Coin Operated Laundry, Chubbiness, and no TP

I don't miss scrounging for quarters. I don't miss having to lug my laundry out of my house. I don't miss having to wait for the dryer. There is not one thing I miss about not having my own washer and dryer. Not one. A fact of which I was reminded this past Saturday when I lugged my bedspread to the laundromat to wash it.

I had to wash it because it was getting dirty, and I'm a little bit, um.... particular...about my bed. As in, it always has to be made, the sheets have to be just so, no one can make it but me, and I don't do dirty bedclothes.

Which is sort of a problem because, my dogs? They are so very warm in the winter. And also? So much cheaper than natural gas. So they snuggle with me and make an "Emily sandwich" and despite regular baths and generally keeping the dogs as clean as dogs can be, I am forced to regularly wash my bedspread (that does not fit into my washer.)

The boy pointed out the obvious dilemma here. Hate going to the laundromat, but keep allowing the dogs in the bed? To me, the solution seems obvious. When I find my permanent residence (and apparently this will be when I'm 50), I have to purchase a washing machine in which anything in my house, regardless of size, can be washed.

Apparently there is no end to the number of accomodations I will make to live with my dogs. I can't figure out how to get the boy and I to live together in harmony, but I'll bend over backwards to make my dogs comfortable. I think that says something bad about me. Meh. I'll think about it later.

Speaking of the boy, after having lived together and now living apart, I will say that though I complained (and complained) of his non-willingness to help me out around the house, now that he's not around I definitely notice the things that he DID used to do which I apparently never noticed nor gave him credit for. (This is for J and her relentless pursuit of making me see things in a fair and balanced manner.)

One of those things was replacing the toilet paper in the bathroom.

I never really appreciated the importance of this task, having never been stuck in my own bathroom with no toilet paper. Since it's now happened dozens of times in the six short months I've lived on my own, I can say that this is one thing I wish I could train myself to do. Either CHECK to see if I have any before sitting on the toilet, (how hard is that? WHY can't I get that through my thick head?!) or getting a new roll from the hall closet immediately after tossing the last used roll. Sigh.

Another one of those things the boy used to take care of was eating all the ice cream before I had a chance to do more than taste it.

Needless to say, the absence of that is severely affecting my chances of winning familial respect since I seem to be unable to resist the pull of my friends Ben & Jerry when I'm at the grocery store.

I have been seeing Jillian regularly, though. And I'm just going to say that her workout doesn't get any easier. At least the soreness has subsided. The first two days were the worst. Since then I've been feeling that tired-but-satisfied, sort of "watery" feeling in my muscles. You know, when they've been worked, but they're too tired to complain any longer. And even though I routinely refer to her as a bitch, I would recommend her workout to anyone. This week will be my first attempt to see her every day. (Last week was roughly every other day with the weekend taken off for good behavior. Obviously, Emily is lazy and this competition is not the motivator she was hoping it would be.)

I think that my weight complaints are beginning to fall on deaf ears, though. This means that I either need to do something about it, or stop expecting sympathy and "you're fine just the way you are" comments. Exhibit A used for drawing that conclusion is a text message exchange with the boy this morning.

Boy: "Good Morning"
Me: "Morning"
Boy: "How's your day going?"
Me: "Slowly. Oh yes, and I'm a cow."
Boy: "Mmmmmm.....steak."
Me: "Nice."

Tomorrow I'll post about my baking adventures over the weekend. I had mixed results. I can't post yet because Chris is a direct beneficiary of these adventures, and I know she reads this blog. Can't have her seeing her (husband's) baked goods before they're delivered...

Frigging Winter

I went out to my car Thursday morning and it was frozen shut. Literally. Like can't open the doors frozen shut. Like can't see in the windows or windshield through the sheet of ice frozen shut. Silly me hadn't put together how a light mist the night before and an overnight drop in temperatures MIGHT result in a car that's frozen shut. Especially if the owner of the car had been too lazy to put the car in the garage the night before.

I'm so glad it's winter. I mean, everything in my life is easier now that it's cold.

I have to wear more clothing, which means more laundry, I can only let my (short haired) dogs out for 2-3 minutes at a time when they do their business and immediately return for entry back into the warm house, and walks are pointless because it's basically me forcing the dogs away from the house as they try with all their might not to leave the warmth and comfort inside. Oh yes, and did I mention that since I'm all of five feet tall, I can't reach my entire windsheild to scrape the ice off? This isn't even considering the increased gas bill from heating my little home, the fact that my over-energized dogs are driving me insane, and the fact that once I've placed my butt on my couch under a blanket, it takes an act of God to get me to move back into the cold so I'm neglecting my friends.

That's it. I'm moving to California. I've got family there. I'm sure one of them would let me sleep on their couch (with my two pit bulls and a cat) until I get on my feet. Right? RIGHT??

Someone call the wahhhhhmbulance.

I realize that in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing to complain about. I've still got my health, my home, my friends, my family....etc. I know. I know. If this is the biggest thing I have to complain about, I live a charmed life.

But still.

I really hate winter. I just wanted to go ahead and get that on record before I start really seriously considering random places (that have so far been a pipe dream) for vet school (should I get in, which is a long shot...) A girl's got to aim high, right? But still...if I hate THIS winter, can you even imagine??

Boo. Dear May - hurry up and get here. The temperatures are only going to get worse, and I'm impatient.

Kudos!

Two posts in one day! I know. It's extraordinary. But then again, what just happened is so awesome that I want to make sure the company gets the proper good publicity...or at least all the good publicity that I can offer.

I had a nasty surprise at the end of November when I went to pay my cell bill for October. Since the car accident made me freak out I cried on the phone to my parents, my friends, complete strangers... And on top of that, I had to talk to the insurance company several times, not to mention the phone calls to lawyers... In all, I incurred $184.57 in overage fees on my cell plan. It was fabulous. My already tight budget was very upset with me.

I would have thought that I had no alternatives, and that sucks. But thanks to Candy's post earlier this year, I called AT&T and explained what had happened.

They waived ALL of the overage costs.

Now, granted, I've been a customer of AT&T for years. And when I incur overages that are completely my fault (ahem, text messages, ahem) I pay with no complaints. But since these charges were under extenuating circumstances, I thought that I would at least explain myself and see if anything could be done. Even if they had reduced the overages by half, I would have been happy.

I'm so grateful for both their assistance and Candy's advice to speak up. AT&T has a loyal customer in me for at least another contract term (and I even upgraded to the next text message package.)

Lobster

When I was little, my mother would call me a lobster when I wouldn't share with my little brother. A lobster because I was "shellfish."

I'll admit it, my nature is to be selfish. I don't really like to share. But those early days of being mercilessly teased for being a lobster made an impression on me (because my brother was anything BUT shellfish - he'll still give you the shirt off his back) and now I try my best to go against that impulse whenever I can. I give as much as I can and as often as I can. There are just some things, though...

For example, remember when I was about to die earlier this year? Well, I have a friend who's taking the bio class I took last semester. His finals (there are two) for that class are coming up. He would like to borrow my flashcards for the lab practical. You know, the flashcards that I spent all that time making? There are permanent glue stick marks on my coffee table from those flashcards.

Additionally, the instructor for that class gives the students a packet of 260 multiple choice questions to study for her lecture final. The student has to look up all of the answers, but she pulls the 90 questions for the final directly from that packet. If you look up the answers, and learn the questions (like I did) you'll ace the final (like I did.) Of course, looking up all those answers makes your eyes bleed.

My friend would also like to have a copy of my packet. You know, the one with all the answers?

And I should just give all that stuff to him, right? I should just do it. I've passed the class, I don't need any of that stuff, and the only reason why I kept it is because I'm slightly OCD. The class isn't graded on a curve, so giving him my stuff isn't going to hurt anyone else. My friend is intelligent, so I'm sure he'll still study the material, I'm just helping him out. If I ever need a return favor, I'm sure he would help me out.... I should just give the stuff to him.

But I don't WANNA. That was a lot of work last semester.

But then, I don't want to be a lobster, either. Last semester was last semester and it's over now.

But - I suffered! He should suffer! No pain no gain, right?!

But I HATE the concept of hazing. That whole, "I'm going to make you suffer as I have suffered" thing bugs the heck out of me. Why would I subscribe to it?

Ack! I'm obviously driving myself insane. I'm just going to give him the notes and flashcards. Right? Thoughts?

I don't even like the Bears

So. That last blog post. Man. It was sort of a deviation from the norm, eh? I'm not quite sure if I should pretend like it never happened, or offer an explanation. I feel like I should react like a guy and change the subject abruptly by saying something like, "Hrumph... Well... How about those Bears?"

