Final Farewell...

As I packed my belongings and bittersweet memories flooded my mind, I thought about me, my disposition, and my path.

I still see faded images walking up and down the hallway. Glancing over at me and doing the signature move of pushing the sliding eye glasses up with the side of an index finger. I hear laughter followed by the image of a scrunched up nose and a convulsing body, as though it could no longer stand the hilarity of a situation any longer. Talking to the tv as if the news correspondent could actually hear him and respond.

Hopefully my final night will be the last that I wake startled from the silence.

The time has finally come to say goodbye. To let go of certain things that I have yet to be able to. That girl, the one that would anxiously sit, straining her ear for the sound of a motorcycle entering the neighborhood so that she could run and open the garage. That girl that sat there completely in love and in complete satisfaction and content with her life. I have come to the point where it is finally time to let her go. To move on in life and to go forward on this new path and discover with lies within.

I am so proud of her though. She literally went through hell and back. Rather than let it get the best of her and lay on the couch in her sorrow, she fought back. Although her heart, in spite of her denials of actually having one, was the one thing holding her back. Her fear of finding that again. Her fear of letting something go that she had worked so hard for and sacrificed so much to maintain it, its time to let all that go. No more memories of what was, or what could have been. It is finally time to leave all that behind.

She was good to me, and perhaps she harbored and kept safe what innocence and self love I had left. I have since restored it to myself and must say my goodbyes.

A new year approaches, and I feel as though that veil, the one which shrouded my life in shadow, has finally come off. No more mourning lost loves. No more mourning what could have been. Life will and has moved on, and so will I.

Its time to embrace the uncertain and forge on.

Getting my DIY on

I was reading a blog yesterday and got this great idea. Okay, I stole it. Anyway, it totally works though with the setting of my new place. Being on the river and all.

So, I ventured over to the Dollar Store (I dream on a budget) and bought eight bags of rocks, all the super glue they had and a carpet square all... a dollar each. Who would have thunk it?

 Anyway, I got home after having heaved and hoed to get the heavy 16 pound bag of rocks into the house during an absolute down pour. In the floor I cut all the bags open and dumped them onto the floor. (Did I mention that I typically make a lot of messes when I play?) Then I grabbed my preexisting toilet mat and cut the old welcome mat that I no longer use into the same shape.

This is particularly difficult if you have already packed your good scissors and only have the little ones from your knife block that you purchased from Ikea. Lesson learned.

Then it was time for the sticky stuff. For this particular project, I went through five tubes of crazy glue. And, I haven't attempted the bath mat yet. I need to make another trip to the store for that one.

Moving on. Rock by rock, I glued them down, careful to not bump the others because it took a good couple of hours for them to get firm. I also had to watch and make sure that I wasn't inadvertently creating patterns or lining them up.

To help aid in that, I would periodically turn the rug around and start working in another corner and continue there. It was like working a giant puzzle with a million pieces, but with a little help from the Beatles, I made it through. I finished up at around midnight and placed a flatten box on top and placed a heavy piece of furniture on top to help it dry correctly and securely.

 I have to admit, I couldn't help it. This morning when I woke, I walked over and removed the items from on top and placed my bare feet on it. The rocks felt so cool and smooth. I cannot wait until I make the other one. Although I might wait a day. The super glue has a tendency to remove the top layer of your epidermis. My fingers feel a little raw right now, and I will be pulling out glue "strings" from under my nails for a week.

The final project is pretty cool though. Although very heavy. I love the variations in the colors. It makes me happy. I can't wait until they are completely finished and in the new place.

I've got a feeling...

I know that you all have been worried and yelled at advised me to go and see a doctor about the week long lung hiatus. However, I am happy to report that as of last night (which included my first solid night in a loooonng time) I feel 90% better. My voice is even starting to sound normal. So how about them apples?

This past week though, has really made me feel like a million bucks. How, you might ask? Allow me to detail the random, off beat, compliments that I have been receiving.

When I went to the gym a few weeks ago, the new guy behind the counter called after me shortly after scanning my card. At first I thought perhaps it didn't scan properly and I just needed to run it again. He said that it was obvious that I had been working my butt off here and that I needed a new photo for the system because it really didn't even look at me. With mixed emotions, I asked him if I could have a look at it before he deleted it. I was scared and thrilled all at the same time. I could  not believe that was me. The photo was taken a few weeks prior to Christmas.

