A Golden Tale

So tonight before Adam went to bed, he asked Sarah if she would like to hear a bedtime story. I know this sounds insane, and its not like he has ever told her bedtime stories before. But I guess when it boils down to it, a big part of our lives is coming home from work and saying really ridiculous things to our dog. But I wanted to share the story with you guys. So here is A Golden Tale by Shel Silversten Adam M.

Long ago, in the kingdom far away across the Great White Ocean, there lived a monarchy that was ruled by three ruling goldies. These goldies ruled a vast land overflowing with raw hide bones, fried chicken, and McDonald’s french fries. However, the goldies did not know their limits, and soon became greedy. The greediness lead to sloth and stifled their creativity. It took their promise and smashed it upon the rock of laziness! This is a cautionary tale, young Sarah.

In other news, I've been serving on a jury all this week (wrapped today), and I can't wait to tell you guys all about it because the defendant was actually a celebrity! Talk about a quintessential Southern California experience. I go in for jury duty, get chosen, and its a celeb. That is better than my, "I saw Richard Simmons at LAX story!" But jury duty has set me so far behind in work and school, I barely have any time to breathe. And I'm running on like no sleep, so now I'm having issues sleeping because my body was like, "Ok girlfriend, so you don't ever get in bed before 3 a.m., I'm going to make it impossible for you to fall asleep before that time from now on, TAKE THAT." Which would be fine if one ornery golden retriever didn't make it her job to wake me up.

I also haven't been able to check up on everyone in the blogosphere, so I can't wait to have time to come by and say hi.

I Need a Support Group to Run a Support Group

Right now I am taking a class on group therapy. I am really enjoying it, and now I can watch shows like Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, and know exactly what is going on. So they will be in group therapy on the show, and I will be getting all psych nerd up in living room yelling things like, "They are totally storming the group!" This gives Adam a second reason to want to go into the bedroom to get away from me, the first being that I am watching Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.

So I have another pesky role-play Thursday night for that class. You know where I get in front of the class and play therapist, and I ask people about how the feel about their feeeeeeeeeelings. While all 16 people in my class, plus the professor are looking at me with their scary eyes, my heart is beating like a jungle drum, and basically I'm convinced that I will just die. And how dare they actually make me act like a therapist, when I'm going to school to become a therapist?!? Life is just so unjust.

I know that one of my New Year's Resolutions is to become more confident in role-plays. Believe it or not, I am slightly less nervous than I was the last time around. But I have made about as much progress as a person who claims to be doing better on their diet by eating 3.75 spoonfuls of frosting a day instead of their usual four. Baby Steps, Right?

I'm doing my group therapy presentation and role play on Social Anxiety. This is ironic for two reasons-In college, I once saw a flyer for a social anxiety support group and I thought,” No one will show up!" Ha. Plus, most of my own anxiety issues center around social activities and interactions. So I will be experiencing some of the symptoms I'm supposed to be treating. Is this what a marriage therapist feels like when they are getting divorced?

Earlier today, I was having a woe is me, life is hard moment about this all, so I posted this to my twitter:

I also sent the exact same message to my husband via email. This is when you learn that following me on twitter is a lot like being married to me. The angst, the PMS, the bad grammar, the excitement over random things, the "did she really just say that" moments, and all the other brilliant and awe inspiring things I say. You guys are so lucky to know me. *snort!*

Adam’s replies were sweet in the beginning:

Adam: If there’s anything you want to practice tonight just let me know. I can play multiple roles.
Me: Maybe, if only to get idea bout what I'm going to say, so I have some direction. It’s just annoying, because I've never done bad in a role play, and yet I don’t believe in myself.
Adam: It’s okay. I don’t believe in you either. :P

This conversation, my friends, sums up my entire marriage quite fittingly. Support and Sarcasm all rolled into one.

Black Holes and Revelations

The benefit of having over 8 years of your life documented on a old live journal, is that whenever you feel the need to relive your past you can. Every angst-filled, toe-cringing, my god-was-I-really-that-ridiculous moment is there in black and white (and the occasional pink sparkly text). So a few days ago, I combed through the archives looking for some old entry on a old vacation I took and stumbled across the entries following my break-up with my high school boyfriend. A year of heart break spilled over entry after entry. Part of it was slightly amusing, I mean the melodrama of it all! Part of it reminded me just how little perspective you really have as a teenage girl. But most of all, I just ached for my 18 year old self, because I remember exactly what if felt like to be the girl who once wrote, "I am positive I will never ever find anyone else to love again."

I can't tell you exactly what it was about him that made me want to be with him, but I can tell you he really made me laugh at a time in my life when I walking around with a fake smile everyday. At 14, everything was so incredibly hard. I was living in a house where I literally never spoke to my stepfather, my father was treating me horridly, and my anxiety and depression felt incredibly isolating. But once I met him, I felt less alone. Soon we were staying up every night talking till the sun rose, and on my bad days I would just call him and cry for hours without fearing judgment. And after I talked to him, I always felt better. We soon spoke of getting married in the future, and what we would name our kids (and I realize that was a little silly for our ages). And on the eve before Thanksgiving in 2002, I lost my virginity to him in my bedroom at my grandmother's house. Although I had always promised myself I would wait, we really loved each other and even after we broke up, I have never regretted it.