To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure what came over me. I was trying to explain to my friend...let's call her "Schmiane," that I generally don't feel comfortable posting "personal stuff" in my blogs. She protested that I do, indeed, post personal stuff. But I guess the difference is that I view what I post as anecdotal, not personal. Sure, you know that I'm going back to school, that I have a little brother, that I love my dogs, that I have a boy in my life, etc. But I try to make the stories entertaining and fun. I guess I don't generally feel like I'm giving you a commentary on what I feel about stuff that's personal to me. I mean, even when I was feeling the first signs of frustration in my relationship, I tried to give it a humorous spin. And when I post about my nemesis...well, I don't think it's PC for me to actually tell you the level of hatred I feel for that dog. Instead, I try to make it funny. So feelings, for me, are taboo. (As my other friend, "Schmeelionsfan" stated, "You have no problem discussing feelings, you just don't like to admit to having them." That pretty much hits the nail on the head.)

Unless, of course, it's jubilation over the outcome of a recent election. (Sorry Schmandy)

Immediately after I posted that last blog, I felt a bit uncomfortable. I considered taking it down immediately, but I had already left the immediate vicinity of the computer. I continued to internally debate about it when I went to book club and ultimately decided that it was done, and I would leave it. Then I got a call from a well meaning friend who had read the blog and was just checking in. This was exactly the sort of reaction that I had feared. I didn't want people to think I was wounded and bleeding and rushing to help me. I was all SORTS of uncomfortable with that scenario. So I made the biggest mistake of the night decided to discuss my predicament with friends in book club. Of course they all immediately wanted to read the blog and no amount of begging on my part could stop them. Since I had no way to delete it BEFORE they read it, I was sort of kicking myself for opening my big mouth.

I braced myself for teasing and planned on taking the post down in the morning. Instead what I found were cautious words of support. (Cautious because they knew that I was afraid of.) As the day went on, more comments appeared, and emails in response to my post poured in.

I began to readjust my thinking. These phone calls, emails, comments and offers to talk weren't pity, and they weren't bad. They were from friends who probably had some idea of what I was going through, but since I generally shut off the conversation with "I'm fine" or "We're fine" didn't have a way to offer support. The blog offered an opening, and I'm surprised and humbled by the number of responses I got. Apparently everyone already knows that Emily has feelings, whether or not she likes to admit it.

So, for better or worse, I'll leave it up. As one commenter said, should someone going through the same thing happen to stumble upon it, and it helps them, so much the better. I just hope that that person has as many great friends as I do.

So....Hrumph.... How about those Bears?

What Mothers Do

Um, this is a bit long. Sorry. I'm wordy.

It's not rare that you would hear the words, "My mother's crazy" come out of my mouth. That's just frustration. A way to flippantly express the angst that most daughters feel for their mothers at one point or another. I don't really mean she's crazy. At least, not in the sense that she should be locked up or anything. Or that she's a danger to society. She's just sometimes a danger to me. (and as an extension sometimes a danger to my friends because I am in one FINE mood after she and I have a disagreement.)

It's just that she always has an opinion about everything. And once she had that opinion firmly in her mind (based on whatever facts seem to be very clear to her at the time) it is impossible to change. (Pot, meet Kettle. I know. I know.) The thing is, her opinions tend to be based on only a few insignificant facts.

But then, that's because a few insignificant facts about my life are all I will usually give to her. I mean, after one or two thousand fights, I tend to want to avoid such confrontations with her. So I just tell her as little as possible. Fool me once, and all that... I mean, I've got a temper, and the apple doesn't usually fall far from the tree. When my mother and I go at it, my father and brother usually leave the room and make sure a soundproof door is between us. My cousin usually gets a long day on yahoo messenger the next day as I try to figure out how to cope with full blooded Peruvians who are directly related to me.

So in the spirit of trying to grow, I opened up and talked to my mother when I was home for Thanksgiving about the whole story behind the boy (tears and all.) She's been cool (as in "distant," not "down wit dat") on the subject of the boy ever since I moved out. I know she doesn't quite get what's going on, and I KNOW she tends to see me as a weak victim (but I can't figure out wtf that's all about. Seriously? Does anyone else ever see me as a victim??) so I thought we would talk.

And talk we did. I poured it all out. (Warning: intimate details about Emily's relationship ahead.)

How he was a jerk when we lived together and I really needed him to step up. How he's since apologized and quit the job he hated. How he's making much less money, but he's so much happier. How we're talking through things much more thoroughly now. How I still don't know what the future holds, but I'm in no rush to the altar, and for now I'm happy that we're happy when we're together more often than we're miserable when we're together. (For a while it was a toss up.) I told her that what I love most about him is (at the risk of sounding cliche) that he gets me. He doesn't see my outgoing nature as flirting and doesn't get jealous, he knows that I'm hyper competitive and he's resigned to it, he knows that I spend twice as much time talking to my best male friend as I do all of my other friends combined and he's okay with that, and he knows that I'm insane but he's willing to work with it. He sees all of me, and he loves me the way I am, and I never knew how comforting/relieving/awesome that could be. Apparently all the things I see as flaws can't really be flaws because someone loves me completely despite all of them.

The things I question are, why are we happier now? Is it because we live apart? I mean, he helps me out more now than he ever did when we lived together. Why is that? Is it because he's out of that job he hated? Was he depressed in that job? Is it because my moving out frightened the heck out of him? Is he really growing up? Or do I just not see the issues that I saw so clearly when we saw each other all the time? Is he just putting forth effort now when he's afraid he's going to lose me, and if we move in together, will everything go back to how it was?? I think about these things. I really do. It's not like I'm thinking we're going to live happily ever after. I know we've got a mountain of problems to work through, and I know that if we can't live together, that throws a huge roadblock on any future I may be considering.

When I got done explaining all of this, I was breathless and teary. My nose was all red and snotty. It wasn't pretty. And basically my mother had this to say, "Emily, I just think he's too comfortable in the relationship. He knows that you're never going to leave him, so he can do whatever he wants and you'll always come running back to him when he snaps his fingers."

In the spirit of growing, I didn't yell, I just let out a resigned sigh and ended the conversation.

But then I thought about what she was saying. It's almost like she was saying what I was thinking (the putting forth effort thing) from a different perspective. She just sort of tweaked it so that apparently I am the hapless victim and he's got all this power in the relationship.

Hmm. When I think of myself and the boy, I tend to think of us as equals. A relationship is all about give and take, and all about compromise. Something we're getting better and better at. Well, at least I thought we were. Until, you know, my mother planted ugly seeds of doubt in my head. But then again, SHE doesn't know the ins and outs of our relationship. After thinking on what my mother had said, (one might say I spent time to "think on these things") rejecting them outright, rethinking, and generally driving myself insane, I finally brought it up to the boy.

After some immediate anger towards my mother (understandable) I sort of calmed him down enough to get him to see why I even brought it up. She took the same facts I already knew and just came at them from a different (albeit uglier) angle. After he adamantly denied what she had said, I pointed out why she might have the idea she does. I asked him about what really HAD changed since we moved out. How was I ever going to know that we weren't doomed to repeat the same mistakes? It was a very very interesting discussion that has actually been tabled until the next time we see each other. (We ran out of time. I tend to talk. A lot. News flash.)

I don't know that anything has actually been resolved, but then, that's not the point right now. The conversation was the point. The moving forward. The possibility that maybe things will be figured out someday in the future.

And that's what mothers do. Apparently even crazy ones.

Ouch

You know that feeling you have sometimes like, "I can handle anything. I'm in reasonably good shape. I'm of sound mind. I've got my health. I've got a good support network. I'm tough. Pretty much any curve ball that life throws at me would be handled in some shape or form?"

You would think that I would stop thinking like that after the car accident that pushed me to the edge.

Still, that's how I approached Jillian and her Shred. I believe my exact train of thought was, "Pshaw. I'm in reasonably good shape. Level One? Bring it."

Apparently I had chosen to forget the last three months or so when I barely moved off the couch except to walk the dogs. Or perhaps I thought that just changing my eating habits slightly to lower my cholesterol magically put me in better shape. Either way, I was delusional.

I had to stop during the workout (the twenty minute workout) twice. TWICE. Of course, both breaks were for less than 5 seconds because Jillian yelling at you from a DVD is only marginally less intimidating than what I would imagine it would be like to have her in the room with you. She said breaks for no more than five seconds, and I had no choice but to obey. (After watching the Biggest Loser one night, I casually mentioned to the boy that I believed Jillian's sole reason for existing was to make overweight people cry. It's true. I cried.)

