I Wonder As I Wander

Get a Grip

2006-08-10T12:52:00.000-04:00

Because you all can read and probably have access to multiple news outlets, I am assuming that you know that a major terrorist threat was thwarted (cool word... thwarted) today. Big news. Lots of people could have died. Scary stuff. I have been thinking about it all day. And, honestly, I have spent the majority of the day just being very thankful that those that I love are safe right now.

So, what has been the buzz at work all day?

OH MY GOD, YOU HAVEN'T GOTTEN MY EMAIL???? DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T SEND EMAILS???

Priorities, people. Priorities.

I Know, I Know...

2006-08-09T12:59:00.000-04:00

I never call; I never write. You feel abandoned. And I can't blame you really. May I extend this post as an olive branch?

Things are good here. I am still working at The Suck Job for the rest of this week. And I am scrambling to get things done, because I have blown off, oh everything, for the past two months. The train has pulled up to Procrastination Station, and I have a ticket to hop on board.

I start training for my teaching job next week. I have very excited about meeting some adjunct/TA intellectual types. And figuring out how this freshman comp program works. It is vastly different than the program at FSU.

I am looking forward to this new chapter in my life. I promise to share more with you, as time permits.

Can we be friends again?

The Roommate

2006-08-01T11:09:00.000-04:00

Our friend, Matt, moved in with us this week. I know, I know... Amy and I just got married. You would think we would want to establish our little love nest (BLECH!) all alone... just the two of us. Nah.

We have lived together for two years. We have a lovely home. That is big enough for a family of four. You think I jest. I assure you, I do not. I can also assure you that I came into this relationship with a fair amount of debt. Matt's financial contribution as our roommate will make a much needed dent in said debt.

Besides, I have always wanted to live in a commune.

Okay, not really. But sharing living space is a fascinating endeavor.

Amy and I have had to simplify some things to make the shift in adding an additional person to our household. In doing so, Amy has created her own space in our third room. Which is important. Everyone needs their own space. Especially Ames. Trust me.

And I have spent much time trying to figure out how to feed the three of us healthy, economic meals. Without shopping at Sam's Club. But I like the idea of planning menus ahead of time. And the pressure to make something other than mac and cheese for dinner (okay, we rarely eat mac and cheese, but you get my drift).

And then there is the simple fact that Mattie is a charming fellow. One of my closest friends, really. I feel lucky to get to spend this time with him before he graduates from USF in May and takes off to who-knows-where.

Besides, since Amy saw a snake in the ferns, she has a phobia of mowing the lawn. Drastic measures had to be taken.

So, if you are in the Tampa Bay area, feel free to visit the Kellogg-Russell household. There will be a cold beer waiting for you.

Foot, Meet Mouth

2006-07-26T13:00:00.000-04:00

This past Friday, Amy and I went with a group of our friends to crash the Mary Poppins Sing-Along. We decided hit The Hub before hand, for some adult beverages.

(Look, if you were wearing a dog outfit, you would want a beverage too!)

Amy Kellogg was hanging back in front of the Tampa Theatre after our photo shoot, talking to folks in the 90 degree, 80% humidity weather... so I decided to head into The Hub with Melissa, a friend of ours who happens to be Amy's ex-girlfriend.

Now, as much as I hate to admit it, Melissa and I didn't exactly hit it off well when we first met. You know, the ex-girlfriend/new girlfriend clash. The tension between us has long since dissipated (thankfully)... but our very rocky start is key to this story.

Outside of The Hub, Melissa and I run into Julie, an old Kellogg family friend. She knew Melissa when Melissa and Amy were together, and she has known me since Kellogg and I met. Julie was also at our wedding.
Melissa and I both hug Julie hello and we all head into the smoky, dive atmosphere that is The Hub. Kellogg is still in the stifiling heat chatting someone up, mind you.

At this point, it becomes clear that Julie has had more than one cocktail. Cool. It is Friday. Get your party on, and whatnot.

Julie: (leaning toward Melissa) So, how is married life treating you?
Melissa: (looking perplexed) Dude, I'm not married...
Kendra: (looking at Melisssa in shock) Did you forget to tell us something?
(Melissa left the country for almost a year, and she was dating someone when she left. Did they get married in South America and not tell anyone??)
Julie: Well, did you get the marriage anulled?
Melisssa: (getting visibly aggitated and increasingly confused) Julie, I SWEAR, I didn't get married!
*pause*
Melissa: (a light of comprehension, then something akin to panic) OH MY GOD, JULIE. Did you think I married KELLOGG. KENDRA (gesturing emphatically in my direction) married Kellogg.
************

Folks, this is reason number 312 to regulate your alcohol consumption. Poor Julie.

All Over the Place

2006-07-25T15:38:00.000-04:00

Gosh, I am just all over the place right now...

At the end of August, I will begin a new job as an Ajunct English Instructor at the University of South Florida (Tampa). I will be teaching five classes (ENC 1101 and 1102).

I am so beside myself with excitement that I may spontaneously combust.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

2006-07-21T10:56:00.000-04:00

Things are going to ROCK here in Tampa tonight! We are going to the Mary Poppins Sing-A-Long at the Tampa Theatre. There will be singing! And goody bags! And costumes!*

Guess who I am going to be?!? Guess! Okay, I will tell you....

Andrew! (look for me in the Minor Characters section)

*Pictures will appear on Squirrelly or Just Salt on Monday.

Are You Down with G-O-D?!?

2006-07-20T15:32:00.000-04:00

Today, I got a call from the Director of All Things Bible Study at my church. He asked if I wanted to lead a Disciple I Bible Study course. Stop laughing. Okay, it really isn't that funny. DUDE, stop laughing so I can tell you the story!

I am incredibly flattered that he asked me to lead this class (I would be leading it with one or two other folks). And when I say flattered, I mean... well, I just mean flattered, alright? This is exactly the kind of opportunity I was looking for when I joined this church. And what makes this opportunity even more significant is that he contacted me because the facilitators from the class I took last year gave me rave reviews. These are some of the most intelligent, introspective Christians I know. That they think that highly of me ... well, let's just say that this is more of an ego-boost that I could ever have hoped for.

But I can't do it. I can't teach the class.

I am trying to change jobs, and I just don't know where I am going to land. I have no concept of what my schedule will be, what the demands on my time will be. Hell, I don't even know where I will be WORKING (let's just hope it isn't a job where every interaction with a customer ends with, "Would you like to Super Size that?"). And I can't take on this type of responsibility and flake out. I would never forgive myself for that. So I had to pass it up.

But the GOOD news is that I think I WILL be teaching a short- term class (8 weeks, as opposed to 32 weeks) at some point this Fall. This is just the push I needed in my spiritual life, which had been lagging of late. Funny how God seems to know these sorts of things, no?

And, for the record, all of that laughing you were doing earlier about me leading Bible Study ... Just because I drink and can throw a dirty word or two around doesn't mean I do not have a rich faith that is incredibly meaningful to me.

C'mon, admit it... you KNOW I would be a bad ass Bible Study leader, don't you? That's right!

Tuesday Afternoon Outing

2006-07-19T14:10:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of making my third trip to the gynecologist (or as Amy likes to say, "the down-there doctor," as she points vaguely towards the lower half of her body) this year. This year has been the Year of the Abnormal Pap. And, yes, it has been as fun as it sounds.

Yesterday they did a colposcopy. Now, if you go to the posted link and read through the article, you will notice it says they may do a biopsy if some of the cells seem irregular. Somehow, I seemed to have blocked that out. Biopsy? Who, me? No, no.. they are just going to look at the cells. No big deal!

So, the doctor is "down there" looking through a gigantic microscope. She calmly informs me that I will need to stop flinching, because it looks rather like an earthquake when I do. "You wouldn't want me to get motion sickness down here, would you?" she quips. Uh, look lady, all due respect but I don't want you down there at all! And if you don't stop being so chipper, I am libel to kick you in the head.

Then she says, "Okay, honey, for me to really see what is going on, I am going to have to pop your cervix up a bit."

I am SORRY??? You are going to do what? Pop my cervix up. Uh huh. Sounds lovely. Will you buy me dinner afterward? By the way, the popping of the cervix... doesn't feel so hot.

As if the giant microscope and the popping cervix weren't enough for one day, she informed me that she couldn't really tell if the cells were abnormal at all. So, yeah, the biopsy I blocked out of my mind. Uh huh.

"Alright," she says, "you are just going to feel a little prick on your cervix."

I will leave you with that folks. A little prick on your cervix. Who could ask for more on a Tuesday afternoon?

Coffee Diaries

2006-07-13T13:56:00.000-04:00

Amy and I were in the car one fine Saturday morning, when the need for a latte hit me full force. Usually I can skate by on coffee made at home. I very reasonably tell myself that coffee does not have to cost $3.50 to be good... and then I tremble in a corner thinking about the frothiness of the latte, and how I deserve one, how I long for the cinnamon sprinkled on the froth.... So, this time I decided to forgo the trembling and just cave in to my desire for a latte. $3.50 be damned!

I hopped out of the car at Starbucks (a little too quickly for any shred of dignity to remain) and was skipping toward the door, when I noticed that Amy had gotten out of the car. Curious. Because Amy has a phobia of Starbucks. I can say Grande, Skinny Latte and her eyes glaze over. Yet, she was following me into the store.

Once we got inside and I ordered my Grande, Skinny Latte, Amy was beginning to look a little pale. She managed to stammer something indicating that she would have whatever I had ordered.

Gosh, Ames, I didn't know you liked lattes...? (She looks at me helplessly and staggers toward the door).

We settle back into the car, with our to-go cups with lids (for added safety!), and resume our Saturday morning frivolity. I sip away contentedly on my latte, relishing the cinnamon sprinkles...

Amy: What the hell? How do you ever drink this stuff?
Kik: (coming out of a trance-like state of bliss) Huh? Oh... you don't LIKE it? (sounding rather accusatory)
Amy: Well, it would be fine if I could DRINK it.
Kik: (just looking confused)
Amy: It comes out one drop at a time. It is like drinking my damn coffee out of an eyedropper!
Kik: Um? Amy? You have to suck a little bit on the opening in the lid... you know, to get it to come out....
Amy: (profane profanity inserted) What the HELL?!? I didn't know that! Who knew that?!? How would I know to suck on that?
Kik: Oh dear God.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Last night, Amy and I rode our bikes up to Borders. For coffee. And to read magazines.
The coffee is, again, in to go cups with lids (because we were sitting outside).

Kik: (reading)
Amy: OH MY GOD, I JUST GOT COFFEE IN MY EYE. Coffee, Kik. In my EYE. It just shot right up through the opening in the top of the cup. And went in my EYE. How does that happen?????
Kik: God help me.

And Now... A Story

2006-07-11T16:17:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, Amy and I went to Bike Fest 2006 to meet some potential new friends that, perhaps, would have bikey natures like Amy's. Because I can only talk about bikes for so long, before I spontaneously combust. Which is messy. But that is another story. Anyway, bike friends for Amy! Whooo! We had fun. And met nice people. And Amy had someone other than me to discuss bikes with for almost two hours. And I didn't combust! Yes, another successful Saturday morning!

On the way home, we decided to stop by Dogwater Cafe. It was recommended. And when I say that I mean that someone had told us there was cold beer and food there. It was hot out. And it was nigh on beer-thirty. And FOOD! I love food! Sounded like the perfect end to Amy's bike adventure to me.

First inclination something was amiss: The restaurant smelled like someone had bottled that lovely wet dog smell and used it like potpourri. Did we run away? HECK NO! We ordered a beer! I told you it was beer-thirty.

And the beer? Lukewarm (even WITH the ice pack built into the pitcher! A travesty, you say? I agree!)

Food? I suppose you could call it that. We ordered grouper nuggets... which also doubled as grouper jerky. Or grouper leather. You decide. And the curly fries? They were called Poodles. Because it was Dogwater Cafe, you see. And our food? It was served in dog bowls. Uh huh.

Oh, the injustice of it all!

(Eh... don't get too caught up in my woe. There was cold beer at home.
Another happy moment, brought to you by Miller Lite in a can!)

Monday, Monday

2006-07-10T15:32:00.000-04:00

You know how sometimes you are just plugging along through a Monday... just kind of neither here nor there about it... then SUDDENLY someone pops their head into your office to tell you it is ice cream social time? Yeah, that's what today was like.

No, literally. I had a brownie sundae with bananas, dark chocolate syrup and toffee sprinkles. Scrumptious. (but the word scrumptious isn't really scrumptious at all... definitely not an onomatopoeia)

On Spot, A Stripe

2006-07-07T12:33:00.000-04:00

I let the dogs out this morning with a bit of trepidation. Actually, EVERY time I let the dogs out, it is with a bit of trepidation. You just never know what is going to happen when our dogs are introduced to the great expanse of our suburban, fenced-in back yard.

Jed is a avid lizard hunter, always on the lookout, guarding the perimeter against lizard foes. When I open the back door, she goes tearing outside. Every time. Must protect family from lizard evil-doers. Milo... well, she is just bizarre. She wanders around the yard like she is looking for something. She stares, sometimes at the grass, sometimes at the fence. Then she takes off, chasing imaginary friends maybe. Milo rarely wants to come back inside when she is called. She prefers to sun in the yard. And when I call her, she looks at me like a sullen teenager. Nice. And sometimes she just tunnels out of the backyard. No fence is going to hold her back. No, sir. She is going to ... uh... yeah, I am not sure what she does when she gets out but she is always back within half an hour. It's like sneaking out your bedroom window as a teenager, simply to sit on your own driveway. Lame. But annoying, nonetheless.

Anyway, I let the dogs out this morning. I made my coffee and got them a bowl of water. We like to enjoy our beverages as a family, don't you know. So, Jed is slinging water all over the floor and I call Milo to come inside. She does... on the first call. Then Milo and Jed commence pushing each other around to get the best spot at the bowl. I looked down and noticed clay rubbed all the way down Milo's right side. In a straight line. What in the world?

Now, please note that I don't have on my glasses at this point. Which means I am as blind as a bat. So, I bend very close to wipe Milo off. Close enough to realize that that isn't dirt... it's POOP. IN A STRAIGHT LINE, LIKE A RACING STRIPE.

Only Milo. Seriously.

I Ain't Missing You (no matter what my friends say)

2006-07-05T14:17:00.000-04:00

Five days without Amy is a long time. Even when I am having an absolute blast with my best friend, my sister and Shanna ... there is still a void without Amy. It is a sort of nebulous void, skirting around the fun but still letting me know it is there. Like when we would all be laughing at something silly, and I would turn around to catch Amy's expression ... but she wasn't there. Or when we would all be toasting to chosen family... without Amy. It is amazing to love someone so much that, even in the best of times, you know that her presence would only make the time that much sweeter.

I love you, little Amy.

May I Have A Side of Cardboard With That?

2006-06-28T13:41:00.000-04:00

Although Amy and I work across the street from each other, we rarely lunch together. After all, we spend 90% of our free time together, so lunch together constantly would seem a bit like overkill. But today, I decided that I wanted to take little Ames out somewhere fun. So I grabbed the Tia's Tex-Mex coupon on the way out of the house this morning, figuring we could lunch together. Please keep in mind that I LOVE a coupon. I am not cheap by any means, but I get a huge kick out of getting, say, two entrees for the price of one. TWO entrees. ONE charge. Brilliant, isn't it?!?

I picked Amy up at work. We squabbled. Because what good is a lunch date, if you can't royally screw it up right off the bat with some good old-fashioned bickering? We got over ourselves. I mean, how pissy could I really be? I had that two for one coupon, remember?

Amy ordered a lunch burrito with chicken. I got a Su Casa Creation (cheesy. The name, not the food) with a beef crunchy taco and a chicken enchilada. I was hyped. I enjoy Tex-Mex. And, while Tia's is on the way home from work, we never really consider it as an option for dinner. Perhaps we were unwittingly wise.

