Times are Changing

My sister and her nephew came on my side of town (the “city”) Wednesday for dinner and a visit with her older sister. Sitting at the restaurant table watching her hold a conversation with both me and her son while cutting his broccoli really blapped me in the face about how different things have become in the last decade.

“Yea I saw him in the shop, he looks really good now. Son, don’t blow in your straw. Looks like he’s been working out. Do you want me to salt your broccoli?”

She’s a mother. Okay so I’ve known this for the past 5 years, but she’s just now getting on her feet again after her divorce, getting her own place and really proving herself. I think before I still looked at her as a kid, or just my younger sister instead of a mother and provider because she still had my parents’ help.

When I say she came “in to town” think of it more as a little trek in from our small home town. You know, where everybody knows your name? (Is that Cheers? I can’t remember…) Where I live, they’ve really built the city up recently and the roads are different, more confusing and accident prone. She was close to tears trying to follow me around town to different shops she wanted to visit because people would cut her off, or she got in the wrong lane because that’s the way she remembered going when her and I would bar hop around town 7 years ago.

Wow. You know you’re old when you say you bar-hopped 7 years ago.

She’s safe in her little town. She’s starting to become like my parents. If she can’t get something she needs in a store on her side of town, then she really doesn’t need it. I remember a time when we’d take every chance we could get to venture off into the city. Now she avoids it like the plague.

There’s this one really vivid memory I have of my sister and I. Either my sister or I tell it when we’re hanging out and there’s alcohol involved. For me, I feel like if I don’t revisit that time, the memory will fade. (And then what will we laugh about?)

I was about 10 years old, she was 7, and we shared a room with twin beds. Most nights we were up past our bed time whispering to each other across the room. Isn’t it funny how as adults we jump at the chance to crawl under the covers for some sleep but as kids you did everything you could to avoid it? Anyway, my sister and I would take turns whispering curse words at each other, then laugh because it sounded so strange coming out of our mouths. “Damn! Shit! Bitch!” Other times we would bury our faces in our pillows and scream. I’m actually laughing right now thinking about it. Go home and stick your face in your pillow and scream. Its funny and it feels good. One of our parents would come shuffling down the hall to fuss at us.

“Which one of you girls did that? You are supposed to be asleep by now.” Of course we’d be pretending to sleep and roll over sleepy-eyed, looking all confused. “Huh? What was that Mom? I was sleeping and didn’t hear you…”

So anyway, this whole ramble was just about how different life is now. Sometimes its yucky – responsibility, careers, bills. But sometimes it’s neat seeing how far you or a sibling has come.

That’s it. Thanks for listening.

Random Thought of the Day

If a cheeseburger is called a cheeseburger because it's a burger with a slice of cheese on it, then why doesn't a hamburger have a slice of ham on it?

I WANT A CHEESEBURGER!!!

Stalkers & Serial Killers

First off, I apologize for the scary title, but its what this post is about. Read it again. Makes you cringe, huh?

Not sure the reason for my paranoia these days, but lately I’ve been very hesitant about getting into elevators with people or running in the dark. I know it seems I’m judging strangers, but its not even about that. I’m being paranoid and I know it.

Seriously think about it though -- anyone could be a stalker, or a serial killer. Your neighbor, the mailman, Betty Jo at the local grocery. I just recently crossed a man that was walking really stiffly down a hall in my office and thought “he could be a crazy.” Hell, my friends could be crazies. HOW DO WE KNOW???

I actually have an ex-friend that I was scared of being alone with because he had that crazy, I-could-snap-your-neck look. But, he seemed gentle, which make me more skittish around him. At the end of our (platonic) relationship I found myself agreeing with him on things I normally wouldn’t, because I’d witnessed the wild look in his eyes during many a silly argument.

There’s a really tall guy with extremely wild hair that runs laps around my complex, and when he ends up in the path running behind me I make a point speeding up and head on home. I can’t help it. In a way I think its good to be cautious... right? I can’t be the only one who does this. I KNOW I’m not crazy. I KNOW IT. I don’t wanna be in the room with no windows again, noooo...

Relationship Entertainment

When you think of being in a relationship, there are things you gain from being part of a “we”. Naturally the following things may pop into your head: movie & dining partner, physical affection, personal masseuse, etc., but you don’t normally think that you’ll gain a priceless form of entertainment.

I, however, have.

Besides knowing that I’m with someone who has an equally sick sense of humor that can partner up with me to create (at least) a good hour of belly-laughing entertainment, I also know that I can be entertained without even provoking it.