After the workout, I had difficulty going down to the basement to let the dogs out. I then immediately fell into a 20 minute nap. No joke. Like, I sat down to rest for a second before doing dishes, and woke up in the middle of Jeopardy. Today I'm sore. It's not awful soreness, I can lift my arms above my head with barely a grimace, and I can navigate stairs with only marginal pain. I've had worse from other various workouts. The thing is that the other various workouts were for an hour or more. This was twenty minutes. I can't stress that enough. Twenty. Minutes.

I dread tonight's workout. Still, I'm stubborn. If I don't actually finish level 1 tonight, it will be tomorrow. I may die trying, but I'll finish.

Stupid family weight loss competition.

Gobble Gobble

Well, another Thanksgiving came and went. I am grateful for so many things that my poor tryptophan addled brain can't possibly come up with a list. Friends, family, dogs, health, (lack of) wealth. The list goes on and on. I am especially grateful for this fabulous Thanksgiving break.

I went to my parents house where I did the following (in no particular order):

1) Ate a LOT of turkey
2) Watched a Dog Whisperer Marathon
3) Watched Notting Hill
4) Watched a Deadliest Catch Marathon
5) Watched three episodes (per night) of the best network show on air
6) Went bowling
7) Dug through the remnants of my youth
8) Watched part of Bring it On (hangs head in shame)
9) Watched The Karate Kid

Basically, my time was divided like this.

I did not think that I missed Cable TV. I thought the antenna fixed it. Apparently I do not know myself very well. (But I DO know myself well enough to say that I don't miss it enough to re-add it to the budget)

It was a very good weekend.

However, when digging through the remnants of my youth (which included, but was not limited to, old journals (that should come with a warning label that reads "DO NOT READ,") old yearbooks, pictures, certificates for monumental achievements) I not only felt the need to contact people from my past that I have no business contacting, I was once again horrified by the amount of weight that I have gained in the past year. Luckily, this horror was overshadowed by the weight my father has gained in the past year. (Whew. That was a close one.)

I have not yet come to terms with the idea that my parents will not always be around. However, I have come to terms with the fact that they are getting older, and massive weight gains for someone who is older (and has high cholesterol) doesn't seem like a recipe for success. I mentioned it to my mother who immediately agreed that since retirement, my father has gained significant weight. So I set about finding a tactful way to motivate my father to lose weight.

Which is how I became involved in a friendly family competition. One month, highest percentage of weight loss wins. What does the winner get? Respect. (Oh yes, and money.)

Before you are fooled by the "friendly" part, let me explain that my mother took over (somehow. I'm hazy on the details) and not only made the three of us (wait, when was she invited again?) weigh-in in front of each other (horrifying) but also recorded what we were wearing to ensure that the final weigh-in would also be fair. My mother is not the competitive one.

So this morning, I set about to get up early and do the horrifying workout video that's been masquerading as a coaster in my house for the last month.

Of course, I didn't actually use the video, but I definitely thought about it. Ultimately, I got up and let the dogs sneak into the bed for that extra hour of snuggle time instead. That seemed healthier.

I'm sure this competition will turn out to be a great idea. I'll keep you updated.

Your Mom is a Worse Winner

I come from a divided household.

Not divided like one parent roots for IU and the other roots for Purdue (which is common in these here parts) but divided like one parent leans to the left and the other parent leans to the right. In fact, there's a little stuffed donkey that sits on my mother's side of the bedroom facing a little stuffed elephant that sits on my father's side of the bedroom. It's a constant reminder of one of the biggest sources of angst in my father's life.

It's been a subject of hilarity in my family since I can remember that every election day my mother says, "Well, I'm off to cancel out your father's vote," and my father nearly keels over from apoplexy. There was a period of time when I think my father was in utter despair because his eldest child and only daughter had already firmly ensconced herself on the left, and my brother was also leaning that way as well. (Meaning that he was such a momma's boy that he would have spouted communist rhetoric had my mother told him to.) Since then my brother has given in to his true nature and moved over to the right so the family is a bit more balanced. (I say a "bit more balanced" instad of "balanced" because my little brother doesn't really care about politics. At least, not like my father and I do. My mother, I am convinced, only cares enough to drive my father insane.) Still, we kids moved out (as kids do) and we're back to my mother hanging up on the Republican party when they call for donations and the vein in my father's forehead threatening to explode everytime someone mentions the name "Clinton."

Still, my competitive nature doesn't come from nowhere, you know. After we elected W twice, my father wouldn't even say "Hello" when he answered my calls. He used the caller ID as a weapon and answered singing "Happy Days are Here Again."

(I tried to explain that that particular song was used as the campaign song for a Democrat, but he didn't care. In fact, I think that just added to his joy in using that song against me. His exultation knew no bounds.)

Imagine how he felt after THIS election. My phone call to sing to him was met with stony silence. I thought that was bad. But then my mother had to go and send out these "Thanksgiving Cards."Apparently my mother and I have more in common than I originally thought.

Worse Winner

About a year ago, my good friend J moved out of state. Her going away party was held at a location about 90 minutes from my home. The party was wonderful. Getting to the party, not so much.

The drive to the party had me and the boy* trapped in my car for an extended period of time and going to a new (difficult to find) location with confusing directions. I was driving. All in all, it was a recipe for disaster.

We were late to the party.

J knows all of this. What she DOESN'T know is that the drive was one of the more traumatic experiences of my life. The "getting lost" part would have been okay if not thrown on top of an already volatile situation. The volatile situation? Well, it was finally resolved for good last night.

It began innocently enough with a discussion that became a debate... well, I guess as innocent as a debate can possibly be with an Italian who is always sure she's right. The boy and I were discussing how gender is determined in a fetus. (yes, these are the topics that we discuss in our free time. I never said that we weren't nerds.) I don't remember how the topic came up, but I mentioned that I seemed to remember that all eggs (follicles) are inherently female. That the sperm determines gender. The boy insisted that this was not the case and that the gender is already determined in the follicle. In the absence of any reference material in the car, the discussion became a debate between his memory and my memory. I was at a distinct disadvantage since the last biology class I had taken was over ten years ago when I was a senior in high school (shut it! I was a marketing major!) and the boy had at one point majored in biology**.

You would think that intelligent people would table the discussion until proper reference material can be consulted. Um, no. This debate eventually degenerated until I remember that the boy said something along the lines of "You shouldn't get your biology lessons from Jurassic Park."

The mood at the end of the discussion was still semi-jovial, but strained. It was then that we got lost and things quickly went to hell. In fact, neither of us wanted to reopen the wound after it had closed, so we never actually looked up the answer to the question that we had debated so heatedly.

Last night we were discussing reproduction in my bio class, and damn if I wasn't right. Sperm does determine gender. In fact, testosterone plays a major role in this, which means that all folicles are inherently female.

I made my instructor repeat this last bit of information about five times, and then led the class in an in depth discussion of why this would be. (Think about it - if estrogen determined gender, we would all be female...there's so much estrogen in a pregnant woman's body...) As the discussion wound down, my instructor asked me why I was so happy. I explained the conversation that had taken place over a year ago and then asked permission to send a text message. My request was granted. The text message said:

I WAS RIGHT!!!!!!

Of course, the boy had no idea what the heck I was talking about. I got three text messages in response (all asking some variation of "WTF?") and then two phone calls. I didn't answer any of them - I wanted to discuss*** in person.

At the end of my five minutes**** of calmly explaining my revelation***** (and after first claiming he didn't remember the original discussion... the 'Jurassic Park' comment made him smirk, which gave him away and ignited a fresh round of indignation on my part) the boy resigned to his fate of being wrong with good humor. He said, "Being right makes you so happy. Is this your favorite thing ever?"

"Of course not," I explained to him. "There are many more important things in life."

I then proceeded to contemplate the important things in life - like dating a gracious loser when you're a bad winner, and vice versa.******

*The masses have spoken. "The boy" he was, and "The boy" he shall remain.
**Of course, I believe the boy at one point majored in everything that Purdue University offers, so that should be taken with a grain of salt.
***And by "discuss" I mean crow and wave my hands around in grand illustrations of just how right I am.
****True story.
*****By "calmly explaining my revelation" I mean bursting through the door while singing the "I am right" song and doing the "I am right" dance.
******Of course, in that scenario, I am always the "Bad loser" and the "Worse Winner." We should just canonize the boy now. We don't have to wait until death.

