Officially Monday



I had completely forgotten about this picture until Mel sent it.
Cheese!

Last night was probably the best sleep that I have gotten in a long, long while. Apparently the secret is to get absolutely no sleep on Saturday night, get a 30 minute nap on Sunday afternoon, and pound your alarm 60 times the following morning. Needless to say, I dragged my butt into work this morning.

So, what happened this weekend? Cookout!

We decided to have a cookout for one of Billy's friends. It was her birthday the weekend before, and she had not celebrated it. So, Billy asked if they could stay, and I granted his request. Friday, they were suppose to come into town, but didn't. So, I went along and had my personal training session (which I am still in pain from), went to Wal-mart for some items including pillows for my guest, and then went home and finished cleaning. Later that night, I got a text from Billy...Maria wasn't coming. Too bad, on with the party!

Saturday, Billy came over around 2:00. We had lunch, got our items, purchased probane for the grill, and then sat on the wall by the river drinking Corona while the burgers marinated. How can you beat that? It was an awesome way to spend an afternoon if you ask me.

Five rolled around and people started to show up. I had Sarah N., Sarah S. and Nhut in the kitchen cutting and seasoning potato wedges,  and Darrin on the grill with the burgers and hot dogs. If you come to my house, expect to work. No free rides here.

After we ate, and had some of Melanie's muffins that she made for us (I love that woman!) we all grabbed chairs and sat out by the river drinking and shooting the breeze. Then Chris (Melaine's husband) came out to walk their new Dalmatian puppy. The girls went nuts and ran over there and played with her. Ena, the pup, got scared and hid. Poor little girl. The funny thing is that she and Mo have made great friends. They actually play together. It is the cutest thing.

Anywho. After that Mel, Billy, Darrin and I, decided to hit up down town. First stop of the night, Buddha. I had to get my bomb, had to, and it was delicious. Then we went over to 9d's since no one other than me had been there. They played songs that I had; (1) not thought of in forever; and (2) shockingly remembered all the words to. Then we headed over to see Hugh, who apparently doesn't work there anymore!?! I asked Paul what happened and he said that Hugh and his wife had split and that she still comes in the bar. Awkward to say the least.

Oh well, off to 8e's. It was a great time there. We danced, and danced, and danced some more. Then, Darrin and I couldn't find Billy, and apparently because he had snuck off the bar next door to use the restroom and ran into Junior. So, we headed over there and visited with him for a bit.

Finally, it was time to grab a cab. That was an interesting ride. The girl sitting in the front seat was telling guys off walking down the street. Two girls in the back seat sitting next to Billy passed out. All the girls had dropped and lost their phones under the seats, so we were using our phones and a flashlight to dig them out.

Finally we made it home where Chandler came and picked up Billy, because apparently their night wasn't over yet. The next morning though, Darrin and I picked him up at Dustin's, which I don't think Billy really remembers how he got over there. Dustin, Billy, Darrin and I then headed over to Transmet for a little pizza and topped it off with yogurt from Yoguri. In there they have little factoids on the wall and I had no idea that you could use yogurt rather than mayo. Learn something new everyday.

After an afternoon of the Hangover, relaxing and a nap, Darrin had to make his drive home. (Insert sad face). Then Billy and Dustin came over, had their Burger King, which I may have gotten a few fries from, and then I went to bed while Billy crashed on the couch. This morning, I couldn't get him to budge. So I left him the key and, again, dragged myself to work. I still got here early though. As an added bonus, the Girl Scout cookies that I order from my boss were on my desk. Yum!

Methodical Me

While in class, our professor constantly pushes the importance of being methodical when taking cases on. From the initial interview and throughout the entire litigation process.

Now, this professor I have had for several classes. I originally couldn't stand her. I first took her legal research class. She scared me to death! I would spend hours, hours on end in the library following class trying to complete the assignments. This was a night class mind you, so I wouldn't get home until about 10 or 11. She would usually, and still does, put me on the spot because I work at a firm. She would ask me questions, and I would usually give the correct response. However, one particular comment has stuck in my mind for the last year or so, even though we have kind of, sort of bonded. "Yes, Meredith, that is correct, but your approach is completely backwards."

This feedback rang true just a few weeks ago. We were discussing the initial client interview and she was explaining the importance of the funnel method. Ask open ended questions, and slowly, and methodically, fine tune them down the funnel. However, my brain works, as she said, completely backwards. That's right, instead of a funnel, I have a cone. I'd rather ask specific questions, determine whether there is a valid claim, and then elaborate more for the "narrative" of the situation.

My brain is methodical in that I can see the end result that I want, but rather I work backwards to eventually find out what my first steps should be. Does anyone else have this problem, or is it really just me?

Childhood Glimpse

I was making numerous copies the other day for production which seemed like it took hours on end. It probably was close to an hour actually. While I was feeding the documents into the scanner, I noticed a plethora of discarded staples on the carpet. I then proceeded to bend down and pick them up and place them into the trash. During this task, I had a flashback of my childhood.