My taco tasted like cardboard. Truly. I had to salt my taco for it to taste like anything. And then I had to dump salsa in it, because then it just it tasted like salty cardboard. My enchilada? Cardboard. Beans and rice? Cardboard? Check! Amy wasn't faring any better with her meal, so she asked if we could order some queso for her burrito that looked like it had been microwaved and then placed under a heat lamp. Queso makes everything better, right? Not when it tastes like cardboard! Folks, I swear to you that this stuff wasn't even Velveeta. It was liquid cardboard. Which they charged us $2.10 for.

It's okay, though. Apparently it wasn't a total wash. Amy said that her sweet tea was good.

When the Binkie Fairy Comes, Can I Have Another Binkie?

2006-06-27T13:17:00.000-04:00

I am working today. No, no... not like I am AT work. I am actually DOING work. Sound the alarm; my brain may explode. I have written 3 sentences of a 15 page grant and, WHOOO!, am I spent.

In other news... Angie, Matthew, Amy and I went to Ballyhoo Grill for dinner last night. I find it a rather odd phenomenon that everytime we take Angie out to eat at a place we like, there is something wrong with her food. Last night, the salmon was overcooked. Granted, they did bring it out on a cedar plank that was still smoldering, but still... They get cool points for presentation, but no one wants to eat fish that resembles shoe leather.

Ames and I headed home after dinner and a quick trip to Borders, and I promptly crawled up on the couch with my blanket and pillow. Remember that PMS I mentioned yesterday? Yeah. Tired, lethargic and cranky... that's me! Want to come over and hang out?

Anyway, about 5 minutes after I had finished my Slim-A-Bear (I love a Slim-A-Bear... which I try to say as often as possible. You would be surprised how many times I can say Slim-A-Bear in one conversation. Go on. Say it. Slim-A-Bear. Now you want one, don't you?), I got up to grab some tostito chips. Amy shot me a sideways glance. You know the glance...the "do you REALY want to eat those?" glance.

To which I responded: Look Amy, just let it go... just think of them as a salty pacifier.

Besides, salty goodness aside, we were fresh out of Slim-A-Bears.

A Sure Sign

2006-06-26T14:02:00.000-04:00

It is a sure sign that I am PMSing when I go to Bennigan's and order this for lunch:

MONTE CRISTO
A delicious combination of ham and turkey, plus Swiss and American cheeses on wheat bread. Lightly battered and fried until golden. Dusted with powdered sugar and served with red raspberry preserves for dipping.

That's right folks... fried goodness the size of my head. Rockin'!

Summertime

2006-06-23T15:36:00.000-04:00

There is something priceless about having a heartfelt, albeit intoxicated, conversation on the front porch at 1 a.m. on a school night with one of your closest friends. Something that makes you feel a little more carefree, a little less weighed down, a little ... younger. It is a phenomenal experience. I strongly suggest you try it soon.

It is definitely worth the morning-after hangover.

Uh, Can I Help You? Uh, PLEASE?

2006-06-22T10:47:00.000-04:00

Jezebel and I have a rather special relationship. She was a Christmas present from my then-girlfriend. I had wanted a boxer for several years. Then, Christmas of 2000, one just waddled my way (out of our roommate's bedroom where she had been hidden). I have been in love with Jezebel (or Jedda, or Jed, or Jeddapoohpoohhead) ever since.

Now, I am not saying our relationship has been without its problems. There was that 6 month spell where I went NUTS after said girlfriend and I split up. Jed seems to have forgiven me for it, though (as have most of my friends). And it wasn't easy on Jed when Amy and I started dating: Uh, Mom, WHY can't I sleep on your head anymore? Yes, there was a lot of sighing from Jed when Amy and I got together (she is prone to sighing... um, Jed not Amy). But she has warmly embraced Amy as her Second Mom since then.

But I digress (but you couldn't even TELL I was digressing, could you?!?). Jed and I have a favorite game. I hide under the comforter and talk to her. She promptly loses her mind and paws at my head, trying to dig me out (at least I know if I fell in a well and then there was an avalanche, she would know what to do). It is a fun, albeit rather painful, game. Except that now, every time I duck my head for any reason she finds it necessary to paw at my head. Not so fun all the time.

Last night I put Jed and Milo outside, so that I could do some stretches. As soon as Jed saw me stretch out toward my feet and put my head down... pawing at the door. Like a maniac. Head down: (Paw. Paw. Paw.) Wait! I have to rescue my mom! She's...
Head up: Oh yeah, uh she's okay now. I was wor...
Head down: (Paw. Paw. Paw.) Wait! Uh, apparently my mom needs me! Uh, hello?!?

And so it went for quite some time. And you know what? It was funny EVERY TIME. It's the small things in life folks, the small things.

Poor Jedda.

By the Way...

2006-06-21T11:04:00.000-04:00

I really haven't lost my mind (in case the post below frightened you a bit). I just want something meaningful to do with my life, something where I can really help people. I am just in the process of deciding how to best achieve that goal.

Worrywarts.

Today...

2006-06-21T10:31:00.000-04:00

I am spending some time thinking what I might like to be when I grow up. Right now, I am fixated on being a nutritionist. Unfortunately, I picked a career path to fixate upon that is not offered in Bachelor's Degree form at USF. Of course.

I would really like to study holistic health. Do folks still think holistic health practitioners are quacks? And how do you know if a program for holistic health is ... well... non-quacky?

Just some thoughts to ease you into your Wednesday morning...

Lessons?

2006-06-20T10:36:00.000-04:00

Apparently, I am being taught to be VERY grateful for my health. And to take better care of myself.

Sunday and Monday marked the second time in a month that I have been horribly ill. Not like the times that I call in sick to work because I have a headache. Or because I sneezed once. No, those are marks of loathing my job and wanting to be anywhere except work. THIS, this was nasty.

Estelle and Jean were kind enough to share Charlie with us on Saturday. Much fun was had by all. We watched Finding Nemo together (I finally got to see the end! And Amy got to see the movie for the 412th time!). I danced with Charlie. And flew him around the living room like a plane. The girls gave us some necessary information/materials for our future endeavors to have a child. All was well. Good times. Good friends.

And, then, on Sunday Amy and I both contracted the Illness of Doom: Puke Fest 2006. DISGUSTING. I think I promised God I would become a nun if I would just NOT THROW UP AGAIN. Geez, I hope I didn't really promise that nun thing. Does God have a 30 day return policy on promises made under duress?

No matter how bad I felt, Amy had it worse. I have never seen anything like that. I was getting really frightened for her last night. She just couldn't keep ANYTHING down. Poor little thing.

Today found me feeling MUCH better. I woke up to the Today Show (I have been sleeping on the couch since the Illness of Doom). I actually ate a piece of toast with Brummel and Brown (I heart Brummel and Brown). And now I am sipping (ever so gingerly) on a cup of coffee.

I wish I could say the same for my girl. She even sounds green over gmail chat. Poor little booger.

Nuh uh... For REAL?

2006-06-15T16:45:00.000-04:00

Amy made me coffee this morning. And she woke me up with a kiss on the forehead.

Who IS this woman, and what has she done with Amy?

Do I Know You, Little Girl?

2006-06-14T15:43:00.000-04:00

I always swore I wouldn't get caught up in the mundane, soul-sucking minutiae that makes up middle class existence. Oh no! Not I! I would remain unflagging in my quest to make the world a more egalitarian place, with fair trade coffee at every meeting! I would take to the streets for each and every injustice heaped upon the less fortunate. I would boycott products made by companies that showed a blatant disregard for the environment. Hell, I would make my own tampons if I had to! Power to the People!

Right.

I finally pulled my head out of my own ass the other day to discuss with my wife (is that what I am supposed to call her? I hate that. Partner? Is that better? Companion? Soul-mate? My bitch? Just kidding! I was just checking to see if you were still reading) what it is that I want to do with my life.

I mean, I know I want to get married. Check! And I want to have children. Planning stage: check! But, beyond that, what is going to make me happy? My dream job would be teaching First Year Writing at USF or HCC. Cool. If I want to eat peanut butter and bread, sell our house and ride to work on a moped. Otherwise, adjuncting cannot be my primary occupation. But what steps am I going to take so that, ultimately, I can teach at the college level? These are the questions I have begun to grapple with. Why, you ask? Because there is no more wedding to plan. Because today is the first day of the rest of my life. Because I don't want the only things in my life to be my partner and my (future) child. Methinks that would make me quite the dull partner and mother.

Also... I haven't been writing. Don't think I have been neglecting my adoring fans in the computer in favor of the old standby: the journal. Oh no. The journal has been shunned, too. Why? Because I feel as though I have nothing to say. I sit here and stare at the computer and realize that my job is eating my brain. Dull! I have become dull!

Amy and I discussed art the other night, while we were pondering the meaning of the universe. I don't write creatively. I am not particularly good at it. Hell, at this point I wonder if I am good at writing at all. I read my blog heroes (Dooce and Finslippy) and wonder why I blog at all. I have less than a fraction of their wit, charm and style. But I also obviously am not trying very hard. One post a week certainly doesn't equate to honing one's writing skills.

But I digress... my art form (and MANY will argue that it is not an art form at all) is the analysis of literary works. I love it. Thrive on it. NEED it. I miss the hours of research, the dissection of theory, the moment a connection clicks and you have to celebrate with two cups of coffee and 4 cigarettes because it is THAT exciting (and it is 4 a.m. and the paper is due at 9 a.m. and there are 25 pages left to be written). I miss the intellectual stimulation.

So, what is to be done regarding this conundrum that your heroine faces?

I will participate in the Scheherazade Project. Even though I am scared. Even though I don't DO creative writing. At least this will ensure that my brain doesn't completely die. And it will give the other participants a reason to feel better about themselves.
I will figure out the most logical and practical way to get my foot in the door as an adjunct (without testing the limits of my sanity). I may not be able to count on adjuncting as my primary income, but I can't give up that easily (that was my other realization: I give up WAY too easily).
I will begin a paper in the next 2 months, which I will send to a literary journal upon completion. I am currently searching for the novels that I might want to use. And I am almost completely sold on diving back into gender theory for this project. Almost.

I will not sit by and allow my brain to atrophy! I will not lose my soul to middle class existence! Tequila shots for all! Oops, where did that come from...?

Anyone up for happy hour?

A Smidge Damp, But No Worse for the Wear

2006-06-13T15:10:00.000-04:00

Rain. Lots of rain. This brush with a tropical storm was primarily a rain event with a smidge of wind. Sounded pretty much like every other summer storm that rolls through the Tampa Bay area. Even the dogs didn't get all riled up. Nope. They slept right through it.

In other news, I am actively pursuing a teaching job with Hillsborough County Schools. I have sent in my cover letter/resume to five middle schools. The high schools will go out tomorrow. Unfortunately, if you teach high school English, folks also seem to think you should coach softball or teach t.v. production or something. Uh.... no. There are only three high school positions in the county that don't require that I do a side circus act in order to teach English. Good lord. I thought there was a teacher shortage?

I have sent in my application to Hillsborough Community College and USF to adjunct as an English instructor. Unfortunately, unless I want to teach about 8 classes (which would have to be spread out between several institutes of higher learning) I would only make about $300 every two weeks. Huh. Yeah. Unless my mortgage is going to pay itself, I don't see adjuncting being my primary source of income... And there is that little bit about health insurance. If I adjunct, I don't get health insurance. So, I would have to self insure at a rate of about $230/month. Oops! There goes one paycheck right there! So, teaching at the college level will have to remain a side gig... for the time being, at least.

That's the scoop on the job front...

And The Trees Were RIPPED from Their Roots...

2006-06-12T15:44:00.000-04:00

Growing up in Florida, you realize early on that hurricanes are a staple for local media personalities. They THRIVE on hurricanes. The drama. The humanity. The sheer horror of it all. It is incredibly difficult to gauge how serious the threat actually is, when there is the constant barrage of "hunker down" and "state of emergency" banter being tossed about.

Now, a mere 11 days after the beginning of the 2006 hurricane season, Tampa Bay is under a Hurricane Watch as Tropical Storm Alberto approaches. Didn't we just FINISH a hurricane season? Yes, it is part of living in Florida. Yes, I am incredibly grateful that we were spared any significant weather event last season. But... ALREADY?

Sure does make November 30th seem like a long, long time from now....

A Post! Oh My!

2006-06-05T14:47:00.000-04:00

When originally envisioned, this post was going to be a narrative about our commitment ceremony. But... I mean... you've seen the pictures, right? I could ramble on and on about it, but I wouldn't really be telling you anything you haven't already seen for yourself.

So, in the interest of presenting you with new information, I am including the readings from the ceremony. Because you may be wondering WHAT exactly happens at a lesbian commitment ceremony. And I would hate to withhold that kind of information from my readership.

Without further ado, I present: The Union of Amy & Kendra!

Music starts. (Mozart Concerto #21 Andante)
Wedding party enter stage, single file.
Amy & Kendra enter holding hands.

Brian (our lovely Master of Ceremonies) begins the reading.
Excerpt from "The Prophet" by Kahlil Gibran:
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days. Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God. But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

(Then we move right into the candle lighting/vows/ring exchange)

Brian: The light of the candles represent the separate families and pasts from which Amy and Kendra come today to be joined. (And no, neither the tapers nor the unity candle would stay lit. Which got some laughs from those in attendance)

Brian: Above you, below you, forever surrounding you shall be the pledge you make unto each other today. It is the pledge of the truth and purity of your every breath. The constant friendship of your hearts. The passion and fire of your spirits and the deepest love your souls have to give. It is the pledge of all that is within you. The only true pledge that one heart can offer to another. You are now offering yourselves, and all that has come to pass, to each other, toward the creation of your future, and to all that is yet to come. The light that remains is the light of love, the light in which you shall be forever as one.

Brian: Now Kendra & Amy each have a few words for each other.

(vows)
Kendra: Amy, with deepest joy I receive you into my life that together we may be one. I promise you my love, my devotion, my most tender care. I pledge to you my life, my faithfulness and my love.

Amy: I take you to be my lifetime partner, secure in the knowledge that you will be my constant friend, and my one true love.

Kendra: This ring is a token of my love. I commit myself to you with this ring, with all that I have and all that I am.

Amy: This ring is a token of my love. I commit myself to you with this ring, with all that I have and all that I am.

Brian (Apache Blessing): Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be the shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be the warmth to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. Go now to your dwelling, to enter into the days of your life together, and may your days be good and long upon the earth.

Amy and Kendra exit the stage and walk to the back for their much deserved glasses of wine. The wedding attendents and Brian exit the stage.
------- ### --------

And there you have it folks! Two important things to note: 1) the candles refused to stay lit. refused. petulant little candles, and 2) we kind of bungled the passing of rings. We didn't put them on each other's fingers. We just passed them to each other. Maybe we should have practiced that part?

All in all, it was exactly what I had always wanted. I could not be more grateful to Amy's parents (my -gasp!- in-laws!) for making this happen for us. And to my parents for loving and respecting us enough to attend (Hi, Mom!).

And thank you to all of the people who attended the ceremony (especially my beautiful, long-suffering bridesmaids!) And to those who wanted to attend but live in UTAH (Trista) or are living in Nowheresville, Indiana being a NUN (Steph). It really was the best day of my life.

And, yes, somehow I feel different now. More connected to Amy. I think I may love her MORE than before (and I had no idea that was possible).

I am a very lucky girl.

**Oooh, oooh, ooh.... and the Chuzzle was at our ceremony. And he brought his moms!

A-CHOO!

2006-06-02T14:33:00.000-04:00

Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy-head, fever... That's me!

Thankfully, I waited until after the ceremony and most of our trip to St. Pete Beach to become all germified. But, WHOA, did it hit me hard. *sniff sniff* A-choo!

So, you will have to wait until next week to hear more about the cermony. But there are pictures at The Squirrel!

Thanks for all of your well-wishes! They meant a lot.

DONKEY!

2006-05-24T11:13:00.000-04:00

I really thought that we would NEVER get everything pulled together for our ceremony this Saturday... but lo and behold, our ducks just may be in a row!
********

Did I ever tell you about the fuss Amy put up about registering somewhere for the wedding? It goes kind of like this...