Deep Thoughts

I had a test last night, so my brain is just completely wiped out. In fact, I got to approximately question 53 on a test of 70 questions and I just did NOT want to read the remaining questions in depth, read each possible choice, and deduce the answer. I didn't. I wanted to skim the question and pick the best answer that just jumped out at me.

I fought against that impulse with mixed results. As a result, I am obviously anticipating a very high grade and can't wait until the reslts are posted*.

However, brain fatigue also brings you the post for today. I have a post in my drafts about heavy stuff involving the Catholic church and my relationship with it, but I just don't feel like trying to say everything I want to say in a delicate manner so as not to offend any random person who lands on my blog as a result of searching for varying combinations of "Jerry Springer" "Boobs" and "beads."**

So today's post is about being a mom and not being a girly girl. Specifically, it has to do with MY mother not being a girly girl, and having a daughter as her first born.

My friend Ann has often mentioned that she is not a girly girl, and has blogged about the challenges she faced with having a daughter. But then, she also blogs about surprises she's found about herself. I like to think that my mother went through some of the same emotions.

My mom is much like me just as she is completely different from me. For today, we'll focus on how we are alike. The list seems shorter. We both don't have patience for silly drama in our lives. We both like to have things in our life be pretty low maintenance. We both tell it like it is. And, finally, we are both stubborn beyond comparison, especially if we have our minds made up.

I think all of those things combined led me to have several baby pictures that look something like this.*** When my boss's wife saw this picture, she started laughing and said, "Why is your hair cut like a boy's?"

Why indeed.

Ann, you can console yourself in the fact that even though you don't consider yourself a girly girl, you would never cut The Divine Miss Em's hair like this. Girls have long(er) hair. That's just one of the perks to having a daughter. Her pretty pretty hair that you don't have to cut short.

I don't think my mother meant this haircut maliciously. I just think it was a low maintenance haircut for a child who was probably getting messy and getting into things and in general just being a child. After all, since I've known her, my mother has always had her hair cut short as well. It's just easier. I get that. The part of me that is like my mother understands that having a child is pretty exhausting, and brushing through your daughter's hair, when you don't even like brushing through your own, is something you probably want to avoid.

But this haircut persisted for a while. Long enough that I remember explaining to my mom that people thought I was a boy. Seriously. Like, "Where's your mom little boy?" I remember this.**** Her response was always, "No one thinks you're a boy. You have earrings."

Oh yeah. These teeny tiny little gold studs in my ears that no one can see? This is obviously why people don't think I'm a boy even though my hair is cut like a boy's and I'm generally in pants or shorts and a t-shirt. (As opposed to cute little ruffled dresses that also fall under the cateogry of "girly girl."*****)

Of course, I could not argue with this because mothers are always right. At least, until you go to school and find out that they've raised you with a boy's haircut.

I can laugh about it now. (Though not with the same depth of feeling that my boss's wife did when she saw the pictures. My laughter is more....tepid.) The (semi) bright side is that since I had my ears pierced at such a young age, I was usually the envy of the other girls in my class who had to wait until they were some arbitrary age before their mom's would let THEM get THEIR ears pierced. Wasn't I just SO LUCKY?

*In my neverending quest to assist those who may not know me well, I will point out that sarcasm should be noted here.
**This search (in one form or another) accounts for roughly 90% of the hits on my blog.
***This is the LEAST embarrassing one that I've found if that helps you understand any.
****And I'm sure it had no impact on who I am today. None whatsosever.
*****In my mother's defense, she DOES know how to get dressed up. We share this as well. While a normal day might have low maintenance clothing, if it's a special occasion, I have no doubt I looked like a girl with a boy's haircut. But it's the day-to-day living that I remember the most.

Confessions of a Teen Drama Addict

Confession: I watch Gossip Girl. RELIGIOUSLY.

Like, I don't have cable TV, and the CW4 only comes in if I'm standing in a certain position in my living room with the antenna balanced on Casey's head, but I don't care and I'll give Casey a whole box of treats if it will keep her still for that one hour on Monday nights to watch Gossip Girl. It's seriously that bad. I'm only glad that they moved Monday Night Football to ESPN (which is obviously only a cable channel) so there's no chance of a conflict.

(I know, right? I'll bet I'm the only female on the planet who's torn between MNF and GG. If there are others out there, you should definitely email me. We can hang out sometime!)

There are still other TV shows that I catch on occasion... Grey's Anatomy, Survivor, ANTM... But it's only GG that is an obsession. It's all about the teen drama. And Blair? I heart Blair. She's so deliciously evil. I've tried to explain this to the boy, even offering this article as proof that he should watch it, but he won't get involved. He tells me that Grey's Anatomy is as far as he's willing to compromise.

(It's okay. I prefer swooning over Dan when the boy's not around anyway. Besides, he doesn't have as much time on the computer as I do, so he probably wouldn't get to enjoy this gem which just adds to my love of the show.)

Along those same lines, I'm lately addicted to this blog. It's been brewing for a while. In fact, I liked it from the first read, and innocently suggested it to my cousin that day. I'm going to go ahead and send out an apology to her now if she's as hooked as I am. This blog doesn't have the same scheming that GG has, but... What can I say? I'm a sucker for a girly romance. I'm a sucker for the possiblity of happily ever after. I'm a sucker for teen drama. (Note: the blog is fiction... you should know that going in. Trust me, it doesn't take anything away from the story.)

You would think I have too much time on my hands. Trust me, I don't. I just squeeze these things in when I'm SUPPOSED to be studying. I'm thinking I can list them on my application for vet school. You know, to show I'm a well rounded person.

No?

Corporate Culture

In college, my business internship was for a global HVAC manufacturer - a huge company. I made several friends in my department of 9 who I no longer speak to. My first job out of college was for a market research company with about 350 employees. (Looking back, it doesn't seem like there were that many of us, but I just Googled the company, and that's what Google says.) I still have several good friends from that job. Now I work for a company of three people. Total. At the rate the company sizes are decreaseing, it seems that my only option in the future would be to open my own company where I am my only employee.

Working for a small company has been one of the best experiences of my life and one of the worst experiences of my life. The perks are obviously more flexibility, no office politics whatsoever (one of my least favorite parts of working at my last job,) and a chance to play a variety of different roles within the company. The downside, is, well, it's me and my boss for the majority of the day. I don't really have the option to not feel social. If we have an argument, it's not like we can avoid each other for a week while things cool down. And when he's traveling...well, it's just me.

I'm pretty sure I thought of all of those things (except for the being alone while my boss travels) before I took the job. What I didn't foresee was the dynamic that would develop between my boss and I. It's...unique.

When my boss met my parents (um, yeah. See? Different.) he explained it like this, "It's almost like Emily's my best friend. I spend more time with her than I do anyone else, even my wife." And it is like that. Like we're almost friends. I mean, he probably knows more about the details of my every day life than anyone else. Even the boy*. And the same thing goes the other way as well. I can tell my boss's wife things about his daily life that I'm sure he wouldn't think to mention when he goes home at night. Things about his patterns of behavior that maybe she doesn't have time to notice only because of the sheer volume of time that he and I spend together. If I have a problem, I'll discuss it with my boss to get his perspective, and he does the same with me. I'm pretty sure we know everything about each other's lives. It's not easy to keep secrets from someone sitting 10 feet away from you for 40 hours a week.

But we're not really friends. We don't hang out outside of the workplace. It's difficult to describe. The company culture is like a family, but there's still the clear distinction between employer and employee. And this feeling of "family" also extends to our customers and suppliers....even though we still have business relationships with them.

Each year when we send out company Christmas cards, we try to think of something unique and fun to send to our customers (each of whom we know personally.) Our Christmas cards each year are so fun that our customers are already asking after this year's batch. The first year I was employed, we sent a cartoon caricature of the three of us (that I had to color individually with colored pencils... all 500 of them. We won't be doing that again.) The second year, we sent a picture of downtown Indianapolis. (Boss didn't like that one so much. Too impersonal.) The third year (after they had gotten me firmly entrenched in the world of pit bull rescue) we sent a picture of the three of us with our dogs. The fourth year, we sent headshots of each of us as Christmas ornaments on a tree (don't ask.) This year? We're sending a collage of baby pictures. No joke. I can't post my boss's and his wife's pictures....but I can sure as heck show you mine. I guess I'm not a baby in this picture...I'm about a year and a half old, and this was taken at the Indianapolis Zoo. I just think it's hilarious. Beyond my birthmark and the color of my hair, I can't really see much of myself in the tiny person in that picture.