I remember that when I was little, and I still kind of do it today, I would walk around staring at the ground. If I happened to spot something that I knew would present an issue, I grabbed it. An issue for what?

My chore was vacuuming, among other things. (Now you understand why I hate it so much and have since bought a robot for it). Every time that I would pull our dinosaur/Frankenstein monstrosity out my dad was sure to intervene. If the appliance made a noise other than its regular hum that his ear was so finely tuned to, he would immediately stop me. He would then, in the middle of the floor, take the entire appliance apart and pull the blockage out and dump it all over the floor. It was because of this that I would always wait until he either left the room or left the house, before even thinking about cleaning the carpets.

The worse part is, I have picked this trait up. A few weeks ago I was cleaning the upstairs of my loft. I keep roomba downstairs since it sees the most traffic and I have no problem just setting him lose. The upstairs however, is where I keep the upright. I was try to get at some of the cob webs that collect in the corners when I noticed that the hose was lacking in suction. So, I ripped the thing open, shoved my hand up its bowels, and pulled all kinds of wads of Mere and Mo hair out. Ewwww.

To make matters worse, apparently the vacuum had been clogged for a really long time I started pulling things out of there from when I cleaned the garage at my last house. Paper clips, safety pins, metal splinters. Not fun to say the least.

So, there it is. No matter how hard we try, we do eventually, become our parents. (Insert horror movie scream here).

Man Up

I have often said that I hate it when I man refuses to act like... a man. This has been the biggest issue I have faced in "getting out there."

Sarah and Katie had a person picked out for me that had been deemed worthy. Shortly thereafter, Sarah informed me that this individual was no longer a proper candidate. Apparently there were certain parts of his past that he had been keeping from his friends. The guy had a prior DUI which no one had known about, that is, until he received his second a few months ago. I can kind of sort of, if I stretch it a bit, put past the first DUI in the thinking that he was just a kid and perhaps he had learned his lesson. But a second, who is dumb enough to get a second, a second DUI?

I have learned as of last night that Katie and Sarah have picked out another. While telling me all about this supposed man, Alex (Katie's hub) brought a picture up on his phone for me. We shall see what happens with this one. In addition, Frannie has been on the hot pursuit of her future BIL. Every so often I will get a call, "I've met this guy that would be perfect for you. I like him better than the last one."

Then there is a guy that I have been friends with forever. I mean forever. He is the sweetest guy you will ever meet. Very respectful of others, yada, yada, yada. His major downfall... I am more of a man than he is. He is far too sensitive. Now, I do understand that I am going to need someone that can complete my "yin" or "yang," that is, pick up where I leave off in the emotions department. I will admit that I am a harsh person at times with impossible standards. However, I have always said that I never expect others to to do something that I couldn't do myself.

But, is it too much to ask a man to "MAN UP?" I don't think that this should be an impossible task. When Frannie met her husband, it was six months following Tara's death. He basically had to "deal" with it the moment that he met her. A guy I dated once told me that it was too much drama for him. So, basically he was telling me that I was a better man than him when I was 15, when Tara died, than he was in his adulthood. Wow!

Its because of this that I get so discouraged. I hate it when I go out with high, optimistic, expectations, and get sadly sort changed.

What does that say?

Sundays are usually, as probably with most, my relaxation day. The day to recoup from the weekend and to get geared up for the coming week. Its the day I get to sleep in, do laundry, cook breakfast for myself, and go to the gym. Normally there will be a movie playing in the background simply for some noise.

Today, while going about my normal routine I decided that I was hungry, but not enough for a full on meal. Snack time. So, I grabbed a banana and some fruit juice. While enjoying my treat, it dawned on me. I have no conventional snacks in my house. Last weekend, Billy stayed with me and stayed at my house while I went to work on Sunday afternoon and he just watched movies. When I got home, he was starving. I felt terrible. And I know that it is because he was sitting there, probably scouring my kitchen and pantry and found no, absolutely no, snacks.

What does that say about someone? All I have in my fridge are the ingredients for various meals, meats, juice, and cheese. That's it. I have no cookies, no cheese-itz, no candy bars, nada. I do have an unopened bag of chips leftover from a tailgate that I should probably throw away, but that's it. Bananas, cheese and crackers are the only things that would even remotely come close to "snacks." Further, my absolutely favorite "snack" of mine is probably celery and peanut butter.

Does that mean that I am utterly boring... or ultra health conscious?

Um... There is no adequate explanation.

The last few days, I have been experiencing the oddest dreams. A few nights back, I dreamt that I had the cutest baby alive. The cutest. If that wasn't enough, he was super smart and did the funniest things. The odd part, aside from the thought of me having children, was that the father was someone that while I knew him, I could never, and I mean never picture myself having children with him. We would talk about, names, he would do the usual freak out, we're not ready for that, but all the while, I honestly couldn't picture it. So why is it that I am able to dream it, particularly now since this person has neither been a part of my life nor I have communicated with him in the longest time?

