Of Insignificant Importance

Okay, kiddies, I have to keep this short. And for real this time; none of this "I'm going to say that I'll keep this short in the beginning of the post, ramble on for 15 paragraphs, realize that I completely contradicted myself, then go back and eliminate the first part of the post where I said I would keep it short" business. And here's why: I get to go on my first "business trip" tomorrow.

Okay, so it's not as important as it sounds...I'm not brokering any mergers (?) or anything like that. I'm going to Washington, D.C. for a training. But still, it's my first offical work travel. Just be excited for me, okay?

I leave tomorrow and will be back on Thursday evening. Of course, I'll be too exhausted to type, so you'll have to wait until Friday to catch up on my oh-so-exciting-hang-by-your-toenails post. I'm just a smidge nervous to travel to D.C.--not because it's the murder capitol of the U.S. (thank you, Daddy, for announcing that in front of my overly paranoid mother)--no, more because of the whole 9/11 thing. I mean, of course we'll be fine, but there's still that twinge of fear that runs through me (call me paranoid).

Want to know the grandest event that will come about due to this trip? One of my best friends (The Actress) lives in D.C. with her new finace (new as in "they just got engaged" not as in "she traded her old one in"). Sure, I'll have to pay attention when I'm learning about GPRA online data submission, but when I'm free from that, I'm livin' big in D.C. with Kate and Adam! Fun times (and pictures) will be had (and taken) by all!

One last worthy mentioning: I decorated my apartment today for Christmas. No, it's NOT December yet, but I found that when I lived with my parents, we would always decorate too late, and barely have time to enjoy the twinkling lights before we had to take them down for fear of depression setting in. So, this past weekend, when I was enjoying my much needed family time, I went to WalMart and the Dollar Store and bought so many lovely decorations for my wittle apartment. I skimped on Halloween and Thanksgiving decor this year, but NOT Christmas. I refuse to spend my first apartment Christmas sans a Santa Clause door knob hanger. So, a 3 foot tree, lots of lights, garland, and other such decorations now don my little happy place. I'm so holiday. (It makes for a quite cozy and romantic setting for my upcoming visitor!)

Oh, and I had a great Thanksgiving. Food, family, Dickens on Main...it was all teriffic...hope you all had the same (and if you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, hope you had a nice weekend)! See y'all Friday!

Oh, friends.

I know you’re asking yourself, “Is she going to do it? Is she REALLY going to post a cheesy ‘Here’s what I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving’ entry?” The answer, dear readers, is yes. But before you start to avoid the queasy feeling in your stomach by clicking “Next Blog”, let me explain why.

I have met many new people, great characters, in this here blog world, and surprisingly, several of them are not from around these American parts. Because no other country celebrates the stealing of valuable land from its native people by stuffing themselves with turkey and punkin pie, I feel that this post is not only for the sake of our American holiday, but will also serve as a general reminder of how blessed I am.

So, here’s what I’m thankful for (the abridged version):

A caring family that loves me and has never let me want for anything.
A beautiful sister that becomes more like a best friend every day.
A dog that has often been the only one to see me cry, and cuddle with me.
A job that not only meets my financial needs, but has also provided me with my best friends.
Consequently, a best girlfriend whom I thought I would never find and am so happy I did.
My faith, though shakier than ever this year (thanks for that whole “never abandoning you” thing, there, God)
Music and my iPod*—a staple in my life that has gotten me through many a tough time.
Finally being out of college and living the life of a real, bona fide adult.
Still feeling (and looking) like a kid.
The discovery of wine and Woodchuck Amber cider.
Throwing caution to the wind and doing what makes me happiest.
Despite my body trying to amputate its own toe, my health.
You, my loyal blog readers, for making me feel like what I have to say merits certain validity and bestowing upon me the support and encouragement I never knew I could have by way of this medium.

And finally…

My darling boyfriend who has made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and who makes me feel like the most beautiful and special girl in the world. Never could I have imagined there was someone so perfect out there for me (“out of my league” keeps ringing in the back of my mind). I am thankful for the time we will soon spend together, and the possibilities that lie within our future. I love him dearly; he is my comfort, my best friend, my laughter, my soulmate… my darling.

Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends! To those of you who do not celebrate this holiday of feasting and sleeping, I’m still thankful for you, and every once in a while, it’s nice to know that you are very much appreciated.

And an unrealted sidenote: It makes no sense for a local radio station to play continuous Christmas music (a tradition they have, apparently starting the week before Thanskgiving) at this point in time. I have a hard time singing along to "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" when it's 80 degrees (approximately 26C for you Brits) outside.