Furthermore, this weekend while I was sitting out in my driveway in the sun, (1) to stay warm and (2) to get some studying done, numerous women came up and said that they shouldn't even bother looking at my clothes because I was so little. I had to explain, almost like a broken record, throughout the day that those were my old clothes and why they were for sale. One women, before she had heard the story, walked over and grabbed a shirt of mine and said that there was no possible way that I had ever worn that in my life. You should have seen her eyes when I told her. She then asked me if I lost all that weight on purpose. (Shockingly enough, that has been a lot of people's questions/comments).

Later on Sunday, I decided to go and get a pedicure. I haven't had one in forever, usually doing them myself, and felt like being pampered. At least one part of me would look and feel pretty. Well, when I walked in, the usual techs were there, with a few newbies. I got my regular girl. She and her brother have been doing my nails since I moved here back in 2007. These people are so nice, respectful and are darn good at what they do. I always recommend them to people when asked of a good place.

While I was sitting there and getting the chair to massage my poor muscles, she looked up at me and said that I looked really good and that she almost didn't recognize me. She said, "Is that why you haven't been in here for so long?" When it was time for me to pay, she grabbed my arm and said, "skinny, skinny, skinny."

As silly as it may sound. It really did make me feel so much better, in spite of the crap in my lungs.

Sleepless nights

As the war rages on in my respiratory system, my nights are progressively getting worse and worse. Either I don't notice it until then, or it really doesn't effect me until then, my nights are full of coughing. Not just weak, "a-hu" coughs, but violent, "scare the shit out of cat" coughs. I actually have to sit upright otherwise its too painful.

What is wrong with me? It has never taken me this long to get over any illness. Including the chicken pox. Each night I chug NyQuil in hopes that I will be able to quiet the unrest lying beneath, but to no avail. Furthermore, my mind is constantly running 100 miles per hour. "Did I do everything for precal that I was suppose to? Did I pack those things the other day? Did I call everyone that I needed to for that deposition?"

Why didn't my brain come equipped with a pause button? Can we fix that? I read somewhere that they have invented a bio printer for growing arteries and such. So why not?

Although it is no longer painful to talk, as I said yesterday, I do get stares when I open my mouth. Again today, during class, no one was willing to share what they had done for their land survey and legal description. So, being the insufferable know-it-all that I am, I chimed in. At first, he just looked at me as if he was astonished that I could actually speak in such conditions, then he would blink and ask me what I had just said.

Eventually this has got to stop. Right now I am in debate over whether or not I should attempt spin class tonight. Although I know that my legs could take it, I am worried about my lungs surviving the torture.

Damsel in Distress

This Saturday, after my not so fruitful garage sale, Frannie and company came up to help me with packing and really getting things done. It was a great and productive day. We cleaned out all closets, Panya got to play tetris in the garage with boxes, and even little Jai helped me in throwing clothes into space bags. Jett, well, that's another story all together. He just walked up and down the hall following Frannie while she did things that would have never crossed my mind to do, all the while crying with Buzz in his hands. Geez kid.

Finally, it came down to the bed. I stood on the mattress and carefully took down the cross beams while Panya labeled them for easier assembly and Frannie folded the curtains that were on the bed posts. After I removed the mattress, it was time to take apart the actual frame. It seems that the Allen wrench which I used for the posts of the bed is not the same size that I need for the frame. And, just to add injury to insult, all the Allen wrenches that I own had arms that were too long to fit into the actual recessed hole that the screw was in. Ikea was really messing with me, huh?

Well, I searched high and low for the stupid thing. No where to be found. Then I thought that perhaps I might have mistakenly put it in my ex's tool box and forgot to take it out. Nope. Then I called Ikea and talked to their customer service rep. I asked her if there was a tool that was comparable that I could purchase. Nope. I had to drive 90+ miles to their store so that someone could tell me what tool of theirs I could purchase. Yeah, no chance in hell of that happening.

Finally, I cracked. I got in my car with said Allen wrench in hand, and drove to the nearest hardware store. I explained the situation in my airy, high pitched voice and even drew them a diagram. The older gent that was there pretty much told me that I was SOL. The younger guy stood there for a minute, stared at the wrench and stared at the drawing. He then asked me if I cared if he "experimented" with it. I said nope.

A few seconds later, he had stuck the wrench into a device that resembled the jaws of life, told me to stand back, and then I heard a loud snap and a short piece of metal went flying through the air. He then brought it over to me and asked if that looked about right. "Fantastic! How much do I owe you?"

