Eating

I haven't done that today. This just occured to me.
Could be the cause of the vertigo.

This is how I've lost 14 lbs in five months. Sheer forgetfulness.

Release the Holds!

I've mentioned before that the bulk of my job is scheduling meetings for four different people. Calendaring, if you will. Part of calendaring entails putting holds on their calendars until we get the time finalized. I may have to contact seven different people and offer them 10 different times, then wait for them all to get back to me to see what time works for everyone.

(I love my job)

(And yes, I know how to use the Meeting Request function in Outlook, but that gets confusing and adds to an already crapload of emails. So we admins don't use that too much 'round here.)

Anywho, I currently have 23 holds on my boss' calendar, over two weeks, for a conference call that is trying to get scheduled. I'm not scheduling this one. Thank god. It's some outside company so I just answered the email, yes she's available at this time, no she's not available at this time, and put the hold on the calendar.

Now I'm trying to schedule a few other meetings, but I can't schedule over those holds. I need to..um....hold that time. So I asked my boss, do you want me to schedule this meeting for the week of December 17 (because it's all holds until then) or wait until the conference call gets scheduled, then schedule this meeting?

Her response? "Wait until Tuesday and if the conference call hasn't been confirmed, release the holds."

And I heard Jerry Seinfeld's voice in my head.

"Release the holds!"

I chuckle. You have to be a Seinfeld fan to get it.

Because My Life Isn't Thrilling Enough....

I woke up with a bout of vertigo this morning. Fun stuff, lemme tell ya.

I had my first round with vertigo way back in 2002. I was living in my cool little place on Linden Ave and working at WRQ (no, it's not a radio station). I woke up and my head was absolutely spinning. And I hadn't even been drinking the night before! I thought maybe I was just still really tired, so I turned the alarm off and went back to sleep.

When I woke up again, it was even worse. I had to go work, so I got up and literally crawled along the floor to get to the bathroom. I hung onto the shower curtain the whole time I showered and clung to walls as I got ready to leave. Driving was so much fun. And my desk at WRQ was raised so sat on stool. I had one hand on the desk the entire day. I thought I was going to fall out of my chair.

I made a doctor's appointment for that afternoon and I think Steve either picked me up from work and took me, or I made it back to my apartment and he drove me from there. Either way, I remember just leaning on him the whole time. The doctor simply said "Sometimes these things just flair up. Take a dramamine if you're nauseous." That's it.

After a day or so it went away, and now it only flairs up occasionally. One time, Steve and I were in Bartell's and I turned to say something to him and the world just spun. I got tunnel vision and ended up sitting down right there in the middle of the aisle. I just couldn't move. We had walked from the house, so we started the very slow trek back. I made it halfway, then Steve sat me down on the sidewalk and ran home to get the car. That was the very worse episode. Normally, I only notice it when I go into a bathroom stall and turn around quickly to lock the door. Then my head swims a little.

Today, it's just kind of like being drunk. Which ain't so bad.

Feelin' Hot, Hot, Hot

Have I ever mentioned how long it takes to get hot water in my place?

So long, that when I wake up in the morning, I go into the bathroom, turn on the water in the tub and then stand at the sink and brush my teeth. While the water is running in the tub.

Thus, pissing off environmentalists everywhere.

By the time I'm done brushing my teeth, the water is finally hot and I can start my shower.

So far this is the only major annoyance with this place. Aside from the whole laundry thing.

Random Thoughts

My mom and I used get McDonald's a lot when we would be out and about on the weekends. I remember her saying, as she was balancing a hamburger and fries on her lap while she drove 70 mph down new 90, "This is how we're going to die." It used to crack me up. And I think of her saying that frequently. Normally when I'm turning left onto 32nd from 56th.