Then, last night, I had a dream that I died. That's right, I died, but not alone. I took someone with me. Oddly enough, me and the person from the previous dream had gotten into an altercation. I screamed my head off and then passed out. While falling to the ground, I hit something or my head did at least, and I died. I have no idea how he died, but trust me, he did.

What's stranger, is that I came back. I was a phantom and I was visiting my mother, like nothing was peculiar about that. I asked her what happened and she told me that I had fainted due to a syndrome. Apparently my subconscious mind creates new syndromes and names them. Its too funny. Then, I decided to see how this other person had died and tried to find him. Where did I? In hell. My mind had permanently condemned him to hell. A hell where all you do is make license plates.

The really disappointing thing is that when the dream was reaching its climax, in both instances, I woke up. When all was about to be revealed, and that it would all (hopefully) come together and make perfect sense, I woke up. I WOKE UP! Its the most inconvenient clock work; right at 3:00 am my eyes flew open.

Its like the Sandman from hell comes and visits me on a regular basis and broke my internal clock just for kicks and giggles.

Double Edged Sword

Last night in class, I hit a mental blockade. Something that I would have never thought would be an issue. My job is interfering with school. Now I know what you are saying: "But Mere, you are in school to learn what you already do." And you would be right. However, because I am so in tune with my job, one simple assignment is proving to be near impossible.

I have to draft a complaint. A routine task I use to do at my prior place of employment. I understand the importance of drafting a tight, no "extras," complaint. A complaint that will produce either an admission or clear denial. No wishy washy, "no knowledge sufficient" denials (fyi: they basically serve as the legal "foul ball.") I understand the purpose being so that if you receive a clear denial you can later nail them in the interrogatories. "Please set forth all facts which form the basis of you denial..."

Here is my problem... Because I have been working for a firm that specializes in civil defense, I have a hard time writing a tight complaint. My immediate thought is, "I can't put that in there. There is no wiggle room for the Defendant. How are they going to get out of that one?" I know that this is probably a bonus; that I could take my hesitations and flip them into a checklist per se. However, I have been at my job for so long now, that its against my programming. That's right, I am programed to provide you with little to no definite answers. If you want a straight forward, "Why did you" answer, you will not get it from me. Or at least not in writing.

I am trying to face this as a challenge. That after I write this "bear trap" pleading, I will have to really push myself to come up with some valid defenses for my Answer. Do a complete nose dive into OCGA and Brown's. Watch out law library, I am about to set up camp.

P.S. To my fellow P/L students... I actually used the word "conflate" in a depo index yesterday. Woot!

Formal UPL Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, form, nor fashion providing or soliciting to the readers of Wear Sunscreen legal advice. This is simply a restatement of personal experiences in connection with a completely fictitious matter that has no real bearing on anyone or thing (except my GPA).

Day of the "F" Bomb

This morning was the first in probably 1 1/2 years. I slept in... unintentionally that is. My alarm either didn't go off or it did and gave up. I woke this morning to the sound of my phone ringing. My first thought was, "Who would be calling me at this hour?" followed by, "Why is the sun out so early?" As I walked over to my dresser to grab the device, I caught a glance of those demontic little red numbers.

I answered the phone with the loudest f-bomb I have ever utter... in my life! Don't worry, I knew who it was calling me. Jacki apparently was experiencing the same type of morning. Her son forgot his coat, then when she got to the school to hand it over, he informed her that, in addition to his coat, also forgot his homework. Take two.

I haven't felt that rush of panic searing through my entire body in so long. I was impressed with myself though. I got here in time to open the office. However, troubles were still on the horizon.

After about an hour or two, while still working on this statement of material facts, I get a call from Andrea stating that her brief was eating itself. "I'm not kidding!" I immediately hung up the phone and made a mad dash down the stairs. I believe I was actually airborne for the entire trip down. I ran into her office and there it was, chomping away at itself. In absolute panic and seeing the look on her face, I reacted. I can't remember what I did, but I fixed it.

Hopefully, this day will go without any more f-bombs or absolute disasters.

Wake up, wake up, wake up!

Some have wondered over the years why it is that I am such a proficient napper. Granted I was depressed, but when Sarah I first moved here together, I would come home every day from work and take a two hour nap. Now, I know what you are saying... That's not a nap, that is sleep, and you are right.

My parents have always had this running joke that nothing could possibly ever wake me. "Mere could sleep through a train wreck, and if she were on the train." Its true. I have slept through fire alarms, midnight surgeries while staying with my mom in the hospital (that's her favorite story), but there is one thing that I always wake from...me. I will wake in the middle of the night, sometimes from the best dreams, and cannot get myself back to sleep. That is why I think I have the ability to fall asleep quickly. Its because my body knows that it needs to get in what it can because four hours from then, I won't be able to.

I never quiet understood it, that is until I was talking with my uncles this past weekend. We were talking during the family gathering at my Aunt Wanda's house. I haven't seen my uncles in a really, really long time. But I started noticing that they both are in fact, insomniacs. I had often wondered why my Uncle Kerry would post on facebook at 2 or 3 in the morning. Apparently he never sleeps.

