I Ain't Yo Trash Can

For the last year or so, two of my superiors have been leaving their post-lunch mint wrappers on my desk.

Last year I saved them every day and put them in a zip lock bag. At Christmas time, I divided the wrappers and put them in gift bags on their desks. I hoped that it would send the message.

It did not.

The wrappers are a daily occurrence even now. It has gotten to the point where I now envision the two of them as walking mint wrappers. To illustrate my point, I have illustrated my point :

So, McLawyer and Mr. "the Confederacy is not dead," it's gettin' old.

Dr. Seuss, You're My Hero.

I am not assertive. I have a hard time in sticky situations. I do everything but dig myself an underground tunnel when I'm forced to say things people don't want to hear.

However, whilst perusing one of my favorite stops, http://www.creaturecomforts.typepad.com, I stumbled upon one of the quotes that she posts (weekly) and the thought crossed my mind to get it tattooed somewhere.

Here it is:

And I Don't Care Who Knows It!

Sometimes when I eat beef jerky it reminds me of the time when I made a survival kit and hid it in the woods behind our house.

When we lived in Florence, Montana I had it good. I had a horse (Rusty) and a few acres of a scene straight out of Heidi for a backyard. I had a clubhouse in the barn (with no club...) and a fort in the trees complete with the aforementioned survival kit.

The kit was stocked with beef jerky, an old pill bottle filled with water, candy hearts and I'm pretty sure there was some string cheese.

The survival kit went the way of my savings account...gradual withdrawals. I would head out there when I wanted a snack or for "surviving practice"- to make sure I could open the childproof water container without any trouble.

I wish LOST was more like my backyard...more about the surviving on a deserted, non-fully stocked island and less about "when are we?" I guess that is what Man vs. Wild and the Swiss Family Robinson are for.

P.S. I'm still totally bent on having a tree house someday.

P.P.S. SWF seeks SWM to build her a tree house.

Sing Me Home, Michael Buble.

"I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Ben Affleck."

Sunshine and her man tied the knot today. Road tripped with the Producer, the Executioner and the Librarian (wink wink) to catch the big event. I suppose my favorite part of the ceremony was when the pastor had the entire family put their blessing on the happy couple - it was just one of those special moments.

They held their reception in a fancy barn that has been converted into an amazing reception/party hall. I thought it was sweet and untraditional. Well planned, little miss Sunshine.

I'm in post-wedding mode, however. Always a little introspective (mostly thinking about what I would do, what flowers I would pick, music, etc.) and anxious. Until then - the more time that goes by, the more weddings I go to, the more kick-ass ideas I can steal for my special day. So THERE happy couple!

Just kidding.

BIG congratulations!

Oh, Mrs. Successful!

LFF Number 2 (my second longest friend forever) Mrs. Successful and I got to catch up tonight - she is in town for spring break. Her life will more than likely be a book someday - a bestseller, undoubtedly. I'll more than likely just amount to the miss stuck in line trying to buy it.

Ok, ok...but if you knew the girl, you'd instantly be impressed and inspired.

Speaking of inspired, the Wu and I are having our first official practice session for the vehicle of our own brand of success this Sunday. History in the making!

Last but not least - can I get an AMEN for Friday? The first OFFICIAL day of Spring.

"Price Check on Aisle 9."

Regarding my aversion to the grocery store: I think it's because of the crowds and the general attitude of everyone there. Nobody walks into a grocery store thinking, "I think I would like to spend as much time as possible here...just browse...take my time." Everyone at the grocery store is in a hurry...

...that is everyone except for the people who spend fifteen minutes arguing with the cashier about the ad they saw in the paper three weeks ago that said Windex was buy one get one free.

I, inevitably, always end up in THAT line. It's a gift I guess, I don't know. Do not follow me to a check out line, it's only a matter of time until the cashier flips the switch to turn on her blinking aisle light.

Fresh Coat of New.

Well. I did it. With the help of the Executioner and Mr. Musclepants - I'm in the new place. It's fresh and white and so charming. This place has so much character...as much character as you can pack into a studio apartment.

While it is wonderful and exactly what I wanted...I'm defintely still getting used to exactly what I wanted. I find myself looking for anything familiar with all the new noises and the smell of fresh paint (and old building says the Executioner).

BIG change. Happy change. It's the cute pair of brand new shoes that need some breaking in before they are comfortable.

Mile Post 50

Post number 50! In honor of my 50th post...I share with you the most significant addition to my life in the last week...

...my new duvet.

I move into my very own apartment tomorrow or the next day. I have high hopes for the new adventure. A new place is a new start - you have a brand new environment to cultivate new habits and nail old ones to the wall.

Like cooking. I need a place where I can learn to cook. A place where no one can hear me swear when I burn things.