* yes, I can be thankful for material items as well.

In light of the incredibly pissy mood I have been in as of late, I figured I would lighten up the vibe and bestow upon you, my readers, one of those, “You Know You’re … When…” Lists. So, I give to you:

YOU KNOW YOU’RE IN / FROM SAN ANTONIO WHEN…

· You see 300 pound person wearing spandex with nothing else covering them.
· When attending 1 year old’s birthday party, a keg is tapped and the police are called.
· The maternity section of your local department store has prom dresses.
· You've never been to the Alamo.
· You used to live in a neighborhood you wouldn't even drive through now.
· There has been a road crew on your street since before the Alamodome was built.
· Your idea of culture is wearing a Spurs T-shirt.
· You're starting to think the construction on Loop 410 and I-10 is "pretty".
· You have 3 rodeo outfits but never have been on a horse.
· Your Anglo mother learned how to make tamales and menudo from your neighbors.
· You went to get breakfast tacos at Taco Cabana on Christmas morning.
· You had an elephant ride at the zoo. (hell yes I did!)
· You know all about the "Dancing Diablo" and the "Donkey Lady”.
· Someone in your family has worked for H-E-B.
· You know 1604 is also known as the "death loop".
· You've ordered Mexican food at a Chinese restaurant.
· You take your vacation during Fiesta week.
· You know how to get to the "Ghost Tracks" from anywhere in town.
· You think a healthy drink is a Margarita without salt.
· You're an expert with the brake pedal, but you have no idea what a blinker is.
· You do your grocery shopping at a flea market.
· You think local politicians are crooks, but you still do not vote.
· You have a "Selena Lives" bumper sticker on your car.
· A formal occasion is getting a glass with your longneck.
· You're elementary field trip was to the Butter Crust Bakery. (again, hell yes it was!)

(and my personal favorite…)
· Your lowrider has twice the value of your home.

I must credit these websites and my local radio station for not only giving me the idea to post this, but also providing some of the incredibly sad but true statements. Many of you will not know what a lot of these mean, but trust me, to a native San Antonian, they’re funny as hell. Have a great day everybody!

Sometimes I take for granted that the people I meet in the blogging world are real--not simply web robots generated to keep me entertained and off-task when I should be working. Because of that, when something very real occurs, you are thrown off kilter for a moment. You suddenly realize that the blog you so thoroughly enjoy reading belongs to a living, breathing person, who experiences everyday trials and tribulations just like you do. Sometimes, though, those trials are harder than others to live through.

Even though I don't know him very well, I couldn't help but cry for Mr. Hoss and his recent loss. It's times like these when I feel so helpless; there is so much I would like to do, but do not have the means by which to do them. So, in my attempt to offer support and sympathy, I am enlisting my humble blog to express my deepest sympathies and offer a kind and loving word to a most delightful and incredible person. I'd rather it be a hug, but you work with what you have.

So, many a heartfelt prayer goes out to you and your beloved, Mr. Hoss. I hope you'll forgive my posting about such a sensitive and personal topic. However, I have found such a strong support system by way of this blog in such a short time, that I really believe that it can provide comfort in even the darkest of hours.

The best to you and yours, and a great big bear hug all around.

Alright, seeing as how it’s Friday and all, today is really my last valid day to complain about the week’s happenings. So here comes an overly-whiny, incredibly marathon post. Prepare or move on. Take breaks, I say.

First of all, I fell down the stairs at my apartment complex this week. I guess the heel of my shoe caught on one of the stair’s edges, which sent me rolling down the last few for that flight. See, I intelligently chose to live on the 3rd floor. My reasons were twofold. 1.) I don’t want to deal with noise from anyone upstairs (I walk heavy on my heels; I feel sorry for the poor bastards below me) and 2.) I doubt a robber is going to want to carry my TV down three flights of stairs when he could just run out the door on a first floor apartment. Yeah?

So, being on the 3rd floor, I have (let’s count them) three flights of stairs to walk up and down several times a day. Lucky for me, the official first spill I took was at the top flight, which had me landing on the platform between the third and second flights. It could have been worse, trust me. But for what it was, it was bad.

