Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Chiaroscuro

Hey. It's been a while.

I'm sorry.

I know that I don't need to say that I'm sorry to you. I know that I don't need to explain why I've been gone, or how I've been feeling, or how I am today.

These days, there are so many more Good Days than Bad Days.

But oh. There are days like today where it just feels like I have overdosed on joy for all my friends about potential new jobs and possible new places for new lives and newborn babies and new engagements and I am so happy. I am so damn happy for everyone. And then I turn and look on my life and I see so little of the Big Joys for myself and I just...

I get so sad. Because everything they have is something that I don't. That I'm not even close to having. And it just throws everything into stark relief.

I know it isn't a race.

But I'm so tired of feeling like I'm standing still.

Friday, June 29, 2012

Stick Your Hand Into The Fire


(The following post was written on July 6, 2011.) 
This year, for the first time, I spent the Fourth with John and his daughter. We fed the little one ice cream for breakfast and took her swimming at midday, the sun scorching hot where I sat on the only towel we brought and dangled my feet in the water, watching how how intimately she and John worked together to help her practice swimming, and then later I watched her wearied form draped over his strong arms slicing through the water, a cut healed instantly. And they were a they. I didn’t have much to do with it. With them. But I cheered her on poolside as she faced her fears and jumped into the deep end, into her father’s arms, although I am still the girl who only comes over on weekends to snarfle fuzzy cat bellies and draw decorations to tape on walls for the little one’s imaginary parties and hold hands with John while we watch Leverage.
I felt…so foreign there. That’s the best word to describe it.  Because they were a theycontained in two, complete and perfect in themselves.

Twilight came, as it does (although never soon enough on the Fourth of July) and we rushed to see fireworks back in town. A thirty minute drive. It was already 9:00. We weren’t going to make it.
Halfway there at an exit onto a major road I see a brilliant burst of color and a bit of open land. Here, I said. Here is good. So we parked and tumbled out and John grabbed the provisions from the back that I’d begged him to get at Kroger and we hefted the little one onto the truck bed and shared a pack of Nutter Butters between the three of us, just like my parents and I did as a child, and then suddenly, fleetingly all of us were a wea fragile nucleus of joy forged from darkness and fire.
I don’t know quite how this happened but
I’ll take it.
***


The one year anniversary of that Fourth has crept up on me and I find myself going back to my dog-eared bookmark of that memory. That day was the first time that I really felt that I could have a family, this family, this small and mighty thing. 
A lot changes in a year.
You know when you hear something and something inside you, some bearing that you have, just...shifts?
He said he didn't want more children. Shift.
Because as much as I wanted her to be enough, she wasn't enough. I wanted a baby. Our baby.   To complete our family. I dreamt of a little boy with his smile. I dreamt of the four of us eating breakfast together on Sunday mornings. I dreamt that John would sing our children to sleep, his low, soft voice stirring all the strings of my heart.
I wanted a baby so badly I would pluck the stars from the sky.
I wanted a life with him so badly I would move all of the planets in all of the heavens to have it be so.
No, he said. I do not want more children. Shift.
And there, in that crux of a moment, I had to choose. 
I wanted her to be enough so, so badly.
But she wasn't enough.
***
I have tried to run. I have tried to hide from it, from myself and what I find in front of me. I have denied and fled and flung myself at everything but the problem at hand. I have tamped myself down tight, so tight, in the hopes that if I make everything smaller inside me, it will disappear altogether. (Because, obviously, that has worked so well in the past.)
But the fact of the matter is: I am angry. I am sad. Like I was afraid of, I am finding it hard to keep my head above water.
I am scared.
But I am plunging headfirst into the fire because, unfortunately, the only way out is through.
So I'm not hiding, or running, or denying, or squishing all the vile things that bubble up from the depths of how much that I hate that this is my life now in the After, in the aftermath of my choice.
I am only feeling.
And it really, really sucks.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

And we have a contest winner!

Actually, winners.