My Uncle Richard by far had it the worst. As told by him, his parents (my grandparents) would have to lock in him in his room at night for bed time and let the child scream. He couldn't go to sleep and so he would scream and scream. The doctor advised them not to give in because otherwise he would develop the habit. Eventually he stopped and he learned to stay in there until he was able to fall asleep, however short lived it was.

Well, what inspired this post was the fact that last night, and several of the nights during this month and this past summer, I have woken and stayed up for hours. Just a few weeks ago, I woke at 3:00 am and could not get myself back to sleep. That was probably the longest day of my life. However, back in August, after a night out on the town with Sarah S., I found myself falling asleep at 3:00 only to wake at 5:00. No matter what I tried, nothing worked. Staring at the clock only seemed to make time stop all together.

In addition, last night, although still tired and sore from my personal training, I woke with my muscles hurting and I could not find a comfortable position. I tossed and I turned. I beat my pillows beyond recognition, and folded them over into pillow-gami. Eventually, even Mo got frustrated with me and when I finally crawled out of bed, admitting defeat, I found him asleep on the couch.

So, why is it that now in my adulthood I have just developed this plague that haunts my ENTIRE family? Why now? Why?

Revenge?

I can't remember if it was this morning or last night, but someone on the radio was polling their audience to find out what the craziest thing their listeners had done in the name of vengeance. I started to think back on my past relationships and determined that I am a pretty fair individual. Granted, when in the heat of battle, I can and will, scream my head off until all the blood has rushed to my brain and it explodes. I have to admit that I was appalled, and by appalled I mean laughing, at what others were calling in and confessing.

I have never burned, sold, destroyed or sabotaged another's property nor their person. Takes way too much effort. The worst thing I think I have done...Once I did the dumping; he and my pervious ex would not stop calling me, so to kill two birds with one stone, I changed my number. That's it. Call me Ms. Passive Aggressive.

Most say, "Don't get back, get even." Well, my motto is "Don't get back, get a move on," and that is what I have pretty much done with my life. Whenever I have run into a brick wall, I either turn a different direction or climb over it. I try to not let it effect my life, and if it does, only in a positive way.

Like this last time. I lost 50+ pounds, went from a 14 to a size 6 (come on lucky 4), got a promotion, and I am moving forward with my life. I didn't throw or smash anything, or sit in the floor and kick and scream like a petulant child. If anything, my house smelled like bleach for a month. (Cleaning is my cope mechanism.)

So, women of the world. Stop being so overly dramatic. Just remember, life is usually better off without them. And, if it isn't, make it so!

Frances

Let me tell you about a woman named Frances. She was my grandmother. I'm saying 'was' because sadly she passed away on Tuesday evening. Today, we must say our final "goodbyes."

In an effort to honor her life, I wanted to share some memories that I have from when I was a child.

My first memory of her is from a time that I was visiting at her condo. I couldn't have been much older than three. I would sit in front of her huge television (or at least it was to a toddler) and watch the live action Peter Pan. You know, back when they had women play the part. I would sit there and eat my Mickey Mouse shaped ice cream popsicle. I remember riding my cart that I had built out of waffle blocks and seeing the grooves that I was making in her shag carpet.

For some reason, and I still don't know why, but this memory of eating grits at her table in the morning is stuck in my head. I would circle around the edges of the mound of grits she would place on my plate. Each time that I made a full circle, I would giggle to myself because I could see more of the pattern on the dish. Her dishes are another memory for me. No one else I knew had those dishes. They were beige with brown flowers on them and a brown outer lining.

I also remember her cat. I could never say his name correctly so I always called him Pumpkin, and still do to this day. I would search under each piece of furniture until I would find him huddled under her comforter. The funniest story that she had of me, and would never pass up a chance to tell it, was once she had a little stuffed cloth cat on a pedestal. I had come to visit her one weekend and said, "Look Granny, it's Pumpkin on a stick!" She thought it was the cutest thing.

Her voice, even now as I write this, is echoing through my head. It was the sweetest, most gentle voice. You would never know if she were angry at you (or perhaps I was just that angelic and she never was) because her voice was always so calm.

The last time that I saw her, I had almost decided not to go by. It was getting late and I had just finished my Christmas shopping. I was worried that she would be asleep and I did not want to wake her. I ignored my hesitations and drove to her nursing home anyway. I am so glad that I did. We sat there for an hour just talking, about nothing really. She told me about her childhood, stories which I had never heard.

When she was young, her mother would allow her to visit the movies once when a new film was playing. (Remember, this was back in the day when movies were a big deal and there was only one at the theater at a time). She told me that sometimes she would go and watch the movie twice. Her favorite was the Client and I remember watching it with her many, many years ago.

So here's to you, Granny. Although I will miss you, I am glad that you went out of this world in your own style. I am glad that you may finally have some peace and that you are in a place where pain is no more.

She lived a full life. Four children, eight grandchildren, six great grandchildren.
 
