Discombobulated…just a little bit


That’s all I can say about life lately. My poor self has gone from one extreme to another in a matter of a few weeks. In my previous job I had more time than I cared to actually have. I could catch up on my latest celebrity gossip, read up on some of my favorite blogs, update my own blogs, cook meals, exercise, breathe…the list goes on. Now? I barely have time to eat a meal, let alone breathe for two seconds straight. Yes, I’m surprised that I am still alive with all the lack of air.

In a nut shell, the past few weeks have been incredibly busy with work. I work from 7 am to about 11 pm at night. I could keep going, but I’ve given myself the 11pm cut off to at least “relax” before I have to go to bed and do it all over again the next day. I can’t say I wasn’t fully warned about the schedule. I was. Repeatedly. In some ways, I love being this busy. I enjoy knowing there is always something that needs to be done. It feeds into my “workaholic” nature, I guess. However, I do miss having a night where I don’t have to check email or sync-in my computer.

More than anything I miss being able to cook! I’ve turned into one of those Americans who come home and either open up a can of soup (since that is as much effort I have time for or have energy for) or ask the hubby “Can we just go get a pizza?” I was NEVER that person. I enjoyed cooking and feeding my little family. However, now we all suffer from being too busy. Poor A has started his new job too. I couldn’t imagine trying to do this and have children at home. Props to you folks who both have jobs and manage to still have time for the kiddies! I commend you!

Well, as uninteresting as this post is, I just wanted to write something. I’ve missed my internet outlet! I’m working on managing my time better and balancing work and life. It’s slowly happening…slowly is the key word.



I’ve recently discovered something about myself that I can’t believe I never noticed in the past. Every time a big change happens I freak out. It’s very much a pattern that I never noticed until now. Stupid…I know.

I pride myself on being flexible, and to some extent and in certain ways I generally am. I know there are people who would highly disagree with me, but after some time of “adjusting” I do find a groove. However, there are certain things that I really do freak out about (mentally and emotionally at least). I just always assumed that the big changes were BIG changes and it was normal to be semi-depressed and anxious and worried and stressed out about them. For instance, my first year of college was difficult. Normal, right? My first year moving to Boston was difficult. My first year (well, two years) of Florida was difficult. You’re getting the point.

However, the changes lately have felt a billion times harder than those changes. Good example, the day of my wedding I was far from bridezilla. I described myself as comatose bride. I was pretty calm through some crazy wedding issues, and really just nodded my head at everything. I was abnormally tired, which caused me to be abnormally emotional. I cried over EVERYTHING! I wasn’t afraid of getting married or unhappy with A. I was overwhelmingly emotional over the fact that I was hitting another new portion of my life and that one part of my life was over. It was very hard, to say the least.

I had the same reaction to changing my last name, in which I nearly broke into tears handing over my paperwork to Social Security. And now, I’m over emotional over losing my car. Why? It wasn’t a great car…a Ford Focus that didn’t even have electric windows or locks. The CD player had a hard time ejecting the CD. There was a funny smell from all the water and debris that was tracked in. But, even through it all, I am still so very sad to have sold it. It was a symbol. It represented A and my struggles through our first few years in Florida and our first few years of marriage. I’m almost in tears now just thinking how it is not in my car port.

I don’t understand entirely why I form such strange attachments to inanimate objects, but I do. I know I shoudn’t read so much into things, but I do.  I know when I leave this house- for as much as I complain about it- I’ll be depressed about it. Sigh…but c’est la vie! You can’t avoid the changes. You just learn to roll with them.

Happy Birthday A! (an early celebration)

It’s been one busy week! I just started my new job this week and I’ve had my hands full with new job “stuff”….all good of course. A will be starting a new job too. He starts next Monday and he’s very excited to have new challenges ahead of him. I know both of us have needed a career adjustment.

However, even through a busy week, we still made time to celebrate A’s 28th birthday. His real birthday is next week, but we were fortunate to have several good friends in town. We had to take the opportunity to celebrate early with them! It was great since everyone who came was piece of Aaron’s past and present.

It’s always nice to get everyone together just to catch up and have a beer or two. Per A’s request, we had a very low key evening of pizza and beer…so very, very A.

So happy birthday A! Thanks for giving us all another reason to get together!