I chose two, but it was really, really hard to only choose two because HOLY CRAP you guys are freaking hilarious. It was totally a little bit like Sophie's Choice. (I READ THE BOOK. I CAN MAKE THE REFERENCE.)

So, MLE and Tara! You guys won! I still haven't shopped for your prizes! I am the worst contest thrower IN THE HISTORY OF EVER.

DM me on Twitter (or, if it's more convenient for you (hahahaha, because an actual email is more convenient than Twitter! I crack my shit up sometimes.) you can email me at kdj003 at gmail dot com) with your address.

Thank you, everybody, for commenting with your slogans. Y'all are a hoot and a half and I'm now convinced that I know the funniest people on the Internet. Y'all are great.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Blogging questions, appointments with babies, why everything in the world is terrible, unintentional hilarity, AND A CONTEST.

IT IS A FULL DOCKET TODAY YOU GUYS.

***
I am not used to this back and forth thing, when it comes to blogging. It was never a conversation for me in the beginning. I mean, waaaaaaaaay back in 2004 when I had my first blog (since abandoned and deleted because DAMN, KID.) I did have people that commented occasionally but they were my friends. In school. Where I saw them every day. And the subsequent blog on tumblr was...not good for carrying on a discussion between people.

So, I'm asking for advice on this. Do you like when a blogger responds individually to your comment? Do you think that it weighs down the conversation/topic as a whole? How do you feel about a response being a couple days late (because of personal obligations or if I can't get to a computer)? Does this make you feel like you are left out or forgotten?  Do you care about this topic at all? Is there something I am forgetting to ask in here? If so, what? How can I make your time here more enjoyable?

I want this to be a place that you like, and I want to foster and develop friendships here, but I am in general a Nervous Over-thinking Person and a non-commenter. I am asking for your input on this because I value you. Yes, YOU.  I honestly cherish every note that y'all have taken the time out of your day to write me.

I would like you to know how exactly how much you mean to me, and I will do whatever is in my power show you.

***

If you follow me on Twitter you might have already seen this but one of my coworkers brought in his newborn great-grandson today and he was so squishy! And cute! And had the adorable neck folds! And big bright eyes and OMG THE CHEEKS.

AND THEN MY COWORKER TOOK HIM BACK TO HIS PARENTS BEFORE I COULD SNIFF HIS WEE HEAD.

UM, EXCUSE ME, SIR, BUT I HAVE A STANDING APPOINTMENT WITH ALL THE BABIES IN THE WORLD, EVER, FOR HEAD SNIFFING. DOES THE WORD "APPOINTMENT" MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?

Coworkers are really inconsiderate sometimes.

***

There's this thing that happened and it is so awful and I just need you to shudder along with me.
There was a piece of used gum wrapped in one of the pallets today and I BRUSHED AGAINST IT ACCIDENTALLY WITH MY NAKED HAND.
IT WAS STILL STICKY.
WE DIDN'T HAVE ANY CARBOLIC ACID AT WORK.


So basically now I have to:

  1. Cut off my hand.
  2. Run a DNA test on the piece of offending gum.
  3. VENGEANCE.
There is no other way, you guys. No other way. 

***

After blushing every time I think about the hose clamp thing all day today, I started thinking about the unintentionally hilarious things that I've heard people say over the years. There are a couple that popped to mind pretty much immediately but this one remains the funniest (to me. I am highly objective! Also, it's a Christian guy that this happened to, so I figure if he ever finds this blog he'll forgive me for the embarrassing story I'm about to tell.)

ANYWAY. When I was in middle/high school I was a Highly Active Church Youth. As is tradition we would go and do "retreats" which involved doing charity work, usually out-of-town. On this particular excursion we had a very, very long road trip to get to where we were going. And you know that wherever you have a long trip plus bored teenagers you are going to have a lot of car games. You know the ones: the Cow Game, the Licence Plate Game, Punch Buggy, Punch When You See Something Outside And If You Say Something That's Already Been Said You Totally Get Punched Twice Ahahahaha Loser. (That's the official name of that game, btw.)