Amy has lived in her house for approximately three and a half years. I moved in with her almost two years ago. As such, we have most of the things that folks just getting married might need for their new home. So, Amy thought it foolish and a bit presumptuous to register somewhere.

We discussed this and agreed that we most certainly did not want folks to feel compelled to bring a gift to our ceremony. To get that point across, we included a line at the bottom of our invitation stating that we consider the attendees' presence their gift to us and no other gifts are necessary.

So, when I bought up the need to register somewhere, Amy balked. No, no, no. She wasn't having it. We said we didn't want gifts. So on and so forth.

This became a point of contention for MONTHS. Even when Debbie, Amy's close friend from college, told her we needed to register. Even when the first thing that the women from my Bible study class asked was where we were registered. Amy was STILL fussing.

This is where my logic and Amy's delicate sensibilities had a major collision. I wanted to register because I KNOW some people want to bring gifts. I also know that some folks have never been to our home. They don't know our tastes. They have no idea what we need or would want as an addition to our home. So, it is only fair to provide some guidance via a registry.

Otherwise, we could end up with 20 toasters. Or, even worse, multiple donkey cigarette dispensers. This was just a risk we could not take. So, while I was at work.... I got online and registered us. (gasp!)

Now, I know this seems a bit underhanded. And, normally I am not underhanded at all. But this HAD TO BE DONE. And I went home and told her right away. And she pulled up the site and looked at what I had picked out. AND IT WASN'T THAT BAD. The only thing that got her goat was the spoon rest "we" registered for.

But I needed a spoon rest.

I Am So Distracted That I Originally Published This Post with No Title...

2006-05-22T14:33:00.000-04:00

I am completely and utterly distracted today. I actually have a rather interesting and labor intensive (GASP!) project at work this week... but I can't concentrate. I keep thinking about Amy's ring that needs to be picked up. And the dirt smudge on my dress that needs to come off. And the other tiny loose ends that are making me ever so slightly insane.

And in other news, I cleaned the stove, the toaster oven and the microwave this weekend. And dusted the baseboards. I know. You are enthralled by my life, aren't you? But I really want my house to be clean for my lovely wedding party friends who will be staying with me. So they feel special.* And that means there must be NO DOG HAIR ON MY BASEBOARDS. Whew! I feel better now.

I would ramble at you some more... but that is all I am doing... rambling. If I were cool like some of the bloggy folks that are having babies, I would have a ticker to count down the days until the big event. But, alas, I am not cool. So I will just tell you. Amy and I get married in 5 days. And, until then, apparently I will just be distracted.

*See, I am not that odd.

My Feet Are Fine, Thanks!

2006-05-18T15:12:00.000-04:00

Lots of folks have been asking me if I have cold feet lately. I assume they are not concerned about the fact that Amy cranks the air down to about 60 degrees in the house, but rather that Amy and I are having our commitment ceremony in 9 days. And to all ya'll who have expressed concern, I say: My feet are fine, thanks!

I was incredibly nervous about two weeks ago. I would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, in the middle of a vicious anxiety attack. But it appears now as though the panic was derived solely from the fact that we had procrastinated about everything except the venue. As of this past Saturday: I hadn't dropped off my dress to have it altered, we didn't have rings, and we had no vows. Hm. I wonder why I was stressed?

But as soon as I dropped off my dress with Mrs. Swan on Monday, the anxiety dissipated. I feel relaxed! Refreshed! Excited!

Okay, okay. I am nervous about standing up in front of about 75 folks and saying vows and whatnot. I am hoping to avoid passing out or some such nonsense. But we have rings! And today we finalized the vows! So, even if I do pass out, it will probably be after I have wowed the attendees with my brilliant and classy taste in prose and have a new tiny handcuff (I MEAN RING!) on my finger.

Honestly, I have been sure about Amy since I met her. We had quite a few trials and tribulations the first six months of our relationship (read: we broke up as often as most people change underwear), but I knew all along that she was right for me. THANK GOD she wised up and realized that she couldn't possibly allow me to slip away! Lucky girl, she is.

I am looking forward to May 27th.... I am beyond thrilled to celebrate my relationship with Amy in the company of our families and friends. And I am going to look damn good in that wedding dress. Oh, yeah... and then there is the excitement of offering to build a future with Amy, offering her my love and devotion, and commiting my life to her. That stuff is pretty cool, too.

Yeah, my feet are feeling just fine.

Told You So

2006-05-17T15:47:00.000-04:00

Just so you understand the people I work with:

Co-worker: Yeah, I was out of the office all last week because my friend in North Carolina was committing suicide.

Me: (in my head) WTF? Did you just say that? Rather glibly? And did you go there to help her? Or stop her? WTF?
(out loud) Gosh... um... I am sorry to hear that.

Co-worker: Yeah, she isn't even a close friend. I think it was a God thing. You know, the Holy Spirit working in me to save her.

Me: (in my head) Uh-huh. And did God also tell you to shout out that you "saved her." I am sure you just received your reward on Earth for that one... so don't go looking for a reward in heaven.
(out loud) Glad things worked out. So, about this project...
**************

TOLD you this place is whacked.

Feeling HOT, HOT, HOT

2006-05-16T14:42:00.000-04:00

My sister comes into the Tampa Bay area for work about once every three weeks or so. When she is here, she and I usually get to spend one night playing in the kitchen. Last night, I actually did most of the cooking (She has a degree in hospitality. She can whip up an entire meal in the time it takes me to chop an onion. Seriously.) I only cut my finger once. Which I have NEVER done before while cooking. My sister looked at the two tiny droplets of blood on a paper towel and acted like I had severed an appendage. OH MY GOD! IS THAT YOUR BLOOD ON THAT PAPER TOWEL?!? Over-protective little sister. Sheesh.

Anyway, the menu last night was African Peanut Soup and Spinach Chickpea Curry. The soup, although it takes quite a while to simmer, was excellent. It may be my new favorite soup. The curry... oh, the curry. I ASKED Angie, as I was making dinner, if she didn't think a whole TABLESPOON of curry paste sounded like a bit much. No, no, if the recipe says so, just go with it. Yeah.

We all got about four bites into the curry before we could feel our sinuses igniting. Two more bites, our heads were in flames. The stuff was so hot, we couldn't eat it. Literally. So hot, in fact, that Angie almost fell over the dogs' gate trying to sprint to the bathroom. That hot.

Note to self: Curry paste = lethal weapon.

You Will Be SO Relieved....

2006-05-15T14:41:00.000-04:00

I took my wedding dress (and, yes, it is an honest to God wedding dress.... and NO I do not look like a cream puff) to have it altered today. Whew! You were nervous about that one, weren't you?

The conversation with the seamstress went something like this:

Seamstress (a.k.a. Mrs. Swan from Mad tv): You need alter? You try on dress.

Me: Uh... yeah, yeah... I need alterations to this dress.

Mrs. Swan: You try on. In back. Curtains. You see.

Me: Uh. Okay.
(I change into a dress that is obviously too big for me everywhere except the hips)

Mrs. Swan: You need alteration on this dress? Too big?

Me: Uh... yeah. Too big and too long?

Mrs. Swan: Where your bra?

Me: Well, I was hoping to not have to wear one?

Mrs. Swan: You get married? This marriage dress? You get married, no wear bra?

Me: (mortified) I can grab a strapless bra. That is fine.

Mrs. Swan: Turn round. Why this long piece in back? Only long on top, not bottom. You want take in long piece?

Me: (confused) Um... I think they meant it to be a train, kinda? You can take it in though. That is fine.

Mrs. Swan: You turn round again. When wedding? Turn round.

Me: Uh, yeah... wedding... It's in two weeks. On the 27th of May.

Mrs. Swan: Okay, turn round again. Okay, step down. Done. You pick up Saturday at 2. (she walks away)

That's right. I was poked and prodded by Mrs. Swan for 30 minutes first thing this morning. All before my first cup of coffee.

Happy Monday!

Fear*

2006-05-11T13:30:00.000-04:00

The summer after our sophomore year in college, my girlfriend and I decided to stay in Tallahassee instead of living at home for the summer. We would get to spend the whole summer together. But there was a down side. We had to live in scholarship housing. We could share a room, but we couldn't let anyone know we were gay. Yeah. Consequently, she and I spent many a night walking around campus, chatting and smoking clove cigarettes.

One evening, the campus was particularly quiet. We were walking across the large parking lot known as The Dust Bowl. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white car rounding the corner. I immediately tensed. Something wasn't right.

The car picked up speed and screeched into the parking lot. I spun my head around to determine the extent of the threat. And then I saw it. A shotgun. Stuck out of the car window. At the same time, I realized that there were at least 5 men in the car. I could hear them shouting at us to get down. But I knew that lying on the ground would mean a gang rape or death. I wasn't going to easily surrender to either.

My head was spinning, my heart was pounding... I screamed at my girlfriend to run. I tore off toward the street, screaming. But my screams were echoing off of the empty buildings. Campus was desolate. No one could hear me. I was going to have to save myself.

Suddenly, a thought literally sucked the wind out of me. Where was my girlfriend? Why wasn't she right beside me?!

I looked back. Her eyes immediately met mine. She was literally frozen with fear. Oh my God. They can't hurt her. Not her. And in a split second, I made my decision. I was going back for her. I whirled around and ran toward her, as the men in the car sped toward her too. Not her. They can't have her.

I grabbed her hand and we took off diagonally through the parking lot, toward the buildings. Still screaming. And running. And I knew they might catch up to us. But they would have to take us both this time.

My memory stops there. I can't remember why they left. Maybe it was our screaming. Or maybe we were just more feisty than they had counted on. I can tell you, it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.

But, in the end, I am not certain what frightened me more: starring down the barrel of a shotgun or realizing that I loved someone so much that I would sacrifice my life for her.

*Trista began this short story theme last week.

Why? Because I am CRAZY.

2006-05-10T13:09:00.000-04:00

I sincerely want to thank ya'll for your words of support and well wishes as I faced my 75 mile journey from Miami to Key Largo. I was scared. Out of my mind. And for good reason, as I later discovered. But it helped to know that the internets were pulling for me.

So, the Tale of the MS 150 Bike Ride...

On Saturday morning, we got up at 3:00 a.m. To head to Homestead to start the ride. No, I didn't mis-type anything. 3:00 a.m. And I was so nervous that I couldn't even be tired. No, wide-eyed and bushy tailed. That was me.

Why was I nervous? Well, when I signed up for the ride, I hadn't really considered the route we would be taking. I was focused on whether or not I could pedal a bicycle for 75 miles. But, the night before the ride, I began to ponder how one would travel from Miami to Key Largo. And then it came to me... one does that by riding on TWO LANE ROADS. There is no other route. There is no way to get to the Keys except this TWO LANE ROAD. That we would be sharing with VEHICLES. Cue Kendra to get NO sleep.

So, around 4:45 a.m., when we finally got all of our crap together (there were five girls riding and two accompanying cheerleaders... that is some serious chaos. Like wrangling cats.) and were headed to Homestead, I mentioned my nervousness to my little sister. Her response? Oh yeah, there really aren't many precautions in place. One year someone died on the ride. WTF???

So, armed with the knowledge that someone died trying to complete this ride, I embarked on my journey. It was 7:40 a.m. First obstacle: sunscreen in my eyes. That's right. I am trying to navigate a bicycle with only one eye open. Oh, and did I mention that I had never ridden this particular bicycle for more than one mile before? Uh huh. Brand new bike. On a 75 mile ride. BRILLIANT. (As an aside, I am in love with the new bike now... but STILL! Who starts a brand new relationship on a 75 mile ride?!?)

Things go pretty well for the first 30 miles. Keep in mind that my "training" consisted of two lengthy rides. Yes, only two. The longest of those two was around 34 miles. So, miles 30-40 went ... badly. VERY badly. I thought I was going to pass out. Then I thought I was going to throw up. It was 11:30ish in the South Florida sun. The heat was coming up off of the pavement in waves. I was guzzling water out of my pak... and drinking Gatorade at every stop... but the heat was almost unbearable. I seriously began to question if I could make it.

Amy was incredibly kind at mile 40. There was a rest stop. She brought me Gatorade. She found a tiny patch of shade for me. Because there was NO SHADE ANYWHERE on the route or in most of the rest stops. Just sun. Blazing sun. Amy gave me a pep talk. We were sticking together at this point. The other girls were ahead of us. The next stop was lunch at mile 50.

Somehow, I rallied after the rest and Gatorade. Feeling pretty good, I was keeping a decent pace. Decent, not good. We were the Happy Tortoise Cycling Team, after all. But, right before lunch, things got really confusing. The route wasn't marked well. There were no signs telling us that a rest stop was coming up. Amy was dead tired and convinced we were going the wrong way. Then she was certain we had missed the rest stop. I was equally certain that we had NOT missed the rest stop, but kept that mostly to myself to avoid having a circa 1983 Trek thrown at my head. We asked three different people how far the rest area was. The first person said it was half a mile. The second person told us we had, indeed, missed it AND LUNCH ALONG WITH IT. The third person confirmed that we were only a short distance away... but by this point, Amy had had enough. She caught a ride for the last mile before lunch. I pedaled away doggedly.

Lunch... yeah, no one told me that when your body is that exhausted, you really have little interest in food. It tried to eat pasta. Nope. Fruit. I could eat fruit. And more Gatorade. And water. But anything solid sat in the pit of my stomach like a baseball.

Amy and I had a lengthy discussion about whether or not she wanted to continue after lunch. I knew if she didn't, that I needed to cut my break short and get on the road as quickly as possible. She was insistent that, while there was nothing she wanted less than to get back on her bicycle, she felt compelled to go on. So we set out together. But within about 3 miles, it became apparent that Amy wasn't going to make it 20+ miles. I lost my riding partner.

This brings me to the most trying part of my journey. The last 25 miles of this ride were the most desolate, isolated, soul-scorching landscape I have ever seen. There was NOTHING but grass. Brown, dry grass. And occasionally a bit of water. The smell of death was literally everywhere... I was constantly gagging or sucking down water to avoid vomiting. I prayed. I begged for mercy. I cried. I considered quitting. But I pressed on anyway. I had to. I can't explain why. I just had to finish.

Then, the most amazing thing happened. I pulled into the rest stop 11 miles from the finish line... and I saw Betsy running toward me to greet me. She was jumping and bouncing and handing me Gatorade... And she didn't even know that the whole time I had just been praying that she might be at one of the rest stops. That maybe if I saw her, I would be able to finish. And there she was. I cried. And then I realized that Angie was there, too. And Heather. And Doc. And Laura. And Brenda. They had ALL waited for me. The girls that had trained for this by riding every weekend. The girls that could pace at 17 mph, while I could only ride 13 mph by this point. THEY ALL WAITED. Very few times in my life have I been that grateful.

They rode with me for the remaining 11 miles. Angie was there when I told her I didn't think I could make the last 4 miles. And she and Heather calmly but firmly told me I WOULD ride those last 4 miles. Heather promised that the scenery and civilization of Key Largo would make those last 4 miles fly by. They didn't. But it was a nice gesture on her part.

I have rarely been as proud of myself as I was when I crossed the finish line. I felt like I had searched the depths of my soul and found something precious... my strength. And, as gruelling as the whole experience was, I would do it again.

But, maybe next time I will train a bit more. Heh.

Just Dropping In to Say Hey!

2006-05-05T12:01:00.000-04:00

In a few short hours, Ames and I will be on the road to Ft. Lauderdale. We will spend the night with my sister, then we will get up at 3:30 a.m. to head to Miami for the MS 150 Bike Tour.

I am excited and nervous. I have that clenched up feeling in my stomach that I get when I am overwhelmed by something. Seventy-five miles, folks. That is a long way. What if I can't do it? What if, what if, what if??? But, at the same time, I am really looking forward to proving to myself that I CAN do this.

I am sure there will be pictures. And I promise to write about the experience when I return. Heck, I promise to write about SOMETHING when I return. It has been too long, and I have reached a place where I NEED to write again.

For those of you who enjoy storytelling, skip on over to An Accident of Hope and read Trista's post for the day. Maybe you have a story to tell? (Suzanne, I am specifically looking at you on this one!)