His reply was "nada." Out the door I ran and back to my house. There, with baited breath, I crouched down and inserted the wrench. I squealed with glee when not only it fit, but when it turned the screw and seconds later actually removed it.

Now, the bed stands in multiple pieces up against the wall in the hallway. Thank you dear sir. You saved my sanity (if there is any left).  So, the moral of this story is, if you sound like  you are dying and that all the pieces in your life have come crumbling down around you and if only you could do this one thing, life itself could start again, some guy in a red smock will be willing to assist you, for free.

Sounding a little Weezy lately?

As most of you know, I have been battling an upper respiratory infection for a little over a week now. For those of you luckly individuals, you have also heard the airy yet raspy voice that I am sporting at the moment.

Last week I wieghed myself as I usually do, and I had lost three pounds. Although normally this would be cause for celebration as that would mean only 7 more to go, this was not a joyous event. I do desparately want to lose those last pounds, but not this way. Rather than lose those pisky fat cells that somehow have lingered from my self butt kicking, I am losing all the muscle that I have managed to create in my weak attempts at weight lifting. It really pisses me off actually.

I am afraid to wiegh myself this weak. I can only imagine how much more I have lost since I was walking to class today and the combination of my bag and my belt resting on my hip bone was excruiting. Why? Because all the meat has disappeared from that area and it was like the items were resting on raw bone. No me gusta!

Although my voice sounds like I am a dying squeak toy, I actually don't feel nearly as bad as I did yesterday. So, that is a definate plus. I just wish that it wasn't so painful to listen to me speak. Someone actually called into work today and laughed at the sound of it.

The worst part, and I felt terrible for him, but no one would answer the questions that the professor was posing to the class this morning. So, rather than letting the sound of crickets fill the air, I answered. Although my answers were right, I had to repeat myself numerous times simply because he couldn't understand me... and I sit in the front row.

Hopefully the chicken pot pie stew that Jacki brought me today will help heal my throat. I really don't want to sound like this tomorrow.

Townie

The students in this town have a lovely term for those who live here and (1) lived here their whole life; (2) went to school here and never left; and (3) just moved here. I fall under number three.

I went to college in Milledgeville. Georgia College & State University, or just Georgia College or GCSU for short. Upon graduating, I learned that there was no where for me to really go in that town. No one looking to hire (or pay well) a newly graduated twenty something. So, Sarah and I decided to make the journey northward.

Although Sarah was not immediately labeled a "townie" since she was doing her internship at the hospital and was still, in fact, a student of the nursing program at GCSU, I was a loner. Singled out, and I hated it. I would yell at people who called me that. I once walked away from a cute guy because he called me that.

Well, yesterday after work, I was walking downtown to pick up my shoes that I had dropped off for some repairs. When I got there, and to no surprise, they were not even touched. He did the repairs while I waited, which wasn't bad. During those ten minutes, I stood and looked around the shop. You could tell that it had been there for a while and was always a shoe repair. Then I glanced over at the wall. The only thing that seemed in pristine condition were three frames of newspaper clippings that went back to before I was born. I found it interesting and a real feat that the business could stay... well, in business for that long.

Then I started thinking about what other places I knew in town like that. For instance, the old Hodgon's Pharmacy. Granted the moved down the block, but they have been at Five Points forever. The old Bottlework's Factory, although no longer bottling cokes, but now serves as the home of several businesses and... homes. How about my new home? Once and textile mill and now the home of several professors, young professionals, and me.

As I was walking back down towards the end of town to where my car was parked, I looked around at all the other shops, and at the people. I saw one panhandler sitting on the bench across from the bank, adjacent to her, a man playing a guitar. This town consists of all walks of life, and for that, it is a gem.

So, for now, I shall embrace the stereotype. I have thought about moving back here one day, perhaps to retire. That is, so long as I don't make my millions first and buy my NY pint house.

Happy Anniversary

Yesterday marked my two year anniversary with my company. I cannot believe how time has flown by. It seems just like yesterday that I started my first day here. Completely cliche I know, but its true.

Last night I was going through the clothes that I am selling in the neighborhood wide yard sale this weekend. I picked up the pair of pants that I wore on my first day. It was amazing how large they were on me now. I couldn't believe it. They were great pants too. I loved them. My first Ann Taylor Loft purchase.

I truly feel lucky and blessed to have such a great job with amazing perks, including the personnel. We all get along so well and I really feel that there is a terrific balance between casual and professional relationships here. There are times when we can complain about our lives or express our excitement and joys, and then at a moment's notice we can get right back down to business.