In an effort to get us all to bond and be all kumbaya and shit, (and also, if I am being completely honest, he probably did this to get us to stop fucking wailing on each other.) Nate, our youth pastor, started the Name Game.

--Wait, what? You don't know the NAME GAME?! OK. GOD. I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW IT BUT
I WILL REFRESH YOU.

It GOES like THIS:

"Kammah Kammah
Bo Bama
Banana Fana
Fo Fama
Me My Mo Mahmah
KAMMAH!"

So, we are traveling around the big ole van, yelling out names for the person who should go next and singing songs for Joe and Allison and Chelsea and Tony and Chris etc, etc. when Nate, our youth pastor, pipes up with "CHUCK!"

We didn't have a Chuck in our group, you guys.

Everyone laughs because 1) we don't have a Chuck, and 2) we know what we will be made to sing if we sing a song for imaginary Chuck.

Chris didn't pay attention to the fact that we weren't singing.

From the back of the van we all can hear a hale and hearty "CHUCK CHUCK BO BUCK BANANA FANA FO FUCK."

And then he clapped his hand over his mouth and turned bright red and we all laughed until we almost peed ourselves. And then we requested songs from Chris for MITCH!

***

I found this refrigerator magnet today.

Guys. It is what my friend from high school, Shaye, would call a kidnap van. With the words "Old Town Locksmiths and Kids" printed on it. For it's name. On the magnet. Where it promotes it's business.

OLD TOWN LOCKSMITHS AND KIDS.

DO YOU, DO YOU SEE, HOW COMPLETELY AWFUL AND INAPPROPRIATE AND HILARIOUS THAT IS?

Do you also see something missing in this photo? (I was covering up their address so you wouldn't send them fan/hate mail for their name.)

Do you SEE that it is missing an awful, inappropriate, hilarious SLOGAN?

You guys, we are obligated as THE INTERNET to make a slogan for this business. THIS IS WHAT WE DO.

I'm challenging you to come up with one and post it here in comments. Come up with as many as you want; I'm not worried about having to sift through a trillion entries to judge. Bring me your dark. Bring me your funny. Bring me your wit.

I'll choose my favorite next Wednesday, June 27th, and send off a little prize to you for your brilliance. I can't promise that it will be awesome, but it will probably be a little bit weird. And maybe from Target? I DON'T KNOW, I'M STILL FIGURING THIS WHOLE THING OUT, GET WRITING.

P.S. Please don't forget about giving me advice and feedback on blogger/reader relationships and what you would like from me. I would really, really appreciate it.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

In which I am an asshole. A lot.

A vacation recap is coming, I swear, with pictures. (Not that you CARE, but you should know that one of the stories involves me being mocked mercilessly by a tour guide, so that will probably be enjoyable for you.)

But before I get to that because I am lazy and don't want to sort through all the pictures because that is WORK I have a couple quick things from the last few days to tell you.

***
Me to friend, "I am SO MAD that [bad thing] happened on [season finale of favorite show that we always discuss with each other whenever we meet].
Friend: "...I haven't seen that episode."
Me: "I AM GOING TO THROW MYSELF ON A SWORD NOW."


Seriously, guys. There is NO WAY that I don't come out of that story looking like an asshole.


NO WAY.


COME UP WITH ONE, AND I WILL GIVE YOU A PONY.


***

Confession: I make "your mom" jokes. But only when they don't make any sense/aren't offensive in any way. And usually when someone can't find something needed at work. Because I think it's funny to be nonsensical.

I'm telling you all this to set you up for this scenario:
An employee from another store, a guy I don't know really well, but well enough to joke around with, asked me where he might find the hose clamps at the store we were inventorying.
Not being from that store, and thus not familiar with it, I make a joke.

"YOUR MOM is a hose clamp."

...Do you see where exactly I went wrong with that? Because I did not. Until it came out of my mouth.

Yes, I did turn a SPECTACULAR SHADE OF RED.

Yes, I DID walk away. QUICKLY.

YES, I CONTINUE TO BE AN UNINTENTIONAL ASSHOLE.