There are cars parked alongside the road and I can never see if there's anything coming. So I creep out, as far as I can without completely being in the intersection, and then I just gun it. I normally get lucky and there are no cars. That is, until this morning. I think I gave someone a heart attack. And after I had safely gotten out of his way, I said to myself, "This is how I'm going to die." Then I chuckled and thought of mom.

********************

I bought little plastic, colored, key thingies to designate my building key from my door key. The keys look exactly the same, but the building key is a tad longer than the door key. So I bought a pack of four plastic thingies - red, yellow, blue and green. I was thinking about which color I should use for what. After much deliberation, I decided on yellow for the building key and red for the door key. Why?

When I had my bottom of the barrel night at Lock & Keel a couple of months ago, I couldn't figure out which key to use for the building when I got home. I was trying all of them. And the nice gentleman who walked me home kept saying "This isn't your building." and I kept arguing with him, "Yes it is!" So, I thought, if I'm stumbling drunk, which color is going to stand out the most to me so I will immediately recognize the building key? Why, yellow of course!

I think like a drunk. I'm not proud, but it's the truth.

********************

One of the women Jamie and I had dinner tonight with picked up the check for everyone. Oh, happy day!

********************

I haven't cried in two days. The bags under my eyes are finally gone.

********************

It's freakin' freezing here. It's actually 39 degrees, but it feels a helluva lot colder. So cold, in fact, that lately I've been sleeping in my sweats. And that, my friends, is quite rare. I'm quite picky about my sleep. It has to be perfect. I do all I can so that it's not ruined. I put my hair up in knotted ponytail on the top of my head because I hate turning over and having all 50 lbs of it getting in my face. I usually only sleep in my undies because, again, I hate turning in my sleep and having my shirt bunch up around me and I have to straighten it all out which wakes me up. And that just ticks me off. So, no clothing.

But now, I'm sleeping in my wool socks, my sweat pants, my t-shirt and a sweatshirt. And I'm not troubled by this. I'm not waking up at night all bunched up or discombobulated. Either I'm suddenly okay with being discombobulated, or the pretty pink pills are really knocking me out. Whatever. I'm sleeping through the night. Good stuff.

********************

A couple of Wednesdays ago, I went down to put my sheets in the dryer. But there were rugs in the dryer. Well, Wednesday is my laundry day. Just who was using the washer and dryer on my day? In any event, I'm a good neighbor, so I took all eight rugs, which were still wet, out of the dryer and hung them up on the clothes lines that are strewn about in the laundry room and put my sheets in the dryer.

When I went to get them out of the dryer, much later because I went out for a while, they were folded and set on top of the machine. My instant reaction, jaded person that I am, was "Who the hell touched my laundry?!" But then, after thinking about it, I bet it was the person who left the rugs in the dryer. She/He saw that I hung them up and to return the favor, and maybe to say sorry for encroaching on my laundry day, they folded my sheets for me.

I have nice neighbors.

********************

Shaun texted tonight to assure me he would not wait a couple of days to check on me. I feel loved.

Single = Poo

One drawback of being single is not having that special person to share neat stuff with. And what sucks even more is that my ex was my very best friend so when something neat happened, he was the first person I wanted to talk to.

Snow is forcasted for Friday night and Saturday. It's very exciting. But it's a little sad, too. Last year when we had The Big Snowstorm of 2006, Steve called me on my way home to tell me neighborhood roads were already covered and to be very careful. Ahhh.

Who will call me this Friday night on my drive home to tell me to be careful?

It's moments like these where I slip into that dim (not dark, mind you, just "dim") place of no-one-gives-a-shit-about-me-anymore. I could die in my apartment and Shaun will still text to check on me, and after a couple of days of not hearing from me, he might start to get concerned and actually drive over to my place. AFTER A COUPLE OF DAYS.

*sigh*

I'm really not as depressed as I sound right now. I'm actually quite chipper. I'm not sure why. It could be because that I'm going out to dinner tonight with Jamie and some of her people. Look at me! Being social! My couch will wonder what happened to me - the gal that's been planted on it for the past two weeks. Oh, that's even more pathetic. When no one else worries about me, my couch will.