I remember the day that I interviewed. I was so nervous and confused by the set up of the office. I got lost trying to find my way back out. I found the whole professional/cubicle office setting intimidating, but I absolutely love it here. The day that I took my assessment test, I was shaking the entire time. I didn't want to screw it up.

Furthermore, this job completely saved my life. I was working for an attorney at the time who couldn't afford me. I was desperately seeking for a new job with more stability and a steady paycheck. Although I had a great relationship with my old boss, there was always a question of whether not I would walk out with a paycheck at times. My heart sank when I had to tell him that I had found a new occupational home, but at the same time thrilled that I had finally found all that I needed plus the benefits and structure.

So, here's to my job. Thanks for the amazing two years and here's to the future!

Unorthodox Inspiration

This morning when I woke, I felt terrible like death warmed up. My throat was in extreme pain, as was my head. I forced myself from my comfy confines and tried to get a start on. As I walked down the hallway, each light that I reached for and turned on was like shining a spot light in my face and a drill boring into my skull.

With each task that I attempted to complete, I felt worse and worse, regretting that I had even suggested the idea to myself. "Breakfast, no you silly girl, we can't make breakfast today. If you touch that box of oatmeal...you'll be sorry!" Boy was I.

As I finally managed to dress myself and was headed out the door, the thought kept running through my mind. "Can I really take on a day like this?" Driving was no easy chore, nor was making myself pay attention in class has he went over what we were to expect on our test for contracts.

Sitting here at work and completing my daily duties, I was placed on hold while trying to line some dates up. The "hold music" I really thought was going to kill me. That was it, I was going to die from a piano playing on a loop.

Now, you may be asking why I would put myself through all this pain? Why would I even have gotten out of bed all the while my head felt as though it was being squeezed through a juicer?

There are two people that come to mind that forced me to get a move on. The first, almost an iconic symbol for this town. There is a man who has no arms, hooks rather, who every day walks from the east side of town to downtown. He walks everyday to simply sell his drawings that he creates with permanent markers held in his mouth.

The other, another familiar character to the locals, which many call "Bags." He is a homeless person who is regularly seen carrying numerous bags stuffed to max capacity with his belongings. He wanders the city and has been spotted just about everywhere. This morning, I happen to had seen him. This time trekking up North Avenue carry a singletary black garbage bag.

These are the people that inspired me to get out of bed this morning. If these two gents can live their lives with their misfortunes and survive, surely I can get out and make it through my day with a headache, shortness of breath, and cough.

Its Monday All Right

This morning started off like any typical week I would expect. Just more than I had anticipated in such a short time span. Morning class was cancelled, my landlady wanted to show the house at the wee hours of the morning and when I finally got to work, my computer immediately decided to freeze up when transcribing important documents.

It was like I never stopped moving once. I looked at the clock this afternoon and realized that it was 2:00 and I hadn't had lunch yet. Oops. I scarfed down a sandwich and back the grind stone I went.

During one of my brief intermissions, Jacki and I were discussing the moving plan since I am commandeering her and her truck for this expedition. After she made some terrible, and "I wish I had thought of that first," sense, I decided that the bed is coming down tomorrow.

I decided that in order to keep on schedule, and my realization that I have a mere two weeks left, that my goal is to pack two boxes a night. Yesterday, I managed to pack three and bring everything from the office closet into the "storage" room. I moved everything into the guest bathroom and had a serious bout of deja vu. That was my bathroom originally when I moved into that house over two years ago. It definitely took me back a ways.

Hopefully this week will be productive and not quiet as hectic as today was. But, if it is, at least it will bring me closer to my anticipated and exciting moving day. I cannot wait!

You won't like me when I'm angry...

This morning, as I was locking my door and heading to the car, for the first time, it felt like fall. I could see my breath in the air. I shortly, thereafter, realized that my next purchase must be a jacket. The really nice one that I purchased for myself last year, sadly, no longer fits. I got so many compliments on that jacket too.

Today, although I am still tired and in desperate need a long, uninterrupted sleep, am feeling pretty great. I am wearing for the first time in six months, a pair of pants, jeans, that does not require my wearing of a belt. Heya! I cannot possibly describe how amazing it feels to finally wear clothes that fit. Each time that I stand up today, there will be no need to pull anything up or readjust. It just fits. Plain and simple.