***

My mom and I were talking about the planets because TJ (Read. her. immediately. if you aren't already.) was talking on twitter about how we are so old that we'll have to tell our children that we used to have 9 planets and they were going to make fun of us (I would post a screenshot but I have NO IDEA how to do that on this operating system), and I was complaining to mom that Pluto was my FAVORITE because because it was so twee and I felt like I had to take care of it when I was little, all Little Prince-style.

And my mom goes, "Is that the one named after the dog?"

And I'm all, "ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW."

And she's all "No? Not the dog?...Was that Goofy then?"

And then I had an APOPLEXY and I HAD TO ASK MY MOTHER, THE WOMAN WHO GAVE BIRTH TO ME, "WHAT DO THE NAMES OF ALL THE PLANETS IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM HAVE IN COMMON."*

She answered "Ummm, they are named after razors, candy bars, and cars?...So, product placement?"

I'M FUCKING ADOPTED YOU GUYS.**



*She guessed Greek gods, finally. WRONG, MOTHER. ROMAN.

**MY REAL MOTHER IS OBVIOUSLY A PRINCESS. WHO MARRIED AN ASTROPHYSICIST.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

A Song For What I Love

I fell in love with Texas so long ago that I don't remember it. It was probably in Galveston, my feet curling into the sand, my fingers groping for seashells, the waves erasing everything before or since. My love developed before I knew how to talk. It was a blind thing, this adoration, the unknowing clasp to the heart of a child who knew of nothing else.

Like all first raptures, it slowly faded.

Until last week. In spending all your time with only yourself and the land in front of you for company, you tend to find the crux of things. I found that I still had a passion for my home of these many years. It just took a change of scenery, a second honeymoon.

I would wind through the back roads in obscure counties and catch sight of craggy rocks of Hill Country and sit dumbstruck at the beauty of the state I call home; the mounds of earth would clothe themselves in graceful, bending wildflowers of ivory, sundrop gold, and plumes of violet and I would be tempted to make myself an alluringly fragrant crown. (I didn't, couldn't even, take any pictures of this, not because I didn't have a camera I could work, which I did, but because you never love a photograph even half as much as you love a half-faded memory.)

Eventually, I felt my heart start to glow and my soul try to escape out of my mouth and experienced that happy terror just before the plunge into the abyss.

That is the only way I know how to describe falling in love.




Love is a distant laughter in the spirit.
It is a wild assault that hushes you to your awakening. 
It is a new dawn upon the earth,
A day not yet achieved in your eyes or mine,
But already achieved in its own greater heart.
--Kahlil Gibran

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Misadventures

Because I am a stupid person who didn't take care of my eyes (DON'T SLEEP IN YOUR CONTACTS. NO, SERIOUSLY. JUST DON'T. I MEAN IT.) I had to go to the optometrist yesterday. I know that I didn't tell ya'll this, but this is the THIRD TIME in THREE WEEKS that I've had to go and have my EYES all FIDDLED WITH.

(THEY HAD TO PUFF MY EYES WITH AIR AND I AM NOT EVEN GOING TO TELL YOU WHAT THEY HAD TO DO WITH MY EYELID BECAUSE EVEN THOUGH I WAS THERE AND IT REALLY ISN'T ALL THAT BIG A DEAL, REALLY, IT MAKES ME A LITTLE BIT NAUSEOUS JUST THINKING ABOUT IT, OK?)

While I was there and the (lovely, kind, patient, friendly) doctor was using MEDIEVAL TORTURE DEVISES on my EYES, I also got them dilated.

To those of you lucky enough to not have terrible, horrible, no good, very bad eyesight, this is where the optometrist puts some sort of drop in your eyes to make them very, VERY wide. And then in about 20 minutes the entire world goes blurry and you can't see shit for 3 to 4 hours.