Stupid

Why do I keep trying to give up coffee? That's just stupid. I hadn't had coffee for....what.....five days? Life is so much happier with coffee. I understand why they call it a drug, but it's a cheap drug and readily available on every corner. So why do I keep thinking I'll be better off without it?

I have given up alcohol, however. At least while I'm taking the pretty pink pills. I think I might die if I give up coffee, too. My poor system would just shut down. No alcohol?! No caffeine?! What the hell?!

Confession: I drank my revive fruit punch vitamin water out of a wine glass last night while I took a bubble bath and listened to christmas music. It was like a rose. And it made me feel cool.

Christmas-smishmas

I'm so ready for this year to be over. '07 can just bite my ass. If it's not one thing, it's another and I am so sick of crying and my head permanently hurts now.

Strife and conflict and pain, oh my!

I tried to get in the holiday spirit (my very FAVORITE spirit) on Sunday. Really, I did. I brought the bins up, I put out the pretty snowman placemats, I put garland around the door. Then just petered out. I'm still debating on whether or not to get a tree. I think it would make me happy. Until it turns brown.

I'm helping Rachelle (newly separated from a Steve, too. Funny.) decorate this weekend, so maybe that will help me get into the swing of things. She actually emailed and said "Wanna come help? I want to do it, but it's just too depressing to do it alone." I hear ya, sista.

But!

2008 is a mere five weeks away! I'm already working on resolutions.

Weight loss is not one of them.

Quiz For Ya

Do you notice something different about the blog? Hmmm?
Can you guess what it is?

There may be a prize of somesort for the winner........

Martha Stewart Would Be Proud

Or, More Tales of My Neurosis.

While making my coffee this morning, on this exceptionally bright and sunny day, I noticed that there were smears on my kitchen and dining room windows. Since that is completely unacceptable in my house, I decided to just clean them up real quick.

I got a wet rag, a dry rag and my squeegee. I wiped down the window with my wet rag, then I squeegeed it, then used the dry rag to wipe the water off the squeegee in between swipes. This is the key. Always dry the squeegee in between swipes. A good squeegee is the key as well. My squeegee is cheap, but it cleans better than window cleaner.

I finished both windows before my coffee was even finished brewing.

This tip brought to you by:
Method Cleaning products - People Against Dirty.
I love their stuff.

Gee, Thanks

It's weird to be sitting here in my own apartment without a damn thing to do. For the past six years, I've spent Thanksgiving eve in the grocery store, freaking out, then in the kitchen, freaking out. Steve would make yams, I would make greenbean casserole. We'd sleep in on Thanksgiving day, then be out at his family's around noon.

Tomorrow I will be at Shaun's, eating potroast, greenbean casserole and cheesecake. I could have made a turkey, but it's a lot of work for just two people. So, potroast it is.

Everything is so different. My life is so different. And I'm not sure I like it too much right now. So this is my attempt to be positive and, for a brief period, not dwell on the shit that is my life.

What am I thankful for?

• Tissues with lotion. I'm going through them like....well.....tissues.
• Coldplay and the song Fix You. "Tears stream down your face, I promise you I will learn from the mistakes"
• My bathroom. Because it looks beautiful in the candlelight when I'm taking a bubble bath. As do my pretty, red toenails.
• All of the people who invited me to their Thanksgiving dinner because they knew this was the first one without Steve.
• My Sheauns. For more things than I could possibly ever list here.
• The cards that my family members are sending me telling me things will get better.
• Chocolate covered cherries.
• Steve. For still being my friend.
• The nurse at work who looks like mom and lets me hug her when I'm sad.
• The pretty pink pills that my doctor prescribed yesterday to help me to stop crying and maybe even sleep through the night.
• Wendy. For saying the F word a lot with me while she was here (and on the phone this afternoon). She understands how therapeudic it is.
• The quarter I found in my jewelry box, of all places. It's laundry day and I was one measly quarter short.
• Seinfeld. Because no matter how bad I'm feeling, it will make me laugh. Without a doubt.
• Crazy Aunt Purl's blog. Someone forwarded it to me and I'm addicted. She's written about every emotion I've gone through for the last few months. I don't know her, but I know her.