After we had dated 4 years, the dynamic of our relationship started to shift. I was not the same wounded girl that he had met years earlier. I was no longer depressed, no longer needy. He had always been my protector, my shoulder to cry on. He could no longer fill that role, and we started to lose who we were as a couple. Plus, he was in college, had new friends, and had less time to devote to me. At first, I really didn't mind, but as time went on, he really began neglecting me. Eventually I got tired of arguing with him, and just decided I would just take any time he was willing to give me. But once I realized I was just settling I knew it was time to move on.

So on a quiet, summer morning I broke up with him. I cried, he cried, but we both agreed it was for the best. And for the first few days I was fine, and then it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I changed my mind. But he was standing firm, and insisted we needed to not talk to each other for a while, to be able to move on. But that was hard for me. So I would promise him I wouldn't cry, if he would just call me, so he would call, and the minute I heard his voice, I would fall apart. I still had his email password, so I was obsessively reading his sent email, and he had told someone he was kind of "relieved" about the whole thing. I was devastated, but now I understand that was only male bravado.

For six months, I could not stop crying or spewing melancholy over my blog. And it probably took a year and a half before I had fully recovered. And I strongly believed I had missed my chance at lasting love, but ironies of ironies I had already met the man who would be my husband. And when Adam came into focus, he filled a niche that wasn't based on loneliness or neediness. Things just flowed so easily for us from day one. Pure and simple.

I know I get really schmoopy on here a lot when I talk about my husband. But I just love him so unabashedly. And sometimes in the really quiet moments, like when we are cuddling on the couch or just driving down the road, I feel so overwhelmed by how much I love this man. Adam has given me something I have never had my entire life-stability. And he has taught me what I never really believed, "Growing up in a broken family doesn't necessarily mean you won't have a good marriage.” I don't know what I did to deserve this kind of love, but I know how blessed I am.

A big part of me really wants to go back in time and tell my younger self that it will be ok. That her life will be so much different and brilliant than she could ever imagine But I know myself, and my younger self would never believe my older self.

About a month ago, I put together a little mini-video chronicling 2009. I did it so I would never forget what a wonderful adventure my life has turn out to be. The song is Crash Into Me by The Dave Matthews Band, and I apolgize for the picture at 3:10 (it was a big part of my year!)

Moment of Clarity

Do you ever have one of those days where you find yourself crying over unimportant things? Like because your husband comes home after a long morning of running errands with some Jack in The Box, and he didn't even bother to ask you if you wanted anything? So you ask him why he didn't call and ask you if you wanted something.  And he says he didn't want to tempt you because you'd been so good on your diet for weeks, and because you asked him not to offer you any fast food anymore. And the truth is you didn't really want Jack in The Box in the first place, but how dare he even do something that you asked him to do? Then all of a sudden you burst into tears, and your husband is looking at you like you grew two heads, and one of those heads is spinning around spitting out pea soup, and he is flipping open his phone to call an exorcist which he obviously has on speed dial (because he is married to a crazy lady).

But then it occurs to you that maybe you aren't crying because of your missed encounter with a cheeseburger, but because of the amount of pressure in your head. You know the sinus infection you have, that is making you feel like there a rhino trying to charge its way out of your skull. And usually you aren't such a cry baby about things like being sick, but this has been hurting for days, and you are just plum exhausted. Also your heat isn't working, and Long Beach has been pummeled by storms for days, so there is no sunshine and you are cold 100% of the time. So you're frustrated that you are paying $875 a month for rent,  for a place with no heat. When you could live in Alabama, and probably own your own bigger home with central heat and air! And you're watching TV thinking I wish I lived in the Jersey Shore house, because it looks warm there. Then you feel kinda of dirty inside, because you are even watching Jersey Shore.

So now you know you are just having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  And your remember why you love your little duplex in the first place. And you tell your husband this mini-break down has nothing to do with his behavior. But he is kind, and basically spends the rest of the day taking care of you, while you hide under the covers and cuddle with one warm golden retriever. And the day turns out not so bad after all.

This Ain't My Mother's Tree Trimming Party, Y'all

So last year Adam and I didn't have a Christmas tree. Adam convinced me that we didn't need one for two reasonable reasons. 1. We were flat broke and 2. We would be in Wisconsin on Christmas day. But I'm not in anyway a rational and reasonable person, so I decided that Adam was just being a Grinch. Adam's heart must have grown a half a size this year, because he said we could buy a tree. But on our budget it would have to be like the before picture of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Luckily, my mother, the reigning Queen of Christmas herself, offered to send us her old Christmas tree. She also sent along some of my childhood ornaments. I was so excited.

Before the tree even got here, I was thinking about how I wanted to decorate it. And I spent a good half hour roaming the Christmas ornament aisle at Big Lots, because I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted a blue/silver ornament theme or a gold/red ornament theme. There was a whole lot of putting the blue/silver ones in the buggy then putting them back, and going for the gold/red ones, and putting them back. You see I'm a waffling waffler, and I don't like having to make choices. I finally settled on the blue/silver ones and bought a tree topper and skirt.

Back in Alabama, putting up the Christmas tree was an all-day event. We would pop in Christmas movies, drink peppermint shakes, reminisce about our favorite ornaments, and get it done slowly. Adam and I put up the Christmas tree last Wednesday, after we both had really long days at work. While decorating the tree, Adam and I ate burritos from the microwave and watched I Didn't Know I was Pregnant and The Real World/ Road Rules Challenge. Disclaimer: I'm the one that watches those shows, Adam has much better taste in television shows.