Thankfully, I had my mom come with me because my mom is awesome and long-suffering (Hi, Mom, if you ever find this blog! I love you!) and she could drive me home because dude. DUDE. We tried to do some shopping while we were waiting for my eyes to dilate fully (my optometrist is in Walmart! It is both very convenient and a terrible situation because I CAN BUY ALL THE THINGS THERE.) and I kept picking up things to try and read the labels and I kept having to stretch my arm further and fuuuuurther and fuuuuuuuuuuurther to try and get them into focus and you know what is hard? Trying to be farsighted when you are significantly nearsighted! Eventually I just yawped "MY ARMS ARE NOT LONG ENOUGH FOR MY EYES." and then I kind of slumped over. In defeat. Because a $7 bottle of sunscreen THAT I JUST WANTED TO KNOW HOW OFTEN I NEEDED TO APPLY IT had BESTED me with its twee print.

It is a Bad Day when a bottle of sunblock makes you feel like a failure.

There was another Bad Moment when they gave me the temporary sunglasses that you get when you have your eyes dilated and they were NOT these snazzy ones that you roll on your face and make you feel like this BAMF, but were some bullshit, flimsy ass crap with ear pieces (EAR PIECES!) that 1) were not intended for Ladies With Large Amounts of Hair, 2) didn't make me feel space-agey AT ALL. 

(THOSE WRAP-ON SUNGLASSES WERE THE BEST PART OF THE EYE DOCTOR AND THEY DID AWAY WITH THEM. AND THEN! THEY HAD THE GALL TO TELL ME TO MY FACE THAT THE NEW ONES WERE "UPGRADES".

"Upgrades", my ass. I want to pretend that I work on the USS Enterprise.)

Anyway, my eyes are fine now and I've been cleared to wear contacts again. YAAAAAAAAAY, STEROID DROPS!!

P.S. Maybe it's just that I've been wearing glasses exclusively for the last month and they were block-ish and figure distracting or something, but has my face...always been this round? And puffy?

P.P.S. Probably.

P.P.P.S. I will, however, keep you updated on this important situation as it develops.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Update, Musings, Confessions, and a DESPERATE PLEA FOR ADVICE

The update: My coworker sent me a picture and DEAR GOD he actually does look like Chris Hemsworth, except brunette. I would post the picture but 1) that would be weird, 2) that would be wrong without express permission, 3) THE PICTURE IS MINE, ALL MINE, AND YOU CAN'T HAVE IT BECAUSE THEN YOU WOULD WANT HIM AND HIS PERFECT, SULTRY EYES TOO.

***

It would be really rad to live like in "Killer Queen" and it is kind of a new item on my life list and, no, I don't know exactly how I will become "dynamite with a laser beam" but I think that it might involve a foray into physics and I AM OK WITH THIS.

Also, now I want cake.

***

I was going to go to Half Price Books on Sunday (they were having a sale for Memorial Day) and so I got on my Goodreads profile to see what I had marked in my "to-read" list because if I DON'T have a list I go in there and have no stinking idea of the author's names and then I can't find anything that I'm looking for.

Anyway, I got on Goodreads and then I got on my Nook's shop because I do enjoy a lot of classical literature and Barnes and Noble really does a bang up job in their selection of classics that are either free or only a couple dollars. I will always enjoy a physical copy of a book (the battery life goes on forever! save print! books smell nice!) but "free" or "only a couple of dollars" will ALWAYS trump "half price plus an extra 20% off".

You guys. I bought 173 books. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY THREE. Albeit most of those were in bundles of 25 or 50 for a dollar (ONE. ONE DOLLAR. Which is PENNIES per book and I know that I was never all that amazing at economics but HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE?!?) but still.


ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY THREE.


It's like a went into some kind of FUGUE state.

(I did pay full price for The Song of Ice and Fire series because I had to have it. And then my bank called and was all "fraud? Because everything else is under five dollars?"

And I was all "I JUST REALLY LOVE DAENERYS, OK?"

***

My last scheduled vacation is coming up at the end of next week. The observant among you might have realized that I JUST GOT BACK from vacation. Yeah. I forgot that "May" is right there next to "June" when I scheduled it. The coffee must have been defective that day.