I'm sure there's more I could list, if I felt like sitting on this really hard dining room chair for a little longer. But my tush hurts and the couch is calling me. It's almost time for Seinfeld.

Happy Turkey Day.
Gobble gobble.

Famous.....Kinda

Did you know I was on YouTube? Yeah, I'm one of them. This was two years ago. Bored at work. Kind of like right now.

Silver Linings

Sometimes, in the midst of pain and despair, you must focus on the little things to make it all worthwhile. Yes, most of my time is spent either in my sweats, curled up on the couch or at work, sitting at my desk and crying, but occasionally, I find myself smiling at something and, in a really rare moment, actually laughing.

Wendy was a big ol' silver lining this past weekend. And I didn't realize how much of a silver lining until I got back from dropping her off at the airport and was sitting on my couch in my dark, empty apartment. Then real life came rushing back to and whack! I fell over, turned on the football game and zoned out for the rest of the day.

We spent a lot of time venting, telling stories and reminiscing. She made me laugh so hard I thought I was going to choke, and she hugged me and told me it was all going to be okay. She told me stories from her past that made me realize everyone makes mistakes and screws their life up for a bit. I am no different. It felt good to have her, and her support, all to myself for three whole days.

And we ate alot of bread and cheese. So much bread and cheese that I thought for sure I'd gained 5 pounds in three days. But then, I got dressed for work this morning. I put on my last remaining pair of black pants that fit me. And, believe it or not, they don't fit me. I can literally pull them off without unbuttoning them. I guess stress burns a shit load of calories. I don't feel bad about flying through the chocolate covered cherries now. But I do feel bad about the money I'm going to have put on the credit card so I can buy new pants.

Yep. Gotta find the silver lining in every situation.

WTF?

I need a dream interpretation, please.

I’m in my office, almost asleep on my keyboard. I’m wearing black. And my shirt is raised up and alittle of my side is showing. I don’t know if this is important, but I remembered it. Anyway, I’m half asleep and I just can’t bear to move. One of my (male) supervisors walks in and says something completely inappropriate, but it doesn’t phase me because that’s the kind of relationship we have. Then he leaves.

Then I’m curled up under a blanket with a big, fluffy pillow, on an exam table that’s in my office, but it’s more like a bed. My thinking is, I don’t feel good, I’m blue, I’m just going to curl up here until my boss comes in and gives me something to do. I’m not the least bit concerned about how she will react to this.

Then there’s a pediatric code blue over the loudspeaker. If you watch ER, then you know a code blue is bad. Patient is unresponsive, a crash cart is needed. And what’s odd (among many other things) is that we don’t normally see pediatric patients here. So to hear a “pediatric code blue” is disturbing. During this announcement, a man runs into the copy room that is across from my office. In reality, I can’t see into the copy room because my office is literally a closet with a door and the copy room is across the hall, also with a door. But in the dream, the opening for the door to the copy room is much bigger (if there at all) and there’s no wall to my office, so I can see everything that’s going on in the copy room. There’s suddenly a number of people all around, gawking.

So this man runs into the copy room with a little blond haired boy in his arms. The boy is probably about 4 or 5 years old. And his arm is mangled and barely attached to his body. The man is panicked, but also very much in control of the situation. And there is this dog. He still has a hold of the boy’s arm and is still trying to rip it off. A bulldog. Brown and white. And there is a teddy bear, somewhere in that mix. I can’t really see where, but the dog has a hold of the bear and the boy is still grasping the bear…..or something.