Have a wonderful weekend! And, if you think of it, send me thoughts of courage and strength on Saturday. I will need them!

Spring Break

2006-04-25T15:14:00.000-04:00

No, no... don't be all jealous. I don't get spring break. But I AM taking a spring break from the blog. Blog. What a fun word... bloggitty, bloggitty, blog, blog.

See, told you I needed a break.

I will be back on May 1st. Woot!

Yurt. Say It with Me. You Know You Want To...

2006-04-20T16:26:00.000-04:00

I am in a mode. One of those types where I want to clean out everything in the house (read: give all the crap away). And I want to live a yurt. Far away from the minutiae that seems to bog down my life sometimes. Like right now. I want to wake up and go hiking. And read my Bible out on the front porch of my yurt (I know, I am upscale with the front porch). And gather berries and let the land sustain me (okay, now any of you who know me in person know that this part is really over the top. I couldn't spot a poisonous berry or plant if my life depended on it. Heck, forget sustaining myself off of the land... I would be happy just to get in my five servings of veggies a day)

But you know what I would settle for? Honestly. Not looking at the same stupid crap that has been cluttering up my house for the past year and a half.

*sigh* Maybe I should take up yoga again.

And Then There are the Times She Listens

2006-04-19T15:37:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I had a baby sickness. If you don't know what I am talking about, it means that you are NOT reading Finslippy. And that, my friends, is beyond tragic. But I digress.

For those of you who are obviously not hip enough to enjoy the ingenious writing style of Finslippy, I will enlighten you on the concept of a baby sickness. It is when you have no real symptoms except a slight fever and general weakness. Baby sickness. Because only babies get a little tiny fever for no apparent reason.

Having a baby sickness and staying home may SEEM like a blast. Oooh! I am not really that sick, so I can get some things done and rest. Ohh, maybe I will watch a movie, but probably not because I will be oh-so-productive, because I don't really feel sick. Except for the feverish feelings that keep coming and going. But I can rise above that! I can be productive.

No. you. can't.

I tried all day yesterday to reason with myself. Self, you don't feel that bad. Self, it won't hurt you to throw some laundry in. But then every time I listened to my inner taskmaster, I stood up and felt weak and sweaty. See? Baby sickness.

After lunch, Amy called me to ask if I had eaten lunch. I had. But I lamented the lack of chicken soup in the house. Surely, chicken soup can cure a baby sickness. It can cure your SOUL, after all.

So, Amy showed up in the late afternoon.... with FOUR KINDS of soup from a deli down the street. All that effort to defeat a baby sickness. That, my friends, is love.

I Am the Decider

2006-04-19T09:32:00.000-04:00

Uh...

"I hear the voices, and I read the front page, and I know the speculation. But I'm the decider, and I decide what is best. And what's best is for Don Rumsfeld to remain as the secretary of defense." --G.W. Bush*

Brilliant that our president's retorts smack of kindergarten playground speak.

*Courtesy CNN

No, Honey, They Didn't Misspell Monday...

2006-04-14T12:22:00.000-04:00

Last night there was a Maundy Thursday service at church. I was a little embarrassed when Amy asked me why they call it Maundy Thursday, and I had no idea. I made up an answer (of course!), but truly had no clue until Magrey explained the meaning of "maundy" during the service last night. Because I KNOW you are curious about all things that interest me, here you go:

Maundy Thursday is the Thursday before Easter. Christians remember it as the day of the Last Supper, when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and established the ceremony known as the Eucharist.

The night of Maundy Thursday is the night on which Jesus was betrayed by Judas in the Garden of Gethsemane.

The word "maundy" comes from the command given by Christ at the Last Supper, that we should love one another. *

When I went to the service last night, I truly didn't know what to expect. I hadn't been to a Maundy Thursday service since my first year of college, which is longer ago than I would like to admit. I knew there would be communion, because it is the night of the Last Supper. But... would we sing? Would we focus on silent meditation instead? In the Christian calendar, it is one of the holiest nights of the year (if not the holiest). How does one honor such a night?

I had forgotten a key element of the night of the Last Supper: Jesus washed the disciples' feet. This was a completely selfless act of servitude. God Incarnate washed the feet of men who were flawed, selfish, judgmental ... people who are just like me. He performed this lowly task as an act of love. And then... and then... he commanded that we all love each other with the same selfless, sacrificing love.

It tears my heart to think about what that commandment truly entails. And to think what a better world we would live in, if we even tried to love like that. For a moment, I could see myself as one of the disciples, looking Jesus face to face as He washed my feet. And I know I am not even close to worthy.

Last night we washed each others' feet, as a symbol of self-sacrificing love. Of servitude. Of the desire to truly follow Jesus and share in His ministry of love and compassion.

I washed the feet of a twenty-something year old man I had never seen before. I poured water over his feet, and then carefully and gently dried them with a towel. When I looked up at him, there was a deep connection for a moment. An unspoken understanding of each other. And, of course, Christ knew about the intimate connection that compassionate, merciful acts, acts of love, foster...

To honor Christ's sacrifice on the cross for me, he commands that I love others the same way he loved me. The intensity of that love on this Good Friday takes my breath away.

*Taken from the BBC Ethics & Religion/Christianity page.

Greetings from the Third Rung of Hell (aka the place I work)

2006-04-13T15:25:00.000-04:00

I really want a day or two off. A little mental-health vacation. I want to read some books, finally whip out that pilates dvd I bought two months ago, enjoy too much tea. Those sorts of things. I need to finish cleaning out my closet... I have given away a ton of clothes. Every time someone comes over, I send them home with some article of clothing that no longer fits me. See? It's a win-win situation. I don't have to look at clothing that makes me feel fat. And they get a door prize. Brilliant!

The coffee at work tasted weird this morning. I think they are trying to kill us. Hm. In other work related news, did you see this? Yup, that is where I work. Lovely place.

Perhaps I will take Monday off. It is Easter Monday, you know.

Suckage

2006-04-12T15:38:00.000-04:00

Not only has work today sucked donkey butt, but I also found out that I did NOT get the marketing job I had applied for.

How in the world could they have passed up my cotton candy pink toenails?!?

Buh.

Snacks

2006-04-11T16:25:00.000-04:00

My only news for the day... and I know how pitiful this is, so please don't tell me... is that I had chocolate milk (in a Thermos) and graham crackers for a snack. I felt like I should go hang out with all of the four year olds that were probably having that exact same snack this afternoon.

Yeah, today was a day I could have gotten into eating paste.

Funny, Funny Girls...

2006-04-10T14:57:00.000-04:00

At one point this Sunday, after watching Lost for hours*, after the Chinese food but before the coffee, I had a huge giggling fit. The kind where I double over and can't really breathe. It was even funny when I stubbed my toe walking in to the coffee table and spilled coffee everywhere. Somewhere along this time, I looked at Ames and said, "My GOD, how long have we been together?!? I just can't imagine a time when we weren't just like this." And I really can't.

Amy and I began our relationship with hours upon hours of finding out everything there was to know about each other. No subject was taboo. We talked for hours almost every night for almost the first year of our relationship. And yet she continues to constantly surprise me. I am surprised by her level of empathy. I am deeply touched by her sensitivity to my beliefs. She is amazingly tender and outrageously silly, in turns.

Amy and I have a blast together. Truly. There are times that we absolutely cannot get enough of each other. And funny... oh my LORD, we think we are funny. I love how much she loves me, how often she makes me laugh, and how silly we act together.

Hey, Ames, wanna make out?

* SHHHH! Say nothing about Lost. We borrowed the first season and haven't finished it yet. We know NOTHING about the second season. So, www.zipit.com

Cute Little Barista

2006-04-07T15:05:00.000-04:00

Making it through the days at work lately has become all about finding the simple (albeit small) pleasures of being on USF's campus. The campus itself is beautiful. And today when I walked outside, I genuinely was thankful for the blue skies, the sunshine and the palm trees. A perfect late Spring day (yes, April 7th feels like late Spring in South Florida), I felt like I should be doing a jig to show my appreciation. Instead, I grinned at everyone I passed on the sidewalk. Not that smile that says, "I will smirk at you because I think I should. But I will not get one iota of pleasure out of the non-verbal pleasantries we are exchanging." No, this was more like, "I am down with G-O-D! I am FILLED WITH CHRIST'S LOVE!"*

So, I am strolling along, and I pop in to Starbucks for a grande skinny latte. I love that they call it a skinny latte. It makes me think of skinny cows. And the barista has had WAY too much caffeine. Or sugar. Or maybe she is down with G-O-D? Anyway, she is bouncing behind the register. BOUNCING.

I heard her offer the older gentleman in front of me a sample of a Blackberry Green Tea Frappiccino. She didn't offer me one. She just pushed the sample slowly toward me, looking away as if she didn't know what was going on. Then she smiled at me and nodded, as if to say, "Go on... you know you want this green concoction with whipped cream and blackberry syrup. You KNOW you do." And more bouncing.

"Wow. No thanks," I say. But I am smiling, because... well... ADORABLE. She was just so happy. And chipper. And so much like I was when I was in grad school. So, I turn around to the two guys behind me: "C'mon. Ya'll know one of you wants this ... uh..."

"Blackberry Green Tea Frappiccino!" she practically chirps. All smiles, this one:
"Nah, nah, though. Straight up, I just made a few before my chemistry class. Usually they go so fast. But it's totally cool. You know, if you don't want it."

I am feeling a bit panicked at this moment, kicking myself for not taking the dang sample when she offered it to me. If anyone bursts this kid's bubble, I am going to personally kick their ass.

Then, out of nowhere, another customer swoops in and takes the last Blackberry Green Tea Frappiccino sample! And there was much rejoicing. No, seriously. The girl did a little happy jig behind the counter. And there was some whooping. And more bouncing.

Thank God for the cute little barista. Because of her, I have made it through one more day at work without playing in traffic.

* You are never going to get the inside jokes, if you don't watch Saved.

Ack!

2006-04-06T16:41:00.000-04:00

I know my posts have been a little slim lately. But, to be honest, this job puts me in such a foul humor that I don't even want to post. In fact, after I had revised THE SAME promotional material for a training SIX DIFFERENT TIMES TODAY, I im'ed Amy and threatened to quit right then. Fortunately, she knows I am pretty much full of crap when it comes to things like that. But, boy howdy, would it have felt good today to have told them to take this job and shove it.

And, yes, that song has been in my head all day.

Ready, Set... DONATE!

2006-04-04T15:37:00.000-04:00

Gruel-ing

2006-04-04T12:23:00.000-04:00

Due to Friday night's indiscretions, I spent most of Saturday feeling like I should be stuck to the tire of a semi truck. I woke up all, "We should go get breakfast! I am starving." Then, at the restaurant, I was all, "Uh... I think I am going to go for a little stroll in the parking lot ... you know, just in case things get a little... pukey." Fabulous.

I finally return from my stroll looking slightly less green. At this point, I am begging for mercy, searching for something that I will be able to keep down.

It just so happened that chicken noodle soup was the soup of the day. I eagerly order a bowl, thinking that its broth-y goodness is excactly what I need to soothe my stomach.

Except when it comes out, it is the color and consistency of corn chowder. But without the corn. And without the noodles that chicken noodle soup is famous for. Nope, this has some sort of dumpling mess in it. Mmmm.

Back to the lovely green hue.

I should have taken into consideration my gruel-ing morning (gruel-ing. heh. get it? The chicken noodle soup was like gruel... Boy, you are a tough crowd) when I was ordering dinner that evening. But I was just beginning to shake the queasy feeling (after many saltines). So I was all, "Oh, I know what will make me feel better! Soup!"

Okay, it was a seafood chowder. But I love clam chowder (both Manhattan and New England), so I took a leap of faith and ordered it.

Hm. Let's just say that we finally moved it to the END of the table, because no one could stand the smell of it anymore.

Ohh, I know, let's pretend we are in Ybor, having horrible food and crappy service! Oh... wait...

You Are Getting Very Sleepy...

2006-04-03T16:44:00.000-04:00

Losing that hour of sleep this weekend is killing me!
Updates & stories from the weekend tomorrow. Promise!

Hello? Is that you?

2006-03-30T14:02:00.000-05:00

For those of you who know me in person (or have read this long enough to feel like you do), here are some amusing facts about today:

1. I woke up at 5:45 a.m.
2. I only hit snooze once and then hopped (yes, I said hopped) out of bed.
3. I showered and did my hair BEFORE any sort of caffination.
4. I chose English Breakfast Tea as my caffination medium this morning. I most often choose tea over coffee in the mornings now.
5. I put on make-up while drinking my tea. (Someone slap my dad on the back... I think he started choking when he got to the make-up part)
6. My suit was already crisp, pressed and ready to go. Yes, I said suit. Shut up.
7. My toenails are cotton candy pink.
8. I must have come off as rather charming in my interview; I will most likely be returning for a second interview next week.
9. The woman who interviewed me offered to show me the ladies room, so that I could change into jeans before going to my current job. Because the folks I work with now would KNOW something was up if I showed up from my mysterious "appointment" this morning in a suit.
10. I am in love with my pink toenails & can't stop looking at them.

Christian Music and The Ladies

2006-03-29T12:29:00.000-05:00

Okay, I will admit it: I grew up listening to Amy Grant. Not only listening to her, but wanting to BE her. (Do you people SEE how much I trust you with my dorkiness???)
And then there was the obligatory DC Talk in my music stash. (I realize some of ya'll have no idea what I am talking about... See what you missed by not being a Jesus freak as a teenager??? Go watched Saved. It will fill you in on most of the basics).

As I was listening to the alternative Christian radio program last night, I realized that the face of Christian music has changed quite a bit. Somehow it seems more applicable. More real.

Now, admittedly, I am way more lame than I ever thought I would be. Whatever.
Anyway, this is the song I heard last night. I like.

Ladies by Flame
(Feat. DaTruth)

Back then if I was a Jew the life that I led would not be common
I would be in prayer shawls anticipatin' His comin'
between 1 and 30 A.D. I'd be under the Romans
thankin' Yaweh that I'm not a slave, Gentile, or woman
now don't get it twisted a woman had to be honored
if you came from out of her womb you had to obey your momma
for the fact that she was a woman wasn't the problem
it's because she was forbidden to publicly read the Talmud
plus only allowed to be either in
the balcony or on the floor divided to avoid problems and
forbade to pray out loud
when it came to religious life for
women it was grey outside
till Christ came in the picture
switched up some customs
now these same women are
providin' Jesus with substance
leavin' Jewish men grieved
they ain't agree
cause out of these women's
means they ministered to their needs

Look at Jesus maneuva in spite of the culture/
taken ladies and shapin' em makin' em soldiers
peep this
type of behavior was taboo
Jesus seen with Joanna (Luke
8:13) would make Him a bad Jew
but Jesus called some of
the grimiest women
like prostitutes even some of the
slimiest women
in hot pursuit
women are weak is not the truth
and just to prove this point ladies I got the proof
wouldn't be a Timothy without Timothy's moms Eunice
speakin' to Tim in them spiritual psalms the way women
were treated then these are similar times
but yet the men
of God recognize ya strength
who were the first witnesses
of the empty tomb
who birth Jesus being a virgin Holy Spirit consumed
who stood for God way back in them Exodus times
and wouldn't even let em kill they son
(Exodus 1:16)

Hook:
Jesus did walk with women in a special way this
was odd for men in the first century
Look at God callin'
women to the ministry
Jesus did walk with the ladies

(Da T.R.U.T.H.):
Just think about this you're real
fit in Abercrombie and Fitch
and when you in the mall you
thinkin' about how to catch fish
imagine you in Von Dutch
on a date no lust in the place
dude got a crush cause how
you hustle your faith
you ain't tryin' be tuck at the waist
cause you spend more time in the presence of God than
adjustin' your face
listen let me cut to chase and
encourage the beauty of holiness you should just want to
be chased

(FLAME):
Ladies we know it's real and it gets hard sometimes
especially with the pressure of being flawless now
you can't do enough crunches to be the perfect woman
God ain't lookin' for perfect size but a worshippin' woman
ok you gain weight maybe had an abortion
made a mistake had a divorce and
it still ain't over Jesus
forgives this is the gospel
so don't let that stuff stop you

Love It...