When I called my mother and asked her to send me baby pictures, and she found out what they were for, she said, "Wait, for your company Christmas cards?" Um, yeah. Her silent question hung in the air. Meh, it may be weird, but I just chalk it up to our corporate culture. I like this better than the usual office politics.

So go support your local "mom and pop" store. That's what this experience has taught me. The personal relationships seem....healthier...somehow. Both for the employees of the company and the customers. Don't believe me? Take a sec and get to know the owner of the next locally owned business you go to. That will make you feel better about spending the extra $0.50. After all, it would be a shame if all small business were eventually run off by corporate giants. I mean, do you see WalMart sending out Christmas cards with adorable Italian/Peruvian babies on them?
*I tried, but I'm a creature of habit. I'll revisit that soon.

Outwitted (and it tastes so good)

Someone I've known for over ten years now got married yesterday. I can't say "an old friend" because I would say we were more acquaintances in college. In fact, we only became close when we traveled to London together in November of 2006. It was there that we bonded over a love of all things silly, a relaxed travel agenda, and an intense need to drive Kat(i)e insane whilst drinking cider. 'Twas fun. We laughed a lot and came away in 7 days with a closer friendship that normally takes months to build.

Shortly thereafter, she met the man of her dreams. (And I must admit, when I met him I fell head over heels also. What a catch!) Since she and I are two of a kind, we have since spent tons of time on various teams (dodgeball, kickball) and doing all sorts of silly things that for once, I do not have to organize. (Let's hear it for planners!! Yeah!!) They are one of the most fun couples I've ever met, and their wedding was nothing short of fabulous. They even had a signature drink. No joke. I was looking forward to this wedding not only because it was a huge gathering of people I know, but also because the bride and the groom are so much fun, their wedding promised to be epic fun. And indeed it was.

She was beautiful. The ceremony was not unbearable (and with a Catholic Mass involved, that's saying a lot!) The company was good. The bride and groom were entertaining. They drove off in a Mercedes convertible while she wore a fur stole over her wedding dress....in 40 degree weather. All in all a success.

However, it was not without angst on the part of Emily. My friend is also very very crafty (though she looks so innocent. How does she DO that?) She knows about my (pretty vocal) hatred of the dreaded bouquet toss. I'm sure she thinks that I'm only saying what other single women my age won't say out loud. We hate the bouquet toss. Seriously. It was cute when we were all 21 and fresh out of college. Ha ha - single women all vying for the bunch of flowers because of course we're going to be the next ones to get married. Woo Hoo!! Look how cute we all are! I'll even (grudgingly) admit that I caught the bouquet at one of my friend's wedding, and my ex caught the garter.

We all know how that turned out.

Now that I'm older and single (and seem to be in the minority,) I object to the bouquet toss on principle. C'mon. Don't make me humiliate myself. Don't make me stand among a sea of 12-15 year olds and halfheartedly pretend to be interested in the bouquet that is sure to make me the "next lucky one." Please? I'm good. I promise. It's enough for me to exert the self control necessary to keep me from punching all of my married friends who are urging, "Emily - you're single! Get out there," with their evil grins. Hmph. Let the teenagers catch it. It will make their day. Leave the crotchety 30-year-old alone.

My friend, being my age and just married, was surely aware of the challenges of being single at 30 and the dreaded bouquet toss. You want to make the bride happy and be a good sport, but at what expense? So, armed with this knowledge, my newly married friend had a decision to make. Eliminate the bouquet toss? Or just toss the bouquet to a crowd of...um...no one?

Instead of choosing between those two perfectly acceptable options, my friend opted for C... Tie a $10 Starbucks Gift card to the bouquet.

Bitch.

I ranted and raved all the way to the ceremony. I waffled. Fine. I was going out there. And I had better get that damn bouquet. Seriously. I was going to throw elbows. I wore stiletto heels for the express purpose of stepping on toes. (It's not like I'm tall here, people. I have to use what I've got.) I was already humiliating myself, I had better get a gift card out of it.

On the other hand... no...no, wait a sec. Compromise my principles for a $10 Starbucks gift card? Were my principles really so inexpensive? Of course not. I would remain strong. No way I was going out there. The boy* listened and laughed. I think he knew.

I totally went out there.

And, you know, I would feel badly about it, but I had a Cinnamon Dolce Latte this morning that I didn't have to pay for. That made it all better.

Principles? What? I'm a starving student. I can't afford principles.

*After a couple of questions regarding why I call the boy "the boy," I've re-thought that decision. It was originally to keep the blog light, while also protecting his privacy...even though most of you know who he is. It was meant to be a silly way to refer to my significant other who goes through varying degrees of being my significant other. Moving forward, he will be known as "G." It still protects his privacy, and now he actually has a "name" instead of being an object. Maybe someday he'll be on the level of Blue and Casey and have an actual name.

Update

Um, totally can't go to the BMV. Eyes itch. Red and itchy. Red and itchy and runny.

I can't get my driver's license picture taken looking like this! Suck.

Planner

I have a lot to accomplish in the upcoming week, so of course, I planned today to the very last minute and the weekend in large chunks of time. Planning is my coping. It's my way of feeling in control.

For instance, today I knew I had to get up early to take the dogs to daycare*. So while the dogs are tiring themselves out, I'm going to head to the BMV at lunchtime to take care of some lingering address changes (from when I moved in June *cough*) Then I'm going to stay at work late tonight (pooches don't have to be picked up until 7:00pm) and do some studying for my test next week. When I get home, dogs will be exhausted, so I'll probably drop them off and study some more. All planned. Down to the minute.

So of course I woke up sick. Damn you universe! Couldn't just leave me alone for one day, could you? I'm pretty sure I'm having an old friend revisit. Suck. If you want me to be honest, I don't think it ever really left. Sigh.

I'll push through today, but if this continues on the same track as last time, my volunteering/wedding/girls day/more studying scheduled for this weekend is in jeopardy. My boss keeps reminding me that the best laid plans of mice and men... To which I respond with an eloquent, "Shut it."

This would be one of those days that my father would tell me to loosen up, and not to sweat the small stuff. I know, I know. But I also know that I function better when all my ducks are in a row. Which I thought they were. Until sick came into the picture. Now I realize that I only had the illusion of ducks in a row, and that ticks me off.

But at least I know that this evening will be a good evening. I fully expect to see this all evening long.And an evening with that view can not be a bad evening, my friends.

*Side note: with the economic downturn and a personal Emily money crunch, doggie daycare was one of the first things to go. An unfortunate side effect of this is that I like Casey a whole lot less. She just doesn't know what to do with all of that energy, and the hour long walks at night [when we can squeeze one in with enough light to see - hello daylight savings time] just aren't cutting it for her like they are Blue. I'm thinking of drugging her**
**Okay, not really, but seriously folks, something has to be done. My first-dog, she is a pain.

Happy Days are Here Again!!

I was fairly certain that Obama would win. Still, it's never good to count your chickens... so it was nice to see the actual confirmation around early this morning.

But when Indiana went blue? Icing on the cake.

Congratulations, America, for making a change when we need it most. Better late than never.

All I Want for Election Day is a Blue Indiana...

Go out and vote, people. If you need to find your polling place, do it here.

Indiana has been a red state for my entire life. It doesn't matter if I vote blue, the most that I have ever been able hope for is that my county turns blue. (Surprisingly, this does happen - which shows that there is intelligent life in Indiana, you just have to work hard to find it.) During the course of the current historic campaign, Indiana was shown as a faint blue at one point. Right now it's a faint red. I'll be staying up tonight to see if this state can actually pull it together and turn blue. For the first time since 1964. In fact, I've allotted my monthly Starbucks money to tomorrow morning because I know I'll be up tonight in breathless anticipation.

It's time for a change, and I hope that my state can sense that sooner, rather than later.

Halloween on a budget

Okay, so I dressed up for halloween. And, I'm not going to lie...but our Scooby Doo gang outfits? Our HOMEMADE Scooby Doo gang outifts? They rocked the house. As I told my parents, "If you just look at us, I think we did pretty good. At least, you can figure out who we're trying to be. If you compare us to a picture of the ACTUAL Scooby Doo gang, notsomuch." Still, we had fun....and I'm now a firm believer that homemade costumes are far superior to store bought items. Especially for the hilarity component. My brother's wig (and his wife's) were the funniest things ever.

Sidenote: I think that both the boy's outfit and mine cost a total of $12.00 - for everything. I heart Goodwill. The only reason the total was $12.00 and not $8.00 is because I bought the socks new. Not wearing hand-me-down socks. Ew.