A and his birthday crunk cup

Open Letter- To The A-Hole at the UF Game

Dear Mr. A-Hole at the UF Game-

Congratulations! You’ve have been awarded the first A-Hole Award of 2008. Please note that you (and your A-hole friend and A-hole friend’s significant other) are all the most inconsiderate and rudest people I’ve met in a LONG time. I have to thank you for renewing my belief that the world is turning into a place where I am no longer proud to even be a human being. I know you tried your very hardest to ruin my experience and A’s experience by standing your 6’2 self directly on YOUR SEAT IN FRONT ME, but I most appreciated how your drunken self could not STAND on the seat. Instead, you decided that JUMPING on the bench was most appropriate (nearly knocking over another smaller girl next to you) and having your DISGUSTING, SWEATY self fall on me several times…without even an apology. I liked how you felt you were ENTITLED to this. I just want to let you know, that even though we left the game at halftime since I no longer felt that your a** was worth looking at in my field of vision (and after I chewed you out for the A-hole you are), you did not ruin our good time. We had a better time enjoying several beers over at the local Appleby’s under air conditioning and surrounded by much nicer folks than yourself. How I do feel sorry for your poor wife!


The person who hopes karma gets to you sooner than later

The Best Crazy Man Ever

Okay, so I know it’s not entirely politically correct to call him “crazy,” but he kind of was and since I don’t know if it was drug-induced (which is very possible) I’m going to use “crazy.” As I was stopped at a stop light in traffic, crazy man walked across a side street cross walk talking and laughing to his crazy invisible friends. He then suddenly stopped in the middle of the cross walk, took a moment of silence with head bowed, and started playing hardcore air guitar. After 10-15 seconds of air guitar, he picked up his invisible mic and sang a hearty rendition of something- hands raised and everything. When the song was over he bowed his head, thanked the invisible crowd profusely, and continued walking on his way. Seriously…how awesome is that???

So, Can I Ask You Out Again Sometime?

I am in a new relationship…with a hair stylist. It is not as scandalous as it sounds.

When I lived in San Diego, I adored my hair stylist. I trusted him completely with the most precious thing I own- my hair. He was fabulous in every way. He would bring me Mexican mochas and give the best shampoos. I never had to show him a picture or tell him what to do with my hair. He would just KNOW. I could sit down and just tell him to do his magic. He loved it since he had free reign to cut, color, and style how he saw fit, and every single time it was perfect. Since I moved (and he moved to Tulsa) I have not been able to find a hair stylist as capable as he is. I’ve jumped from stylist to stylist, not being satisfied with any of them.

Yesterday, I tried a new place hoping I can finally settle down, and I think I may have found something pretty close. The little salon I went to was the cutest and girliest salon. The walls were painted pink and in the corner hung an array of vintage dresses (for vintage dress Friday, of course). As soon as I walked in, I was greeted by a lovely receptionist who offered a glass of wine or, perhaps, a beer. (Note: This was not a posh, expensive salon by any means. The price of my haircut was cheaper than any salon in the mall).  Already a great start!

Now, going to a new stylist at a new salon always feels like an awkward first date. Neither person knows what to expect from the other and each tries to make friendly conversation to get to know the person you have be with for the next hour. My stylist and I asked the typical questions of “Where are you from?” and “Do you like it here?” There were the moments of silence, in which you could tell both of us were scrambling to think of questions to ask that didn’t sound lame or forced. However, it all turned out to be great. She listened and advised and made sure I left with what I wanted.

All in all, I made it through with a glass of wine, a great short-do, and possibly a second date.

Posted in me

Weekend Bits and Pieces

I adore long weekends…which I’m sure is not shocking. I love knowing on Sunday that I have one more day to get up without an alarm clock, eat breakfast leisurely, and plan my day of nothing. This weekend was particularly nice. A and I trucked over to the Gator game on Saturday. That was an experience! Being smashed into a sold-out stadium of drunken, rowdy college kids with intermittent rain and sun was something that was somewhere in between fun and misery. Ask me next week when the game is at night and I won’t be as tired from getting up at 6 am.

Sunday was filled with a whole bunch of nothing (much needed nothing) and Monday we did one of my favorite things to do when I get a weekday off- happy hour! I love happy hour. I love getting food for half price and enjoying a drink in the afternoon. Really? Who doesn’t like a deal?

Other notes- When A and I were reading at Sbux yesterday, I noticed two very odd things. One, a woman came in wearing one flip flop. She was just walking around, dressed completely normal, but only had one brown flip flop on her foot. Second, another gentleman came in with a backpack that had a body-soap-puff thing attached to it. Again, perfectly normal looking, but with an odd piece of flair. Hmmm…