I thought I broke my knee for a minute. I have really weak knees to begin with; being a cheerleader for 6 years will wreak havoc on your body. So, a fall like this could have easily snapped my knee…but it didn’t. I ended up with one very skinned, cut, and bruised knee, the other knee severely bruised, and an injured toe (I will elaborate more on in further paragraphs). I breathed a huge sigh of relief that no one was around to see me tumble—it was quite a lumbering fall! In the aftermath (after I realized I was mostly okay), I was stupefied to find I was shoeless on one foot. My sandal had fallen through the opening between stairs and lay at the ground level. Dammit. Carefully, I hobbled down the cursed things, retrieved my shoe, and called work to tell them I would be late back from lunch. My boss insisted I stay home and recover, and who am I to argue with the boss! I was sore, and my toe was turning a right shade of purple!

Now, about this TOE! I swear, my body is trying to reject my left big toe, it HATES it. Here’s some back story: Way back in May of 2003, I had been dumped by a boy that I naively believed I would end up marrying. He terminated our relationship for no apparent reason, with no prior notice. However, when two of my older lady friends who attended church with me and this boy invited me to a seemingly innocent lunch, they revealed to me that he had recently started dating his best friend (whom, in a few weeks time, he married!). I was understandably crushed, so one of the women took me for a pedicure. I’d never had a pedicure before, sounded like fun. Now, they are the bane of my existence.

Apparently, I contracted a rather nasty toenail fungus. But, it went undetected as I figured the discoloration of my toenail was a result of my mom stepping on my toe two times in the same day pre-pedicure. Now I realize that the injury probably made my poor wittle toe more susceptible to the fungus. Anyway, sometime in January (yes, 8 months after I acquired the fungus) I went to the doctor and said, “Hey doc, while I’m here, can you tell me what’s wrong with my big toe.” A lab test later, and he was delivering the bad news:

“Lanette, I’m afraid it’s…it’s…”
“Give it to me straight, Doc, I can handle it.”
“It’s…a FUNGUS!”
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” wailed I.

A year and a half later, I am still battling the TF. Sure, I tried the topical nail solution, but WHO can keep up with painting the solution on every night for 6 days, then rubbing it off with alcohol on the 7th day, just to repeat the cycle the next day? Hello…I have a life!

Eventually, the toe fungus grew itself out (or so I think…). I was ecstatic, because if I may boast for a second, I think I have very pretty feet—dainty and narrow. This fungus was an eyesore that I could do NOTHING about…and who wants to tell anyone that they have a fungus! I was so stigmatized by my family, friends, co-workers…traumatized, I tell you. But before Tuesday’s fateful fall, it was on the road to recovery.

And then I was clumsy.

Now, this poor toe is experiencing more pain, bruised and sore, the toenail along with the whole toe is just purple and swollen. I’m praying the bits of dirt and rock that was surely jammed up under the nail won’t perpetuate the fungal disaster. Wait and See is the name of the game, folks.

Aside from my Fungus Toe Pity Party, I am also having a Flabulous Sulking Session. Intrigued? I thought so.

See, I was always the smallest girl in my class…in 6th grade I weighed 69 pounds and was 4’10” tall. High school didn’t see much of a weight development, and by the end of Senior year, I was about 5’2” (still the same height now) and about 96-97 pounds. I was a cheerleader for 4 years, I was the flyer (the girl at the top of the pyramids), I was the one who was thrown up in the air and (most of the time, at least) caught.

In college, I pursued the cheerleading activities. Since I was so small fresh out of high school, the rigorous (ha!) work out schedule and game schedule only made me lose weight. We were conditioning 3 times a week, so I was toned, then we would practice 3 times a week for at least 3 hours (loads of running around, hitting marks, playing with different stunts, etc.). Not to mention we would have games to cheer at, sometimes double-headers, so that’s at least 2 more hours of jumping, running, tumbling, exercising. Until now, I never realized JUST how small I was. I got down to about 95 pounds and had very little body fat. It. Was. Beautiful.

After two years and when I felt like I wasn’t furthering my cheerleading career, I decided to quit as I would need more time to dedicate to my studies and to myself. (No, that's not me in the picture, just what I would do). I had never worked out any more than what the cheerleading life regulated, so I didn’t know that to STAY that small, I would have to keep working at it. So, I kept my same eating habits but failed to exercise, and eventually (within about two years) I saw a bit of a weight gain. This being such a foreign downfall for me, I had my bouts of bulimia, but nothing that would even require a diagnosis. I would do some sporadic workouts, but nothing that yielded the results I desired.

As the years went by, I found myself not fitting into the Size 0 pants I had worn all my life. I had to BUY A SIZE BIGGER! Devastating.