2006-03-28T14:26:00.000-05:00

From an article about Shoebox Greeting cards that never made it to print:

Among the losers is a holiday card that announces on its face, "Christmas just wouldn't be the same without peanut brittle." Then, inside: "Or Jesus."

HA! Now that is some funny stuff, folks!

Aha!

2006-03-28T11:44:00.000-05:00

You thought I had been abducted by aliens, didn't you?

Well, there were no aliens... but I did have a close encounter with Snoopy Surprise last night. Wanna hear about it? Sure you do!

Last night we went to dinner at the Proud Lion Pub. This place has been around since Amy was a little tyke. Her parents used to take her there when she was growing up. I am all about nostalgia... so we decided to revisit memory lane & check it out.

Snoopy Surprise is also something from Amy's childhood. Apparently, it is hamburger with brown gravy and mashed potatoes. Or something of that nature. She asked me once to make it for her. I told her, in no uncertain terms, that Snoopy Surprise would remain one of those dishes that stayed in her childhood, unless she could convince her mom to whip it up one night.

So, we are at the Proud Lion last night. I order steak stuffed with mushrooms. And what do I get? You guessed it... Snoopy Surprise! But the biggest surprise was that everything on my plate came straight out of a can! Whoo! Canned mushrooms. Canned gravy. Powdered potatoes. SURPRISE!

Speak to Me, O Kind Universe

2006-03-22T13:33:00.000-05:00

My boss is in the office today. Normally, she is based out of Palm Beach. She comes in about once a month. If that. And, no matter how long her visit is scheduled to last, she only stays half the time. She is here today. But she didn't come in until noon. Allergies, don't you know. Uh huh.

Her presence here today means that I can't run out and grab whatever I would like for lunch. I have to at least give the illusion of working a full day by staying on campus for lunch. Okay, not great but doable.

So, I head over to Subway. I think aliens ate my brain recently, because I haven't had a pleasurable experience at Subway... oh, EVER. Maybe I was feeling forgiving. Maybe I am just in a boredom coma from this job. At any rate, I headed over to Subway.

Things started off a bit rocky. I asked for ham & turkey with provolone. I got ham with American. Eh. No biggie. At least it was on 6" inch wheat. I put on fun toppings: tomato, spinach, banana peppers, black olives, green peppers, spicy mustard. Hello, happy, tasty little sandwich.

I traipsed back to my office to eat while reading Dr. Phil online. Don't ask. It is a lunchtime ritual. I unwrap my very pretty sandwich and bite into it. The. bread. is. crunchy. And NO, I didn't have it toasted. The bread was overcooked on the outside. And barely edible. Are you joking my face off with this???

So, I did what anyone else would have done. I skinned my bread. Don't look at me like that. You know what I mean. I pulled off the hard as a rock outer layer of the bread. And ate the soft (very thin) layer of salvageable bread.

I think it was the universe looking out for me, telling me I should have had a wrap instead.

Reason 412 to Change Jobs

2006-03-21T10:57:00.000-05:00

I recieved an email from my boss addressing me as Kinder.

Oh, Kids...

2006-03-20T15:56:00.000-05:00

I fear I am just not feeling bloggy today. All is well, though. Let's see...

Amy & I went on a 33.43 mile bike ride from Tarpon Springs to Clearwater & back. Good times. I was hungry by mile 15. Amy was cranky on mile 25. But we still loved each other on mile 33.43.

In similar news, Amy will NOT be sending you a pony in the mail. But she may ask you for your address (snail mail variety). Do NOT be afraid.

I saw a woman in a car with a Choose Life license plate smoking a cigarette. Uh?

Michelle Ramer throws an excellent party.

Ooohhh, and I have switched to skinny lattes in an effort to be skinnier myself. And I still like them a latte.

Have you met our new friends Aaron & Mikey? We heart them. (Please see the comment under the picture of me with Mikey. I am posting this picture as a protest of our under-representation)

That's all I've got for today. Ttfn.

I Heart the Chuzzle

2006-03-17T15:57:00.000-05:00

Really. I do.

Woobie

2006-03-16T12:25:00.000-05:00

Woobie n. a security blanket; a blankie; a favorite toy or object. Also wooby.*

Lots of little kids have woobies. Exhibit A from Mr. Mom (1983):
[Dad trying to get Kenny to give up his security blanket]
Dad: I understand that you little guys start out with your woobies and you think they're great... and they are, they are terrific. But pretty soon, a woobie isn't enough. You're out on the street trying to score an electric blanket, or maybe a quilt. And the next thing you know, you're strung out on bedspreads Ken. That's serious.**

And adults can have woobies left over from childhood. Exhibit B from Garden State:
Sam: This is Tickle.
Andrew Largeman: What is Tickle?
Sam: Tickle is my favorite thing in the whole world. It's all that's left of Nanny, my blanket.
Andrew Largeman: Tickle is all that remains. Was there a hurricane or something?
Sam: Shut up! ***

So, yeah, not weird to have a woobie. But what might be a bit strange is to have MULTIPLE woobies (I am looking at you here, Amy).

For Amy, bandanas function as woobies (when they are not in my hair). She carries them around in her pocket. She now keeps the pink one in her huggy pillow, which is ALSO a woobie.

Bikes are woobies (she stares at them blankly while they sit IN THE LIVING ROOM)

Heck, even the camera she uses to take these pictures is a woobie! (Look at Betsy's face here. Heh.)

And, please, don't forget the backpack woobie.

So, don't feel bad about having a woobie. Chances are YOU only have one.

* Courtesy of Double-Tongued Word Wrester
** Courtesy of IMDb
*** IMDb, again

Jesus Loves Me. No, Really. He Does.

2006-03-14T11:22:00.000-05:00

I joined Hyde Park United Methodist Church this past Sunday. Now, I never thought I would join a church. I am not really a joiner. Seems too conformist, you know? But I love this church. And if you talk to me for more than two seconds, you are going to hear me gush about the friendliness of the congregation, the wonderful social justice work they do, yada, yada, yada. And, even though I had to go through a seven week class (which is no match for my dorkiness, but I hate being told that I HAVE to go to a class), I was really hyped about my Sunday Church Joining Thingie.

But... If you know me, you also know that I am always running late. Always. For everything. And this was no exception. (But see, I set my alarm. I did. And then I thought I was wide awake, and I turned it off. But I didn't MEAN to oversleep. Surely you can relate? No? Hmmm)

Amy (Amy who NEVER goes to church) and I were speeding toward church (forgive me God, for I have sped) at 9:35. Which would be fine. Except church starts at 9:30. And then...stuck at every stoplight. EVERY one. We parked at 9:41. Amy is livid at this point. She hates being late. Hates. it. Unfortunately, I don't think she has mentioned that in the past two and a half years. But this morning, oh this morning, mention it she did. Several times.

But back to the point at hand: 9:41 and we are finally at church. I open the door to the sanctuary and can tell they have begun the induction of new members. So, do I slink into the back row? Heck, no! I walk right up the center aisle, with Amy in tow, and sit in the second row. Look, kids, I HAD to. What if they had already called my name? If I walked up the aisle, I was sure Magrey would see me and make sure I got called up. Or at least that was my thought in my moment of panic.

So, Ames and I sat down. And they called my name literally less than a minute later. I bounce up to the front of the church, all pleased with myself. Amy is just shaking her head the entire time.

When I sat back down after being inducted into their club (as Amy says), Ames looked at me incredulously and said, "Jesus really DOES love you, doesn't He?" And I must say that this past Sunday morning goes down on my list as reason number 3219 that I know Jesus loves me.

Booger

2006-03-13T10:58:00.000-05:00

Saturday afternoon found Amy and I sitting outside on the patio at Valentine's (a bar/nightclub), taking in the late afternoon daylight. Late afternoon/early evening is my favorite time of day. The light gives everything a warm, yellow glow. And, on this particular evening, the weather was warm, with clear skies and a soft, cool breeze. Perfect.

And then ... out of nowhwere... Amy flicked a booger on me. Just FLICK! And a booger lands on my shorts. GROSS.

So romantic, she is.

For the Love of Estelle

2006-03-09T16:18:00.000-05:00

I only did this because Estelle said she would cry if she was the only one who filled this out. Oh, well, and I was bored at work too.

LAYER ONE:
-- Name: Kendra
-- Birth date: September 22
-- Birthplace: Decatur, GA
-- Current Location: Tampa, FL
-- Eye Color: Green
-- Hair Color: Brown
-- Height: 5'2"
-- Righty or Lefty: Right
-- Zodiac Sign: Virgo/Libra cusp

LAYER TWO:
-- Your heritage: Irish/Dutch/Native American
-- The shoes you wore today: Birkenstock clogs
-- Your weakness: Good beer
-- Your fears: Dying young
-- Your perfect pizza: cheese, please! (I hear I will LOVE Babe's)
-- Goal you'd like to achieve: obtaining a Ph.D. in Literature and finally becoming a professor

LAYER THREE:
-- Your most overused phrase on AIM: (am I lame if I don't have one?)
-- Your first waking thoughts: It can't really be morning already.
-- Your best physical feature: my freckles
-- Your most missed memory: What is a missed memory? What do I miss? Tallahassee back in the day (Angie, Betsy, Lindsay, Amanda, Mandy, Cherae, Junior, Tamara, Amanda Smith, Adam Crandall, Miss Kris)

LAYER FOUR:
-- Pepsi or Coke: Pepsi
-- McDonald's or Burger King: Um... I am looking away from this b/c I shouldn't be eating any of it
-- Single or group dates: single
-- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: Ick! Neither.
-- Chocolate or vanilla: I really enjoy a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup now & again
-- Cappuccino or coffee: Grande 2% Latte from Starbucks

LAYER FIVE:
-- Smoke: Quitting b/c the Chuzzle hates it
-- Cuss: Try not to too often.
-- Sing: Can't carry a tune in a bucket
-- Take a shower everyday: Yup. Unless Amy and I have one of those weekends where we pretend we are camping & avoid showering altogether
-- Do you think you've been in love: Do I think I have??? Uh? I have. And I am.
-- Want to go to college: To get my Ph.D.
-- Liked high school: Loathed it
-- Want to get married: May 27th, 2006 to Amy Elizabeth Kellogg
-- Believe in yourself: Jesus loves me. (I know that isn't an answer, but it is all I could think of. Cut a girl some slack)
-- Get motion sickness: Blech! YES.
-- Think you're attractive: cute
-- Think you're a health freak: nope. but I would like to be more health conscious
-- Get along with your parent(s): yes. I heart them.
-- Like thunderstorms: I love them. Especially if I get to stay in bed.
-- Play an instrument: I wish. I would love to take piano lessons some day.

LAYER SIX:
In the past month...
-- Drank alcohol: yes
-- Smoked: yes
-- Done a drug: no
-- Made Out: yes
-- Gone on a date: yes
-- Gone to the mall: yes
-- Eaten an entire box of Oreos: I think I would hurl.
-- Eaten sushi: yes. Thanks Amy & Travis (I hated it before this last experience)
-- Been on stage: no, but I will be in front of the whole church on Sunday
-- Been dumped: no
-- Gone skating: no
-- Made homemade cookies: no. But I have eaten them!
-- Dyed your hair: no
-- Stolen Anything: no

LAYER SEVEN:
Ever...
-- Played a game that required removal of clothing: yes
-- If so, was it mixed company: yes, but i was just checking out the girls
-- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Graduate school was a blur
-- Been caught "doing something": yes
-- Been called a tease: No. (and Amy, if you say I am easy I will hurt you)
-- Gotten beaten up: no
-- Shoplifted: no
-- Changed who you were to fit in: Yes

LAYER EIGHT:
-- Age you hope to be married: 30
-- Numbers and Names of Children: 2 kids. Choices of names include: James Lee, Andrew Cooke, Katherine Anne and Elizabeth Jane (with Kellogg as the last name)
-- Describe your Dream Wedding: Come to Skipper's on May 27th and check it out
-- How do you want to die: peacefully & suddenly
-- Where you want to go to college: Cornell
-- What do you want to be when you grow up: A country music singer
-- What country would you most like to visit: Ireland

LAYER NINE:
-- Number of drugs taken illegally: 3 different kinds
-- Number of people I could trust with my life: 3
-- Number of CDs that I own: I don't know. They are a disaster.
-- Number of piercings: 5
-- Number of tattoos: 2
-- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: approximately 3
-- Number of scars on my body: about 5. Two are from a really cool face plant I did about 2 years ago.
-- Number of things in my past that I regret: 2 (but one spanned about 6-9 months)

I Have Found My Brain

2006-03-09T10:53:00.000-05:00

Boy, looking back over the past week, my posts have really lacked substance. Did my Ash Wednesday post consume all of my creative energy? Or all my brainwaves, for that matter? GAH. I know ya'll care about whether or not I decide to inhale toxins as a hobby. But, boy does it make for dull blogging.

So, here I am again... new & improved, with actual thoughts to share!

I read Steph's blog this morning, as I do religiously (HA! Get it?!? Religiously. It's funny because she is a nun. See?) Her post made me pause and reflect on how I have changed over the years regarding people who may not share my perception of the world.

When I was in high school, I believed everything was black and white. Right and wrong. And, because I was a Christian, of COURSE I was right. People who advocated abortion were murderers. Homosexuals were hell-bound--even God was repulsed by their behavior. Anyone of a different religious faith was wrong. And if they were sincere about their faith, well then they were sincerely WRONG. (Ed. Note: It makes me cringe even to type this.)

In college, the pendulum swung. I realized I was gay and the same time I discovered feminism. So, now I hated the hetrosexist, misogynistic world. I fought for abortion of all types, in all circumstances, any time in the pregnancy. All Christians were hypocrites. Anyone who wasn't ultra-liberal needed some sort of awakening, education or a swift kick in the ass. You know why? Yup. You got it. Because they were WRONG.

I held a modified version of this stance for the next ten years or so. But things aren't always black and white. In fact, most things aren't. And, as soon as I let go of some of my blind anger (which is VERY different than anger that spurs positive action) at the social injustices in the world and my fear of those who are not exactly like me, I began to open myself to people and ideas and beliefs completely different from my own. And I no longer felt a need for hate.

Now I look at the true social injustices happening in America, and I realize that it will take both conservatives and liberals to find a viable plan to quell these injustices. If I cling to my liberal-ness so much that I alienate everyone else, where will that really get me? (For a brilliant take on this topic, check out God's Politics by Jim Wallis.)

So what am I saying really? Hm... I am going to take a stab at a VERY touchy topic to give you an illustration:

I am not pro-abortion. In fact, if you HAVE to label me, I am pro-life. However, I understand why (in my humble opinion) until certain things change abortion must be available to women. I would never stand outside a clinic and torment women entering to have an abortion. NEVER. In fact, rarely do I even enter into the abortion debate with anyone. Come on. I am not egotistical enough to think I am going to change anyone's mind on such a polarized topic. What I would do (and am looking for a way to do right now) is get involved in a movement that seeks to reduce the number of abortions performed through positive action and advocacy for women. That includes REAL sex education (not abstinence only education), availability of family planning to everyone (regardless of income), REAL support for women that choose to carry their child to term (whether they give the child up for adoption or not), and quality counseling and economic support for women who choose to raise their children.

This is all to say that I could jump into the abortion debate and yell and scream. Or I can look for a solution that people on both sides of the issue can support. The latter seems more productive to me. But it was an option I could only begin to see once I stopped turning my back on those who are different from me.

New Office

2006-03-08T14:46:00.000-05:00

Look at my new office! How fun!

Wise Guys?*

2006-03-07T11:13:00.000-05:00

Oooh, oooh! I've got a story for you!

I called my grandmother last night to wish her happy birthday. She, of course, thanked me for calling:

Honey, I am so glad you called. Because your cousin is doing her homework, and she needs to know the names of the wise men!

Huh? Like the wise men in the Bible? That go to see baby Jesus? Boy am I glad I called so I could clear up that mystery.