The man puts the boy on the ground and the dog magically disappears. Then, there are people in my way, and I’m covering my eyes but I can hear the little boy just screaming in pain and the man saying “Be strong. This is just going to hurt for a minute. Be strong…” and apparently he’s trying to put the boy’s arm back in place but I can only see from the waist down of the boy and the man. I can’t actually see what’s happening. But it sounds horrible.

Then I can see everything and the little boy is laying there with another, younger boy in his good arm. His severed arm looks like it’s in tact, although you can see that it’s still in bad shape. It’s placed on his chest, just kind of resting there. He looks at peace. And the man is sitting off to the side, panting, sweating, coming down from the adrenaline rush.

Then the dream fades.

Could the tater tot casserole I had for dinner have anything to do with this?

Retail Therapy, Baby!

I bought The Boots. I'm very excited.

They just magically re-appeared on Zappos.com. And I took it as a sign. You know I'm all about signs.

Moron

I. Am. A. Moron.

I had my email address wrong in the link to your right. Where it says "Email me!" I was wondering why I wasn't getting applications for a sugar daddy......

If you've emailed me and then cursed my name because you never heard back, my apologies. Try again. I welcome distractions from the work day.

Optimisim, Dammit!

There are a few good things to write about today.

First, my sister is coming to visit!

I think I worried her when she emailed out of the blue to ask how I was and I replied with "I fantasize about driving into semi-trucks frequently. How are you?" She called an hour later and told me she'd be here Thursday. I'm taking Friday off. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

Second, my mommy sent me presents!

I have refrained from buying chocolate covered cherries for a month now. I keep telling myself "They're a christmas thing. I can wait until December!"

Well, no I can't. Mere seconds later:

Funny too - at the top of the photo is the article I ripped out of Real Simple - "Stress Free!" Obviously, I haven't gotten around to reading it yet. The cherries got in my way.....

And since the season of darkness is upon us, I put up pretty lights in my window.

Extra light is never a bad thing.

And in the mirror you can see me in my pretty brown flannel shirt that has become my new best friend.

Here's hoping there are more positive things to write about tomorrow, too.

Trouble in Raechelle-land

Sorry I've been so out of touch. There are things going on that I'm not at liberty to blog about and when something that I *can* blog about happens, I just don't have the energy or the creativity to write about it. But the emails are starting to come in asking if I'm still alive, so I'll try to humor you.

Let's see......
I got sent home from work last week for blowing a fuse and literally ceasing to function. Personal stress, then apparently work stress, piled high and eventually just made me snap alittle. Most of the time I don't think my job is very stressful, but when I start crying at the sound of that freakin' email chime or the ringing of my phone, I need to admit that maybe I am a little stressed. I had a last minute, impromptu therapy session Friday (which I completely screwed up, in four different places because I wrote it down for 9am instead of 10am) and we came to the conclusion that I'm not handling life very well. Really? So we'll work on that.

The positive side is that I've had one glass of wine in over a week, so at least I'm not drinking myself into oblivion every night. Sure, I'm going through pints and pints of Ben & Jerry's Half Baked Frozen Yogurt, but you gotta pick your battles. And I can walk those calories off.......when I get the energy to leave my apartment.

Actually, I left my apartment Saturday night. Bob Schneider played at the Tractor Tavern so I wandered down there by myself (that's where I had the one glass of wine). He played a great show, as always, and I ended up meeting a couple that's originally from Dallas. So we talked about cherry limades and kolaches and cajun food. I forgot to ask if she got any mums for Homecoming.

I was home by 11pm and in bed by midnight. And Sunday was spent, guess where!?, on the couch, watching football, and ripping pertinent pages out old magazines. I figured I could at least be semi-productive while still being a blob on the couch.

In bed early, although I didn't fall asleep until after midnight because the wind here was horrible. If I had masking tape, I would have taped the windows.

I think you're all caught up.
At least I get a four day weekend next week. If I can make it that long.......