(On a side note let us talk about I Didn't Know I was Pregnant for a minute. First of all, I don't know why I watch that show; it’s not like when the girl starts feeling pain I wonder, "OMG, what is wrong with her?" Second of all, the actresses that reenact the births are typically really pretty and smart looking girls, and then they show the actual person and they are almost always these hicky people from the South. WHY ARE THEY ALWAYS FROM THE SOUTH? Also, I love when they have the so called experts on the show to explain the things that happened. On one episode this woman has a baby in the toilet, and then the expert comes on to explain why a baby shouldn't be born in a toilet! I mean really, did that person get a medical degree so they could go on a cable show and do a public service announcement about having baby in toilets. There Mama must be so proud. By the way, that show scares me, and I can almost bet that the next time I feel a little bit of stomach pain, I'm going to be convinced I'm in labor. Because I am that paranoid. So expect a tweet from me soon, saying I’m having a baby, and then a follow up saying it was only gas.)

So about the tree trimming. We struggled with the lights, even though it’s a pre-lit tree, and put up all the ornaments I had as a child. We were really having a wonderful time. And I'm all about capturing snap shots of great moments in my mind, and I’m thinking this is the first time Adam and I are putting up a tree together! Oh how nice. And then Adam found an old photo album my mom had packed in the Christmas tree box, and it all went down hill from there. First of all, he saw a picture of me from middle school. This was before I finally figured out what to do with my wild curly hair. So it was always all over the place, and I hated it. After many years of therapy, I learned how to handle it and accept it as an adult. But when he saw the picture, he was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. He said, "Which Designing Women character did you steal that hair style from?" In one foul swoop, he reopened all those middle school wounds all over again. He wanted me to scan it and email it to his family. No way Jose. Never ever going to happen.

All in all it really was a lovely evening. But when I told my mom we ate burritos, watched trashy television, and made fun of each others hair while putting up the tree, is it any wonder she didn't approve? :)

Here are some pictures of the tree and some favorite ornaments. Man it’s hard to take a good picture of a Christmas tree.

The angel blinks on and off, so I couldn't capture it.

Adam's little Packer Football Player. Go Cheeseheads!

I buy a new ornament every year.This year it is a goldie for Sarah.

I colored this when I was five years old. Makes me smile.

I make Adam sleep under the tree when he is a bad husband.

Sarah has been sleeping under the tree and knocking off ornaments. That poor tree's life is in peril every time she walks by.

Because She is too Precious for Her Own Good

I love how she keeps looking at me, as if to say please stop the madness.

While Watching an Episode of Chef Academy...

Adam: There is no baker in the world that can make anything as sweet as you.
Me: That was so cheezeball. Do you want to take that statement back?
Adam: Ask me why they can't make anything as sweet as you.
Me: Why?
Adam: Because your Chef was Jesus.

*Groan*

That Was An Ordeal

Today we gave Sarah a bath. I don't even like uttering those words, because bathing Sarah is a form of rare and unusual punishment, that shouldn't be given to even the hardest of criminals. But Sarah was starting to get that lovely Goldie aroma, and when she would walk in front of a fan I would be knocked unconscious for a few minutes. Not even kidding. Yet when Adam turned to me last week and innocently asked, "Should we give Sarah a bath this weekend?" I noticeably cringed, and then thought about taking a second job so I could justify paying someone to bath her for me.

To even get Sarah into the bathroom, we have to leash her. Which is kind of sad, because she gets so excited thinking she is going to go on a walk. But the second we get into the hallway, the light in her brain goes off, and all movement halts. Thus begins the really tricky part of the operation. Sarah weighs 95 lbs. Yes, she is plump. But believe it or not, she was a lot plumper when she first entered the family's relocation program (we adopted her from my brother). The first words my brother said to us, when he handed her over was, "Her favourite food is McDonald's french fries." So she used to live on human food alone. But I don't really like to feed dogs table scraps, because I don't like a dog who begs, and I don't have enough money to feed them from the table. So Sarah promptly lost 20 lbs. (But yes Sarah does get the occasionally french fry).

So Sarah throws herself to the ground, and her legs go limp. So Adam has to scoot all 95 lbs of dead weight inch by inch into the bathroom. Once we get in the bathroom, Adam takes her front, and I take here back and we left her into our tall claw foot tub. I then have to get in the tub with her to wash her. For a few minutes, Sarah accepts her fate, and we hurriedly splash water on her and soap her up. But after a short amount of time, she starts forming her escape plan. We know how she acts, so we have learned to keep the door closed during the bath. Today she tried to escape, knocking over the trash can in the process. So now we are washing her, and then having to pull her backwards every few seconds to prevent her jumping out.

Once we are finally done, we let her jump out. She shakes a million times, and the bathroom is a wreck. We towel her off, let her leave, and she continues to shake in the living room. By this time, we are both soaking wet, and in need of showers ourselves. Sarah spends the rest of the day pretending like we don't exist and pouting. And I spend the rest of the day cleaning the bathroom and washing all the mats and towels.

