It's not easy being green

I somehow broke my coffee pot about a month ago. I don't know what happened but it is the third coffee pot to go down like this. I fill it with water, add the filter then coffee, press on and wait and wait and wait. No coffee. So I hit the on button a few times. On on on on on ON! No go. Then I unplug the pot and plug it back in On on on on. Nothing. "Another one bites the dust!" I say to D.

I pull out my handy dandy french press. "Well this is supposed to make better coffee anyway, so it will be fine." Only that requires me to boil water then add the water and wait at least four minutes which seems like a lifetime. After a few tries I get the method down pat. My favorite part is using the digital thermometer to ensure the proper temperature. I pride myself on being green since I don't use filters in the french press.

Then I realize that I use about a gallon of water rinsing the grounds out each morning and maybe it would be better if I just got a new coffee pot. Or maybe I am lazy and want to just push a button. But I do like the ritual of boiling the water and waiting for the perfect temp. I just need a new method of rinsing the ground out so I can actually be green and not just pretend.

Lucky me

You know doing this 30 posts in 30 days thing during the month of my birth has made me realize what a lucky girl I am.

Today I spent the day with my Mom celebrating my birthday. She took me to lunch, bought me gifts; two books (0ne about baking with chocolate that she insisted I must have), a dough scooper, and spring forms pans (I am very much on a baking kick right now). Oh and she also let me use her library card to check out a book on cd I've been wanting.

It was a great day, not just because of the all the spoiling, but because I got to spend some quality time with the Moms and it was a gorgeous day.

When I read over my previous blogs I think-Geez it's like birthweek instead of birthday.

Lucky me.

Sunday

Sundays are never long enough. After a busy morning of errands to run D and I took Chance for a walk. Then I went to class, got out at 5:30, went home, ate the gumbo D made for dinner and sat on the couch to relax before I began writing. Next thing I know D is waking me, "Honey, it's time for bed." What??

Fun

Tonight were going to party like it's my birthday. There shall be wine and cheese and bread and fire and fun. Yeah me.

lovely

My first day as 32 was quite lovely. Special coffee and Christmas cake, swing dance lessons, tapas, so many Birthday wishes. It is a good start. But I still don't like the sound of 32.

It's my birthday!

When I was a kid there was a Pumping Station beside the trailer where I lived. One of those small white brick buildings that the city maintains. I never knew what actually went on inside the station-all the neighborhood kids guessed it was so all of our toilets could flush at one time without causing an explosion.

I just knew it had a very long cement driveway that was perfect for riding bikes, roller skating, drawing with chalk, playing four square, it also was home base during hide and seek. Since it was beside my home all the kids would come over and play.

One day when I was about 9 a friend and I were on the station driveway. Our arms linked over each others shoulders, she had a skate on her left foot and I had a skate on my right foot. We only had one pair of skates between us and this was the best and most fun solution we could come up with.

Somehow during our skating adventure we started discussing time. I told her that if we just closed our eyes and snapped our fingers we would instantly be older. Not just a second older but cool older.- staying up past midnight older, wearing make-up older, driving a car older, kissing a boy older.

We snapped and snapped and snapped til our fingers were sore and the street lights came on and we had to go home, disappointed that time had let us down.

Now here I am 32 and I am pretty sure it was due to all that snapping.

Park it

"GO ALREADY! I'M TRYING TO PARK!" is what you would hear if you are inside the car with me and I am trying to parallel park and another car is behind me.

I don't know why. Maybe it's because I can't do one smooth parking motion but instead reverse and forward about ten times, check my mirrors, still not in the spot so I pull out and start all over again. Unless of course there is now a new car behind me. In which case I will speed off cursing like a sailor.

"For the love of Christ! Can't a girl just park a car without an audience?"

Forget a busy street with sidewalk cafes where people can watch my hideous attempt. Not going to happen. If there is not a spot at the end of the line where I can just pull in, I will drive around and around. If I am lucky enough to be driving with someone who is not parallel parking disabled I yell "Chinese fire drill!" and make them park the car.