Today we say our goodbyes. We love you and will miss you.
 
Rest in Peace, Frances.

Happy Birthday Tara

Today would have been Tara's 34th birthday. To commemorate this special day, I would like to share a bit about her, her story.

My first memory of her... I was about two years old. I had climbed the top of my dresser by pulling the drawers out one my one. As I peered through the curtains on my window, I could see Tara and Adam climb into the school bus. I remember thinking about how long I would have to wait for her to come home so that I would have someone to play with. Our housekeeper was rather old and wasn't too keen on playing games, particularly with a toddler. I would sit in her room while she worked on her home work, playing in her Strawberry Shortcake toy chest that was in, you guessed it, the shape of a strawberry. I remember the pink glow that would surround me every time that I enclosed myself in it.

We would play "house" out in our tree house, me always demanding to play the role of "mother." I remember falling off the swing below the tree house and screaming for our mother. Tara, being my rescuer tended to my skinned knees and palms.

When I was in middle school, Tara was living in the guest house right after she had graduated college. It was great having her home again. On weekends we would have "pool parties" where we would crank the stereo up and eat ice cream by the pool. I would try to tan with her, but my fair skin just couldn't take it. Then I would challenge her to a dive competition. That was a running joke with us. Tara could not dive, although her belly flop was a sight not be missed. Other days, we would go to the movies together. I still have the ticket stub to the last movie we saw. Frequency.

Some mornings, I would go out to the pool house and she would braid or fix my hair for school. She was much better at things of that nature than I was. She use to always comment on our beautiful my hair was and would play with it for hours on end, most when we would watch movies or TV in the family room. Her touch was so gentle and calming. Most times I would fall asleep while she brushed or braided it.

What I remember most about her, and what most do as well, was her laugh. It was like she knew how to laugh better than anyone. Her nose would crinkle and her eyes were almost invisible. You couldn't help but laugh with her. She had such a great sense of humor too. There weren't many times when we were together that there wasn't laughing.

Now, when ever I think back, I remember two things. Her laugh and the warmth you felt when around her. Not a day goes by that I don't think of and miss her.

Happy Birthday Sweetheart!

The Day My Heart Broke

Ten years ago, my heart along with so many others, broke forever. Although I have experienced countless joys in my life and considered it as fulfilled as any twenty something could expect, there is one void that can never be filled. One pain that can never be relieved and a wound that can never be healed.

In trying to think of what to say this day, I decided to post a paper that I wrote during my senior year of high school. I don't believe that I can, particularly this year, bring myself to write something new and relive it all again. Particularly since last night my grandmother passed away.

Its already begun to take a toll on me that I hadn't expected. Each time someone asks me that simple question "how are you?" that lump appears in my throat and I can barely stand to breathe. So, perhaps later I will be able to share more details for those interested parties. For those who want to know more, but don't dare ask.
________________________________________________________________________

I was fifteen when it happened. Just a regular teen living out her life as a high school student. I still remember that day perfectly. It was a bright, sunny day in January. It wasn't warm by any means, but sunny none-the-less. No matter how happy I was that afternoon; my life was forever changed by the events that followed.

My mother had just picked me up from school. She said that we had to go to the store. I asked her if I could buy a birthday card for my sister since her birthday was the next day. My mom said that Tara, my sister, wasn't coming home until the next weekend. "Then we'll celebrate her birthday," she said.

When we got home, I started putting away the groceries. Then I began to eat a bowl of my favorite cereal, Lucky Charms. A couple of minutes later the phone rang. I didn't pay much attention to it until I heard my mom's voice tone change. "I don't know how to talk to you right now. Call me in a few minutes; I'll try to call her." Then she hung up and looked at me with a distorted face. "There has been a fire at Tara's house. Her car is parked in the driveway."

As soon as those words went into my ears, I got up and ran outside. It had started raining. I barely noticed though. I just kept on running; I ran deep into the woods behind my house screaming. Then I collapsed onto a tree. My body and my mind had become weak from the news and attack of shock. My mind didn't want to believe it, but my heat knew. I just started wandering around my backyard. I wasn't thinking. My entire body went numb from the shock. At one point, I was rocking myself on the ground while sitting in a puddle. It was an attempt to console myself.

My random screams and insanity slowly turned to remorse. I was sitting in a swing staring up at the sky. My mind started replaying the past. I started seeing images of Tara running up to the swing set, trying to dive into the pool, and driving up to the pool house, where she had lived for a year. Without noticing that I was doing it, I began yelling up to the heavens, "I love you Tara." I hadn't understood what I had done until the echo was heard in my ears.

Then I started thinking about all the terrible things I had done to her when we were younger. It made my stomach turn. I wanted to go back in time and change it all. I wanted to say that I was sorry. But now, my chance had passed forever. My eyes filled with tears again.

My father then came onto the back deck of our house, and starting calling my name. I went running to him and gave him a huge hug. "I just took Kevin to Papa's house. He doesn't know yet. We are going to meet Uncle Matt at Taco Bell to take him with us to Athens," he said. He thought that it would be best if my little brother didn't come with and found out just yet.