This past week has been a dosy for me, but productive. Wednesday was by far my busiest day. Although, I did actually offend myself. The day seemed to fly by with all the conferences and webinars, running of errands, and finally performing an exorcism on the copier, finally I was ready to have my personal training session. I had been waiting on this for over week. Brian had rescheduled with me three times.

As I got into my car, I noticed that I had left it in there after running my last errand. I picked it up to see if anyone had attempted to contact me. Yep, someone sure did. It was the straw that had finally broken this camel's back. Brian wanted to reschedule for Friday. Then I said it, the one thing that in all my life I have refused to say. I never thought it was possible to offend yourself, but it is.

It must have sounded so strange coming from my mouth. Luckily, no one was in the car with me to witness such a monstrosity. I have been told two opinions of my ability to cuss. First, Sarah S. says that I do it with such conviction and emotion. That it is funny when I say it, but at the same time, you know that I mean business. Then, my ex told me that I was terrible at it, and that it was simply funny and that I scared no one. I would like to believe that the former is true.

Anyway. Basically, all this really taught me was that I truly hate flakes. I really do. If you are a flake and can never (1) Make up your mind; (2) Commit to be somewhere when you said that you would be; or (3) Follow through, you and I will surely not get along. Don't even try, you will only further irritate me and provoke the beast within.

The World Spins Madly On

Although its entirely appropriate for the title of this blog, this song by the Weepies, has been stuck in my head all morning.

Even though it is only Wednesday, I feel as though this week is total and complete blur. Monday morning I felt completely drowsy from the medinice that I had taken the night before. I was still sneezing like crazy and had eyes like Satan's minions. Finally, as if a switched had been flipped, it all stopped by the time I had to leave for night class. Funny thing though, my friend James who sits next to me starting sneezing. I passed him my Day-Quil and he eventually stopped.

Tuesday I found out in my morning class that our instructor mis spoke and our project was in fact due Thursday rather than the following Monday. Well, I hate to say it, but he asked for it. He wanted us to create a sales contract with at least one special stipulation. Mine is thirty pages long. Call me an over achiever, but that's just how I roll.

I also did a mini survey of all my attorney friends asking which aspect of the office life they regreted or resented the most. For my Office Management course I have to, as our final project, write a paper on some aspect of the working office. So far, since not all have responded, the general response seems to be the billing process. However, outdated software is also a top contender. Now, the real question is, can I write a final paper on office billing... and make it interesting? Only time will tell.

Tonight, after personal training (that is, if he doesn't cancel again) I plan on finally taking my bed apart. It is going to be quiet the undertaking, and since I am falling so behind on my packing to begin with, this will at least motivate me and take care of a large portion of it. Next step will be taking on the kitchen and wrapping all my dishes with outdated Daily Reports. Hey, no one is reading them anyway, and they are at least two or more months old.

Another one bites the dust..

Quiet literally. Sunday morning after eating breakfast I decided that it was time to take the curtains down in the kitchen and living room. As I stood, balancing myself on the arms of my comfy chair, I reached up and grabbed hold of the metal rod. As I lifted it up to gently (remember I said gently) lower the curtains, I lost hold and they came tumbling down onto my head, bringing with it dust that had been accumulating over the past three years. Yuck!

After a few sneezes and gasping for clean air, I tossed them into the dryer on the fluff cycle to rid them of any remaining dust particles that somehow resisted the urge to land prime real estate in my lungs. I then proceeded to clean my nostrils out via the neilmed cleansing system and hopped in the shower.

While I was waiting for Sarah's arrival and to begin our mission to the outlets for shopping, I began to sneeze. For most people, when they sneeze, its just a little "a-choo" and they are done with it. I wish I were so lucky. My entire back convulses, my eyes water and get sqwinty, and then the "ah, ah, ah, AH-CHOOOOOO" comes barrelling out of my nose like some thunderous freight train. If that weren't bad enough, my sneezes rarely come alone. No, they bring their mother, brother and second cousins twice removed along for the ride.

Needless to say, and to no fault of Sarah, the shopping trip was absolutely miserable. I would be trying on a dress or some assemble that we put together. Every time that I lifted my head to pull the shirt over, my eyes would catch the light. Even the fitting room attendants were shouting out "Bless you," from down the corridor. How embarrassing.

Finally, after three stores it was time to go home. I felt terrible because each place that we left I felt should have been labeled a bio hazard. Where is the CDC when you need 'em, eh? Using my great logic skills here, we decided that the only prescription that could possibly heal the ailment in my nose was...ice cream.