D knows this routine already and just drives to any location where parallel parking is required. But D wasn't with me tonight and I had to parallel park and lets just say my Mom would have washed my mouth out with soap. (Sorry Mom but there was a huge line of cars behind me.)

I did manage to park to car though, after only 3 attempts and sweaty pits to show for it. Thank goodness it's fall and I could wear a sweater jacket.

Spare tire

I got dressed for the gym yesterday- I put on my black strecthy capri pants, (the ones with the paint mark on the butt because I wore them once while painting and backed into a wall but they are my favorite workout pants so I refuse to throw them out and instead have prepared a come back should anyway poke fun of me at the gym) my sports bra, my fluorescent orange workout shirt and jacket, laced up my shoes, put my hair in a pony tail.

It's the closest I have come to a work out in over a week. That's right last week I thought up an excuse every single day.

Monday- it's my day off!
Tues- I have class.
Wed- I tried to give blood, didn't have enough iron, but still ate the cookies.
Thurs-It's yucky outside and I should work on my writing.
Fri- Masquerade, Family dinner, help a friend make poison apples for Halloween.
Sat- It's Halloween.
Sun-The only day I have to relax with D (somehow he made it to the gym, I needed to straighten the house.)

That brought me back to Mon- It's my day off. Aha! So I started to see the pattern and I started to feel the fat bulging over my skinny jeans. Would anyone look at me and call me fat? Not without a kick to the shin. Do I know that I am more squishy than just a few months ago. Absolutely! I have fought this up and down battle my whole life.

So I made plans with a friend to run last night. It's harder to stand up a friend-though I have done it. No, I got in my car and I drove over to my friends. About half way there I had a hard time steering the car. I was almost there so I kept going. When I parked and got out-flat tire.

Freaking flat tire- pretty soon I'll have a spare tire!

NaBloPoMo

Alright, I'm going to give this years National Blog Post Month a shot; 30 Blogs in 30 days. What will I have to talk about every day? I have no clue, but it seems like a fun challenge. So here goes.

Last night D made some fabulous Brunswick stew and I decided to try my hand at bread knots that my step mom makes every year for Christmas. I was pretty amazed with myself. They came out soft on the inside and beautiful brown on the outside. All I could say was, "I can't believe I made good bread!" over and over. Which sounded more like "Wa ant leve wa ma goo bed" since my mouth was full of bread each time I said it. I was also able to make a huge batch of brown and serve rolls. Nothing crazy happened for once.

Well, besides leaving a wooden spoon in the mixer while it was running and
having it break in half and bend one of my mixer attachments shooting half of the spoon across the kitchen. Making D duck saying, "What the heck was that?"

"Sorry honey I turned to look at the recipe and the spoon broke"

"Ok. New rule. No leaving spoons in the mixer."

"Good one honey."

Then he helped me check the dough for splinters. Kneading dough is super fabulous. I don't know why anyone would want to use a bread machine, then the machine gets to do the fun part. I even gave D a shot at kneading though he didn't like the flour all over his hands I did see him smile while punching the dough.

Sunday

Sometimes I have to make myself breathe. Not the inhalation of oxygen breathe. But the realize what I am doing and relax breathe.

Like standing in my kitchen on a Sunday planning out a schedule of cleaning and chores and then it hits me it's Sunday... Relax already.

Late

Reasons that I am late in the morning. (Besides stopping to write silly blogs.) I do things like:

Step 1Take my hair tie out of my hair.

Step 2 fix my hair.

Step 3 proceed to spend 5 minutes looking for the hair tie. "I just sat you down!" look around look around "Where the hell did the damn thing go!" look around look around.

Might as well sip some coffee. Presto!! Hair tie under my cup of coffee. Guess I took a sip between step 1 and 2. Ahhhh! And now I'm really late.