When Matt got into the car with us, he held me in his arms. The whole time I was trying to think of how the fire started, and how she died. My head started the idea that she had lit some candles, and that they had fallen over when she was asleep. I wanted to believe that she died in peace and didn't feel the inferno in her room.

Some how I made it to Athens without tearing myself into pieces with situations. It had stopped raining by this time. I remember how I felt walking up to the police station and watching strangers come up to me and hug me. I felt as if my body had turned inside out, and the whole world could see my broken heart.

The room they took us into was very cold and stale smelling. I remember thinking that it was all a dream, and that I wasn't there and none of this was happening. How wrong was I? Very, very wrong. Little did I know that more was about to happen to my family and my innocence.

They sat my sobbing mother, my father, my uncle and I down at the table in the center of the room. The detective looked at us and said with a soft, gentle voice, "We believe that foul play was involved." At that moment I heard my uncle make a sound so horrible and heart twisting that it echoed through the station. It was a loud shrill. I had never heard a sound so awful in my life.

The news was like a stab through the chest to me. I couldn't believe that someone had taken my sister away from me. It was bad enough when I thought that she had died by accident, but when she is taken from you; its a completely different feeling. To me it was like I had lost her twice.

The rest of the memories of the police station have become hazy, so I will not continue with those details. The next thing that happened was my family had checked into a hotel room. My mother was constantly throwing up all night. We couldn't get her to eat anything. She looked at me and said, "I'm sorry honey. You should've had your sister all your life." Then I just stroked her hair and said, "I will always have her."

That night, as I laid down next to my uncle, I thought about what I said to my mom. I came to understand that I will always have her. Maybe not physically, but she will always be living in my heart. I will always have my memories with me about the good times and the bad times. I will always be able to see her running and smiling in my dreams.

Those thoughts have helped me live with the pain of losing my sister. Even her funeral was easier knowing that I will always have my past with her and that one day we may be reunited.

Slowly, my life has gotten back on track. As I begin my education at Georgia College and State University, the same school Tara had attended for her undergraduate, I think how she may be smiling down at me. All I can say to myself is, "I miss you Tara."

Wonder Woman

This weekend I spent it with Frannie. Three full days. I...am...tired. I have no idea how she does it. I love those boys and I am so thankful for them, but they are a handful. We went shopping one day and at one store, somehow there was glass on the floor and little Jett found it and cut his finger open. I swear, if there is a way that kid can hurt himself, he will find it.

She ran off to the bathroom, me chasing her, to wash his hands. While waiting for the store manager to return with a bandage, she made two more trips to wash his finger as it would not stop bleeding. Later that day while watching a movie, Jett was running up to grab a toy and flew head first into the coffee table. As if that wasn't enough for him, he later slid off the couch head first. Two words for this kid...Bubble Wrap.

I had a great time with them this weekend though. One night, before sending the boys up to bed we had a dance party in the living room with the lights turned off and glow sticks. It was intense and Panya is an excellent DJ I might add. We were dancing and jumping, and I got so worn out from it. It was such a workout.

Last night, as I began to unwind, and finally got to watch those DVDs that Panya gave me for Christmas courtesy of the new DVD player that he gave me, I was thinking about how awesome Frannie is, and I truly do not get how she does it. Hopefully, when I grow up, I can be just like her.

Bringing Out That Inner Child

It has been a busy week at work and more so at home trying to catch up on everything. I predict that next week will be just as crazy, if not more. So the posts will probably come sparingly.

On Tuesday morning, I awoke and was informed that the office was having yet another snow day. Good thing too since my drive was completely iced over. I walked about my place for almost an hour. Saw things that I had never noticed before since moving there. For instance, one of my neighbors has a bungalow type thing attached to the back of their unit and it has a separate stair and entrance. So cool, huh?

I almost slid down some stairs while trying to scale them as I approached the road. Finally, I decided to get a move on and I was off. Where to? Sarah's, of course. She lives about five miles from me and determined to (1) not allow her to drive and (2) to not spend another day in the snow alone, I hiked to her place. She, and her dog Milly, met me about 3/4 of the way there. It was so much fun watching her dog try to navigate the ice.

When we got back to her place, I had some of her cranberry and orange muffins. Delicious! Then we scoured her house looking for something, anything that could be used as a sled. Success! When Ben was officially on his lunch break, as he works from home and didn't get a day off, he drove us back to my place, or rather the trail that leads to my place. We then prepared and pushed one another down the huge hill that leads down into the paths that follow the river. Unfortunately, since many had done this the day before, most of the quality snow had gone. After only a few tries (and some hilarious vids I might add), our fun came to an end. Sarah hit a rock and it tore a big hole in the tray to Milly's crate. Then, thinking that I would be able to still use it for one last ride, got it caught on an even bigger rock and tore another hole into it.