*Uh... and, anyone out there that knows... they are just the Magi, right? They aren't given individual names, are they?

Movin' on Up...

2006-03-07T09:59:00.000-05:00

Okay, so maybe I am not moving up.... but I am moving into a new office. Today. Which means no email and no internet. Just wanted ya'll to know that I hadn't spontaneously combusted or some such nonsense.

Thanks again for all of your support. I have accepted that this will not be a perfect journey. And that I may have to alter my life more than I had expected in order to reach the ultimate goal. But I will get there.

Back tomorrow with more exciting news from the life of Kik.

Update Lite

2006-03-05T08:27:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was one of the best Saturdays EVER.
Will blog all about it later.
No cigarettes. Yay!
Off to church & brunch & bike riding.

Thanks for all of the encouragement! It helped. A lot.

Ugh

2006-03-04T10:23:00.000-05:00

Note: It is not a good idea, if you have recently given up smoking, to go to a bar and hang out with all of your friends who smoke. You will probably give in to the temptation, making you feel horrible about yourself. In addition, you will probably get some smug looks from people that didn't think you could do it anyway.

Feeling a bit down. But, hey, today is another day. Right?

Pez

2006-03-03T14:01:00.000-05:00

As I was packing my Pez collection today, I remembered a conversation Amy & I used to have daily:

I put my arms around Amy's neck. Amy hugs me tightly, thereby pushing my head backwards as far as it will go.

Kik: Baby, I love you but I am not a Pez.

Amy: How do you know?

Kik: Because my mom wasn't a Pez.

Amy: Oh, yes. Not a Pez, then.

Amy releases Kik from Pez-head inducing hug.

Procrastination Station

2006-03-03T08:49:00.000-05:00

Right now, as I type, I should be packing up my office. To move one building over on campus. But I am NOT packing. Instead, I am going to type a rambling post. I am sure it will be rambling because it is 8:51 a.m., and I NEVER (rather wisely on my part) have anything to say before 9 a.m. But, hey, I can avoid packing for about another 10 minutes or so...

For the two days that I have not smoked, things have gone incredibly well. I have not been cranky. I even made dinner for Ames last night: pork chops with apple, garlic spinach and butternut squash. I also had two glasses of wine. And, yet, no real desire to have a cigarette (for a while I have only smoked when I drank). Of course, it helps that the St. Jude medal I am wearing is silently threatening me with CRUSHING guilt, should I give into temptation. And then there is Charlie. Can't let the Chuzzle down! Seriously, thanks ya'll for all of your support and well wishes.

Next in news... tonight we are going to see Melissa Ferrick! Should be lots of fun. We are going with the usual suspects (with Nikki and Linda as brand new additions). Oh, and the show is at Skipper's. Which is where Amy & I are having our commitment ceremony on May 27th at 4 p.m. ... (But that is a post for another time)

Whoohoo! I love me a Friday! Have a great weekend, ya'll.

(must go pack now. co-workers scurrying about, making me look bad)

St. Jude

2006-03-02T13:16:00.000-05:00

Since I am giving up smoking for Lent, I have decided to wear my St. Jude medal for encouragement.

St. Jude is the patron saint of desperate situations & lost causes.

Seems fitting, no?

Ash Wednesday

2006-03-01T14:32:00.000-05:00

Today is the beginning of the Lenten season. For those unfamiliar with the season, Lent lasts 40 days (not counting Sundays) and ends on Easter Sunday. The 40 days is symbolic of Christ's journey through the wilderness before he began his ministry. The season serves as a time of reflection and rededication of one's life to following Christ.

Right, then. I am sure that answers none of your burning questions regarding why I am observing Lent. After all, Lent has historically been observed primarily by Catholics. I am not Catholic (but I heart Catholics. insert shameless plug for my favorite nun) So why bother with the whole thing, you may ask.

Well... Consider the fact that I believe in the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ and His resurrection. Okay. I also believe that this death was one that He accepted as his offering of love for me. He could have walked away. He could have chosen a different path. But he chose sacrifice. Sacrifice because His love for me and his devotion and love for God was stronger than even death.

You still here? I didn't mean to get all "blood of the Lamb" on you (as a good friend is fond of saying). But, if you don't understand what I believe is at stake during the Lenten season, then you won't understand why I celebrate it. Alright, let's carry on.

So, Jesus Christ offered the ultimate sacrifice for me. I feel as though that deserves some sincere reflection and a bit of sacrifice on my own part. So, there are things that I have chosen to give up this season. They are things that are not good for me to begin with, which seems to fit nicely with the Easter theme of rebirth. But please don't get me wrong. Lent isn't about guilt. It is about worship and soul-searching reflection. And sometimes those things are easier to achieve when you cut out some of the distractions of everyday life.

I also see Lent as a time to incorporate something positive into my life. I am going to seek out more volunteer opportunities. I am going to devote some structured time each day to scripture reading and prayer. These are good things. So, Lent is also a time to re-prioritize my life to include these things that can often get neglected.

And, finally, as the Lenten season leads up to Easter, it is a time to be very, very grateful for all that I have been given. My family, my friends, my faith... I am blessed. Lent is just a perfect time to say thank you.

30 Things About Me (in no particular order)

2006-02-28T14:27:00.000-05:00

1. I was born in Decatur, GA in 1975.
2. My parents are still married (36 years this March).
3. I am the oldest of two girls. But my sister should have been the older one.
4. Sometimes I laugh so hard I have to sit down. This always happens at particularly inconvenient times.
5. Pistachio is my favorite flavor of pudding.
6. I am afraid of heights.
7. I was borderline anorexic in high school.
8. I also had panic attacks in high school that were so bad I didn't know if I wanted to live anymore. And I never told anyone.
9. I was baptized when I was 10.
10. I came out to my parents when I was 19.
11. Pizza is my favorite food.
12. I didn't start smoking regularly until I was 24. That was stupid.
13. My first girlfriend is still my best friend. She has been for 12 years now.
14. My feet are always stinky.
15. I have a Masters in Literature.
16. I am named after my father (Ken).
17. My atheist girlfriend finally got me to go back to church.
18. I have always believed 30 would be the best year of my life. So far so good.
19. Amy says I have two modes: bouncy or crying. She is pretty much right.
20. I stopped wearing contacts when I was 20. I didn't care for them properly, and they were damaging my eyes.
21. I will go back to contacts when I have a baby. My glasses can barely withstand the abuse Amy puts them through. I don't think they will make it with Amy AND a baby.
22. Amy & I have four different sets of names picked out for the baby that we haven't even conceived yet.
23. On May 28th, my name will become Kendra Gayle Lee Kellogg. No, you may NOT call me K.K.
24. When I get afraid or upset, I say Hail Marys repeatedly until I calm back down.
25. I am afraid of birds.
26. I look very much like my mother.
27. I have absolutely no artistic or musical ability.
28. I do not believe in Hell. Not the fire and brimstone kind, anyway.
29. When I was 6, I wanted to change my name to Jennifer.
30. My nickname is Kik (pronounced Keek). It is short for Kiki. My sister gave me my nickname when she was learning to talk. I still love it.

I Squeezed the Chuzzle!

2006-02-27T14:00:00.000-05:00

It is true. I squeezed him. On Saturday. Wanna see? This picture cracks me up. I look thrilled and he looks.... confused.

But, as you can see here, the Chuzzle does have his serious side... pondering the meaning of life and all. Or maybe he is just taking a poo?

I also got to meet Estelle and Jean! What a cute family! Jean even made me cookies. Because she rocks. And my friends scarfed down most of them. Because... well... I mean look at them!

Okay, okay... so I had been dying to meet Estelle for a few weeks. Don't get me wrong, she has always seemed interesting and intelligent. But over the past two weeks or so, we have been corresponding via (gasp) EMAIL! Real conversations. With questions and answers and laughing and joking and storytelling. And it was really fascinating to me, because I started thinking of her as a friend. Not just a girl with a neat blog and a cute kid. But someone I looked forward to hearing from constantly. And I haven't had a new friend in a while. And OH BOY did I start to get excited. A NEW FRIEND!!!

Then. Nervous. What if she didn't like me??? What if we could only converse when we were hiding behind our computer screens? What if we had NOTHING TO SAY TO EACH OTHER?!? Horror.

But, after I almost tackled her to give her a hug, Estelle and I started to chat. A lot. And she was just as fun and intelligent and sincere as I had hoped. And I realized that she wasn't an online friend anymore. Estelle had crossed over into the land of the real life friends.

Welcome Estelle! I am so very glad you are here!

Oh My Amy

2006-02-24T14:52:00.000-05:00

Mmm.zwow.ornt.beoint.
That is a quote. From a car ride with Amy. At a point when she is just making weird noises incessantly. For. no. reason.

Sometimes she foregoes the noises to make faces instead. Like this. Or this. She can amuse herself endlessly. So much, in fact, that sometimes I have to remind her that we are in public. And not everyone appreciates her rodent faces as much as she does.

Today, we went to lunch together. On the ride over, she told me her cheeks were so chubby they were effecting her eyesight. Because she couldn't open her eyes all the way. Too chubby. And it must have been the onion rings that she scarfed down last night, because she could open her eyes all the way yesterday. But no, not anymore.

And then she took to holding her eyelids open with her fingers. In the restaurant.

Amy is the quirkiest individual I have ever met. But, believe me, I have learned to love every quirk. Besides, how could you not love this smile?

Who wants to come spend a weekend with us? C'mon, you KNOW you do!

A Brief History of Kik & Amy

2006-02-22T15:40:00.000-05:00

This story begins as all good romances do... in a bar.

Well, okay, it began a bit before that in Tallahassee. Amy and her girlfriend, Melissa, came up to attend Tracie's graduation. Tracie and Amy have known each other for years. And in any conversation, when speaking of Amy, Tracie would always say, "My good friend AmyKellogg." As if it were all one word. Trust me, this becomes important later. It was also Angie's graduation. And Angie and Tracie were dating. So we were all in the same place at the same time. At Po Boys. Aw, yeah.

So we were celebrating the graduations. And I was creatively trying to escape my recent breakup through the bottom of my glass of beer. (There's a tear, in my beer) At some point, I began flirting with Amy (although Melissa was probably only 5 feet away from her). I know, I know... CLASSY. It was a bad time for me, okay people? Suffice it to say that I told Amy we should keep in touch and she wisely chose to completely ignore me.

Fast forward about two years. I have begun to put my life back together. I have moved to Tampa. And I have found a tiny, hole in the wall lesbian bar called the Rainbow Room. I am sitting there, being a bit lonely, and in walks a girl with a shirt that says KELLOGG.

She walks by, and I coyly say, "Amy Kellogg, right?" (Keep in mind that I never would have known this if Tracie hadn't talked SO MUCH about her friend AmyKellogg) I say, "You don't remember me, do you?" And she said, "No... but I wish I did." Which I thought was the CUTEST thing ever, until she told me a year later that it was just a pick-up line. Gah, Ames! Keep some things to yourself! Geez!

So we chatted and, somehow, she talked me to relocating to The Hub. Now keep in mind that I don't REALLY know her from Adam's house cat. But I go to The Hub anyway with Amy & Michelle. We chat. Laugh. This is great. I am making friends. I met Val (always quite the adventure!). Things are going well. And besides, I think Ames is pretty darn cute.

Amy gets up and motions to me to follow her. She is headed toward the bar, so I assume she needs help carrying another round. No. "Wanna make out?", she says. I kid you not. What is one supposed to SAY to that?!? So we went OUTSIDE THE HUB and she kissed me. Wanna make out??? Oh my.

We head home shortly after that. Michelle was kind enough to drop me off at my house. As I am getting out of the car, I hear Michelle whisper loud enough to wake the dead, "You HAVE to walk her to the door and kiss her good night. Kellogg, get out and walk her to the door. KELLOGG..." So Amy dutifully gets out of the car, walks me to the door and kisses me good night.

And we have now been together for two and a half years. Oh, yes, my Amy. She's got game.

Tuesday Tomfoolery

2006-02-21T15:36:00.000-05:00

Warning: I have had TOO much caffeine and shouldn't be allowed ANYWHERE near a computer.

Our Friday night foray into Ybor was fabulously exciting. The club where our friends' band was playing hosted an all ages show that night. Uh... nothing will make you feel older than standing next to a 14 year old who is doing some cracked out version of swing dancing with her best girlfriend while giggling like a hyena the entire time. Old. That's right, folks. I felt old for the first time in my life. But the show was fun. And now I remember why I studiously avoid clubs. Yes, boys & girls... it is bars & pubs for me. So, we headed out to New World Brewery for some fine beer and time spent together where we could actually hear each other speaking. Novel idea, really. Then, because we were OUT in YBOR where we never go, we decided that we MUST go to Boneyard. And stay there until 1:30 a.m. Because that is what the cool kids do. I think. It has been a long time since I was even remotely cool. Wait. That's right. I was NEVER remotely cool. Oh well.

While at Boneyard, Michelle decided that we needed to discuss the evils of statistics. Because statistics are NOT math. Statistics do NOT occur in nature. Uh? Okay, Satan-Michelle. You just go on your tirade about those stupid statistics that are only used to manipulate people. I will just have another beer. Because, statistically speaking... that is what most folks choose to do when one of their best friends has gone off the deep end.

What else, what else do I have for you dear Internet?

Oh! In the past four days, I have discovered that I an NOT immune to PMS. Nope. I can get just as crazy as the next chick. And I did. Oh, yes. I did. Ask Amy. She will tell you. All I will say is... uh... it was kind of like this. Only worse.

In happier news, yesterday I got to work from home. Whee! Can I tell you that I got more work done at home yesterday that I get done in two days at the office?!? And, when I needed to get up and stroll around, I could throw in a load of laundry. Or feed the pups. So THAT is what multi-tasking is. SWEET!

Okay, ya'll. I will stop rambling in your general direction. But don't be sad. Look, I will leave you with this! See, I knew that would make it all better.

Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition!*

2006-02-17T15:01:00.000-05:00

Whew! Sorry for the bout of self-pity yesterday. But wow did ya'll manage to come through with some responses that allowed me pull myself away from my pity party and resume my life. Thanks, ya'll.

Last night, Amy and I went for a bike ride after work. Riding in our neighborhood is about a million times more fun than riding to work (which I have NOT been doing... see where my guilt was coming from yesterday?). In our neighborhood, you can zig and zag and ride real fast and feel like you are 10 years old again. Brilliant fun. Unfortunately, Amy was riding Clarence .... and he was helping her KICK MY BUTT. I actually had to ask her to slow down. Uh... wounded pride anyone? BUT... never fear... Claudia redeemed herself with her super, bad ass reflective powers on our ride home.

Tonight, we are going to have dinner with Amy's folks & Kelli, who is moving to North Carolina this week. Then we are off for some craziness with Mary and Michelle.

Wish ya'll could be here!
* Anyone know where this title came from???

I Really Do Try...

2006-02-16T14:26:00.000-05:00

I really do try not to bitch about things. Especially things that can be changed, if only I take the initiative to change them. But I am going to make an exception this time. I was going to come up for some brilliant reasoning regarding WHY this exception needed to be made... but I don't feel like it. I am making an exception to my no-bitching rule because I want to. And it is my blog. So there.

I weigh too much. And I hate it. There. I said it. Buh.

In high school, I had a mild eating disorder. I had constant anxiety & panic attacks. This resulted in my not being able to eat. And when I did eat, I often threw it right back up. Not on purpose. It was just my body's response to stress. Needless to say, eating wasn't very enjoyable for me. And I weighed only 90 pounds when I graduated high school.

My weight hasn't fluctuated a whole lot since I started college. Weighing 115 was pretty normal for me. My only huge weight loss was after a particularly bad breakup when I went down to 100 pounds. And, yes, I looked ill. It was unfortunate.

When I moved to Tampa, I was back up to 115. That was lovely. I could gain 5 pounds or so and not stress too much. Buffer room. There was buffer room, people.