Who Knew?

Did you know sticky rice doesn't reheat very well?

Yeah, me either....

Testing, Testing......

Time for a story, dear reader........

In September of 1998, I had just ended a three year relationship with someone and was teaching ballroom dancing for a studio in Houston. I had a cute little apartment downtown and a best friend who was tall, blond, English, a bartender and could get us into any club for free. I was enjoying, and taking advantage of, my new freedom. Life in Houston was okay.

The new year came and went, and our dance studio closed, forcing those of us who wanted to continue teaching to do so independently. I could make more money, and make my own schedule. That meant my best friend and I could decide at the drop of a hat to run off to the beach for the day. Not the most professional behavior, but damn fun when you're 24. It also meant I didn't have to abide by the teacher/student rule of no dating. And so I developed a crush on one of my students. A 36 year old surgeon.

He came for lessons about twice a week. He was handsome, funny, smart and, most important for a dance student, had good breath. He was a very quick learner and I always received compliments during the Friday Night Parties from those who danced with him. He was a Star Student. And he was always very flirty with me. He would bring me gifts back when he would travel, but I never really knew how he felt about me. There was no relationship outside of the studio.

In April of 1999, my sister flew me to Seattle for a visit, and I fell in love with this city. I had never felt so at home in Houston. I even changed my ticket and stayed for a few extra days because it just made me sad to leave. So, during the four hour flight home, I started thinking, why can't I just move there? Yes, change is scary. And I'll miss my folks terribly because I've never lived more than 30 minutes from them, but I'm 24 years old! Why not?! I didn't have a steady job or a boyfriend, and my lease was up in June. All signs pointed to move.

When I got back to Houston, my ex picked me up at the airport and jokingly said "So, are ya moving?" I said, "Yes. I think I am." The decision was made.

That week, the surgeon came in for his lesson. He brought me earrings from his recent trip to Chile. He said they made him think of me. And then after his lesson, my last one of the day, he asked me out to dinner for the first time.

Here's where I get all deep.
Just what was the universe trying to do to me? For 10 months, this man never made move. Then I decide to move 3000 miles away and he asks me out to dinner.

Was the universe testing me? It's almost like She dangled this man in front of me and said "Now, how badly do you really want to move? Don't you want to see what could happen here? Hmmmm?" Hell yes, I did! This man was, in my eyes, The Ideal Man. Why was this happening!?

I remember venting to mom. And crying. And asking, "Why do I have to choose? Why can't both good things work out for me? What had I done that was so wrong?" I was being punished. I was sure of it. (Sound familiar?)

At some point, I made up my mind. I was moving, dammit. I made pros and cons lists. I talked with friends and family. I turned to the Magic 8 ball. It had to be done. I needed to leap!

So, when my lease was up, I moved back in with my folks, sold all of my furniture and saved money. I continued to teach the surgeon. We continued to have dinner together. And during our last lesson, he gave me a beautiful stone necklace that I still wear today.

At the end of July, I flew to San Francisco with three army duffle bags full of stuff and met up with my sister and her boyfriend. We drove and camped up the coast to Seattle, then I lived with her and played for two months. I thought, I'll just test this out. Can I really move away from home? If it gets too hard, if I just can't stand it, I'll go back home. No shame there. Let's just see what happens.

After two months, I had no intention of ever going back to Houston. So I flew home to retrieve my truck and the bulk of my belongings. During that quick visit home, I got in touch with the surgeon. He was very happy to hear from me and we made a plan to meet up for dinner. It was great seeing him and a little voice inside me whispered all through dinner, "Is Seattle really better than this guy? Come on....." I had to fight that voice with a stick. A big stick.

After dinner, he invited me over to his place. For the first time ever. I had no idea what he was thinking. I didn't know what to expect. My stomach was in knots, I was sweating profusely and I giggled a lot.