Now, the same thing is continuing. I don’t believe in any way that I’m fat, but there are certain areas of my body that have more…insulation…than they did before. I’m uncomfortable in my clothes, in my skin, in my body. I can’t look at myself naked in a mirror because I will stare for too long, pulling at the areas that have expanded, grabbing the excess fat on my inner thigh and pulling it to the back thinking to myself, “If only my legs looked like THAT…”

A few months ago, I got so fed up that I decided to stop whining about my plight and become proactive. So, I started keeping a log of my calories I ate and power walked (because I’m 80 years old and broken) at night. I even took “Before” and “After” pictures. In the passing of 2 months time and adhering strictly to this regimen, the “After” picture revealed promising results. Encouraged, I vowed to myself to keep up with this routine.

Then life happened. I moved out, I started working full-time, I got tired, I made excuses. Soon, all the weight and toning I had lost and gained was unnoticeable again. Back to square one…or maybe I was worse off now! I thought that living on a limited budget by myself would cause a decrease in my eating, but something was just off.

Seeing as how my apartment has the largest work-out facilities I’ve ever seen for an apartment complex, I figured I would again become proactive and utilize the facilities I had at my fingertips. So, lately, I’ve worked out at least 2-3 times per week (cardio, stretching, weight lifting) and have been attempting to regulate what I eat…and I’m still not seeing any results.

Why, MOH, would you want to be so small again, you ask? Well, aside from the obvious reasons, two are most outstanding. First, when you come from a very small body shape, able to fit into whatever you want and look fit and trim in the outfits, to a slightly larger and less toned body, you get really uncomfortable. I started evaluating every girl I walked by on campus thinking, “I wish I looked like that”, “She’s so skinny!” and “At least I’m not that big” (horrible, I know). I hate the way I look, and it’s something that’s on my mind every single day, from dawn until dusk. Of course, friends and family tell me I’m lucky to still be “so small”, and they don’t understand what it’s like to KNOW you could be so thin again. They’re just trying to help, I tell myself. But I know what I COULD look like, and NOT looking that way makes me feel very uneasy about my appearance. Sure, with clothes on I look fine, but undressed or scantily clad, I’m literally disgusted with myself.

Secondly, I have a very special boyfriend coming to visit me in 37 days. Although this statement would drive feminists world-wide bonkers: I want to look my best for him. I want him to look at me and think I’m beautiful (which, I know he already does, but you know what I mean). I want to feel beautiful in front of him, I want to be comfortable in his presence, and I won’t unless I become firmer and lose some weight.

It’s just extremely discouraging when you work out so hard, sweat literally dripping off your forehead as your heart-rate skyrockets, and you find that your pants are fitting you TIGHTER than before. And I know what you’re going to say, and save your breath: It’s NOT muscle.

I haven’t yet come to terms with the reality that “I’m not 18 anymore” and “my body’s changing to adapt to child-bearing years”. I look at other girls my age and think, “Well, where the hell are HER widened child-bearing hips?” I’m a small girl; my frame is not built for flab. And yet, there it is. And it gnaws at me every day.

I’ve had people tell me the *best* diet to be on if I want to tone this and lose that. I’ve had exercise programs and menus laid out for me by my exercise fanatic friends. I know I should eat more fish. I know I shouldn’t eat out so much. I know microwave popcorn is not a healthy dinner. But LIFE happens! I just want to lose a bit of weight and look better, FEEL better about myself and how I look.

I was always known as the girl you could “pick up, twirl around and hug”. I don’t want to now be whispered about as “that girl you USED to be able to pick up, twirl, and hug, but now she just causes back problems for those that lift her.”

Moan, moan, gripe, gripe. Go to the gym, MOH!

Sorry this was so long and detailed, but like I said, it’s Friday, and I have to rant and rave about the things of this week before the opportunity passes me by! Have a great weekend everyone. I’ll be in the Weight Watchers aisle of WalMart if you want to hang out!

A history-laden ex-boyfriend has suddenly revealed that he has recently wanted to spend time with me to see “where it would go”. He is making claims that he misses me and is extremely paranoid about and jealous of my new relationship. This comes after several months of him making quite sure I knew that he wanted nothing to do with me; that “we” were never going to be again.

This is typical of my unfortunate pattern:

Meet boy
Date boy
Become more serious with boy
Long-term relationship with boy
Boy breaks up with me (for one reason or another)Mourn over loss of boy for WAY too long
Finally move on
Find new, improved boy
Old boy comes back around
Old boy wants a relationship again

Why, after you’ve finally moved on, do they resurface and are determined to place fear and doubts in your mind by thoroughly nit-picking your current relationship? It’s not working, but it’s extremely annoying!