After having my cookie dough and brownies mixed into the cold, creamy diary treat, Sarah and I walked across the street to the new yogurt shop. I had never been in one before and it was buzzing with business. People were literally sitting on the curb devouring their delights because there was no more room in the store.

Later that afternoon, I faced the fact that I was sick, fumbled through the boxes that I had packed that now contained my pantry and dug out some cider. Unfortunately that did not do the trick. Both nostrils were just as equally and stubbornly clogged as before. Then, remembering that for some reason (and I still have no idea why) that there was one Ny-Quil stored on the top shelf of the dish cabinet. I jumped once, twice, three times the charm, and poured myself 2 tablespoons of the oooey, gooey, green liquid.

I have found that it is no fun and incredibly hard to self medicate. Although I knew that by downing the disgusting syrup, I would feel monumentally better by morning, I still found it difficult to voluntary torture myself. Perhaps Mary Poppins was right, a spoonful of sugar does help the medicine go down, but unfortunately for me, I had already packed it away.

Times like these I wish that I had know my great-great-grandmother. My mother use to say that whenever she was sick, Mama Lee (g-g-gmama) would make her take a shot of whiskey. Now, that's what I call medicine. She use to say that if that didn't clear your head, she didn't know what would.

Unfortunately for me, and my nose, I still have the curtains on my fourposter and bedroom windows to take down. Perhaps, though, I may vacuum them beforehand.

Oh, and I need to borrow an electric drill to take the screws out of the wall.

Its all just a bit of silliness really.

Great line from a great movie. Although my friend Eli would disagree, which is in fact how I gained ownership of said film.

Tonight, I am sitting on the couch, enjoying my creative way in which I successfully connected my computer to the internet (just watch, I won't have reception when I move) and trying to type while a very sleeping and lazy feline lays across my lap and has taken an arm hostage for a pillow. Naturally, if there are any typos in this blog, tonight we shall place the blame, entirely, on Mo.

Yesterday, after my training was cancelled yet again (starting to get ridiculous here I know) I decided that since I had already packed for the gym, that I would go. Luckily Rich was subbing the spin class that day.

After I got home, while cooking my dinner, I received a text from Sarah S. Rather than text back and forth and managing the madness on my stove top, I called her. Plans were set for a very fun, and Sarah, filled weekend. Such a treat. It is a rarity when we can actually have time to visit with one another, and I cherish each moment that we do.

Today we tailgated for the first time together. Sad to say considering that I have know here for seven years and the fact that we moved to this town together, and lived together in this town for two years. During that time, we never once tailgated. Occasionally our paths would cross on game day. Once at Wild Wing and another at the dipping dots stand.

It was great. We enjoyed cupcakes, BBQ, chicken fingers, spicy dips with chips, and Cajun boiled peanuts. There was much more there of course, but a person can only eat so much. A few blades of grass away, there was a couple from out of town who had brought with them three bulldog puppies (which they claimed were descendants of Uga VI). They were so adorable, and we could not get enough of them. I kept telling Sarah to keep a look out, and when the time was right, I would snatch one away and make a run for it. Just kidding. Although, I must say that it if weren't for the hefty price tag, it would have been very tempting to have gotten one.

Finally, UGA was doing so well that we decided to dash before we were, and quite inconveniently I might add, forced onto the loop. We rushed out of there, the roads were already lined with police ready to herd the masses from town, and headed over to her place for a much needed activity. Napping. I passed out on the couch, occasionally disturbed by her dog Milly's jumps onto my stomach. If that doesn't wake you, I don't know what will.

Finally, it was time for me to head home.

Tomorrow, Sarah and I shall embark on a journey to hopefully find me some clothes. I decided that I wasn't ready to venture out on my own just yet. I still have the tendency to get discouraged and I will either walk out with nothing but a great sense of defeat, or walk out with items that were just not right and I will inevitably regret those purchases later and the sense of defeat, although slightly delayed, will still set in.

Here's hoping that tomorrow goes well.

P.S. I will add photos later as my computer is being stupid right now and will not allow me to upload nor export them.

Wait, what day is it?

This morning while on my way coming into work, I lost myself and turned down the wrong road towards school. My days are starting to run together.

Originally I was suppose to have personal training on Wednesday, but due to car trouble on Brian's end, we had to reschedule for today. I had planned to skip the gym today in an effort to relax and make more head way on my packing. Since last Saturday's race, the only break from working out that I have had was Monday (and that was just because of class).