Courtesy of Adam

Random Thoughts of the Day:

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.
5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my Neighborhood.
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
10. Bad decisions make good stories.
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.
13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.
14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this--ever.
15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damn it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?
16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.
17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

Wordless Wednesday-Guitar Hero

Adam rocking out at Dave & Busters on Guitar Hero in his baby sun hat, and me looking enthralled.

You Be Illin'

Its been a year ago this month since I got really, really sick. I know this because the night before I came down with the worst case of food poisoning I have ever have, I went to a midnight screening of the Quantum of Solace with Adam. Adam is obsessed with anything and everything James Bond. When I first met him in the dark ages of AIM chatting, his screen name was bndadm. Which was an abbreviated form of, "Bond Adam." But I thought it was a weird form of the name,"Brandon." So for the first six months of chatting with the man I WOULD EVENTUALLY MARRY, I couldn't even remember his first name.

The movie was OK, Daniel Craig was hot as always, but it definitely didn't live up to the typical Bond film in our oh so humble opinion. I had gotten a soft pretzel for a snack that night, and the next morning I kicked off the lovely Throwing Up Extravaganza of 2008 (Great Imagery I know). DAMN YOU PRETZEL. Adam even had to come home from work, just to take the dog for her morning walk, because I couldn't even walk a few feet. Coincidentally, a few months earlier we had gone to a different midnight movie, and Adam had woken up sick. Apparently, midnight movies only make us tired, cranky, and sick. So at the ripe old ages of 23 and 25, we have decided WE ARE TOO OLD TO GO TO MIDNIGHT MOVIES. The girl who used to stay up until 5 a.m. every night, that lives inside me, is ashamed.

I mused last week that it had been forever since I had gotten sick, and then on Friday morning I woke up with a sinus infection (I so jinxed myself). I felt like there was an Elephant inside my head trying to escape. So that morning I had a conversation with myself that went like this, "Dear Body, I have no time to be sick. K, Thanks." But my body wasn't listening, and the truth is I probably got sick because I have been running myself ragged. I'm feeling a little bit better today, but if I stand too long I still get really fatigued. Honestly, I want nothing more but to have enough energy to get up and clean the bathroom. I'm not even kidding.

Are You Ready for this Belly?

Have I ever told you about our God awful couches? They are couches that I had the misfortune of inheriting when we moved in together. Adam bought them used four years ago from a coworker. Maybe they were decent at one time (I doubt it), but now they are terrible. The cushions never stay put, so the longer you sit, the deeper you sink. Putting you into positions that even the best cirque du soleil performer wouldn't attempt. Heaven forbid you want to take a nap on the couch, because I guarantee you will end up with spring marks on your face & back pain like your grandma. Our couches are gluttons, constantly eating our cell phones and remote controls. Plus the couches are green, so they go with nothing in our house, especially the red chair that Adam picked out. It's Christmas year round here! We hate our couches so much, that we have told everyone not to get Christmas gifts for us, but to donate to the,"Brittany and Adam would donate their first born child to get new couches fund."

Two nights ago, Sarah had hoped onto the couch and gotten herself stuck. So Adam moved her a bit, and she ended up stuck in the position you see at the beginning of the video. And I guess we are kind of immature, because every time she wagged her tail we laughed, because it looked kind of dirty. So I shot this little video. I wish I had shot longer, because the five minutes it took to get her free were hilarious. She kept looking at us like, "What are those stupid humans doing to me?" But she just kept wagging her tail the whole time.

P.S-I don't usually laugh like that. I had been laughing so hard, I couldn't even breathe. And I think I sound like a man, so tell me I don't. Please?

Circumstantial Evidence

So on Sunday, I told you about the wonderful things my mother has taught me (and she is just as amazing as she sounds, the strongest woman I know). One of the things I listed was to always use a coaster. This is one I abide by, because I hate drink rings on a table. *Shivers* Adam really does follow along with this, but Thursday when I got home late from class ,I found an empty glass on the coffee table. And heaven forbid, we get a drink ring on our uber valuable $25 IKEA coffee table. All of a sudden I had visions of him putting a million glasses without coasters on the coffee table every Thursday night, and LAUGHING while I toil away in class. But he said that Sarah had knocked over an empty glass with her tail, and he had just placed it back on the table. I believed him, because Sarah has a massively, strong tail. Once she even managed to knock my lap top off the table.

But the next day, I found a drink ring on the table (not where the glass was last night) and decided to send him a light-hearted e-mail about it.

Me: There is a ring on the coffee table-You Bastard! :P
Adam: Okay bitch, impossible, listen up. The cup was empty, Sarah knocked it with her tail when I was trying to leash her up. The cup was not cool or wet enough to create a ring. That ring has to be from a different glass I had on the table. Or it was you. Investigate THAT!
Me: LOL I know its not where the glass was last night, but there is one on the side of the couch where you sit. I know it was you, because I'm too obsessive to do it. I bet you do it when I'm in class!! You are a bad person.
Adam: Well did it cause damage?
Me: I want to say yes and make you grovel at my feet and apologize, but unfortunately that would be a lie.

That man always makes me laugh. I love him.