So, in order to not lose the time that I worked my ass off for, I'm out for another five days. I'm going on a road trip to Fredericksburg. And here's the thing, Internet: I have never really traveled alone. I have either flown alone (twice. And those times have only been in the last 6 months.) and been meeting amazing people in order to hang out with them, or I have done small road trips with past boyfriends.

I have never had a vacation that was just me. I have also never driven more than 20 miles away from home.

There's where you come in my lovely, beautiful friends. I need you to tell me what I should do for an awesome roadtrip. I know that I'll need to buy a new GPS unit because my old one no longer talks (the bitch) and I NEED the talky part. I would use my phone but service in the past has been...shoddy. No offense, but I don't want to put my life and sanity in Sprint's hands.

I think I'll probably hit the local wildflower farm and drive up to Enchanted Rock for a hike (look at me seeming all outdoorsy!). But everything else? I have no idea. It's basically small towns down there in Hill Country (which I like because if I wanted to eat at a Chili's and go to Target I would freaking do that here) but San Antonio is an hour or so away, at least according to Google. What makes a road trip fun for you? Do you stop at every World's Biggest along the way? Do you stay in the small towns and absorb the adorable? Do you go for the big cities every chance you get? What do you do if you get bored of yourself?

Really, I'm looking for any and all advice you have on this, Internet. Everything from snacks I should bring to awesome music to sing to in the car (I've taken to pretending that I'm this lady whenever I'm singing in the car and I can't look back and see my accompaniments because I am concentrating on the road and what do you want me to DIE?!).

PLEASE, GIVE ME ANY ADVICE THAT YOU HAVE.

Friday, May 25, 2012

I obviously have a lot of FEELINGS about this.

I was discussing...something with one of my new coworkers today and no, I'm not being coy about what I was talking about, I honestly cannot remember and this is probably only partly because I only listen to about 1/3 of the crap that comes out of my mouth and the other part is the thought that I should maybe start taking ginkgo biloba or something.

So we are discussing...something. Aliens, maybe? The impending doom because we live in the year 2012? (Which, to both, I say a hearty HA! But that is another story.) And...somehow we got onto the topic of Nerdfighteria and how I am a proud Nerdfighter. And being a Nerdfighter basically means that I am made of awesome and also cheese. And look, Kelly is a member of the community (and John Green PROPOSED to her for Phil, who is now her amazing husband!!) and I introduced Erin to the vlogbrothers videos (and if you only watch one of those 23 videos I earnestly enjoin you to let it be this one because after months of watching hundreds of videos IT IS STILL MY FAVORITE.) but I don't know anyone else in real life, and certainly nobody that lives close to me, who is a member. So when my coworker said "Oh. My roommate is one of those." MY JAW HIT THE FLOOR. And then the excited arm-flailing started.

And I'm just firing questions at this poor guy about his roommate about how is he made of awesome? and how does he decrease worldsuck? and is he a Whovian too?! (Answer sheet: will get back to me, doesn't know, has seen episodes and seemed to enjoy them. BOYS ARE NO GOOD AT RECON WORK, YOU GUYS.) And then my coworker is all, "Oh, and he is also really handsome."

Oh, really?

"Yeah. A lot of girls say that he looks like that guy Thor."*

OPEN WITH THAT. YOU ALWAYS OPEN WITH THAT.

I would be remiss if I forgot to tell you that I STARTED HYPERVENTILATING AT THIS POINT, AND NO, I AM NOT JOKING.

"But he has a girlfriend. And it's a real shame too because I think you two would hit it off really well."

And then I nearly cried. Because a Nerdfighter! Who looks like Thor! And who probably would think I'm pretty funny!

And that is IT, you guys. I AM BUILDING A ROCKET BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO LIVE ON THIS PLANET ANYMORE.



*I would climb Chris Hemsworth like a sex tree after bathing in the honey that drips off his Australian tongue. And those are only the things that are FIT TO PRINT.