The boy has been growing out his hair for over a month - just for me, he says. He still hasn't cut it off, though, so I'm not sure I believe him. My hair? I just tucked it into the turtleneck. It's currently longer than it ever has been, and while its days at this length are numbered, I'm not sure I want to go THAT short. My turtleneck (that I'm convinced is the only orange one in Indianapolis) was about two sizes too big. After frantically calling my friends to see if they had clothing that would help me out, I finally just gathered it in the back with a safety pin. After all, the pictures were from the front, and that's all that mattered. Classy.

My brother and his wife hosted the party at their new home. It had really cool decorations, plenty of beverages, beer pong and cornhole. I'm too old for beer pong, but "Shaggy" and "Velma" ruled at cornhole. I'm just sayin'.

Just for fun I'm including a second picture of "Freddy" tossing "Shaggy" a "Scooby Snack." This picture was taken later in the evening, I can't even FIND the "scooby snack" in the picture, and I'm fairly certain that it was not caught, but this should give you an idea of how the party went.

Sidenote: At the beginning of the evening, the boy and I were exhausted and dreading our mandatory attendance at this party where we were part of a group costume. We were all, "We should have just dressed up in something else on our own so we could decided whether or not to go..." We ended up having fun, and I'm so glad we went... but at the same time, I was shocked at the number of "couple costumes." Seriously. Most of my brother's friends are married, but I didn't realize that "married" meant "mandatory couples costume." Sheesh. When I realized this, I was immensely relieved that we were part of a group costume. I would have felt much more ridiculous had I gone out on my own in a random costume idea. (But at the same time, I'm sort of bummed that I didn't think of this idea.)

I'm the dog? I'M THE DOG?!*

My ex friend compared me to George W. Bush this morning.

Harsh.

And then he compared me to Shrek.

I have great [ex] friends**.

You know how sometimes, you feel really really really strongly about something? Something that it seems that no one else understands? You can usually explain those things to your friends, and they will nod along and make sympathetic noises as you explain your emotions and how you plan to act on them, and how you try to balance emotion with reason and move forward with your life.

At least, you can do those things with my friends. If you can't, perhaps you should invest in new friends.

I may or may not have taken advantage of this in endless circular discussions about the boy. And my friends sigh, and they nod, and they listen, and they cross their fingers that this time my path will make it through the woods. (I think it's more so that they don't have to listen to a description of the woods any longer, but it may also be because they want me out in the sun as much as I do... :-) They know I'll figure it out eventually, and really, nothing they say will make a difference. It's not worth the effort.

But what about when I feel really really strongly about something, and instead of nodding and making sympathetic noises, my friends open their mouths and explain that perhaps (perhaps) I may be making an error and throwing off that emotion/reason balance off in favor of too much emotion? What if all of a sudden, they feel that I'm making a big enough mistake that it IS worth the effort to say something just in case it makes a difference?

This isn't about the boy.

What about when I feel super-strongly about something that I can't even think about without tearing up***, and I discuss it with my friends, and every single one of them disagrees? Every. Single. One. What then?

Well, I don't want to be W. I mean, I can see the mistakes he's made plain as day. Can he? Do you think that hindsight really is 20/20? Do you think he wishes he had listened to [intelligent] others [without hidden agendas] just once? Do you think that for a second he realizes (even now) that when you're the only one thinking that you're right, there's a slight possibility that you're actually wrong? I mean, he's repeated mistakes, right? So maybe he doesn't realize. Maybe he doesn't see.

Me? Well, if I'm sure about a course of action, it's not up for discussion. I just do it, smart or dumb. I don't want to hear anyone else's judgment on what I want to do when I'm sure. But I'm reasonably intelligent. My "I'm absolutely sure about this possibly dumb decision" is usually something like, "I'm totally buying these $150.00 fuschia boots that don't really fit that well, but would totally go with this one dress that I own." So when I'm unsure? It's a big thing. It's weighing heavy on my mind. It's something that I don't want to screw up. I poll my friends and family. I talk to them about what they would do in my situation. Some opinions weigh heavier than others. But when everyone else is in agreement, and they all agree that perhaps I'm not choosing the correct course of action? Well, it sends me back to the drawing board to re-think things.

The problem is that since it's a big something, and I'm struggling with the decision, going back to the drawing board isn't easy. It's going back and re-thinking priorities and principles and trying to figure out where I could have made a mistake when drawing up the rules for "what makes up Emily," and trying to figure out what everyone else sees that I'm just missing. Pretty much everything else in my life stops for a while.

But on the other hand, apparently I could be Shrek who [according to the ex-friend] saw something that was very, very important to him that he wanted, and he went after it even though other people didn't think it would work out. Even though it turned ugly for a bit, at the end, it worked out for the best, and everyone was happy.

I'm sure there's another story that had a prettier protagonist that worked out that way...ahem.

Do I want to run the risk of being W just for the possibility of being Shrek? Or do I want to understand why everyone else sees something that I don't and take their good advice?

But there is a bright side, I guess. If I screw this up, it's only myself that I'm placing in an impossible situation. At least I'm not controlling the fate of an entire nation.

*If you don't catch this reference, then we can no longer be friends.
**We're still friends. Promise. I'm being "pretend outraged" that he drew such unflattering comparisons. This is, no doubt, the reaction he was intending to elicit****
***Which really, doesn't mean much since I cry at coffee commercials
****I felt the need to explain that for those who don't "get me" quite yet. Don't worry. You'll get there.

Hardwired

I distinctly remember when I learned to apply makeup. I was a freshman in high school, and my colorguard instructor taught me how to apply mascara, blush and eyeliner. For winterguard he taught us how to pluck our eyebrows. Eventually he noticed that we needed to use concealer - and some girls learned how to fix the eyebrows that they had botched. (And yes, he taught us the "drag queen" style for when we were performing, but when he learned of our woefully inadequate makeup-applying skills, he took pity and taught us day-to-day wear also.) Best. Makeup. Tips. Ever.

At first I was excited. I looked like I was in high school, and not a little baby middle-schooler. (I didn't.) Look at me seniors!! (They didn't.) But the more I thought about it, I was sort of perturbed. Why hadn't my mother taught me these vitally important tips? I mean, I'm a girl - she's a girl. She wears makeup. I would have eventually worn makeup. It just seems like something you would teach your daughter, right? A bonding experience, if you will. Why was my mother not teaching me these vitally important womanly skills?

A few weeks ago I went to see a play. A friend of mine has gotten involved in community theatre and I went to see her play a vitally important role in 'Charlotte's Web.' On the way to the theatre, I picked up some flowers for her. The friend that accompanied me mentioned that he never would have thought of the flowers for our friend. I stopped for a second to consider WHY exactly I had the flowers. Well, that's what you do when someone is in a play. You take them flowers like they're in the starring role, whether they are or not. That's just....what you do.

Two weeks ago marked my company's first day in our new office. It was a day of building desks, moving files and throwing away boxes. It was an exciting move with new hardwood floors, more space, crown moldings, etc etc. I brought a bottle of champagne for the end of the day when we were all moved in. Why? Because that's what you do to celebrate a new place, a new beginning, a new set of circumstances. That's just....what you do.

On a random Sunday past, I had planned to have the late afternoon/evening completely free. Homework done, dogs tired, food ordered... just me, my book, and my TV for background noise. I even pulled out the fluffy blanket to snuggle with because I knew that a nap was probable. Then a friend called with a crisis. I put aside the book, shot it one longing glance, and then wrapped up in the comfy blanket and turned off the TV because my friend needed me. That's just....what you do.

I don't know how I just know those things. How I know that when you go to someone's house for a party you take a bottle of wine or a snack and always always ask what you can do to help. How I know that if you see something that immediately makes you think of someone, you buy it for them right then and there - even if there's no occasion. (well, this happens more when I have money, but you get the idea...) How I know that even though we're "all grown up," sometimes making a fuss over a birthday is mandatory. How I know that sometimes embarrassing the heck out of the boy with PDA is the key to a healthy relationship. How I know that gossip is terrible, but if it's something juicy, and I just can't seem to keep it to myself, I had better surround myself with people who can :-) How trust is the most important thing you can have between two people. How drama just isn't worth it, and telling the truth is always the most direct way to resolve any situation. How being yourself is the best way to be - your good friends will always understand.

I fail all the time on when to send cards, and I have friends who are much more up on etiquette than I am. But after reviewing the way I'm hardwired, I don't think I mind so much about the makeup. I'm pretty sure my mom covered all the important stuff - I think she figured that I would figure the rest of the stuff out on my own.

She was right.