How Not to Spend a Thrusday Night

A few Thursdays ago was one of those days where I wished my life was like my DVR box. I could fast forward, pause, or erase all the really crappy moments. That is to say that Thursday sucked. When I woke up, I called my mom with a juicy piece of celebrity gossip (shut up), that she should have loved. But she seemed really uninterested in it, and I'm all like JUICY PIECE OF GOSSIP, didn't you hear? But then I found out why. She told me that both of my nieces had Swine Flu. The Oink Oink flu, that is.

The flu I never gave more than a passing thought to, because it is the FLU after all. And these things are never supposed to happen to your family. I knew my nieces could probably beat it, but they had exposed my 4 month old nephew and elderly grandmother to it. And they might not be able to beat it. Next I found out that one member of our family who shall not named, had stolen over $60,000 from another member of our family who shall not be named. This family member is very self-righteous, judgmental, and was always telling us what bad Christians we were, and that we should reexamine our values. He once told me that my wedding would only be my "first wedding." How shitty is that? Give me a break.

I live my life a little bit on the ditzy side everyday, but when I get really stressed, the oxygen stops circulating to my brain, and I get a case of the stupids. And last Thursday I was definitely afflicted. So I knew going into work and school that day, could get a little hairy. And this is where I mention that I have a long standing fear of gas stations, more precisely not being able to figure out how to pump the gas and looking stupid. And for once my fear was valid, because THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED THAT THRUSDAY. I had the poor gas attendant believing that not one, not two, but THREE of his gas pumps were broken. Finally, I begged him to come help me because it was going to make me late for work. I kid you not, he put his pump in my tank (that’s what she said), and it just magically started. It was like he had magic fingers, (that’s what she said AGAIN) and I felt so foolish. Now I can never go back to that gas station, because of the embarrassment factor, even if they do have the amazing slurpees.

So I finally got to work, and wrapped things up with my student. I headed out for my hour and ten minute drive to class. Can I tell you how miserable that commute is? I can drive in my car for hours and hours on country roads in Alabama, and not feel as annoyed as I do driving 23 miles across town in L.A. TRAFFIC. By the time I get to class, I start thinking I might spontaneously combust. I have discovered there is only one preventative measure that can be taken to prevent spontaneous combustion: 711 banana slurpees. Are you seeing a trend here? I really love slurpees. But on this particular day I stopped at the 711 and forsook my banana slurpee for a orange creme slurpee, and that is probably where the trouble started. Mental note: nothing beats the banana slurpee ever. I got in my car, and I made the drive to class surprisingly in one piece. But as I was organizing my bag for the long night ahead, I noticed my brand new wallet was missing. Don't Panic I said to myself, it is probably hidden by all your crap in the bag or in the car. But it was no where to be found. PANIC.

I looked up the 711's number, but it hadn't been turned in. PANIC, PANIC, PANIC. I don't think I heard a word of my 4 hour lecture, because all I could think of was the things in the wallet. I was so dead. I don't think I breathed the whole trip home, and I thought, "Maybe I don't have to tell Adam, maybe I can just replace everything in it without him ever knowing." But then I remembered Adam's debit card was in my wallet (where it spends most of its time anyway LOL) and then I knew I was in trouble. When I got home, I sat down on the bed, turned to Adam and said, "You are Going to Hate Me." Because in my mind, this was such a catastrophe, that this could possibly ruin my marriage. And no I am not just a dramatic person, I am just that much of a fatalist.

What else was there to do but jump in the car in our pajamas and drive 11 miles to the 711? With me crying the whole time, as if it was the end of the world (aren't you glad you aren't married to me?!?!) And I'm going on and on about how he has every right to hate me, and he is like, "I'll decide that after we get to the 711." And I'm like really? really? You are going to say that to the most emotional woman in the world RIGHT NOW. ( I want to defend myself by saying I am really emotional, but its mostly due to my hormones constantly being out of whack).

So we get to the 711, and I search all the places my wallet can be, and it is nowhere. I ask the clerk and no one has turned anything in, and I am devastated. But I give the clerk my number, before leaving. Adam and I decide to look through the car one more time, because what else could we do? I opened the passenger side door (where I could swear I looked bef0re), and see something shimmering between the seat and the door. It is my wallet! I mean seriously? seriously? This is the story of my life.

I told Adam that he should be proud that at least I didn't leave it in the store....



P.S.-They gave my nephew and grandmother preventative medication and everyone has recovered.

This, That, & Alex Trebek

Summer has finally come to an end. Can I get an AMEN? I'm tired of hot days with no AC, and I'm ready to get back to work. As much as whole days filled with nothing to do sounds appealing, I get bored pretty quickly. And for me, boredom is a gateway drug to depression. If you don't know, I work with a company that works with the No Child Left Behind program. I test children to find their weaknesses, and then develop materials and lesson plans for them. I really love what I do. Except that I sometimes get overly attached to the children, which makes it hard to step out of their life a few months later.

Most of the parents of the children I work with do not speak English. This can make it a little awkward, when I'm sitting in their homes & working with their kids. I wish I had taken Spanish in college. I thought it would be "cool" and unique to take French, because everyone takes Spanish. Plus, I couldn't roll an R if you put a gun to my head. Pathetically, the only thing I remember from that class is how to pronounce DVD in French (day-vay day). Now I'm sure someone who speaks fluent French is going to pop up and tell me that is wrong. So go on, try to tell me how you really pronoucne DVD, and you will just confirm that I wasted two years of my life that I CAN NEVER GET BACK. lol.