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Peevish

Hooooooo boy! Today I am a Hormone Sack because of Approaching Mysterious Lady Things so I ate a truly unholy number of burritos (to quote Tumblr: "Humans have two hands. One hand for holding butts and the other for burritos.")(God, I love Tumblr.) and I've grabbed a wine glass full of cranberry juice because it makes me feel like a Fancy Lady. And those things are making me feel better but, Internet, I need you to listen for a minute because I need to bitch about something that got me irritated today. And granted, I'm irritated a lot of the time because of various reasons like oil subsidies, the fact that we still think it's ok to put human rights to a public vote, and that Fox cancelled Firefly after 14 episodes, the big jerky jerkfaces. But I don't want to talk about those things today. Today I want to talk about stupid jingles and their stupid slogans.

So we have a small time grocery chain in Texas called "David's Supermarket" and I hear their commercials on the radio all the time, ALL THE TIME, despite not having a store within a 50 mile radius of where I live, and yes I just checked. And that's fine. Radio has a long range. I understand that. But the song gets stuck in my head and the closing line is "DA-vids SU-PER-market! Where the SMILES are FRE-eeee". And everyone is supposed to think that it's all cute and charming and home-towny but it is in all actuality AWFUL and UNACCEPTABLE and I AM GOING TO TELL YOU WHY.

YOU GUYS. SMILES ARE ALWAYS MOTHERFUCKING FREE.

And this just IRRITATES me because they put it in their JINGLE and DO THE TERRIBLE JINGLE WRITERS NOT SEE THAT THEY ARE ALWAYS FREE? EVERYWHERE? IT IS A FREE SERVICE THAT PEOPLE IN CUSTOMER SERVICE DO TO ENCOURAGE REPEAT BUSINESS AND IT IS ALSO A NONVERBAL FORM OF COMMUNICATION THAT HUMANS (usually) USE TO CONVEY PLEASURE.

SMILES ARE FREE, JINGLE WRITERS. OTHERWISE THAT MAKES YOU SOME KIND OF BIZARRE SMILE PROSTITUTE.

(Which, come to think of it, that job actually wouldn't be all that bad, probably. I'd be a Liz Lemon.)(EVERY GIRL WANTS TO BE A LEMON.)

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Flit

This has somehow turned into The Year Of Four Vacations And It Is Only May, Who The Hell Am I Anymore? The me from five years ago would not even believe this shit. I mean, I can just...go? And travel? By myself? Adults do that. That is a grownup thing to do. They make plans and rent cars and go and do things in different cities (or countries if they are so inclined and have a valid passport and get...shots? I think there is probably a lot more that you have to do to go somewhere exotic (I live in Texas. EVERYWHERE IS EXOTIC.) but I don't know what all is entailed in that because I only went to Mexico once and it was only for dinner and we just...walked across the bridge. I still feel a little bit weird about this because I was, like, 14 years old and with twenty other youths and I was terrified that they were not going to let me back into Texas because I didn't have a driver's license. I remember silently begging immigration officials to let me back across the bridge so I could finish painting this lady's house with my church group and then I could go back home because I missed my mommy.)(They totally let me back into the country. It cost a quarter.)


THAT STORY STILL MAKES ME IRRATIONALLY ANXIOUS.

That was a long tangent-filled story (HELLO AND WELCOME TO MY BLOG.) so I'm starting a new paragraph.

Anyway, I went on vacation last week because back in February I met this lovely lady at a pajama party for Internet Ladies and we got along so swimmingly that we started up an actual friendship and she invited me to come and visit her. And HOLY CRAP, DID I HAVE FUN.

First off, Erin has the most adorable baby ever. I mean, seriously. Look at this child.
Her cheeks make uteri implode on the regular.
True story.
Ooooooohhhhh, man. I LOVE toddlers. Portable AND interactive! Easily distracted! Think you have performed hilarious stage magic when you make zerberts on their round little bellies! Treasure random items found around the house and that they then clutch in their fat little dimpled hands! Get really, really excited about balls! HELLO. TODDLERS ARE PERFECTION.