Besides, I don't think she knows half the killer makeup techniques I know - even though I don't use half of them. Maybe I should set up a lesson with her. You know...as a thank you.

Young Adult Fiction

So, contrary to popular opinion (including my own) I actually had the stress-free, relaxing weekend I was coveting. Dinner on Friday night was fabulous, and I highly recommend the restaurant. Great atmosphere, great food, and great drinks. On Saturday, I met an old friend for breakfast, volunteered until 3:00, and then went home and did not emerge (or shower) for the rest of the weekend.

The dogs got daycare on Friday and multiple things to chew throughout the weekend. They spent the bulk of their time curled up with me on the couch while I tore through this month's book club book... and the two subsequent books in the series.

Young Adult Fiction - 3. Homework - 0.

Apparently my love for brain candy knows no bounds.

On Sunday evening a friend called to see if I wanted to walk the dogs. I dragged myself off the couch, made myself presentable, and confirmed that I could, in fact, spend time with people and not be mopey. (It helped that there were plenty of deer to chase and that Casey got within three feet of one before it took off and left her in the dust.)

Update on the car to come. For now, I have massive studying to catch up on. I'm not letting myself even purchase book four until after my test on Thursday. Obviously, my commitment to memorizing human bones can not compete with my desire to find out what happens to Bella.

Stress

Stress is a funny thing. In the days since the car accident, I've been super super stressed out. I don't think I've reached my breaking point yet. But I would be lying if I didn't say that I could definitely see the appeal of just letting go and freaking the hell out. (Side note: It took me a long time to understand that different people can handle different things. I just thought those who broke down were being wimps. I never considered that perhaps they literally could not walk away from the edge.) So in the various moments throughout the week when I eyed the cliff and considered jumping off (while knowing full well that I wouldn't/couldn't) I could definitely see why some people would take that option and never look back. It's just so....freeing.

Of course, then who would make sure things got done? This is usually what brings control-freak Emily back to reality, makes her take a deep breath and remember that as long as she's moving forward, the end will come soon enough. Besides, lying in bed and ignoring all responsibilities with the latest book club book is just as good as jumping off the cliff, and has less negative effects on my life.

Luckily I'm surrounded by great people. The boy came through, if not with flying colors at least with a solid A. I have a great boss who is also fabulous for brainstorming. I have friends who are willing to drive me places and rearrange their schedule to help me out. I have supportive and unbelievably giving parents. And, last but not least, I have a cousin who will take exactly what I'm willing to share with her, read between the lines, and dole out reliably good information time after time. I think she gets the bulk of the credit for talking me away from the cliff, and she did it all from thousands of miles away. She's an amazing woman, and I suggest you all get a cousin just like her.

Between everyone, I was able to have my freak out moment (sorry for any of you who were involved in that period) and then return to reality and breathing.

I am so grateful for the number of phone calls I received with support and just checking in to see if I was okay. I'm sorry if I haven't returned all of them. Let me get to the point where the car accident is an amusing anecdote and I'll get right on that.

Okay, the update is that there is no update. There are questions about the insurance coverage that might not be answered until next week. I don't know what those questions are, but they're making me nervous. I'm currently driving a canary yellow rental that I hate, but (sigh) at least I have a car. (It's so yellow. Did I mention that it's yellow?) My beloved Curvy is currently at the dealership where they're working on an estimate. I also have an insurance adjuster going out there to get a second estimate just in case. I saw her yesterday and was going to take pictures for you guys, but it was just so sad that I couldn't do it. They had her up and taken apart to see the damage, and though she looked fine from the outside after the accident, the underside of her rear end doesn't look so great from underneath. (insert brief sob here)

Things could be worse. I know, and I remember this every day. But the way I explain my stress to my boss is this: Since I don't own a home, my car is my most valuable possession. Some girl just ran right into it, damaged it quite a bit, and I'm not sure when I'll get it back, or IF I'll get it back. I know that in a month, or even a week, this will all be under control. It's just getting from here to there that's a struggle for me.

Physically I'm fine and I know this because my mother badgered me into going to the doctor. (It was either go to the doctor or kill my mom. The first option is less messy, so in the end, I guess I reinforced the badgering behavior by giving in.) Tonight the boy and I are going out to a nice dinner with a $100 gift card that we've been saving for "the right time." He seems to think that a free dinner with no stress seems to be the thing I need right now. I think he's right.

But he's going to make me drive. In the yellow embarrassment. Sigh. I guess it's never NOT time to mess with Emily's psyche. It's okay. The fact that I'm already thinking of retribution shows that I'm already on the road to recovery, right?

Can't Even Blog Right Now...

...so go read this.

I'm okay. Shaken up and sore today but okay. Curvy did not fare so well, though she absorbed the impact awesomely and I'm going to take this opportunity to suggest you get a Honda for your next vehicle. I honestly exited my car (with curtain side airbags deployed) expecting to see twisted metal, shattered glass, and steam rising from my car.

There was twisted metal, and there was broken glass, but all from the other driver's car. Curvy looks perfect from the outside, with the exception of her rear driver's side tire, which is bent in at an awkward angle.

Everything is fine, no one was hurt, I didn't have my dogs with me, and with the exception of my car (and her car, of course) it's the best possible outcome from this scenario. Still, I'm shaken up, I'm scared, and I'm in the unusual position of not being entirely self sufficient at the moment which is stressing me out the most. Think good thoughts for Curvy and I'll post later with pictures and more info.

Numbers

60 - My total height in inches
35 - The number of Pull 'n' Peel Twizzlers that I've eaten so far
6 - Number of days it's taken me to eat the Pull 'n' Peel Twizzlers
501 - Number of times I've wished I didn't have dogs in the last 24 hours
3 - Number of times I've attempted to eat six Saltines in sixty seconds
0 - Number of times I've succeeded
17 - The number on the Colts jersey that I just received (happy belated birthday to me!!) and love love love.
5 - Number of guys who have looked at me strangely because they can't figure out whose Colts jersey I'm wearing
5,682 - Number of times I've cursed about choosing to play Philip Rivers over Ben Roethlisberger in fantasy football last week
223 - My total cholesterol. (Go ahead. Be horrified. I only post that here because I'll post an update in six months when it's MUCH lower. And in my defense, my body manufactures high amounts of good cholesterol (thanks Mom!!) so the ratio? Isn't that bad. But the total does give you some sticker shock...I'll give you that.)
23.5 - Number of hours I logged in studying for my test yesterday
1 - Number of surprising discoveries I've made about myself in the past week
2 - Number of times I've let the dogs sleep in my bed in the last week
2 - Number of times Laney has woken me up at 5:30am out of spite because the dogs are on the bed and she's not
1 - Number of times I've voted for the candidate who eventually became president
2 - The number to which I hope to increase the previous statistic come November
40 - Number of minutes early that I have to leave the house if I want to take the dogs to daycare. (I hope they appreciate the sacrifice...)
750 - Number of square feet in my home
1500 - Number of square feet I would have in my home if I used the basement for anything other than storage and laundry (stupid spiders)
2 - Number of Classic Coca-Cola 20oz bottles I purchased this morning. (Note the omission of the word "diet." I'm trying. Really I am.)
287 - Number of cents for a gallon of gas yesterday. Too bad I filled up two days prior
24.2 - Average miles per gallon of gas that Curvy is currently getting
32.1 - Highest average mpg I've gotten out of Curvy when driving to my parent's house
20 - Average number of emails that I exchange with zlionsfan on any given day.
3 - Number of glasses of sangria I drank last night to celebrate the fact that my test is over
6 - Number of times I hit snooze this morning.
5 - Number of my readers who I'll bet are going to try the Saltines thing in the next week or so. (Just make sure to let me know how that turns out.)

Cholesterol, Schmolesterol

I was just on the phone with a friend marveling at how "adult" I felt. I have blocks of time scheduled to study, I quit studying at responsible times so that I'm not exhausted at work the next day, I squeeze in good walks with the dogs, I have about ten thousand different things going on, but as long as they're written down in my calendar in advance (no, I don't have a crackberry, thanks for asking) I can plan around them, and usually show up as scheduled. (I say usually because sometimes? Naps with warm dogs simply can not be avoided.) Look at me! Completely in control and doing what I should be doing. Isn't this the very definition of an adult?

Well....