In other news, last weekend Adam and I went to a taping of Jeopardy! We love us some jeopardy, I've even wrote about the show on here before. We are a very competitive household, and we scream out the answers and keep score. Don't let the haters fool you, winning is everything. We are both equally good, but he claims that I always lose because I don't phrase my answers as questions.Pfft, that is foolishness I tell you. FOOLISHNESS. Not only did we get tickets to Jeopardy, but we found out that it was Celebrity Jeopardy. When we got there, we saw Christopher Meloni from Law & Order SVU, Joshua Molina from The West Wing & In Plain Sight, and Harry Shearer from The Simpson's. I immediately thought of Miss. Heather because I know what a big SVU fan she is. All I can say is they were all really funny and charming guys.

Of course, the most exciting thing was getting to see Alex Trebek! In between breaks, he talked to the audience and Adam got to ask him a question. I believe this is the single most amazing thing that has ever happened to Adam (forget our marriage!). He kept saying, "I talked to Alex Trebek! I talked to Alex Trebek!" When I was on the phone with someone, he would say,"Did you tell them I talked to Alex Trebek?" "Tell the people on facebook, that I talked to Alex Trebek." It was seriously cute and kind of annoying. So by the way, did you hear Adam talked to Alex Trebek?

365 days ago (give or take):

This all reminded me of a joke by Mo'nique from her Queens of Comedy tour. Mo’nique jokes about a time that she entered a club and some catty girl remarked, "I bet she’s going straight to the buffet." And Mo'nique commented, “It was true, but that bitch didn't have to say that shit!"

HAHA, that is my favorite joke. I talk about my work orientation, how awesomely serendipitous is that!

Our Deluxe Duplex in the Sky

Moving into the duplex sounded good in theory, but when it came to actually "moving," it became quite a downer. I sorta, kinda HATE moving. Mostly this is due to my traumatizing memories of moving in and out of dorm rooms in the hot, sticky,and stinky Mississippi summers. Hours of my life were spent hauling tvs, textbooks, and shower shoes (are those really necessary?) upstairs after the inevitable breakdown of the elevators.

I thought this move would be pretty simple. We got the keys a week before we moved, so every night we brought over the OMG NEVERENDING boxes. I was gobsmacked by how much crap we had managed to collect. Our crap can be divided into three categories: the awesome new stuff we were gifted for no longer living in sin, the stuff that we actually need, and the stuff my husband won't get rid of because of his "sentimental" attachment. I have to be honest, I don't really understand sentimentality when it comes to many things. I feel like you always have the memories, even if the objects are gone. Now I save really important stuff like my grandmother's pearls or my teddy bear from childhood, but not little everyday trinkets. I hate clutter, and I hate having anything laying around that doesn't serve a purpose.

My husband is all about his "stuff", and he is attached to the most random things. For example, when we were packing up the kitchen, I decided we no longer needed his old, cracking measuring cups since we had some nice, newer ones. He got the saddest, most hang-dog look on his face and said, "Those were my measuring cups from my bachelor days...." Say What?!? I really couldn't wrap my head around why the measuring cups from his single days would be so important. All I could picture was them taking up extra space in the kitchen drawers that we don't really have to spare. But I did what any good wife would do, and told him he could keep them, therefore protecting his sacred cooking memories from his bachelorhood. Adam ended up tossing them out on his own. Marriage, it takes compromise. However, I would have happily kept the cups, in exchange for his really gross, cheeto-stained, and ripped kitchen towels from his "bachelor days."

It doesn't matter how much we had prepared for the move, the day of the move still sucked. It was very hot, and by the end of the day we were sore, cranky, tired, and dehydrated. But on the plus side, we had our DVR service transferred the same day. So we found a way to not even go ONE DAY without TV, does this say something about us as couple? The next day we woke up feeling just as bad, but we had to go clean up the old place. When we got to the cottage, I saw the mountains and mountains of dog hair that needed to be cleaned up (how does that dog even still have any hair?), and all we still had left to do. Yes, I will admit to crying over having to do so much cleaning.I will blame this on both my fatigued state and the injustice of it all (ha!). Oye, that was a pathetic moment.

We are all moved in now, and enjoying the new place. I think Sarah has finally figured out that this is her home now. We are enjoying the eccentricities of our new neighborhood. Not only do we have an ice cream truck, we also have a hot dog truck, and a man that sells strawberries door-to-door. I will not be moving again, anytime soon.

365 days ago (give or take):

1. Number of Freeways I’ve driven on: 1 (accidentally and traumatizing). 2. Number of Freeways I’m planning on driving on in the future: 0 (Are you kidding?!? See above).

Stats on my life in California as of last year.

The Opposite of a Biological Clock

Adam: Is it weird to think that one day you will have a baby?
Me: Shut Up! Why do you have to talk like that.

The Duplex (minus Drew Barrymore)

So the first time I mentioned to Adam that it might be a good idea for us to look for a new place to live just to lower our expenses, he looked at me like I had just turned into a pumpkin. People there is no one in this world that hates change more than my husband. Getting him to change his mind is like getting my grandmother to realize that it is wash, washing machine, and Washington D.C., and not WRASH, WRASHING MACHINE, and WRASHINGTON D.C. And believe me, that would be a herculean effort. She's from Kentucky y'all. (I love Kentuckians, I was just joking).