We then slid down the steep hill to the path, which was now covered in mud and we almost fell down. Then we decided to go hiking. As if I hadn't had enough, we hiked for two hours there and it only took us an hour to get back. I shot a "Woman v. Wild" kind of video following Sarah for a minute and then we just took mounds of pictures of the beautiful scenery to be seen. We crossed two creeks and finally got to a place where we decided that we needed to turn back before dark.

On our way back though, I decided that I had to climb the rock face that is early on in the trail. Not thinking this through, obviously, I was afraid that I would slide down the rocks onto Sarah. I was wearing my river boots which have rubber soles. Great for the river and snow, not so much for the ice. When I finally got up there, and was standing up top, I got immediately scared at how high I was and that I was standing on nothing but ice. I then crouched down and Sarah and I slid the 20 or so feet back down on our butts.

It took forever for them to thaw out. Then we sat on the couch and watched movie after movie. Then Ben came and brought us pizza and made rice crispy treats with chocolate and peanut butter chips. Most delicious. It was a great night and I was sad to see them go.

Hopefully soon I will be able to steal her camera so that I can upload the photos. Plus those that were taken from New Year's as well.

SNOW DAY!

I haven't had a snow day in forever. And the great news, I may get another tomorrow. Since I work for a law firm, they are especially cautious in regards to things of this nature. When my boss called this afternoon to check on me, he (and my dad last night) reminded me that I live in a river valley and that ice was inevitable. "Be safe."

Well, I was safe-ish today. I didn't go driving anywhere, particularly since some jerk who doesn't live here drove around in a hummer and created all kinds of slush and ice. Asshole.

Last night I had spent about an hour sitting in my windowsill in my bedroom starring out the at the snow as it was falling while drinking some hot pomegranate tea. Melanie and her husband have this amazing deck out on the back of their unit with blue LED lights running up the railing. Every now and then the snow would catch the light and it would look as though they were twinkling and moving across the snow.

This morning, since I had anticipated having to go to work, I was dressed and out the door by 8:30. Glad that I got out there in time to see the beautiful powder snow before it got all hard from the sleet.

I walked all over and took pictures via my iphone and my Spartus full-vue. While I was out there, Melanie came out onto her porch and laughed at me for a minute, but insisted that I show her the photos once developed. I truly feel blessed to live out here. I know that I have been here for a few months now, but it is still a dream come true for me.

Using only the snow on my porch, I built the biggest snow man I have ever single handedly built. I then walked down to the river bank and found some limbs to use as arms. When I came inside to dry off, I noticed my neighbor Bill and his wife walk by and chuckle at it. They think I am such a hoot.

After a nice cup of hot chocolate, I went out on the porch once more, rounded up some fresh, soft snow and made ice cream. Not just any though, raspberry and white chocolate chip ice cream. I put in the fridge for later and grabbed another batch full of snow for Sarah and I to play with later.

After putting some ingredients into the bread machine, I walked out of my loft again and this time went on a two hour hike. The whole time carrying a pizza sheet. Originally I was going to try and sled with it, but all I did was scoop up the snow with the curved edges. (I shall try again tomorrow after finding a proper box). I then walked and walked down the trail. Further than I have ever since moving here. I was the only one out there and it was absolutely breathtaking. I went through a bamboo forest where the shafts were larger than my hand could wrap round. Once I actually fell down a small hill not realizing how deep the snow was.

I saw areas of this town that I am sure that none of you have, and I feel quite privileged of such. (For right now, my computer is having difficulties in uploading the photos, but I will soon). At one point, as I have been saying I would do since the move, I climbed into the river. I got about five feet out, moving from rock to rock, and took a picture. Very difficult task if I say so myself. Juggling the gloves, the phone and the snow that was pelting me in the face, but success.

It was just amazing to be out there, in the complete silence of nature and just watching the snow fall. I have never felt so peaceful in all my life.

When I came home, Mo still refused to come out and play. He retreated back up stairs when I tried to bring him out with me. I then sat down and had a little late lunch, and watched HP: Sorcerer's Stone. Tomorrow, seeing as I am down to one egg, and contemplating hiking up the to grocery store so that I can bake some more goods. That is, providing that I do get the day off.

Best Friday EVER

Last night was kind of a bummer, but I did get a judge to write me a recommendation letter. That's something.

So, this morning I woke, not really feeling like doing a whole lot, went downstairs to make breakfast. I then found where Mo apparently had gotten sick during the night. Thank God my floors are concert!

Finally, I trekked back upstairs to get ready for work. When it was time to pick out what I was going to wear for casual Friday, I realized that my blue jeans were in the hamper. Ewwww. Looking in desperation at my closet, I grabbed another pair of jeans. A pair that have been in my closet since 2007. I bought that pair when I first moved here following college. I had told myself that I was finally going to start losing weight.

Well, I am happy to report that as this morning, I finally took the tags of the BCBG jeans!!! They fit great. Even Kevin, my toughest critic, would approve of the them. Topped with the turtle neck that Jenice picked out for me... I feel like a million bucks today!