Okay, so below the surface, it's not all completely in control. What I've done is make a list of priorities and then focus on what I can. School? Mega important. Dogs? Also Mega important, but unfortunately, trumped by school. Sleep? Recently moved up to Mega important - not trumped by anything anymore.... etc. etc. Some things have gotten scrapped. Reading for pleasure? Gone. Visiting friends who are out of state? Gone. Blogging? Well...I can't give up ALL my guilty pleasures. Diet? Um, not even on the list of items to focus on. Actually, it's nowhere near the list. Not even in the same room. Which brings me to the call from my doctor yesterday telling me that my cholesterol is high*.

I'm sorry, what? Isn't that something that only grown-ups have to worry about?

Oh, right.

So then comes the anger. The doctor can't save me from death's door, but oh thanks so much for diagnosing something ELSE I have to treat.

Then comes the acceptance. Damnit. Must now move "diet" up on the list of importance.

I knew this was a risk. I know where I come from. (Hi Dad! Thanks so much for these genes! Love you!!) But, you know, there are only so many hours in a day. And besides, Emily does like herself some queso dip. Yum.

I'm supposed to meet with the doctor to discuss "treatment of this issue." Blech. So I talked to my new BFF, Google, and we discussed exactly what "treatment options" the doctor would bring up. Not being such a fan of medication, I am resigned to the fact that I must alter my diet and lifestyle to be more healthy. (insert heavy sigh here.) I'm not looking to change everything all at once....I know that sets you up for failure. (Although, this seems to be my MO... Swing all the way over to the side of "healthy" and then chip away at the good habits until there is nothing left but queso and Ben & Jerry's and regular Coke, all while deluding myself of my "healthy" status and ignoring the fact that none of my pants fit.) I'll be adult about this. I can do this... unfortunately even changing little things right now seems daunting.

Easy things: oatmeal for breakfast each morning (sniff... bye bye McMuffin) and at least two meals per week that focus on tuna or salmon. And olive oil? Dude. No problem. I'm Italian. I've just got to rein that in. :-)

Regular exercise.

Right. Regular exercise. Not so easy. Let's see... I can squeeze that in in the mornings before I have to be at work. Um, wait, it's dark outside then. Shoot. Um, I can squeeze it in after work! Right. Three times per week - MWF. I have to walk the dogs, I will combine the two. Done.

Three times per week? Really? That's all? And only walking?

Um, gym membership? Right. When it's included in the soul-sucking tuition payments and the powers that be decide to add two hours to the day, I'll consider it.

Um....

So when I read this post from a favorite blogger, I was tempted. I've never purchased an exercise video before, but, hey, there's a first time for everything, right? And the price is right because Amazon.com is awesome. But still... an exercise video? Like, to do at home? It just seems so... so... cheesy, somehow. I've always been a fan of going somewhere (outside, gym, class) to get my workouts in.

Pros: I can wear whatever I want to work out and not worry about who's seeing me. I can fit this in in the mornings before I shower. I don't have to spend a lot of money. I don't have to tell anyone about this. (well, unless I post it on my blog.)

Cons: Um, I feel like a weiner.

So I bought the video today. When I start I'll let you know. I'm sure it will be a rollercoaster of fun. (stupid cholesterol.) Any other suggestions to get in a decent amount of exercise? I know you all have busy schedules too...

*I knew nothing good would come from going to the doctor. Blargh.

Just in case you've missed them...

...and also so I've got one place to go and watch them to make myself smile...

Joy

One day last winter, when Blue was still a newbie and skinny as a rail, the boy and I took Casey and Blue out to the tennis courts at the apartment complex and let them frolic in the fenced in area....in the snow. The sheer joy the showed while they pranced around, threw the snow in the air with their noses, and wrestled around on the ground until all you saw was a blur of blue and brown made me say, "This. This is why I have dogs."

I've been low on the willpower lately. I don't know if it's because all of my energy is focused on worrying about school, because it's getting cooler and my body is trying to enter hibernation mode (read: eat Qdoba 24/7), because tuition payments are sucking out my soul, or because I'm just worrying about school a lot (I'm sorry, did I list that twice? Hmmm.) but lately, if I want to watch football, I watch football. If I want to wear a sweatshirt to work, I wear a sweatshirt to work. (I think my boss is afraid to mention the sweatshirts.) Diet Coke? Psshhh. There is no "diet" in "stressed." If I want to have warm bodies to snuggle with in bed, I let the dogs sleep up with me. If I see juicy tasty dog treats that cost more than the food I'm buying myself, I buy them for the dogs. Apparently, if I am going to be stressed, I am going to use my dogs to bring me joy.

The dogs? They are getting spoiled. I don't think they mind being used.

There's a huge fenced in field near my house. "Fenced in" being the operative words there. It's part of Crown Hill Cemetery, and it contains tall grass, some dense woods, a huge wide open field, and (most importantly) an overabundance of deer. Now, pit bulls aren't like, say, beagles, or huskies. Pit bulls are pretty emotionally attached to their humans... So after a lecture about how I should trust my dogs more, I let them both off their leash and let them roam around the field. They didn't go far... until Blue spotted the deer. Immediately both dogs took off after the bouncing white tails. I would have been more frightened of losing my dogs if the scene hadn't been so hilarious. Neither Blue nor Casey is taller than maybe two feet from the ground, but while Casey is all legs, Blue is mostly muscle. The deer seemed to be as tall, if not taller, than I was...their backs, I mean. Their heads seemed like they would tower over me. Not to mention the antlers on some of them. Sheesh. There is no hunting in the cemetery, so these deer are BIG.

While Blue is moving his little legs as fast as he possibly can, the deer are getting further and further away from him. Still, he's running with a huge grin on his face and his tongue flapping in the wind. The deer disappeared into the woods, and without hesitation, Blue crashed in after them. At this point, even though I had lost sight of my dog, I could hear him crashing through sticks and leaves and in general being about the worst tracker he could be. He's not a graceful dog to begin with, so I could tell he was using the "run through obstacles" option instead of the "avoid obstacles" option.

Meanwhile, one deer had peeled itself from the group and veered away from the woods and back into the meadow. This is the one that Casey decided to pursue. Her legs are longer, and she's pretty agile, so it was awesome to watch her keep up with the deer as it zigged and zagged across the field. She never gained any ground, but she was definitely hanging in there. Eventually her deer went into the woods also, and she followed.

For a while, everything was quiet while I waited. I counted the seconds in my head to keep myself from freaking out. "...fifty-nine....sixty. It's only been a minute. Everything is fine. Sixty-one...sixty-two..."

Off in the distance, so small that they appeared to be no more than an inch tall, a deer appeared followed by a brown and white blur, then disappeared back into the woods. I paced and waited. After learning my lesson previously, I remained in the last place the dogs had seen me and waited for them to return.

Almost exactly five minutes after they had run off, both dogs appeared heading towards me from opposite directions. Casey was panting and bounding towards me. She almost barreled into me, but dodged at the last minute. On her return trip to me, she jumped up in the air to show me how much fun she had just had. She was almost saying, "Do it again mom! Bring the deer back again!!!" Blue, on the other hand, slowly walked towards me and fell over on his side as soon as he reached me. All I heard from him were snorting gasps while he attempted to catch his breath through the huge grin on his face. I could not stop laughing. For the rest of the walk, no leashes were needed since the dogs remained within twenty feet at all times.

Ever since that day, we've gone back to the field several times, and each time the routine is the same. Dogs see deer. Dogs chase deer. Dogs return exhilarated and exhausted. Emily is thrilled. (Though she's always careful NOT to let the dogs go if she sees fawns...) I've been trying to take pictures, but my camera is too slow....all you see are blurs :-) Lately, I think the deer are no longer frightened of Blue (who will never catch them, but NEVER fails to chase them if given the chance.) They will see him coming, wait until I'm sure they can see the whites of his eyes, and then run away. Poor Blue either doesn't understand that he has no chance, or simply doesn't care. I think it's the latter. To him, the running is worth it. Casey doesn't seem to be as driven. Sometimes she'll chase the deer. Other times she'll see them and it's almost like she thinks, "Meh. Not worth it."

I realize that it's an odd way to relieve stress, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The fact that I'm outside in the beautiful fall weather, coupled by the fact that this is cheap entertainment, coupled with the fact that I'm certain the dogs will never catch a deer...well, it's more fun than memorizing all the bones in the human body....

So what do you do to relieve stress? Any other cheap easy suggestions that may or may not involve dogs?

(Oh yes, and thanks for all of the suggestions for studying... I've made flash cards in the past with mixed results, so I'm trying them again. And I searched for online quizzes, but mostly found multiple choice options. What I need are "fill in the blank." Any other ideas to help memorization are greatly appreciated. As of now, I carry my flash cards everywhere. Yep. I'm pretty cool...)