Immediately he said, "But I thought you liked this place!" I mean, duh, I love this place, it was the first place that we picked out together. But when we moved in, we had always planned that I would find a 9-5 job. However, I only ever found part time work, which in a way I'm happy about. If I had gotten a full-time job, I would have gotten comfortable, and would not have decided to go for my master's degree. So we are making the bills, but we don't have a lot left over for many fun things or to save for our future & honeymoon (which just happens to be to WRASHINGTON, D.C. (Oh, the conversations I will have with grandma!) I dropped the subject, hoping what I had said would eventually sink into that stubborn head of his.

I brought the subject up a few weeks later, and he was still dead set against it. But then one morning I stumbled out of bed to find an email from Adam at work that said, "You can rub this in my face till the end of time, but I think you were right about moving..." When I read "you were right," a million angels appeared and starting singing Hallelujah! (True Story). I decided to be the bigger person and not do the, "I'm right and you were wrong dance." Well....I didn't do it when he was at home.

Adam began the hunt, and turned up nothing. Because there is one type of discrimination that is overlooked in this world, and that is golden retriever discrimination. Sarah is the kindest, sweetest, most well-behaved, most well-trained, and laziest dog in the whole world. She sleeps all day, doesn't bark, and would never bite. But try telling a landlord that an 85 lb dog won't be any trouble, and then watch their head spin around and around . The big problem I have with people not wanting to let their renters have big dogs is this: little dogs can be just as/or more destructive than big dogs. So all our conversations with prospective landlords went like this, "She is a big dog, but just hear me out..." My dog she comes with a disclaimer.

I had lined up 3 appointments to see some places that would take Sarah (who gets it done, I do). The first place we saw was a beautiful 1920's duplex. It had beautiful laminate floors, newly painted walls, and faux marble floors in the kitchen. There is a place to park behind the house, so we no longer have to deal with street parking. It is nicely shaded, so it never gets very hot. It has this cute/funny little dining nook in the kitchen that actually contains a booth from an old Subway shop. Sounds weird, but it is pretty cute. We took the house.

So apparently I have a knack for finding green houses, and the outside looks a lot like our old cottage.

Living Room View One.

Living Room View Two

Kitchen View One (I took Sarah with me so she could check out her new home. She approves)

Kitchen View Two with Dining Nook and Sarah's tail. The white splotch is a paint splatter that we have cleaned up.

Bedroom View One.

Bedroom View Two.

365 days ago (give or take):

I hiccuped for 30 minutes straight; I hiccuped through the phone call to Adam in which I told him about the spider as big as my FIST that I let get away (I wasn’t going to tell him the actual size of the spider, it would make the story seem less TRAUMATIZING). I had to remind him that because I had let the spider get away, when I went to bed that night I wouldn’t be able to sleep because I would imagine I felt that spider crawling on me all night long.

I have trouble sleeping the night after I see a spider STILL, I always feel like they are crawling all over me.

What Nature Attacks

I currently live 1.5 miles away from the beach. You would think that a beach lovin' girl like myself would be there all the time, but up until a few weeks ago I had only gone a few times to dip my toes in the Pacific. For Shame! But you see I have an excuse, about a year and a half ago my much beloved blue swimsuit top got left behind at a hot tub in Gatlinburg. It was thrown off in what may or may not have been some good, clean fun *cough, cough*.

But after a romantic fourth of July on the beach, I knew it was about damn time I got to go swimming. I don't think it matters if you are the sexiest woman in the planet,there is nothing more uncomfortable than swimsuit shopping. The first swimsuit you try on always ends up being the most unflattering. My first choice made me look like I was smuggling the bearded lady from the circus under my swimsuit. The second choice put me in danger of a wardrobe malfunction, because my nonexistent chest couldn't hold it up. So after a few near break downs in the dressing room, just kidding, I found the most perfect red, Hawaiian skirtina.

One morning I packed up all my stuff, and because I'm on a health kick, I decided to walk to the beach. It took me 30 minutes to get to the beach, and in no time I was running towards the beautiful, blue water. I had been swimming about ten minutes, when I noticed something glimmery in the water. (Is glimmery a word? ) I thought it was a piece of trash, and I was really upset that people would litter at the beach! And yes sometimes my dog is guilty of peeing over the water drainage grate that says," Do Not Litter, Drains Directly to Ocean." But even SHE would never litter. I am also very squeamish, and I could not stomach the idea of the trash brushing up against my delicate legs, so I swam a few meters opposite the tide to avoid it.

I was swimming in the ocean thinking, "What a wonderful day I'm having, Yay Life!" The second those thoughts entered my head, I felt a jarring pain in my heal. I didn't have any clue what had happened, but my survival instinct kicked in, and I ran to the shore. Many people have asked me why I didn't stay, look around, and figure out what had happened. Honestly and Irrationally, I thought I might have been bitten by a shark. WHO WOULD STICK AROUND TO DOUBLE CHECK THAT IT WAS A SHARK. I was bleeding profusely, and I left a line of eerie, bloody footprints in the sand.