Saturday night I had a drunken monkey on my hands. Not severely, but just enough beer to bring the good stuff to surface. I find these days I actually drink less so that I can be in complete conscious form so I can truly appreciate these little episodes of entertainment and remember them the next day, 1. so I can blog them (duh!) and 2. so I can embarrass J while informing him of his hilariousness.

Is hilariousness a word? Spell check thinks so. Hmm…

So anyway, J is basking in his intoxicated-induced sweet talking, coming up with line after (very clever) line, and he stops for a second and looks over at me while we’re walking to my car.

J: “You’re beautiful.”
Me: “Aww, thanks babe.”
(Small pause-)
J: “Baby?”
Me: “Yes?”
J: “Do you know how beautiful you are, or just when I tell you?”

I love these silly little remarks, even if they don’t make a whole lot of sense. A little later we both crash, me in my usual spot, J taking up the rest of the bed with his monkey limbs. “Hey,” I whisper loudly to him, “can you move over a little?”

You’d swear I had asked him to get up out of bed and check for intruders. He moved over a little with much huffiness. Then when I get in, I tug a little on the sheets cuz he has them all. I get just enough over on me and he yanks them off of me.

Lol. Okay, this man is one of the most gentle, happy men I know, and watching him scowl at me in his sleep and yank covers off me... I went from being too sleepy to talk in more than a whisper to actually smothering my laughs in my pillow. He never remembers these, but I think that makes it even funnier.

There ya go. The highlight of my weekend. ;)

Word Verification

Not too long ago a fellow blogger, DJ Metronome, posted about how irritating word verification was. I decided to take it off mine because, well, it IS irritating. However, it was back on a week later after I had to delete two junk posts immediately after turning the sucker off.

But now its kinda funny, like there’s an actual person behind verification. Have you noticed lately how much more difficult it is to read the letters? They’re all cursive and sideways in really bright colors, placing letters beside others that look alike. “Ha! Try to figure that one out! Oh yeah? So that one wasn’t hard enough for you?? How about..this! fftylliIlff!!”

>sigh< I’ve got to find something better to do with my free time…

A Woman's Prayer

Dear Lord,

I pray for Wisdom to understand my man; Love to forgive him; and Patience for his moods. Because, Lord, if I pray for Strength, I'll beat him to death.

AMEN

-- Now that's funny. I don't care who you are.

My Roses!

Totally forgot about the picture I took of the roses J gave me a few weeks ago which were on the roll of film we just developed. Aren’t they beeeautiful??

Get over it. I'll brag and gush if I want to.

Riding on the Tickfaw

I took a couple of vacation days off last week so J took me riding on the Tickfaw on one of them. After I got used to being in the boat and got comfortable with going over 15 miles per hour, it was very relaxing. We pulled up at Ten Lizzy’s on the River and tied the boat to the pier, went in for a beer and some fried alligator. Wow, this sounds really Southern...

I took a couple pictures of the camps out at the river. There’s these little shacks that you see in the movies that make you think of Louisiana bayous and the South, and then you see huge mansions on the river with an RV and a yacht that has you wishing for the lottery. A bizarre contrast and an amazing sight to see.




Okay so now I have to be mushy and thank you know who again for the fun day. >Muah!< I loves you Monkey.

The Rating Game

Last night after a bowl of home made red beans and rice, J and I headed to the pool for a little relaxing. We like our pool time. It’s a place for quiet, serious talks, gazing into each others eyes >cough< Bleh. S’cuse me. Got a little sick for a second…

The pool has been known to bring the truth out on many levels. All he has to do is say “want to go take a dip in the pool?” with a certain look in his eye, and I know its about to get deep.

We have this retarded need for ego feeds and knowing how the other person feels about each other. (And to be honest, probably me more so than he.) Somehow we started asking each other to “rate” things, such as “rate the quality of our time together”. This very quickly turned into a game.

May I say this is an EXCELLENT, sneaky way of learning what the other person thinks about certain aspects of your relationship without hurting any feelings. You must say “be honest, this is a game. It won’t hurt my feelings.” And somehow, it doesn’t. Because it’s a game. (And because there’s a tall glass of vodka lemonade in your hand.)

Apparently J rates:

Our quality of time together a 10.
My friends on different levels – Michelle & David, you get the highest score! (and the crowd goes willldddd…)
My, err, ok maybe I won’t mention that one…
My cooking – an 8 1/2 . Because, and this is too cute, “there’s no junk food or sweets in your house.” He likes the cooking, but because this chic doesn’t keep Nestles Crunch or things of the like in her house, it pulls the score down a point and half from perfection. >sigh< I’m working on it…

New Orleans & Chicken Quesadillas

Time for a belated weekend update!