So, yeah. I spent a lot time with this baby and it was swell. (Also, I taught her a word: "down"! I was really, really trying for "rocket" but alas.)

And when we weren't chasing after this gal we were MAKING ALL MY DREAMS COME TRUE.

Well, not ALL. But certainly A VERY LARGE AMOUNT FOR 2 1/2 DAYS .

Oh. Hey. We're at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.
Just. Hanging out.
LIKE I HAVE WANTED TO DO SINCE I WAS THREE.
I am an unabashed nerd. I am also very-much a Museum Person. Being here was ALL OF MY FAVORITE THINGS (Art! History! Science! Gummi candy!) ROLLED INTO ONE.

Gummi space shuttles.
GUMMI SPACE SHUTTLES.
THIS PRODUCT ACTUALLY EXISTS. AND THEY ARE DIVINE.
The museum trip also graced me with the following picture but before I show it to you, could you do me a favor? It's not a huge favor or anything, like, SOLVE WORLD PEACE! and shit, but could you do me a solid and just close your eyes for a second and think of something serious and then when you are ready open your eyes and scroll until the next picture? Yes? Ok.





































BOOM. YOUR DAY JUST GOT MADE, SON.
You smiled even though I specifically asked you to think of something serious, didn't you? Thought so.

So, yeah. There was a miniature wind tunnel to show children the effects of wind resistance on flight and we walked past and I practically shouted "ERIN. STOP RIGHT THERE. YOU LOOK FABULOUS WITH A PERSONAL WIND MACHINE. I AM GOING TO TAKE A PICTURE."

Annnnnnd, then that picture came into the world and the angels wept from laughter.

Also, we fed the baby astronaut ice cream. And her wide eyed wonder pretty much mirrored my THIS PLACE IS SO AWESOME face.
I highly recommend the Smithsonian, especially if your companion is a baby who is obsessed with ABALLS.

ABALL!
We didn't just go to a museum, by the way. We also saw monuments.


And columny buildings that enjoy columns.

You can't really tell from this crappy cell phone picture, but everywhere you think you see a window, it is actually window flanked by columns. #ostentatious
And we went to the petting zoo!

I fed a kangaroo! YOUR FRIDAY IS INVALID. ALL OF THEM.
The way that Kristen Bell feels about sloths is how I feel about kangaroos. By the time we reached them I was literally vibrating with excitement.

We saw many other animals there and they were also cute. But not as cute as that kangaroo that I fed and secretly named Louise and was trying to figure out how to stuff in my purse. (IT WAS AN OVERSIZED PURSE. IT COULD HAVE HAPPENED. DON'T CRUSH MY DREAMS.)

This baby has NO FEAR when it comes to animals. NONE.

But maybe occasionally some suspicion.

 The coolest ladies.

There was delicious food with local beer (I maybe got a little drunk and told embarrassing, over-sharing stories. So, typical day? Minus the booze?) and a strawberry rhubarb crisp (what does rhubarb even TASTE like? I still have no idea and I ATE SOMETHING THAT HAD IT IN IT.) and a CHEESE PLATE. So fancy! And it was in a restaurant that had a working farmhouse attached to it! A working adorable-as-hell farmhouse!

Aside: the restaurant looks smaller from the outside than from the inside and I just kept wandering around drunkenly while trying to find the bathroom and mumbling "...It's bigger on the inside. Did I find a TARDIS?"

But mostly, even though I got to see and do amazing things (I also learned how to knit. Seriously, in those 2 1/2 days I checked more off my life list than I had in YEARS.) I just really enjoyed spending time with Erin, who is thoughtful, funny, gracious, and kind and her beautiful family. It has been a rough few months (more on THAT later, I'm sure. I am chatty.) and it was really affirming to see a marriage that was a real partnership. It legitimately gave me hope. (Erin+Kevin=IRL OTP forever and ever, amen.)

All in all? Best. Vacation. Ever.
 Ignore the weird thing my hair is doing ok?


P.S. Erin put a snake where I sleep. Because she is a Slytherin.