I am now in the worst pain that I can ever remember, I am a mile and a half from home, I don't have my car with me, and I can't really walk. I called Adam at work, and I said something along the lines of, "I'm going to die on this beach, I'm going to die on this beach, but if you can't get off of work early, I think I can survive for a few more hours!" (See I'm such an understanding wife). The problem is Adam walks to work. He would have to take the bus to get to me, get the car keys from me, walk home, get the car, and then pick me up. You have no idea how much I was hating my life at that moment. I was comforted knowing he was on his way, but the pain was shooting up my entire body. I couldn't even see the wound, because it was so caked in blood and sand.

About this time, I started doing an imitation of the the woman who fell off a four foot platform while she was stomping grapes. If you haven't seen the video you can watch it here, the action starts at 52 seconds. I know it's wrong to love that video, but I have watched it a million times and it gets me every time. Don't forget to watch the news anchors' reactions at the end. So maybe my pain was punishment for taking so much pleasure in someone else's agony. But anyway, my pain was causing me to make the arf, arf, arfing sound, I'm rolling around in circles, I'm getting sand in places sand should never go, and I'm cussing a lot. I kept saying the GD word, I hate that word, and typically I would never say it. But that day, when I couldn't stop saying it, after I would yell it out I would apologize to God. . What a crazy scene.

After what was the longest 30 minutes of my life, I saw a slightly pudgy man running Baywatch style across the beach. It took me a few seconds to realize that the slightly pudgy man was my man! He looked so handsome, so gallant, and so brave! I didn't even notice that he was wearing THAT outfit that doesn't match, even though I have told him many times that it didn't match. Men. Adam helped me limp up the beach, and then up 30 concrete stairs (Yes, I counted). And then he left me sitting on the sidewalk, covered in sand, while he walked home to get the car. People were walking by giving me the oddest looks, as I sat there for 45 minutes arfing and GDing.

Finally, my knight in mismatched clothes, pulled up on his noble stead Homer the Honda. He cleaned off my foot, made me a bed on the couch, and fed me painkillers. I spent the next two days on painkillers. The next day my foot had turned blue and red. A week later it was inflamed and itchy, and now my skin is flaking off. But actually it's a lot better now. After a lot of research, I figured out I had been stung by a sting ray. The hole is clearly visible. Which was probably what was glimmering in the water. And now I will post a gross picture of my foot,which you can feel free to skip over.
I feel a small sense of pride in the fact that I have been stung by a sting ray. Only 1,500 people get stung by stingrays worldwide every year. And the one day I pick to go to the beach, it happens to me. FML.

365 days ago (give or take):

I immediately went into panic mood, because I find it impossible to keep my shit together like ever. When we got home I ripped through the house like a tornado. Flying through papers, files, and documents screeching, "They are going to FIRE ME" and "They are going to think I'm FLAKY!"

I've said it before, and I will say it again job hunting sucks.

MI-double-SI-double-SI-double-PI

Tomorrow morning I will be boarding a plane about the time I typically go to bed at night err morning. It is earlier than anyone should legally be allowed to be awake. I am heading to Mississippi for one of my best college friend's wedding. You might have guessed, I'm not a morning person. But to combat my grumpiness, Adam has bribed me with a chicken sandwich breakfast from McDonald’s. Yes, I'm on a healthy eating kick, but lets face it this trip is going to be nothing but a long weekend of food debauchery. I'm such a fat kid.

I literally spent most of today packing. There are no words to explain how much I hate packing. If I was rich, I think the only employee I would hire would be a professional packer. Wow, that last sentence is probably the biggest lie I have ever told. WHO AM I KIDDING? I would hire a chef, personal trainer, maid, butler, make-up artist, dog walker, tv remote channel changer, and someone to tell me I'm pretty every ten seconds. Basically my only job would be to sleep. Which let's face it, that's not much different than my life now.

Last night I randomly realized I didn't know much about the Hudson River Plane Crash. So I zoomed over to Wikipedia (the bane of history majors everywhere) to look it up. Once I read about that I glanced at the listing categories under the article, and found one that listed every airplane incident/crash EVER. I don't know about you, but I can spend hours on wikipedia. And since I'm slightly morbid, I stayed up till 4 a.m. researching the ones that sounded interesting to me. I found it fascinating, but I do not suggest reading those the night before boarding a flight! So that has made me a little uneasy, but I've never been scared in the past so I won't start now.

I have the best friends in the world, and I can't wait to hang out with the people I haven't seen since my wedding. It will be nice that it is not my WEDDING, so I can take it easy. This is so silly and unfounded, but every time I go away without Adam I have two major worries. First, I worry that he won't follow the "no putting food in the microwave without a plate or paper towel" rule that I implemented when we moved in together. Just thinking about him doing that gives me chills. But I really worry that he won't miss me, which is so ridiculous. So I have driven Adam crazy by constantly asking, "Will you miss me? Are you sure? Do you promise you will miss me?" I'm sure he is ready for me to go, just so he won't have to hear it anymore. LOL Does anyone else ever worry like that?

All there is left to say is Tupelo watch out, Brittany is on her way!!

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365 days ago (give or take):

At our previous place, we were constantly plagued by police cars and loud, drunken, party going idiots. And not the cute, polo wearing, frat kind, but the ones who have outgrown that stage but refuse to accept their reality. Oh and not to mention that preacher with the megaphone, who was always carrying on about why it didn't matter that Jesus never sported an afro (I'm not even kidding).

I loved this post because it really highlighted how blonde I can be.