J & I felt like we spent most of the weekend on the road, but it ended up being a fun weekend. There was a birthday party on Saturday in Slidell to attend, so on the way in he took me through Metairie & New Orleans. When you’ve spent the last year looking at pictures of the damage and hearing stories, you can imagine what happened but never really know. Seeing the rummage and broken houses, the roofless shacks and water mark lines on the houses made it real. We drove through an area near the levee and J pointed out markings on the street that read “Help Us Please”. Each house was marked with an X and the number of bodies found in it. Businesses had spray painted the sides of their buildings with “BEWARE: We shoot looters!” We had to make a pit stop for the ladies room on the way out at Home Depot and the parking lot was jammed packed, walking through the store felt like walking through Walmart on a Sunday afternoon. So many people were still buying materials to rebuild their homes.

On a lighter note, after the birthday party we ventured over to P-town for a little eating and laughs at the Sanders. I learned a new way to make chicken thanks to Michelli, and we saw her beeeaaautiful baby room. If I ever grow a baby in ma belly, I’m going to attach Michelle to my hip to help me decorate the little one’s room. After the oo’s and aahh’s, we had chicken quesadilla’s and put a dvd on – The Benchwarmers. Hilarious. If you haven’t seen it and you’re in the mood for stupid funny, it’s the movie to watch. Two minutes in and the lights went out in the neighbor – a small town con. We made the best of it and eventually the lights came back on.

After a full day of running and seeing and playing, my monkey and I headed back home. I think we’re getting old… we were in bed by midnight. On a SATURDAY NIGHT.

That’s your weekend update. Now back to regular programming.

Another Day

I woke up this morning not remembering what it was like being single. My blog heading reads Another Day in the Same Life: I wake up to the same walls, smell, and light. I’m not so sure how true that statement is anymore. Sure, the walls are the same dull off white color, the light will always be dim but soothing, yet the smells are different now. The sounds are different. The way I feel in my surroundings… different.

After he snoozes his cell alarm for the fourth time, he rolls out of bed and I roll into his warm place to breathe in the scent he left. I usually fall in and out of sleep but never let myself fall completely into unconsciousness because I know the kiss and snuggle good bye is coming soon. What girl in her right mind would want to miss that for a little snooze time?

Today he needed a pair of jeans he said I washed earlier in the week. Not fully comprehending due to the state of wakefulness (or lack thereof) I was in, I told him I hadn’t washed his jeans and got out of bed to offer help. Normally I wouldn’t think twice about keeping my happy ass in the bed while the guy standing in my closet figured out what to do. Then again, normally I wouldn’t have a man staying the night, or be washing his jeans for that matter. I stood there looking at him, a little sorry I hadn’t washed them the night before as I had planned on doing. I pulled a pair of his jeans from the bottom of my hamper to throw in the dryer. At that point I think he realized I was still too loopy from sleep to think straight and told me sweetly not to worry about it. On the way to my sink I remembered where his freshly washed jeans were and with a grin pulled them out of my other closet and presented them to him. Good girl!

A minute later I was sitting on my kitchen counter nursing a Diet Dr. Pepper, watching him make his lunch for the day. I studied his back, the scary tatt on his shoulder blade, his innocent white boxers… thinking he should be wearing black or something with skulls on them. When did these little things begin to amuse me so much?

When he left and the door closed, I stood for a second to listen to his footsteps fade and took in the room. The apartment is so different when he’s not there. I can still smell and see him everywhere -- his cologne, the cell phone he left on my dresser, his shaving gel on the side of my tub.

So yeah, it’s another day, but not so much the same life anymore. Maybe it’s time to change my header…

File Nazi and Romantical Musings

Well guys, the file nazi will be here before 1pm today. I plan on taking a really long lunch before and have a few (meaning 4 or 5) margaritas. Top Shelf. Whish meee luff.

I had a really productive night, made some jewelry for my upcoming shows with Michelli. Repaired a co-worker’s necklace for her as well, took a run around the complex, and punched my upstairs neighbor in his mouth. Okay, so maybe I just told him he was loud. Sounds like an elephant parade up there. He’s moving, which is the reason for the recent noise. Yippee!! No more late night tap dancing above my head, no more climbing on my bed to pound the ceiling with my tennis shoe.

Oh! And I also watched Pride and Prejudice last night. Man, I needed a good cry like that. I used to say every woman needed a good cry at least once a month, clear out all that backed up emotion. Well, last night I had mine – what a beautiful love story. Watching a movie like that when I was single was kind of hard and would usually leave me wishing and wanting. Now it just makes me want to kidnap J and make him wear one of those white wigs and maybe a pair of tights that show under those short knickers they wore in the old days. Hmm… or maybe not.