When we got to his front door, he said something funny and then turned and smiled at me. I remember literally melting inside. I put my big stick down and thought, "Most of my stuff is still here in Houston. Moving back wouldn't be so hard. I like living with mom and dad......"

He walked into his house. And I followed him.

And I gasped. Loudly.

This Ideal Man, this surgeon, this incredibly fantastic guy was an absolute packrat. And I mean Packrat with a capital P.

There were piles and piles and piles of shit everywhere. EVERYWHERE! Along each side of the hallway, in every nook and corner, on tables, on furniture, in the door of the closets that wouldn't shut because there was so much shit in the way. He had to clean off the couch so we could sit down. He asked if I wanted something to drink and I said "NO THANK YOU!" a little too enthusiastically.

He ended up showing my photos from a recent trip, I don't even remember from where. I was too focused on how my head was going to explode if I didn't get the hell outta there. You know me, dear reader. I don't do clutter.

On the drive home, I kept thinking - this was a test. And I passed the test. Failing the test would have meant giving up Seattle, then learning that this man that I had stayed in Houston for was in so very many ways, not the one for me. I made the right decision. And the universe, I think, took great pleasure in showing me that I made the right decision. I think she got a big ol' laugh out of it. Granted, if I had stayed in Houston, hooked up with the surgeon, discovered this deal-breaking lifestyle of his and walked away, I would have made do. I would have chosen another path, maybe even moving to Seattle at that point, but things would not have fallen into place exactly as they have up to this point. And I'm happy with the way things have gone so far.

So yes, I think we are tested in life. We are presented with situations that, based on our "answers", determine our next path. Some of you will say "test" is not the right word, but it's my blog and my story, so I'm sticking with "test".

Everything feels like a test right now. It's the math portion of the ACT (which I failed three times in a row) all over again. And if I fail this test, my life is not going to be at all what I want it to be. It may be okay, in the end, but it will not be how I want it to be right now.

So, therein lies my struggle. I must make the right decisions in order to get on the path I want. And I know exactly what those decisions are, but they suck. Really no fun at all. But I will survive. And afterwards, I will open the door and, as much as I hate to admit it, see a house full of clutter again.

And I will know that I passed this test. And I will have the life I want.

No Words to Describe My Weekend

My god, I've spoiled you people. Two whole days without a post and you're beating down my inbox. I know you won't believe me, but there are things that go on here in Raechelle-land that I don't write about. And it's those things, that I don't write about, that made for a shitty, shitty weekend.

So what can I tell you?

Friday was the Day of the Dead party.
Started out fine, got bad, I drank a shit load of wine, it got even worse.

Saturday I woke up, the worseness continued, I slept until 6pm. I crawled to the couch, watched two Cold Cases, two CSIs, the Bionic Woman, SNL and then went back to bed.

Sunday, I spent the day at Shaun's, wrapped up in a blanket, watching the Colts/Patriots game on one TV and the Seahawks/Bears game on another TV. Came home.

Then Steve came over to bring me some random mail. And he told me he's seeing someone.

(insert crickets chirping here)

She has a three year old daughter.

(more crickets chirping)

I'm fine. Really. Just fine. And oh yes, he sees the irony there. We ended up talking for two hours and it was nice. It felt like we were friends. And to put a big fat positive spin on it, a post break up hurdle has been cleared. One Of Us Is Dating. It's every man for himself now.

Soup

I'm eating soup for lunch. And I'm not too happy about it. But at least it's got pasta and beans, so it's hearty.

I wish I had a roll, though.

Happy Friday!

It is a damn fine day here in Raechelle-land.

I had to scrape my windshield this morning! It was 36 degrees. Just beautiful. I love this time of year.

I stopped at Starbucks on my way to work, since I was actually running a few minutes early, and treated myself to a big-ass non-fat latte. Ya can't go wrong with a big-ass latte.

And I'm wearing my pearls. Which always makes me feel pretty.