I have lived in Tampa for 2.75 years. In that time, I have gained 20 pounds. This does NOT make me happy. And I look like crap. Please don't try to be nice & tell me I look fine. I look in the mirror every morning. I DO NOT look fine.

And what really annoys me is now I like food. A LOT. I don't overeat, necessarily. But I do eat a lot more than I used to. And it is obvious. I have had to buy an entirely new wardrobe. Up two sizes from when I moved here. That would be fine if I had... oh... had a child or something. But no. I am just chunky for no good reason. And I am to'ed, let me tell you.

So, I have been pretty bummed all day...

That is my story today. Sorry it isn't funny or sweet or endearing. I will try to be those things tomorrow for you, dear Internet.

Beware! The Cuteness is Intense Over Here.

2006-02-14T15:20:00.000-05:00

Since I was two years old, my father has given me flowers for Valentine's Day. The first time happened quite by accident. The flowers that he brought home were actually for my MOTHER. But my two-year old self figured that all presents should always be for me. Flowers included. Needless to say, my mom shared her flowers that year.

And every year since then, Daddy has come through with flowers. When I lived at home, I would come home from school to three bouquets on the dining room table (one for me, one for Mama, and one for Angie). After I left for college, Daddy started actually sending me flowers. And then... my dad found a co-conspirator. One who knows EXACTLY what kind of flowers I love and who will run around and do my father's bidding in the flower department.

So, this Valentine's Day Amy brought me yellow roses. From Doggie. They are beautiful. And I love them. But I love even more that my father would never let me down on this front. And that he trusts Amy enough to have her pick out flowers for his little girl.

Thank you for the roses, Daddy. I love you.

(And thank you, Amy, for being such a fine co-conspirator)

Oh, We Had Adventures. Yes, We Did.

2006-02-13T14:52:00.000-05:00

After much debate (during which my phone rang off the hook for approximately two hours with alternating calls from my mother and my sister), Angie and I decided to drive from Tampa to Atlanta for the funeral service. For those of you unfamiliar with the area, that is approximately a seven hour journey. Seven hours in the car with my sister. Eh, not so bad. We needed the time to catch up anyway.

And then she tells me she will be arriving in Tampa (by plane) at EIGHT in the morning. Have I mentioned that I am NOT a morning person? However, I suck it up and dutifully agree to pick her up at 8:00 a.m. on Thursday morning.

She hops in the car, bright-eyed and chipper at 8:10. Do we have to go back by the house?, she asks. I stare at her from under my baseball cap, bleary-eyed, clutching my cup of coffee. Uh, YEAH. We need to go back by the house. So I can... I don't know... PACK. And take a shower. And maybe do something with the mop of hair hiding under my cap, since I really believe wearing a Boston Red Sox cap to a wake is frowned upon. Especially since Aunt Rachel was a Braves fan.

Angie finally scurries me out of the house at 11:00 a.m. After a rather uneventful trip, we arrive in Atlanta at 5:45 p.m. We attempt to find the Days Inn that we are supposed to stay in that evening (please, do not EVEN get me started on my feelings about Days Inn). The Days Inn is nowhere to be found. So we opt to find a restaurant close to the funeral home and grab a bite to eat before the wake. Which means we will have to change in the car. But none of that matters, because I am STARVING by this point. I had been hungry for two hours, but Angie was insistent that we plow through to get to Decatur ASAP. So, all that mattered was food. Except that we couldn't find anything but Indian food. Seriously. On every corner. And an Indian-Pakistani Market. And more Indian cuisine. And everyone we encountered was of Indian decent. Which is lovely... but we didn't WANT Indian food. Not at all.

We finally happened upon a Mexican restaurant adjacent to a strip mall. Hallelujah. We notice upon entering the restaurant that it is GINORMOUS. There were no less than six rooms. Perhaps it was restaurant by day, club by night? Then next thing we notice is that 90% of the clientele appear to be lesbians (not that odd in Decatur, aka Dick-hater, but still). We grab a menu and Angie decides on a taco salad. I go for the enchiladas. These are pretty basic dishes. A sure bet. Or so one would think.

Angie's taco salad comes out first. With no mention of my food. But I let that go. The taco salad could have fit in my hand, shell and all. And there was only one-fourth of a tomato... that wasn't diced. Just chunk o' tomato. And plenty of shredded lettuce. A glop of sour cream. Oh, and mozzarella cheese. Ugh.

The waitress comes over to check on us. Upon realizing that Angie has food (and I use that term loosely) and I do not, she says in an accusatory tone, "Where YOUR food?" Uh, look lady, I don't know. I am just sitting here innocently. Thank the Lord that some other guy came trotting out with my enchiladas just then. She seemed certain that my lack of food was due to some fault of mine, and I don't think at that moment that I could have convinced her otherwise.

So, the enchiladas. Yeah. Tortillas that had the consistency of pasta. Red sauce that tasted suspiciously like marinara. Stuffed with boiled pieces of chicken and mozzarella cheese. Do we all see the problem here? But I just zipped it and ate my enchilada/manicotti. After all, it was a sight better than Angie's taco salad.

We finally made it out of the Mexican restaurant from Hell, just in time to change clothes in the car. Angie and I are relatively small folks. Neither one of us stands above 5' 3". But two people changing in a Honda Civic ... well that is a sight to behold. After much struggling, socking each other in the head as we flailed into our shirts, putting on our skirt (Angie) and pants (Kiker) cockeyed, putting on make-up in the semi-darkness and almost asphyxiating each other with our respective colognes, we were off to the wake.

After the wake, we had to get BACK in the car to pick up Mama at the airport. 45 minutes each way. Thank the good Lord for The Thinking Man Tavern, where there were locally brewed pints to be had by all.

We picked Wanda Gayle up without incident. Of course, by the time we meandered back toward Decatur, I was starving again (are you sensing a theme here?). The Days Inn where we were supposed to stay was behind an Applebee's. So, we decided to stop off at the Applebee's, grab food and inquire about this Days Inn, since we couldn't seem to locate a sign for said Days Inn. We walked into the restaurant and EVERYONE turned around and stared at us. I am going to venture (although one can never be sure) that they were staring because we were the ONLY Caucasian people in the restaurant. And that, my friends, is NOT an exaggeration. My mom, my sister and I get a huge kick out of this and settle in to order food. My mom and I order a chicken sandwich with cheese, bar-b-que sauce and bacon. Then we ask about the Days Inn. Yeah, our waitress said there was no Days Inn anywhere close to us. Hm. About that time, our food arrives and the waitress promises to figure out which Applebee's has a Days Inn across the street. Mom and I settle into our food. Unfortunately, the chicken is an odd shade of grayish/brown. And it is rubbery. And slick. Gross.

The waitress returns with directions to the correct Days Inn. We are about 10 miles away. So we head off in search of our hotel. It is about 11:00 p.m. at this point. We are all VERY tired. At 11:30 p.m., we still had not found the hotel. We call the Days Inn. They are located across the street from Applebee's, the friendly receptionist informs us. Okay, but we can't FIND the Applebee's. What else is the hotel close to? Applebee's. Okay, moron, we will get directions elsewhere. After another half a hour of driving back and forth, we stop at a gas station. To ask directions. The attendant tells us it is 8 miles in the opposite direction ACROSS THE STREET FROM APPLEBEE'S. Seriously? So we call my grandparents, who are already at this hotel snoozing soundly. Because it is now after midnight. You know what my grandfather tells my mom? That the hotel is ACROSS THE STREET FROM APPLEBEE'S. My mom is about to lose it. My uncle then grabs the phone from my grandfather to inform my mother that the hotel is by McDonald's and Taco Bell, but it is in a hole so we won't be able to see it from the road. Perfect.

At 12:45 a.m., we find the Days Inn. Located right behind Krystal. The SAME Krystal that my mom had looked at an HOUR AND FORTY-FIVE minutes before and joked that we should have grabbed Krystal burgers instead of the slimy, gray chicken we had for dinner. But we never saw the hotel. No. Because we were looking for the Applebee's that we had driven by THREE times by that point.

My mom stumbles into the lobby to check in, at which point they inform her that they have no record of her reservation. To which all she can say is You have GOT to be kidding me. I think the reservations clerk sensed that Mama was on the brink of a homicidal rampage, so she found our reservation.

The first thing that Angie does when we enter our luxurious hotel room is turn on the heater. And the thermostat promptly comes off in her hand. Again, perfect.

Let's summarize my day: Up at 6:30 a.m. to pick Ang up at the airport. Seven hours in the car. Mexican/Italian enchiladas/manicotti with boiled chicken. Another hour and a half trip to the airport. Rubber chicken sandwich. And the ever elusive hotel across the street from Applebee's. A total of 17 hours of quality time with my sister. Ah, yes. Road trip anyone?

Angels

2006-02-08T15:03:00.000-05:00

Last night my mom called me at 8:45 p.m. I was on my way home from Bible study when my cell phone rang. I think one sure sign of adulthood is realizing immediately that if the woman that turns into a pumpkin at 8 p.m. is calling at 8:45 p.m., something is amiss. She first asked me how Bible study was ... 'A' for effort on segue, but I was sure she did not call to discuss my revelations regarding my faith at 8:45. In a brilliant display my ever intuitive nature, I asked what was wrong. And held my breath.

Aunt Rachel was in the hospital. Mom wanted to tell me. You know, in case something happened. She didn't want to blindside me with VERY bad news. (An effort I very much appreciated on my mom's part. She never wants to worry me with what COULD be bad news, preferring instead to just let me know when I need to worry. I, though, strongly dislike the wait-and-see approach. I want to know what is going on. And this time she acted on my wishes, even though it is contrary to what she would intuitively do. I am grateful to her for hearing me. And for listening & acting on my request)

Aunt Rachel being in the hospital was, indeed, bad news enough in and of itself. I asked her the obligatory questions. It seemed as though she may have had a stroke. She was unconscious. No prognosis. I thanked her for telling me, told her to call when she had any news (good or bad) no matter what time of night.

Aunt Rachel is my grandmother's oldest sister. She is a woman of endless compassion and boundless faith. And she is my role-model for truly living out the Christian faith. Two years ago, when I had first begun attending church again after many, many years away, the pastor asked if we could name someone who reflected the love of Christ for us. My first thought was my Aunt Rachel. She really was an angel to me.

When I got the news that she was in the hospital, I prayed that she not suffer. Or be afraid. And that, if it was her time to go, God would take her to heaven. Where there would be much rejoicing for the angel that had come home.

My mom called about an hour later to tell me that Aunt Rachel had passed away. I know that she believed that when she died she would finally meet Jesus face to face. And I am confident that she went, without fear, to heaven. Because if anyone deserves heaven, it is my Aunt Rachel.

And there is much rejoicing for the angel that has come home.

In an Attempt to Spare My Toenails an Agonizing Demise...

2006-02-07T16:11:00.000-05:00

Each morning, I walk to Einsteins on campus to get a bagel with reduced-fat cream cheese and a Chug of 2% milk. Mornings on campus are quiet. The kids aren't too chipper at 9:15 a.m. In fact, most of them look as if they slept on their faces all night. Almost everyone has a cup of coffee in hand. People nod hello, but not many people speak. Let's face it: this IS college. There are keg parties, all night cram sessions and various amorous affairs to tend to. Sleep is secondary. At least it was for me in college.

So I get to plod along, pondering my life, my day, what bagel I might chose today. All the important things. And I get to ponder in the quiet softness of morning.

Until I step into the Student Center. Holy crap. Everyone is talking. Well, if they aren't standing sullenly in line as if this bagel is the pinnacle of their existence and it lies is just beyond their grasp. The sullen ones glare at the chatty ones as if they wish they could snuff out their presence by the sheer weight of their disdain. The chatty ones are... well... chatty. And oblivious to the angst ridden glares being shot at them from various directions.

But there are two chatty ones that even make me feel a bit ... hostile. Dancers, these two are. They wear dance clothes and flip flops. Perfectly manicured toenails. The brunette wears WAY too much makeup. The blonde always has a ponytail. Keep in mind that these are kids. They look to be freshmen. So 18 or 19. Oh, and they toss their heads and l a u g h. And say things like... Oh my God, I am so exCITED. (voice going up on the end as if they are asking a question. they are not. not asking a question at all) And the talking is LOUD. As if they need everyone to know the details of their social lives.

"So, he CALLED me on my birthday. He, like, had ALL of his friends there... and, like, even people I didn't know sang happy BIRTHDAY to me. I could have KILLED him. (head tossing laughter)"

By the time I get to this point, I have completely lost my Zen vibe and I want to pull my toenails out one by one to dull the agony of listening their self-conscious self-promotion. I might have to actually get to work 15 minutes earlier to avoid these two in line. They are frazzling the last nerve I have left at work.

Sunday Morning

2006-02-06T11:08:00.000-05:00

I woke up late for church yesterday. Not even because I did anything noteworthy on Saturday night. Just because I was tired and the covers were warm. And mornings are not so much my thing.

Normally when I wake up late for church that means that I missed my favorite service at church. Not that I have missed church entirely. But, alas, I am in the process of joining Hyde Park United Methodist. Which means I must take a class. Where they indoctrinate me in their ways and program me to believe that the answer to ALL questions is "Jesus."

Okay, okay... not really. I have to take a seven week class that discusses the mission and focus of our congregation. And it is from 11:00 a.m to noon on Sundays. Which means that, since I couldn't drag my sorry butt out of bed yesterday, I missed my favorite service AND I missed the last service at church because I was in said class.

Cranky. That's how all this made me feel. Cranky. I look forward to church all week. The worship service makes me feel renewed, purified... and connected to God. OF COURSE missing that makes me cranky.

But I was a trooper (albeit a whiney trooper) and I went to my class instead of to worship service. The class was about volunteer service. Volunteer opportunities abound at my church. And I am of the belief that Christianity that lacks a commitment to serving those in need is hollow at best. I never wanted to simply go to church on Sunday for an hour, call myself a Christian and call it a day. In my heart, that is a mockery of everything Christ taught and all that He did.

And my class yesterday morning was the perfect reminder the centrality of this belief to my faith. A reminder of why, in part, I am so drawn to this congregation. And a not so subtle push toward finding a meaningful place to spend my time and energy giving to others.

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning at all.

Oh My Bad Attitude

2006-02-02T09:51:00.000-05:00

Do you know what I am supposed to be doing right now? Right now I am tasked with writing a one page paper detailing why I should be allowed to keep my job. And, lest you fear that I have done something terribly untoward, this is something the entire staff at my office must do. That being said... do you have any idea how demeaning it is to have to justify your existence in an organization? Look, I am the communications girl. I write things. I edit things. Either you want that or you want your staff to sound like bumbling fools when they communicate with the Florida legislature and the Commissioner of Education. I don't really give a crap either way at this point. Seriously. Either tell me that my job is secure until my contract runs out in September or tell me I need to move along now. I just want to get on with my life. Yes, I need another job. Yes, this one isn't fun for me. Yes, so many asinine things have happened here that I have lost count. But I also need a paycheck. So tell me that I can continue to collect one here or I will go work at Borders. I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. But don't ask me to justify my position here.

Does anyone know where I can get an attitude adjustment? Seems I am sorely in need of one. Stat.

How to Give Your Girlfriend Heart Failure

2006-02-01T09:28:00.000-05:00

Watch an episode of House which is about one spouse cheating on another and consequences of said indiscretion. Then look at your girlfriend and say, "There is a secret I have been keeping from you for a week."

Watch all the blood drain out of your girlfriend's face. Then tell her that you have had a toothache for a week. And you didn't want to go to the dentist. So you kept it a secret.

Then be prepared to have something thrown at your head.

Piratey Goodness

2006-01-27T14:52:00.000-05:00

Pirates are taking over Tampa Bay. This weekend. Seriously.
Gasparilla--it happens every year.

Trying to explain Gasparilla to someone who isn't from Tampa will make you sound like an ABSOLUTE lunatic. Okay... so PIRATES come into the BAY??? Right. And they capture the city? Uh huh. There are cannon blasts? Okay. And a parade of Pirate Krewes??? And women flash for the beads the pirates throw them in the parade? (Do you see how an explanation of Gasparilla makes you sound like you need to have a psychiatric evaluation? Pronto?)