Right now I am currently working on a real estate contract for class, a personal learning style project for Office Management and my own person rental agreement (he hand wrote it for crying out loud, and when he faxed it, there was a page missing. He didn't think I would notice huh?).

I've also starting creating my punch list, and its a long one. I am still ecstatic about moving, it just gets a little overwhelming when you sit down and actually look at everything as a whole.

The neighborhood yard sale is just around the corner and I have got to clear out the garage by then, completely repack my belongings in the office that I have already packed to see if I can rid myself of anything that I absolutely don't have to take to the new place.

When Sarah N. comes in town next weekend, we have to paint my bathroom (which means that I have to be completely packed up from there and moved into the other one) and carve a pumpkin and tailgate. Somehow we will make it all fit. I am also planning on taking apart my bed at some point. The mere thought of it scares the crap out of me. The last time that I took it apart and reassembled it, (1) it was just moving across the hall and into the master bedroom and (2) I had help. Eek. Times like this I wish that I didn't have such a large bed, but it makes me happy.

Granted, I know that this is my last quarter at ATC before my internship, and I knew what I was getting myself into by taking such a heavy load, but these 16-18 hour days are really starting to take a toll on me. My eyes always look red and tried, and every now and then I completely space out. Sometimes its during a conversation with a co-worker. Luckily we are never talking about anything of real importance, but I feel bad.

I just need to keep myself motivated and stay the course. It will all be over soon, right? Soon I will be in my new loft, relaxing (for a minute) and December is right around the corner.

Journey on...alone?

Originally I had asked my brother-in-law to come on a journey with me. My first official bike ride. According to Frannie, he had started warming up to the idea. But, as fate would have it, Panya (my b/i/l) injured himself earlier this week.

He was hanging shelves in the garage while Frannie was out in the yard playing with the kids. She heard him make a noise, turned around and saw that he had fallen through, that's right, I said through, the ladder. He already has a bad track record with that ankle to begin with, so naturally, he is hurt.

My sympathies are of course completely with him, and I wish him a fast and speedy recovery, but what do I do now? I wanted him to go with me for several reasons. (1) Bonding time; (2) a chance to learn from someone who use to ride 100+ miles a day; and (3) should anything happen to me, someone could relay it.

I am still debating on whether or not I should go for it. It would be good for me to branch out, but I am still not sure if this is the best way to go about it. This race is a particularly long one.

I have about a week and a half to determine my final decision. Stay tuned...

A-ha!

I just took this quiz. Here are my results:

Your color personality is: Yellow


Like yellow's strongest symbol, the sun, you radiate warmth. Others love to be around you because you have a gift for always looking on the bright side, and your ready smile can be infectious. Chances are your calendar is packed -- yellow lovers tend to be always on the go!Your signature color indicates someone imaginative and creative, so don't be afraid to express yourself through the way you dress and the way you decorate your home. Cheerful yellow is the ideal hue for a kitchen, laundry room, or any room that needs some extra brightness.

Apparently the cold heatless monster isn't so cold afterall. Hmmm......

Yankee Doodle Mere

Apparently my mother, dad, and brothers all agree that I am somehow turning into a carpet bagger. Now, I find this hard to believe considering that I was born and raised in the same county. When I left for college, I traveled further south, and I now live in the epitome of southern life "Dawg Country!" Furthermore, I was a debutante for crying out loud.

I asked what evidence they had procured for such nasty stereotyping.

My choice of noisy establishments to wind down the day? Simple explanation for that one. I work in an office. Other than the phone ringing and the sound of my typing, there isn't a whole lot that makes noise. I live my life in silence. Add in the fact that I do not have cable or internet at home, and its really like living in a vacuum. So, since I have all day with my thoughts, at the end of the day, I prefer to drown them out. What is so wrong about that? So what if I live my life backwards. That doesn't make me a yankee.

I still hold true all the "southern" traditions. I refuse to wear velvet before Halloween and after Valentines. I will not wear white shoes after labor day (although I do fudge on the whole open toes thing). Perhaps I don't exactly adhere to or prescribe to the purse matching the shoes thing, but that is more a generational difference than geographical. Due to my accent I cannot correctly say "oil", "boil", "foil." In fact, when I use to docent at an old plantation house in Jonesboro (yeah, yankees make great docents) the actual yankees that came down, use to make fun of me for my accent. So did my ex who was from St. Louis.