Goals

I have decided that I want all of my clothes to come from J Crew. I got the catalog in the mail today (er, the person who used to live here got the catalog in the mail) and I want it all. ALL. Cashmere, jersey dresses, plaid ballet flats, leopard mary janes, velvet bella jackets, double cloth boulevard coats. All of it.

First, however, I will need a Sugar Daddy.

Please click the "Email me!" link to your right to apply.

Favorite Line in a Song Right Now

Band: The Pogues
Song: Sally MacLennane

"Well, Jimmy played harmonica in the pub where I was born......"

Crazy irishmen......

Pants That Fit, Fog, Rebellious Driving, Sappy Crap & Balsamic Vinegar

My day started out with putting on pants that actually fit! Some people are going to be so happy about this. My new, smaller jeans I bought back in July are now too big. Well, they're comfy. They're not flattering at all. But I bought a pair of green cords at Goodwill on Saturday that fit me W E L L. No more sagging seat area! And I'll have you know, now that I can see it, my ass is lookin' good.

Then I drove to work in a cloud. A big, thick cloud. I think I'd rather drive in snow. At least I can see two car lengths ahead of me.

And to add to the danger, I ran a red light. On purpose. Actually, the lady beside me and I both ran the red light. Safety in numbers, right? There's a light on Market Street that is specifically for pedestrians. Well, it turned red, we waited, no pedestrians........and then the light didn't change to green. The walk sign went back to the orange hand, but the light stayed red. I creeped up a little. The lady next to me creeped up a little. We looked at each other. We shrugged. We creeped up a little more. We looked at each other again. We smiled and nodded. We drove through the red light. I felt like I was in a gang.

Work is actually okay. Keeping busy, listening to the iPod, singing along. Being pro-ductive. Oh, I finally brought pictures to work. I've never had pictures at work. I had said after I got hired on directly (because I temped here for three months, then got hired on) that I would celebrate by personalizing my desk. Never happened. In May, I finally brought two pictures of me and Steve, and then we broke up, so in the trash they went. I think I took it as a bad omen. But now I have pictures of my folks and some of my friends and it brings a smile to my face to look at them. Reminds me that I'm loved.

Anywho, enought the sappy crap.

Now I'm waiting for my buddy to get her lunch break so we can walk down to World Wrapps and I can get a bento box. I shouldn't spend the money, but the soup I brought just doesn't look appealing. I don't know why I keep buying soup. I don't like soup. There's no accessories when you eat soup. It's just soup. Soup sucks. Unless you have a grilled cheese with it.

Speaking of lunch, the bistro is serving something that has balsamic vinegar in it. Which makes me nauseous (I have to look that word up every single time I try to type it). Steve used oil and balsamic vinegar for salad dressing and if he didn't rinse his bowl out right after we ate, it would just make me sick. I like the taste of it, but the smell is disgusting. I've moved the bottles of it at the Lockspot Cafe because people use it on their fish-n-chips so there's a bottle at each table. Even with the lid on, the smell creeps out.

Just something to know about me.

Tip for the Ladies

I read somewhere a while back that when in a pinch, you could use conditioner as a shaving cream (and you laugh at me for ripping out pages of magazines and filing them away.....) Well, I just happened to be in a pinch recently, so I tried it.

Fantastic. Better than any foo foo shaving gel out there, that's for sure. No, it doesn't smell like aloe or rasberries, but you get a damn good shave out of it. I may never spend money on shaving gel again. Consider yourself "tipped".

And speaking of conditioner, what kind of conditioner do salons use that makes that smell stick around for three days? I got my hair cut Tuesday evening and I showered rinsed it out when I got home. Didn't shampoo it, just rinsed it. But I washed my hair Wednesday morning, and then again this morning, and I can still smell that salon conditioner. Is it some kind of subliminal thing? They think if I keep smelling that conditioner, I'll want to go back and get something else done, thus spending even more money there? It's very interesting.....