Well, seeing as how I'm still very exhausted, this post will have to be brief. I shall revert back to a good ol' college term paper outline, and bullet the highlights. You can thank me later.

• The drive up to Austin was frustrating. Thank goodness we had Austin natives to guide us. Damn those One Way streets!
• Never go to a restaurant on the night of a UT Longhorns home game. You'll hate the color orange (fine, burnt orange) and you'll not eat until about 2 hours after you arrive.
• Don't ask the staff of the Hula Hut anything. They don't know.
• Eat there anyway, because the food was really good and it's right on the lake...what a view (especially for fellow romantics)!
• When you book a hotel for 2 people, make sure to have the other 5 people staying in said room wait outside, you know, so as not to appear suspicious.
• Don't sing along to the Rastafarian-esque music in the taxi. It's just not cool with the driver if a white girl is bellowing out "Make cocaine leeeeegal, yeah!"
• Austin bars are now smoke-free. My eyes and contacts thank the government for that.
• A guy that wanted to buy my friend a drink ordered her a "Grey Goose Vodka". He was mocked by the bartender when she retorted, "Um, those are the same thing". Tsk.
• I forgot how much I love to dance, and hate when I have to supress my urge to *ahem* get down.
• The Drink and the Library are 2 quaint bars (both featured in the The Real World: Austin) that I rather liked. Of course, I was drinking Long Island Iced Teas, so I pretty much would have liked any old place on the majestic 6th.
• DON'T listen to your girlfriend when she's trying to convince you to go to a party on the 15th floor of the Omni hotel...even if it IS like the "penthouse" (or so she says).
• Apparently, cab drivers (who speak a limited amount of English) don't like when you take a picture with a flash in their taxi. Normally (see: soberly) I would have known that. Sorry Mr. Cab Driver.
• Never underestimate the amount of fun you can have in a hotel room with 6 other people playing drunk Uno and TRYING to play drunk "Presidents and Assholes" with, you guessed it, the Uno cards. (Towards the end, everyone was just saying things like "Drink. Drink for not believing in my powers" and such).
• You really can laugh unbelievably hard at something you're not even sure is funny or not. And that's one of the greatest feelings you can ever have.
• Kerby Lane may be famous and all, but their system of getting people their tables is less than effective. They needed a bullhorn. Or someone smart to run the place. Either way, it didn't change the fact that we waited about 2 hours to eat, and I was getting that "Uh oh, gonna be sick" feeling by the time my food arrived.
• Homefries are one of my new favorite foods.
• Friends can sleep in the oddest positions in the back of your car when they've been sleep deprived.
• Thinking that Sunday is a good day to close off a major highway that takes me to my lovely apartment because people won't be out and about is completely wrong. I hate construction.
• A night in Austin with some of your best friends should be experienced by everyone. I hope Nic had a great birthday.
• The only thing that would have made this weekend trip complete is if my darling would have been there to experience it with me.

And so, friends, those are the major highlights of my weekend in Austin. Did I spend too much money? Of course. Was I frustrated at some of the events that unfolded? Sure. Would I do it all over again. You bet your sweet bippy.

And a very special CONGRATULATIONS to one of my best friends, Kate, and her new *fiance* Adam. They are one of those couples that you look at and say "I hope I have that one day". Love them a lot.

Sorry guys, this post will be boring, unintelligent, non-thought provoking, and downright unnecessary. But, seeing as how it's (almost) the weekend, I won't have a chance to update because things will be so busy! Well, not the whole weekend, just Saturday.

See, Nic(orina), like me, is delighted to draw out her birthDAY to a birthMONTH. So, despite the fact that her actual birthday was this past Wednesday, we're going up to Austin to do a little celebratin' 6th Street style.

Tomorrow I will be preparing for the day. You know, picking out the most suitable outfit...something classy but sexy. The only really good thing about the weather now is that it's so warm at night that you don't have to lug around a bulky jacket and keep dibs on it at every place you swarm.

We're going to leave my apartment at around 6:15PM and head up to this "Mexonesian" restaurant where I'm sure there will be at least an hour and a half long wait. See, here in Texas, the UT Longhorns are playing their second to last...game of some sort...and it's a home game, and since they're Austin's home college team, there will be countless burnt orange and white clad Longhorn fans taking up OUR streets on OUR night! Damn them and their college football! Well, it should at least allow for some really crazy (see: drunk) characters to poke fun at throughout the night.