I am still at a loss of how my family could come to such a conclusion. My mother doesn't understand my infinity and love for NYC. But, she has never been there. She said that we two are more different that she had thought. Perhaps Mama, but, keep in mind that there is a 30 year difference here. If you were my age now, you may feel differently about the things that I love. You may have loved them as well. Also, I was raised by you, and you were raised by someone who, when they grew up still had buggies and carts and no electricity. Times, they are a changin' (at least according to Bob Dylan).

Don't despair my dear family. I am still that little southern bell, I just traded my corset and seven petty coats for trouser pants and a blouse. Just because I do things a little different and sometimes have a tendency to be "hard and cold," just think of me as your own steel magnolia.

Sunday, Monday, Frumpy Days. Tuesday, Wednesday, you get the picture.

I was talking to Sarah N. this morning about how I desperately needed some new clothes and how her visit couldn't possibly come any sooner.

For instance, today I am wearing a shirt which was previously owned by Sarah. It use to fit slightly snug when I first got it, now, I am swimming in it. Furthermore, a pencil skirt that I purchased a little over a month ago, again snug at first, is so large on me that not even my belt can control it. Every time that I readjust in my chair or stand to do one thing or another, I have to pull my skirt back up and tuck my shirt in. Its (1) embarrassing and (2) annoying.

Through her persuasion, I may try to shop unassisted and without supervision this weekend. It is starting to get cold (which I love) but I don't want to freeze. I also want to stop looking like the child that just climbed out of her mother's closet. Hopefully I will be successful and put off some of the cost with the upcoming yard sale where I shall attempt to rid myself of all these frumpy, dumpy clothes.

Wish me luck.

See Bell. See Bell run. Run Bell, run.

This past Saturday was the Annual SPACE Race. My mom and dad came up especially for this event, and it was the first time that they had ever spent the night or day here. It was awesome having them up. When they came, they brought with them a running buddy for me, Bell.

She really is the best dog. Originally belonging to my older brother, she became too much for him to handle plus his other dog. So, my parents gladly adopted her. She is a Great Pyrenees lab mix and is a fierce protector of her "herd" a/k/a my family. When I had my wisdom teeth out, she stood by my side the entire time. Particularly since my grandmother was trying to give me rice krispy treats. "Um, I just had surgery in my mouth, I might as well chew on some glass."

Anyway, I was super excited about being able to take Bell with me. I was a little worried about doing my first race along, but she made it all better. She only tripped me once when she saw a squirrel while going through a neighborhood, and then the last quarter mile, her tongue was hanging out and I had to tug on her more than I had expected. But, she and I made it, and in record time. Usually my run to Ramsey and back takes an hour, and its roughly 4 miles. This was a 5k that we did, which is around 3 miles. We cut approximately 30 minutes off my time!

My dad said that they guy who won ran it in 17:53. His first response was, "is the shuttle running this morning?" I couldn't believe it. What was really interesting was that after I had cooled down a bit and was chugging water, I saw a familiar face who had just finished. Patrick, an old friend of Josh's from college. I always thought that he was in good shape and he came and left there on a bike. So, I was surprised that I finished before him. I was even more surprised that he remembered my name.

Later that morning, after a trip home and hosing myself off, we headed over the Gardens for a little picnic like we use to have when I was a kid. My mom loved the English Garden and could not get enough of it. I also showed them where I would be moving to, and believe it or not, I think that my mom is more excited than I am for me.

Now, if only it were time for me to move. I'm ready.

Now that's what I am talking about...

I was at the grocery store rather late last night due to my hectic and unpredictable schedule. As I was walking out after having purchased my items and practically robbed the store with my savings, I saw a man walking in wearing a leather riding jacket and carrying his helmet. I was so relieved when I walked out and saw a motorcycle propped up in the parking lot. Finally, someone in this town who doesn't ride a scooter.

When did men stop being...men. I understand the convenience and all of scooters, but they are so feminine. Also, another plus was that his helmet wasn't gaudily decorated with airbrushing. He had a grown up bike with grown up accessories.

Now, I'm not saying that I don't appreciate a well dressed man, but what is with all the metrosexuals here? I want a guy to look good, but at the same time look masculine. He can drink a cocktail or wine, but he had best do it like a man. A cigar wouldn't hurt.

Additionally, I hate it, hate it, when I have a stronger hand shake. The other day someone came into the office to pick up a package. I handed it to him and shook his hand. It was a total and complete dead fish. What?!? Show some sort of effort here. Blah.

This is just a silly rant I know, but it really did make my night last night, for however short lived it was, just seeing this man, emphasis on man.