Maybe becoming a morning person, still pretty bent on making that a part of my personality.

I will let you know how it's panning (get it - panning, cooking...pans?) out.

"It's gonna be alright, Sugar."

Well, Optimism - we meet again. You with your ridiculous ideas!

Sometimes, Optimism, you really get on my nerves. You take me sailing into the wild blue yonder and, while it's a great view, sometimes the landing really hurts.

You are generally my theme song. I'm a pretty big advocate of your silver lining theory. The truth is that sometimes you get in the way of the big picture. You seem to always swoop in and distract from the matter at hand. I think you might be my enabler.

I think you aren't really sure when enough is enough. Even in the most grim of situations, you are always advertising a glittering and impossibly good outcome. I think you're delusional, unfair and annoying.

However.

As frustrated as I am with your approach, I am pretty thankful that you are there. When I don't have any courage, I generally depend on you. You're no replacement for the truth, that's for certain. At the same time, you nudge me to expect the best out of the truth.

I guess we're on good terms. I'm sorry I called you annoying.

Can we at least pack a parachute next time? Thanks!

Until next time, Optimism.

Reality...

...is such a drag.

"B 14, B 1 - 4 ... I said BEEEEE FOURRRRTEEEEEN."

I'm about to tell you how serious senior citizens take the game of Bingo - especially when $4 a game is at stake.

Today was my very first Bingo calling experience. When I signed up for this adventure, I didn't know there was money on the line, a specific manner in which you call the numbers, a certain pace to keep (not too fast, not too slow), and a million different patterns to win a Bingo with for Heaven's sake.

Betsy Bingo in the back corner had an ATTITUDE and had a difficult time controlling her volume. I'm assuming that, with hearing loss, you are no longer able to tell if you are whispering or not. She'd lean in to her friends, Barb, Bonnie and Bettina Bingo and say things like, "It wouldn't hurt her to call those numbers a little slower" or, "She says her 'O's funny." She thought I was a mind reader when I said, "You guys let me know if you need me to slow down a little bit." I also purposefully stretched my O's out a bit longer for the rest of the afternoon - she'd nudge Bonnie everytime I called one.

The joke's on you, Betsy Bingo. We can take this outside if you'd like.

The Artist Formerly Known as Layne Street

Attention all waiters, recipients of my notary stamp, lucky owners of a Will that I have witnessed and anyone that has received a collection letter with my signature - you might want to hang on to that.

The Wu and I are going to be famous someday.

Smells like Tween Spirit.

Dear Executioner: I took you up on your offer to try the new face wash. Thank you! Love, me.

The way that face wash smelled reminded me of the summer between eighth and ninth grade. That was probably the most infamous summer of my tween life. This was the summer that I "went to modeling camp."

Fact: There is no such thing as modeling camp - at least not the weekend camp in Helena, Montana that I told everyone I went to. When creative girls like real cute boys, they make up stories to impress them. In order to maintain congruency, they also tell all their friends the same stories...and convince their mom to go along with it (to some degree).

Nabbed the cute boy. He was obviously just cute and not very bright or way too trusting. I'm sure my story had plenty of holes like..."they didn't let me bring back any of the pictures they took of me because they were copyrighted." Or, "they said my eyes were too far apart and my face was too long to have a career."

My glory was cut short when I went to church camp that same summer. Jesus has a way of pulling the truth out of you. Whilst sitting on the floor of our room, recapping that night's service - my heart started to pound. When it was my turn to share with the girls all I could say was, "I didn't go to modeling camp." I cried. The girls (the same ones that might have been a little jealous of my modelling adventure) laughed.

Correction: Modeling camp does exist. Just googled it.

The dream lives...

Florida.

Last summer, my friend and her husband sent me on a trip to Florida. I went all by myself, rented a car and had the most amazing time of my life. I looked through pictures from the trip this morning - it was so pretty down there. LUSH green. I hadn't seen the ocean (well that side - ever) since I was a sophomore in high school.

The trip was specifically to go to a tent meeting (church speak for an outdoor church service). Yes. There were tamborines and crazy church ladies. I sat in a corner by myself a LOT. People came from all over the world to be there. The day that I skipped service - I went to Clearwater. The drive itself was enough for me. It looked just like a scene out of Top Gun when Mav's riding his motorbike past the palm trees.
When I got to the beach, I stayed there for at least three hours. I people watched, got a wicked tan and made a sand sculpture or two.

The most incredible sight to behold was the sunset on the water. I sincerely had never seen anything like it.

I would SO love to do the whole thing over again. Everything. From the huge long flight (not a huge fan of flying...) to sleeping in the rental car at the campground.

Even the humidity. This trip was a big deal to me. Today I wish I was there.