After dinner, it's down to not the 5th, not the 7th, but the infamous 6th Street. We will visit a bar called Touche and drink some Flaming Dr. Peppers, then head over to some other packed club and get more random and expensive cocktails, and when all the partying has been had, when some members of our party are no longer able to stand, we will hitch a taxi ride back to our hotel. To sleep it off.

We'll wake up and go to some place called Kirby's (sp?) for an amazing breakfast (so I hear), then head back home Sunday late morning to sleep off the remains of the night before. Good times WILL be had by all.

So, if you're in the Austin area on Saturday night, look for the only group of people not wearing some sort of Longhorns paraphernalia. That'll be us, and I might by you a drink.

I think this trip to Austin will be just what the doctor ordered. I have been exhausted/pensive/drained/frustrated a lot this week, so a night of good food and unwinding with great friends will surely snap me out of this poor mood I've been in! Be back Monday with updates!

Here’s something I have been pondering:

Do you believe in “opposites attract” or “birds of a feather flock together” when it comes to significant others?

I think I was always a strong proponent of “birds”, but because of my current relationship, I am finding that differences are not always something that will doom your relationships to failure, as I had the tendency to believe.

For example: my darling and I have sent each other several CDs (yes, the newest version of a Mixed Tape). I put on his some of my most favorite and meaningful songs, as well as incorporated a few that I thought would suit his musical palate, based on what I knew about him. He sent me some really entertaining songs that were completely new and foreign to me, and then again sent me CDs of meaningful songs, random songs, and songs appropriate for driving. I can’t get enough of the distinct sounds from Over There, which is a good indication for me that occasionally stepping out of my comfort zone is beneficial.

We have contrasting opinions on religious issues, television, reading (as in, he likes to and I find it hard to finish one book in 9 months), and several other things. This frightened me at first. Could I really be compatible with someone so divergent from myself? Could I really accept the fact that he’s different from me on Point A, B, and C? Would that mean that I was sacrificing my values or standards and giving into his? Yes, yes, and no. What I have found is that our differences make me happy. Although, yes, sometimes I feel like a fool for him having more knowledge of US history than I, it gives me the desire to learn more and understand why he’s so interested in certain things. I think oftentimes I snub something merely because I was too lazy to learn about it (hellooo ignorance!), or it doesn’t strike my fancy. But when someone sheds light on a subject, spins it in a new and interesting way that makes me want to inquire more, I start to value the diverse aspects of that person.

Furthermore, if you are with someone who’s quite similar to you, sure, you might be able to decide on a movie quicker, but does it afford you the opportunity to express and investigate anything different? Well, that’s not fair to say, actually. As you move and grow and mature into a relationship, you have to experience new issues together, from which varying opinions may surface. But are you able to open each other’s eyes to new and interesting experiences, subjects, and ideas? I used to think I wanted to be with someone who paralleled me. When that exact relationship presented itself and I entered into it, I found that it was a complete disaster. The experience was like dating myself, which I KNOW I couldn’t do! Now, being with someone who mirrors me on several important issues but still has dissimilar interests and opinion than me, I can fully appreciate the other side of the coin, so to speak.

I think you need someone who balances you out. I’m a worrier, he’s composed. I’m impatient, he’s more serene. I tend to act on my emotions, he shows me a way to handle a situation which won’t have my regretting my actions a day later. Balance. Gotta have it.

It’s crazy what you continually learn if you periodically step outside that warm, comfy bubble of self-protection. Says I.

Chance Bradley!

I know I'm breaking my "one post per day" rule, but I just had to let y'all know that my cousin had her baby today! It's been a hard pregnancy on her, but he's out and healthy, with a head full of blonde hair!

This is a very significant event in my cousin's life (and the life of her family). On Memorial Day of 2004, my cousin, her husband, their 11 year old son and 4 1/2 year old daughter were headed to Rockport for a vacation, when a stupid 21 year old girl in the opposite flow of traffic couldn't WAIT to get to where she was going, so tried to pass 2 other cars. She couldn't make it around, however, and was headed right for my cousin's SUV. They both took evasive action, and my cousin-in-law ended up swerving into the median, flipping the Expedition. He suffered a large gash on his head, my cousin had a few cuts and some neck injuries, my 11 year-old second cousin was in critical condition, and the little 4 1/2 year old girl died on the way to the hospital.

The little boy, after a long time, recovered, but still has pain from the scar tissue. Because that family is so strong in the Lord, they somehow managed to pull through losing their only daughter, but not without a great deal of tears and unmanagable days (still). They wanted another child, and seeing as how my cousin is about 35 years old, they didn't have a leisurely amount of time to sit around and wait. So, a few months later, they announced that they were pregnant, which was a great miracle.

