Good Idea. Bad Idea.

Good Idea:

Making buttercream frosting to go with your sugar cookies

Bad Idea:

Putting 7 cups of granulated sugar in the recipe that calls for confectioner's sugar

Don't Let Your Wives See This...

... because then you're going to get an earful.

This morning I rolled (or fell, rather) out of bed. I trudged my way downstairs to eat some Cheerios. I took time to take in the scenery. The dishwasher was full of clean dishes. Some dishes sat in the sink with remnants of last night's pudding. And random pieces of mail and other paper items were scattered from here to there. So, of course, I walked past all of the scenery and made my way to the shower. After a nice, super long, super hot shower, I felt almost ready to face the world. I walked into the bedroom. The bed was made—blankets neatly folded at the foot of the bed. I walked to the kitchen—It was clean, and the dishes were being put away as I walked by. I took a few minutes to make myself somewhat presentable for work and walked downstairs to gather my things—My car had been started, scraped off, and was waiting for me.

Ahhhhh.... this is the life.

Now some people say, "Oh, you're newlyweds. This will wear-off soon."

Nope. I've known this man for 4 years, and this is how he's always been. As friends, we went with a group of people to stay at a cabin. Guess who was up before everyone else making breakfast for the group. Guess who stood out in the pouring rain to grill the chicken for everyone for dinner. As a friend, guess who started mine and other friends' cars for them so they'd heat up for a cold, winter drive. That's right, my husband. He's just that kind of guy. Always has been. Always will be. Hate me if you want. Or find one for yourself (unless, of course, you're married.)

How did I get so lucky?

I'd like to take this opportunity to cry.

I'm sitting at my desk in my office, drinking Diet Coke, snacking on Sixlets (mostly just the orange ones) and Hot Tamales which I began eating at 9:00am, and listening to Jimmy Eat World's "Last Christmas" on repeat. My eyes are puffy from crying for almost 10 straight hours yesterday and I'm so tired.

Last night I had a dream that a gal pal of mine was over at my parent's house visiting with me and my mom who happened to be in just her underwear. We realized we'd left the front door open and a man named Paul Bunyan, who looked eerily similar to Santa Clause, slipped in the front door while his wife who was almost 7 feet tall like her husband waited on the porch. I refused to believe that he was Paul Bunyan and I ran upstairs to call 911 on my cell phone. After a few attempts, because I couldn't remember the number, I finally got through to the dispatcher— Donny Osmand. He told me to believe in this man; if he said he was Paul Bunyan, he probably was. Then he closed the conversation with an inspiring line that I don't remember exactly. It was something like, "Chase your dreams. Which I recognized in my dream as the title of his just-released biography. I hung up on Donny, angry. I marched downstairs to find Paul Bunyan had made friends with my family. I was angry and kicked him out. He then lifted our house off the ground and set it back down on its side to prove to me he was, indeed, Paul Bunyan. I felt horrible for not believing him and ran after him as he was leaving to beg his forgiveness... he immediately transformed into Santa Clause and told me to be a good girl this year.

That's about how my brain is functioning these days. I am a zombie. My whole life is changing. Everything I know and have known for years will be different. I am completely in love with T.M.I.G.T.M. and couldn't ever imagine being with anyone else or trying to live without him. But marriage is hard, and scary. I never wanted to be married until I met T.M.I.G.T.M. Never. This is a huge paradigm shift, and it came rather quickly. My logical brain isn't sure what to do with all this change and these emotions. It's really hard. And I cry a lot, which I never have before. I know how to be single, I'm good at it. I don't know how to be married— trying new things makes me uneasy. My brain is mush and I feel like I can't completely be my normal self until I've settled into this transition. I so badly want normal life. And normal dreams, for that matter.

Here's to the wedding being over and hoping for a speedy mental recovery from all of the change!

The More You Read, The More You Know... Sometimes.

For some reason, I feel this need to try to go against the grain of what people would expect an "average" girl my age, in my circumstances to do. I don't know why. I don't know what I feel like I've had to prove.

The Harry Potter series hit its climax while I was in college. Though it's not a "girly" series, by any means, every girl I knew was knee deep in Potter hysteria. I refused to read it— until I taught elementary school. It was a survival skill I needed to remain hip with the kiddos. And I liked the series okay, especially the third book. But I won't admit that to many people.

Then there was the whole college scene of dating and every girl acting like she wanted only to meet boys, date, and find a boyfriend. I made sure I acted like I didn't care whether or not I dated, didn't care much about the boys I dated, and didn't hurt much when things ended badly— though I always felt more than I let on.

And so this instinct of mine, to defy what people would expect of me (though I don't always want to), has stuck with me over the years. And every once in a while, there is a trend that I'm truly, honestly, okay not following. One of which would be the Twilight craze. I love to read, almost as much as I love to eat Muddy Buddies, snuggle with my nieces and nephews, or write about my droning life events on here. But I simply cannot bring myself to read that series. After growing up on books like "Babysitter's Club," and "Sweet Valley High," I made a vow to myself to only read real, enriching literature after I was finally introduced to it in my high school years.

