, overall I'm really happy with how the cut and color turned out.  I really felt like my stylist listened to what I was asking for rather than nodding her head and then doing whatever she pleased.  It took me almost 8 months, but I think I can finally say I've found my perfect Washington hair dresser--YAY!! 

A Sunny Disposition

Yes, there are still clouds in the forecast, yes, there's still a chance of rain, but people, I can SEE the SUN!!  I haven't seen the sun since New Year's Eve and I was seriously beginning to consider doing a visit to a tanning bed, which goes against all of the preaching I do about the evils of UV rays and skin cancer.  But look at that forecast!  Three days in a row with the sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds!  How can I look at that and not smile?

I can't wait for this weekend.  I don't have any wild and crazy plans, but I do have an appointment scheduled to get my hair cut and colored tomorrow.  I've been looking forward to this day for months now, and I feel a giddy combination of nervousness and excitement.  I still don't have a solid idea in my mind of exactly what I want, but I have a few pictures to bring in and a lot of trust in my stylists coloring opinions.  I still want to go darker, but it's going to be just as much a surprise to me as it will be for you to see what I end up with.  I just can't wait to be able to wear my hair down without it just hanging there, mocking me with its limpness and split ends.

And last night I started writing.  It's something so different from what I thought I would want to write, but I have these people that have been inside my brain now for a few weeks and I want to see what they'll do when I put them down on paper.  I'm not sure what will come of it.  Maybe it will end up in the same folder as my other half finished novel, but I'm interested to see where I can take it and where it will take me.  Colby and I have discussed instituting some "writing time" into my weekends.  It was actually his idea to set aside a couple of hours each Sunday when I can close myself in the office with nothing but my computer and my words.  Maybe I'll end up staring at the wall for two hours, but maybe something will come of it.  I don't know.  But I want to try.

Also, thank you to those of you who came out of "lurkdom" yesterday!  I always pore over my SiteMeter, enthralled by all of the different countries, states, and cities that my visitors come from, and I always wish I knew more about who you all are.  Please, feel free to continue to come out of hiding over the weekend, and if you do continue to read in silence, just know that I thank you for your presence anyway.  I hope you all have amazing weekends, and I'll be back on Monday with my hair Before and After shots!