Nine months later, here's their new son. I know that they were hoping for a girl, and when they found out they were going to have another boy, they both cried, but were happy that God had given them another child to raise in such a loving home.

So, I welcome to the world Chance Bradley--a baby that will receive more love and kisses than he'll know what to do with!

Tomorrow is one of my best friend’s birthday! Nic(orina) is turning the big 2-6! Celebrations will transpire, complete with loads of food, drinks, and a trip to Austin that will assure me coming back with some funny/scary/embarrassing stories to share with y’all.

I have always loved my birthday even though I’m not really sure why. I have never done anything extremely special for the occasion. Even my 21st—the birthday which makes it legal for me to consume alcoholic beverages and is celebrated by people every day with wild parties and assured alcohol poisoning for at least ONE person—was not that spectacular. I went down to the Riverwalk and had some drinks with my boyfriend (at the time) and some friends. I did get to wear a tiara though…mmm, princessy!

Now, of course I’m biased because it’s MY birthday, but I really couldn’t think of a better time in which to be born. I made my way into this crazy world in May, probably the closest to a “Spring” season you could get in Texas. The weather is often very beautiful, and of course, the flowers are blooming and trees are budding and all that flowery nonsense. I love it!

Other advantages of being born in May: when you’re in elementary school, your birthday occurs RIGHT at the end of the year, so you can have a party and know that summer is just around the corner. However, you’re still in school, so you can have all the attention from fellow classmates fawning all over you because you’re the birthday girl and it’s your ONE DAY of fame! Homeroom mothers make you cupcakes—I LOVE cupcakes! You can also have a swimming party, because it’s hot enough around that time to splish splash in a pool. The possibilities for birthday fiesta fun in May are endless.

When we lived in Lytle we had one of those 3 foot above-ground swimming pools (hey, they were completely cool at the time!). I think I had a Wuzzles swimming party once, and I remember I invited some girls over from school. One of them was always vying for “Best Friend Status” with me (even though she didn’t like me…makes sense, I know. That’s how elementary school girls’ minds work) and so she got me like, an outfit or something. But this other girl I invited got me a TON of cutesy stuff, and I have this picture of Girl #1 giving Girl #2 the meanest death-to-you glare you could ever see on an 8 year old’s face. Seriously, I thought she was going to jump here by the Slip ‘n’ Slide later. Good times.

Since then, nothing too important for my special day. I mean, yes, my parents have done the whole cake/cards/presents thing every year, but I’ve never really gone anywhere or had a surprise party or anything. No, this is not a “woe is me” post, just an observation. I’ll be turning 25 this year and THAT will be an incredibly special birthday because I will be in London celebrating with my darling! That will make up for the 20 some odd years I’ve been bored on my birthday.

Any pre-birthday monetary donations to help fund my way over to London will be accepted and appreciated.

And that’s about all I got. Sorry for the lag time between posts, I’ve been in kind of a funk lately. Think I’m pulling out of it though, and will be back to normal in no time!

Trishy's blog got me thinking about something that I have been wrestling with for a very, very long time. Though I may try to deny it, this is an issue that stares me in the face every morning I wake up, and rests beside my head every night I go to sleep.


Basically, my faith in God is very shaky right now.

I can't even say why, really, everything in my life seems to be going really well. Aside from a few glitches at work, my job is rewarding, I have wonderful friends whom I dearly love, an amazing boyfriend, and a very loving family. And yet, when I think about God, my first reaction is a big, resounding "Meh..." and a shoulder shrug.

I've been a Christian since I can remember, one of those kids who grew up in a Christian home and I learned how to pray practically before I could speak. I know jealousy is frowned upon in the Bible, but I was always envious of those people that had really powerful testimonies like:

"I was a drug using prostitute and it was only after a brush with death that God really pulled me out of my harmful ways."

That just wasn't me. When people asked me how I became a Christian, I would just say, "I dunno, just always been one, I guess". No, I don't have to have a jaw-dropping story to go with that; being a Christian is enough for me, and I thank God that I DIDN'T have to go through something incredibly sad and tragic before I started a relationship with Jesus. But I can't help feeling that my relationship with Him has gone from "lukewarm" to "barely existent".

I know that even Christians doubt God now and then. We have questions for Him that we won't have answers to until we meet Him face to face. But now, I don't know, I'm just starting to not SEE Him or FEEL Him anywhere in my life. It's like I'm phasing Him out, but I have no good reason why.