On my quest to become well-read with the classics, I was encouraged to read Orwell's "1984" by a number of people. I was told it would give me a lot to think about and that it was almost unheard of to not have read it, if I were to claim to be a fan of the classics. So, while in a book shop in Sienna this summer, I picked it up for the long, lonely journey home. (Which didn't end up being so lonely, thanks to a drunken Patrick Swayze look-alike in denim shorts and Dr. Martens boots. That's a story for another day.) Anyhow, I eventually read the book and eventually regretted it. It was a regurgitation of the many books written after it's kind. I should have re-read "Anthem" to get the same "Down with Big Brother" ideals in a much shorter page count, and with many fewer sexual references.

Since completing that book, I haven't had much time for reading... until this last week since I've been sick. I needed a light read. Something full of hope and big words on the page (I had a head ache). I picked up a book I'd purchased from the notorious book orders when I was a teacher and decided to give it a whirl. I knew the author's other books were about princesses and girls coming of age, but I needed something to read, and decided to tell no one I was reading this girly book. But I read it, in under a 12 hour period. Don't be too impressed, the print is quite large. It was written by a local author, Shannon Hale. And it was a well-written book loosely based on a Grimms fairy tale. It was absolutely wonderful. So much so that I publicly recommend it to you:

Book of a Thousand Days

And now, before I can bring myself to return to the world of Hawthorne, Orwell, Melville, and Thoreau, I return to my beloved copy of "Emma." Because it's okay to enjoy a girly book now and then... especially if it's written by an author acclaimed for her talents in capturing human emotions, the anguish of the clash of classes, and the essence of life in her time... and not some silly romance novel based on tension between demonic icons and frivolous girls with no backbones. (I know this, for I saw the first movie... as a favor to my best friend. For which she will be forever indebted to me).

Read on, Interweb. Read on.

May you find yourself engrossed in good literature. The kind that expands your mind, teaches you new things, and makes you a little more interesting. Because, hey, who wouldn't want to be a little more interesting?

Good-Bye, Old Friends

Today I say good-bye to a few friends that have meant a lot to me over the years. I have been very close to them and during almost all moments of my life have been inseparable.

Good-bye to the blue with yellow and pink stars, hot pink, days of the week-style, "Laughing Out Loud," boy-fit style, and my personal favorite, wide red and white stripes. You know who you are and what you've meant to me over the years.

If you are confused by this post, that's probably for the best. It's meant to be cryptic. If you understand this post, you, too, have made the change. I couldn't be more excited.

Oh, Now I'm Just Angry

Apparently my last post was part of a trend in my blogging circle. Some friends of mine and I have been on a similar angry wave length within just a few short days of each other. If you're feeling angry and you need to laugh at someone else who is frustrated, please go here, or here.

I have just one more rant to add to my list of things I hate... just one more, I promise. Then I'll TRY my hardest to be un-grumpy. Though I make no promises.

Imagine that you don't feel so well. You're not dying or anything, but you certainly don't feel well. And maybe you haven't for a long time because your stupid so-called "doctor" let your little problem go unattended for so long that it escalated into a full-blown issue. (I'm using a lot of hyphens lately, aren't I? I apologize ahead of time if they start to get out of hand.)

So then you go see a new doctor who actually deserves his degree and his job, and who happens to have a personality, which doesn't hurt when you're working with people. Oh, and he's not creepy and doesn't have the molester vibe that the former doctor had. This new, smart doctor finds the issue and gives you lots of prescriptions to take to nip the issue in the bud (or is it butt?).

Anyhow, let's say you then take your prescriptions to be filled and when you pick them up the pharmacy tech says something to you along the lines of, "Did your doctor say anything to you about the price of the blah, blah, blah medicine?"

"No, why? How much is it?"

"Well, it looks like your insurance knocked $600 off the price, so you only have to pay about $370."

At this point you can't say what you're thinking or what you really want to say. You just politely say, "I won't be picking that prescription up today, I think I'll take my chances at dying. Thank you."

Would you be mad??!?!? I think you would. Because as I imagine this very thing happening to me, I get very angry! But I have a very vivid imagination.

On a completely unrelated note, I just wanted to say that I think our health care system is in tip-top shape. I'm couldn't be more pleased with the services offered to me and the fairness in pricing. [Insert sarcastic tone and eye roll.]

A Page From the Doctor's Book

Sometimes I can be really hard on myself for mistakes I make, flaws that I have, or problems that I'm dealing with. For some strange reason, this is a trait that women deal with to a greater degree than men. But today, TODAY I celebrate my imperfections!

Thank heavens for my crooked teeth, my thighs, my inability to make quick decisions, and my lack of concentration at work.

How boring would it be if my face were perfectly symmetrical, my body was flawless, my mind was always immediately made-up, and I worked non-stop for 8 hours a day without breaking my concentration?!? Everyone would expect me to look flawless all of the time— I would rely on fleeting looks and not on my brain. I wouldn't be able to take input from loved ones on important decisions. And I would be even more high-strung at work than I usually am! I would have nothing to work on, no room to improve, no building of my character to be had. How tragic! How sad for all the nearly perfect people in the world.

Today I make a big step in building my self worth. Today I celebrate my flaws (which are many... too many to list, in fact.) Today I don't care what anyone else thinks about me. Today I am happy and content. Today I am just me, and that's good enough.

"Today you are you!

That is truer than true!

There is no one alive...

...who is you-er than you!

Shout loud, “I am lucky

to be what I am!

Thank goodness I’m not

just a clam or a ham

Or a dusty old jar of

sour gooseberry jam!

I am what I am! That’s a

great thing to be!

If I say so myself,

HAPPY EVERYDAY TO ME!”

-Dr. Seuss