Promises, promises.

With the new year fast approaching, I was thinking the other day of what my New Year's Resolution would be. Normally, I don't make them. I kind of feel that if I decide to do something, I will do it, not wait for the new year. No time like the present, right? However, in thinking about what all I have accomplished this year and the fact that the New Year is soon, I figured, what the hell.

So, here it is. I am going to try to "put myself out there." Socialize more. Many have asked why it is that I am still single, or why it is that I have yet to "market myself." My explanation/excuse has been that I simply do not have the time. Granted, my schedule is busy with all my activities, work, school, gym, cooking, but somehow I have managed to see Sarah S. at least once a week and been able to do numerous other activities as well. So really, if I were to sit down and plan, I would have the time. So, I guess the only thing that is really holding me back is... me.

I am concerned with, and have mentioned to several of you, about losing control of my life. I feel as though that is my real deterrent. I have big issues with letting go of certain things. Like in a previous post, I have worked so hard for what I have, and I refuse to let anything stand in the way of that.

When people are trying to pin me down for dates or times to go out and do things, I am constantly thinking "I still want Wednesday free for me, can't do it Tuesday or Thursday because of the gym,..." I am the excuse queen. I even have trouble with scheduling with my trainer, which is what irritates me more when he has to cancel. It takes me forever to chose a day, and then I have to go through the entire process again, because he double booked?!? Agh.

I use to love doing things in the middle of the week though. Earlier this year, I had a blast with my on the whim nights, like Lindsay's birthday. Normally, I would shy away from doing anything like that, unless it were really, really important. As we all know Lindsay's birthday is.

In trying to take all that in and forcing myself to "let go," I am going to try to make myself more readily available for outings. I am going to say "yes" more than I do "no." This will just be one more mental hurdle that I am going to have to over come.

Here goes.

No Fluffing Required

It has been said by many, usually following my response to some mushy, gushy, overly sappy story, that I am just not normal. Particularly when it comes to expressing those types of feelings. Usually when my friends tell me stories of sweet things their significant others have done, I usually follow up with "vomit." I can't handle it. Can't take it.

I especially grow exceedingly suspicious of those who are overly complimentary. I can handle the occasional "you look nice today," but anything further and I get extremely uncomfortable. My immediate thought is, "what are you up to," or "what do you want?"

When guys in the past have tried to be super sweet or romantic to me, my gag reflex kicks in. I can hardly stand it in movies too. I will occasionally get those girly, high pitched cute noises out of me, but most times I have to cover my face with a pillow. Is that sad, that my reaction to someone expressing their love is the same as if their finger was getting cut off?

Even a slow dance sends me running for the sidelines. I can swing dance, line dance, and shake my booty anytime, anywhere, but when you crank up the ballads, I'm out.

It makes me wonder though. Is there something fundamentally wrong with me, or am I just quirky like that? Perhaps I need a sign on my back that says "Saps Need Not Apply."

Bouncing Mere (In Stores Now)

Last night, I was at the gym. (Like you haven't heard that before). I did my warm up, did my abs, which included cable crunches (which I love by the way!), and then it was time to sit out in the hallway by the door and consume my power bar. As I sat there and waited for the class to end, I recalled thinking, "Is that Rich in there? Oh well, must be teaching a double tonight."

Then I noticed that it was rather odd that I was the only one out in the hallway. Although, folks have been known to get there in the nick of time, so I really didn't think much more of it. When the class let out, I walked in, moved over to my bike and began to put my cycle shoes down when I was asked if I had read the schedule this week. "Um, obviously not I guess."

Class was canceled! Who does that? Who has time to get to the 5:30 class? I mean really. I can barely get there before 5:30 and change and all that. Grrrrr.

So, I asked him what I could do and that I had to do something because I had eaten that bar. So, I went out and got on the treadmill for 35 el minutes-o, and sweat was pouring down my face like a big fat pig. Thinking that was enough, I grabbed my stuff and headed over to the store.

I still had waaaayyy too much energy. I was bouncing up and down the aisles, jumping on my cart and riding down to the ends. Was way to perky with the cashier and manager. When I got home, I was jumping around my house while doing the smallest of things. I jumped all the way over to the thermostat to turn it on, I jumped over to the stairs to put my gym bag on them. I jumped over to the stove to start dinner. Basically I was hopping all over that joint, and scaring the crap out of the cat as well.

I couldn't sit/stand still. I was even jumping in the shower. I am sure that my neighbors love me now. Particularly Jake. He is the guy that lives above and below me. Its really hard to explain, but his kitchen is above my kitchen, and my bedroom is over his. Our stairs run parallel to one another. Our lofts are basically exact opposites of one another. Anyway.....

I am just trying to figure out how to get rid of all this energy. Especially since that time is approaching where I will back in school and my one class is conveniently the same time as spin. I will still be able to make to the weekend class, but what will I do in the middle of the week to get some good old fashion cardio? If it didn't get so dark so quickly, I would start running outdoors again.

Any suggestions from the peanut gallery?