I'm not one of those Christians that shouts praises and raises their hand when singing hymns in church. Nothing wrong with that, but that's just not me. I share my faith with people on a more intimate level. I have always been a big believer in the idea that if God wants me to share something with someone, He'll put me in the situation and help me with the words. Because Lord knows I haven't been a dedicated or diligent Bible reader.

Example of what discourages me: My sister and brother in law were at a picnic in a park for my cousin's birthday. Out of nowhere, this guy comes up to my brother in law and asks him if he knows the Lord.

"Yes," my brother in law answers, finding it a bit strange but being polite nonetheless.

"What does it mean to YOU to be a Christian? Do you know if you're going to Heaven? HOW do you know? What if you're not?"

Bombarded. Inappropriate. My sister kindly tells the man, "We're sorry, we're kind of in the middle of a birthday party here" to which he replies, "Ah, I see...too busy for God." Those kind of people really make me mad.

I don't know what I'm trying to say. Maybe I should have gathered my thoughts before I started to write. I guess the bottom line is, I know God will never leave me. I know that because I have been told it over and over again. And even though I know deep down in my soul that that statement is true, I just can't FEEL Him around me anymore.

I blame myself for this. Have I taken an active role in seeking Him out? No. Have I been lazy and put t.v. watching in front of reading the Bible or learning more about Him? Yes. Have I prayed? On and off. I pray for those that I love, those that are closest to me, but I just have this feeling that I'm not doing it right. No, there's no "right" way to pray...but I just feel like I'm going about it all wrong.

SIGH. I'm just really confused, about a lot of things. I'm going to have to start making some really, really big decisions in my life...jobs, locations, love, sacrifices, heartache, happiness, all important decisions. And I KNOW that the only way to end up being happy with my life is to fully trust God with all this. But how does a control freak let go, and NOT worry about falling and crashing to the floor with a sickening "thud". You just have faith. Yep, there's that word: "FAITH".

I just don't know what to think or how to see God anymore. It's funny, because NOW I feel like that, and yet, when I talk to someone about my faith in Him, I feel myself getting really passionate about what I believe. I suppose the main issue here is, I don't want to become dedicated to reviving my faith and relationship with God just to be disappointed when I don't see a change. But, if you seek Him earnestly, won't there be an inevitable change? Ah, good question.

Seriously, readers, my mind whirls daily because of this ONE topic. Granted, it's a pretty major one, but sometimes, all I'm left with is a headache, and am no futher along then when I started.

I'm just all dried up from being afraid of giving God my all.

(I apologize if this topic is too heavy or not applicable to some people. But it's MY blog and I'll write what I want...if that's alright with you.)

This morning I witnessed a car accident. This guy was not patient enough to wait in his OWN lane, so he came barreling down the "turn only" lane and smashed into an innocent car that was trying to get out of an intersection. And the guy whose fault it was--HE was the one who looked pissed! I was so mad, but in shock because I had never seen an accident actually happen before. Plus, the cars were blocking the pathway to the road I needed, so I had to concern myself with finding an alternate route. Seriously, we need a light at this intersection.

In relaying the story to my co-workers, I realized that it's been a year ago this month (well, October) since I totalled Little Red (my cute little Honda Accord I had for several years). I was in rush hour traffic going to the juvenile detention center for work, stupidly looked down to change a CD, and rear-ended the car in front of me. I seriously didn't think I was going fast at all (we were at creep-along speeds) but the damage that was done to my front end was crazy! You would have thought I was going 60 MPH! I think I was told, though, that cars are meant to give like that to protect you. I don't really see the logic in that, but I was so upset when it happened that I took whatever comfort I could get. My car was totaled, which resulted in me purchasing Sunburn. Sunburn got her name after a mysterious melanoma-like disease spread all over her body after heavy rain and then glaring sunlight, resulting in her clear coat peeling, much like...you guessed it, a sunburn. God bless her, though, she's a great car.

What really got my goat about my first ever accident one year and 16 days ago was, the man whom I had hit, despite my hysterical crying and shaking, was incredibly put out that I had rear-ended him (doing no damage to his car) and caused HIM to rear-end the SUV in front of him (his fault; he shouldn't have been that close to the other SUV). And do you know what he told me as we were exchanging insurance information?

"You think you've had it bad. This is the second accident I've been in today. I had one earlier this morning."

Hmm...Me, an innocent girl who's never been in a traffic accident or had a ticket before versus him, who had two accidents under his belt just in THAT day. Suspicious I was.

But I still got sued.