Gasparilla is Michelle's favorite holiday (hey, mine is Easter but to each her own). So the festivities are not for the faint of heart. Breakfast is at 9:30 a.m. Because you have to eat breakfast if you are going to partake in jello shots at 10:00 a.m. Then there is bike riding to South Tampa. To watch the invasion of the pirate ships (I TOLD you I was serious). And the piratey parade. While drinking beer that is pulled in a wagon. But don't let the pirate spirit completely overtake you, or this could seem like a good idea.

But really, it is all in good fun. Piratey goodness. AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGG.

Stupid Pants

2006-01-26T15:12:00.000-05:00

Never buy a pair of pants when in crisis mode. It simply is not a good idea.

Let's say, for instance, you get to work and realize that the pants you THOUGHT were reasonably clean have mustard smeared down the side of them. Hm. At this point, you are probably going to want to panic and call your girlfriend. Even if there is nothing she can do to help you. Because you are already at work. With mustard on your pants.

Your next step, after you get your girlfriend on the phone is to ask her WHAT YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO DO NOW??? Because she should know. Unfortunately, she has the nerve not only to laugh at you but to tell you there isn't a damn thing she CAN do for you and why didn't you bring her your laundry this weekend so you wouldn't have this problem? THAT didn't go as well as you had hoped.

After some consideration, you opt to go to Target. Upon wandering through the pants section, you realize that every pair of khaki pants has cargo pockets. You think cargo pockets are SO overdone, so you are now just stumbling around, mumbling dejectedly about the stupid pants with the stupid cargo pockets.

Then you see them. You have found a plain-front pair of khakis. In your size. And there is much rejoicing.

Until you put them on. AFTER you have already bought them. Because you had no CHOICE but to buy them because there is mustard all over the pants you wore. To work. When you first put them on, you think them a bit stiff and scratchy. The longer you have them on, the more they feel like sandpaper rubbing against your skin. And since you are fanatical about the softness of anything you put next to your body, there is much weeping and gnashing of teeth.

You finally make it home. You see your girlfriend and you begin mumblings something completely incoherent about stupid, scratchy khakis don't fit right, hate them, stupid. Your girlfriend is undaunted. She can fix them she claims. All they need is a good wash. And fabric softener. All will be well with these khakis.

And, lo, it is a sad moment when she puts the khakis in the wash AND THEY REPEL WATER. At this point, you decide that they should go directly in the garbage. Your girlfriend is now no help because she is leaning against the washing machine with tears streaming down her face, laughing about the khakis that are repelling water.

You open a Miller Lite and dismiss this entire situations as ... stupid.

Months pass. You wake up one morning, dig through the clean laundry. You see the khakis, have a momentary flashback of the last time you wore them. But, because you have the memory of a goldfish, you figure they can't be THAT bad. It takes you about five minutes to realize your mistake. It takes five seconds for your girlfriend to tell you that you have no other khakis clean, that you may NOT wear the khakis that your dog used as a bed last night, and that you need to suck it up and bring her your laundry on the weekends.

STUPID, SCRATCHY, WATER-REPELLENT KHAKIS.

I Guess You Can Read It If You REALLY Want To.

2006-01-25T15:05:00.000-05:00

We have several things to cover today, kiddiewinkles:

1) The turtle is beckoning you. (Amy, I know you said it is a tortoise. But for the purpose of this weblog, we will be referring to it as a turtle.) His name is Tommy. He really wants you to look to your bottom left, click on him and donate money to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. C'mon, make him feel good. (Lord, that sounded dirty)

2) My job is slowly turning my brain to mush. Do you hear me? MUSH. There is bossiness and scandal and boredom... (I know I need to look for another job. Currently, though, I am having a pity party. Please let me drink my bitter herb tea in peace).

3) The Gideons invaded USF's campus today. I have to admit, I love those guys. They make me smile. Even when I was completely anti-Christianity, I couldn't help but be really nice to them. Polly Sunshine I am, when I talk to one of those Gideons. The FOUR of them I saw on my short walk to get my bagel this morning made my day.

4) This is possibly the most boring post I have ever written. And if I have written something MORE dull than this, PLEASE don't tell me. I really don't want another pot of bitter herb tea.

I will be back tomorrow. I promise I will do better then. Please don't leave me.

Happy Tortoise Cycling Team

2006-01-24T12:16:00.000-05:00

The official fundraising for the 75 mile bike ride has begun! The proceeds benefit the National Multiple Sclerosis Society.

C'mon, click the turtle! You know you want to.

* For some unknown reason, the turtle above is giving me fits. That's a BAAAAAD turtle. Look for the turtle to your bottom left and click on him. Thanks!

In the Neighborhood...

2006-01-23T13:36:00.000-05:00

I love the fact that I live in a neighborhood that I can literally get lost in. Okay, wise guys, I know I could get lost in my own house... but that isn't the point.

Yesterday, after finishing my reading for the day, I decided it was about time I get off my lazy butt and get some variety of exercise. The brakes on my bike are still squealing like someone is murdering them, so that was a no go. And, besides, biking isn't as zen for me as walking is... And everyone needs a bit of zen time on a Sunday. So I set out on foot.

My neighborhood has a cemetery, a golf course and several large lakes. Not that these things are at all related. I just happen to find them enthralling. Although the lakes are only visible by looking between the houses that line the banks, I get an incredibly peaceful feeling from just seeing the water. As I plod along. Looking at the houses. Which are all vastly different. Wondering who lives in them. Admiring landscaping. Laughing at ceramic seahorses hanging on the side of a home. And saying hello to all the dogs, children, bicyclists and folks in general milling about on a Sunday afternoon.

The neighborhood consists, for the most part, of a myriad of small side streets named things like Divot Lane, Teegreen Drive, and Underpar Circle. Unfortunately, the golf theme seemed to confuse my sense of direction even more than usual. In fact, I made it home in an hour and a half (although I only meant to be gone for an hour) only because I followed the golf course to the 18th hole. Only then was I 100% sure where I was and which direction to walk home.

But oh did it feel good to be out that long. In the sunshine. I was so relaxed. And peaceful...

And then I walked into the house where a certain dog had eaten part of the front door... Lord, deliver me from Milo.

Finally Friday!

2006-01-20T16:37:00.000-05:00

Whoo! Do we really have to work a FULL week next week? I am not sure I can handle it. The thought gives me shivers. These are the times I wish I had a vocation instead of just a job. Note to self: Must work on that.

Good Things:
* Desmond Tutu is an amazing speaker. He spoke of forgiveness, healing wounds of racism and hate, hope and faith in God. Being in his presence and hearing this great man speak was a live enriching experience. I am blessed to have had the opportunity.
* Vietnamese food kicks butt. Seriously. Tasty. And the portions were HUGE. Amy & I are both, shall we say healthy eaters, and we could easily have split a meal. Oooh, and it was cheap to boot. Score one for Pho Quyen Vietnamese Cuisine!
* Last night was actually a DATE for Amy & I, complete with dinner, a cultural event and then a nightcap (okay more than one, but you get my drift). I heart dates.
* The majority of time spent tomorrow will consist of volunteering and bike riding. Perfect Saturday.

Bad Things:
* I had fast food for breakfast. Not only did it not live up to my expectations, but I could FEEL my arteries clogging with every bite. Boo to that. Note to self: avoid artery clogging food at 9 a.m.

But the best thing of all is that today is FRIDAY! Party on my crazy bloggy buddies.

Let the Yammering Begin...

2006-01-19T12:20:00.000-05:00

My sister and Shanna bought me a tea set for Christmas. (Okay, okay--they bought it for me AND Amy. But, let's be real here... can YOU envision Miss Amy making tea? I didn't think so) I wish I had a photograph of said tea set. But suffice it to say it is an antique white ceramic set with a bamboo handle. The cups are ever so dainty. I felt a bit like a five year old having a tea party with her teddy bear. It was lovely. And lavender green tea does NOT taste like soap, in case you were curious.

Why am I yammering about tea & tea sets? Well, OBVIOUSLY, if you had been paying attention at all, you would realize that I am trying to tell you about the Quiet Evening at Home I enjoyed last night. The one where I caught up on my Bible study reading. Because I am a backsliding Bible dork and had to skip Bible study on Tuesday because I had completed NOT ONE LICK OF THE READING. But LOOK how much fun I had over the weekend while avoiding all my responsibilities!

Where did my point go? Oh, there it is! Bible study! I am caught up now. I read Esther and Jonah last night. Esther is an incredibly woman affirming book (especially for the Old Testament). Glad I didn't just skip over it to get to the New Testament. That's right folks, we have officially moved into the New Testament now. This week we are going to talk about the radical nature of Christ's ministry. Pretty hyped about that. Somehow, though, I think it might make me realize the places in my life where I come up more than a bit short.... but I guess that is the point (at least part of it anyway).

Tonight, Amy and I are going to hear Archbishop Desmond Tutu speak. After a dinner of Vietnamese cuisine at a restaurant I have wanted to try since I moved to North Tampa. Whoo! An intellectually stimulating date with an international flair!

AND tomorrow is Friday... Hold me. The excitement is almost more than I can stand.

Ola Geneva!

2006-01-18T10:38:00.000-05:00

While in Tallahassee, Amy and I spent some quality time with my grandparents. You may read her description and see photos here.

My grandfather is quite the ham. He makes everyone laugh. Heck, he pickles eggs in jalepeno juice... who wouldn't love a man that is so passionate about jalepeno juice?

My grandmother is much more reserved. Except... well, except this time. She got on a roll telling stories about her many, many years as a teachers aide in Hicktown, Florida (aka Perry). Laughing, good Lord she was cracking herself up.

And then. Out of nowhere: (read with a southern drawl)

You know what I just can't stand? When women wear their shorts, you know, and it looks like their crotch is just EATING their shorts!

Uh??? Amy looked like she wanted to crawl under the couch. I was just howling. And the hand motions really made the story.

Who wants to go with me next time to visit Butch & Snoot?

Wise Wombat

2006-01-17T15:10:00.000-05:00

Who knew wombats were so smart?

Via Mighty Girl

Hey, Ya'll!

2006-01-17T12:24:00.000-05:00

We made it back from Tallahassee. Ya'll, there is nothing better than good friends and a good long weekend. I think T & Amanda were beginning to wonder if we had moved in with them or if it really WAS just a visit. But, alas, Amy & I headed back to Tampa at 6:45 last evening.

For those of you who only know me in the blogosphere, allow me to say that Amanda is not just my bloggy buddy. Not that there is ANYTHING wrong with that. But we do actually know each other in person. And have for a long time. You get no more details than that, so stop asking. (Heh)

T & Amanda are gracious beyond belief. And fun. Even though Amanda fell asleep on the floor watching Saturday Night Live. I am going to blame her narcoleptic behavior on the fabulous dinner of baked spaghetti that T made. Oh, and of course the tasty libations that followed...

While staying on the plantation, I did get to help Amanda feed the horses. And she let me drive the mule (even though I almost rolled us down a VERY steep hill that we were trying to navigate up). Unfortunately, we didn't get to ride the horses this time, so my Intro to Cowgirl 101* has not yet been completed.

The whole weekend was just as exciting as I had hoped for. I will post more snippets as they come back to me.

Thanks T & Amanda! We love you.

*Please note: This is simply an Intro course. It certifies me ONLY to strut around in my cowboy boots with just enough knowledge to make me completely inept at handling a horse.

2006-01-12T16:16:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow evening, Amy, Milo, Jezebel and I head off to Tallahassee to visit with T and Amanda. I would love to tell you how excited I am.... But I am too excited to come up with words...

EEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

I will give ya'll a full update when I return.

Dialogue

2006-01-11T09:37:00.000-05:00

Amy: Oohh, do we have JUICE???

Kiker: Weeellll.... we do. But it isn't Juicy Juice.

Amy: What IS it then?

Kiker: V8 Splash.

Amy: That is poo-poo juice.

Kiker: I am SORRY?

Amy: I don't like it. It tastes like poo.

Kiker: Have you even HAD it?

Amy: Yes. I don't like it. Poo-poo juice.

Kiker: Well, I just thought I would branch out. And it was two for one.

Amy: Oh, GREAT. Now we have TWO bottles of poo-poo juice. All because you wanted to branch out. We have a routine. There are things on the list that we always buy. Now .... poo-poo juice because you went off list.

(It is so nice to have my girl back)

The Hard Days

2006-01-09T11:03:00.000-05:00

This post, for the first time, has made me face one of the great blogging dilemmas: How much should I really divulge here? Obviously, I don't hesitate to share my own inner musings. Like it or not, I am who I am. But when faced with sharing someone else's trials and tribulations, even when said trials and tribulations directly involve me, things become a bit murkier.

Ultimately, I decided to write this because I know the mere act of writing is cathartic. And because sharing a nightmare always makes it less terrifying. And because it's primarily Amy's nightmare, and she said it is okay.

For the past two years, Amy has been taking Lexapro (an anti-depressant). It has been, more or less, a pleasant little ride. Lexapro is not the first drug she has tried. But it is one that seemed to work with relatively minor side effects. However, she has recently reached a point where the medication seems to be dulling her positive emotions more than inhibiting her negative ones. And she was becoming extremely cranky. For no good reason. I STRONGLY dislike cranky. Not to mention, we recently discovered that Lexapro is now known to cause significant weight gain. Which Amy STRONGLY dislikes. So... we thought maybe it was time to try something new.

Last week, after only sporadically taking her medication for a week or two, she finally she ran out completely. Now here is the part where I take a huge share in the culpability for the nightmare that was yesterday: we decided not to refill the prescription until she could see her doctor to request a change in medication.

Uh, perhaps some research was in order before quitting a drug cold-turkey. Trust me, I don't mean to sound glib about this. But she hadn't taken it regularly for a week. She stopped taking it altogether last Sunday. And she had no serious withdrawal symptoms ALL WEEK.

Until yesterday.

In fact, until yesterday, things were great. She rediscovered how FUNNY I am (okay, she rediscovered it after I pointed it out, but STILL). We were laughing constantly, having really meaningful interactions. It was like Amy, only with every charming, lovable characteristic she has amplified.

And, then... SUNDAY.

I have never seen someone literally on the edge of a breakdown before. At lunch, Amy suddenly got paranoid that I was laughing at her. Then, at Borders, she couldn't stop racing around the store (literally). There was buzzing in her head all day. Every time she moved her eyes or turned her head, she could HEAR the movement in her head. Her heart was racing. She was feverish, with flu-like symptoms. And she cried... oh Lord, what an understatement... she SOBBED on and off all day. Oh, and of course there was the ever present feeling that she was going crazy. Losing it. Completely. Things got so bad, we filled her prescription for Lexapro last night at 10:00 p.m. Less than an hour later, the withdrawal symptoms were subsiding.

Let's recap, shall we? Amy is on medication for depression and anxiety. Yet, somehow, the WITHDRAWAL symptoms can put someone on what seems like the edge of psychosis.

Besides being enraged that she was prescribed this medication in the FIRST place, I really frightened about what it is going to take for her to come off of Lexapro. From the frantic, albeit belated, research that has taken place in the last 24 hours, weaning down to a lower dosage before coming off of the medication doesn't help much if at all. And the withdrawal symptoms can last from one to EIGHT weeks.

Dear God, help us.

Lazy Friday

2006-01-06T13:52:00.000-05:00

Yawn. S-t-r-e-t-c-h. Today is a charmingly cozy & lazy little Friday.

I woke up to sunshine peeking through the blinds in my bedroom. After lots of happy, sleepy sighs and snuggling in the covers, I managed to drag myself into the shower.

A few things then occurred which contributed to the lazy nature of this Friday:
1) I realized how SORE my legs are from biking.
2) My favorite snuggly baby blue sweater and tan corduroy pants alluringly beckoned me from the closet.
3) Nostalgia regarding driving to work, while listening Christian music and drinking Starbucks, overwhelmed me.

So, I arrived at work all toasty warm, with Starbucks in hand. Lazy, lazy Friday.