Widespread Panic

D and I went to the Widespread Panic with Allman Brothers concert Wed. night. We went with his brother Stephen and sister in law Lo. Just hanging with them is always a fabulous time, so I was very excited.

It was a nice night, though chilly. The bands were a bit too heavy on the jam sessions for my taste, I like some lyrics to wrap my mind around. But I had a nice beer buzz and good company and so I was enjoying the evening.

The wonderful thing about concerts is even if the music is not as great as you hoped there are always tons of people to watch. Trust me, a hippie jam band provides more people to watch than you can shake a stick at (whatever that means). (Oh and Cheryl I saw your boyfriend a million times over and I so wished you were there to see him.)

So I am standing on the lawn, large beer in my right hand, slowly moving to the music. My eyes scanning the crowd and enjoying the show. Right in front of us are a little group of hippies. In particular two hippies that were jamming out. I'll call them Hippie one and Hippie two. Hippie one was a cute petite girl with long blond dreads wearing a baby doll paisley shirt over baggy jeans. Hippie two is a tall lanky boy with an Afro of blond curls sticking out from his hippie beanie, wearing a tie die t-shirt.

They were swaying to the beat, arms flailing, bending at the waist and back up again. (Think Elaine from Seinfield on Ecstasy). I am enjoying watching them and thinking they must have strong abs. Then Hippie two comes over to us, a cup in his right hand, he steps close enough that I can smell the fruitiness of his drink.

"Hey man, take a sip of this man, it's great," slurs Hippie two.

"No thanks," I reply

"No really. It's awesome. You have to try it. It's..uh let me find out what it is."

Then Hippie two walks over to consult Hippie one. Hippie one whispers in Hippie two's ear for quite a while. Hippie two tilts his head back and laughs. Then he walks back to me.

"Ok," Hippie two giggles

"Ok man, it's crazy but just trust me. It's Redbull and vodka and rum and Coke. It sounds bad but really it's awesome. Try some."

"No thanks really, I am drinking beer," I say

"Come on just take a sip, just take a sip man."

"No thanks."

"Come on. There's no acid in it I swear man," Hippie two laughs.

"No thanks," I say laughing.

Hippie two then proceeds to try and get everyone in my group to take a sip.

"There is no acid in here I swear. I swear."

No one is budging of course and Hippie two finally gives up and walks back to Hippie one. They take turns drinking from the cup and laughing. While our little group keeps mocking...

"There's no acid in it. I swear man."

Huh?

Me- Honey, I think I am going to ask for a flamethrower for Christmas.

D- A flamethrower!? (giving me the- you are insane look)

Me- Yeah, so I can make creme brulee.

D- (laughing) You mean a blow torch.

Me- What's the difference?

D- (still laughing) A flame thrower is a huge machine gun type weapon that shoots flames and causes explosions.

Me- Well that should make a great creme brulee

A's thought for the day

So apparently some people in this world say they are going to do something and damn if they don't actually do it, right when they said they would. That is mind boggling to me, especially since my path to accomplishment is much longer.

I came upon this discovery yesterday while visiting a friend. I was in his bedroom (he is gay and so it was perfectly acceptable) and I noticed all the decor around his room. He enjoys music so there were musical notes on the walls. There were pictures, recent pictures, in frames. There were colorful items hanging beautifully in all the right spots. It was amazing. He hasn't lived there for very long, almost a year. How is that all possible? Is it just because he is gay? Possibly, but I don't think so.

Here is my path to accomplishment. Think of wonderful idea to accomplish. Think about idea some more. Tell someone that I am thinking of an idea. Listen to their suggestions. Re-think about idea based on what that person said. Tell another person the new version of idea. Listen to their suggestions. Think again about idea. Decide it is time to plan how to actually accomplish idea. Tell people I am planning on completeing idea. Think about idea plan some more. Finally start to complete the idea, stop when half way finished. Show people the partially completed idea. Discuss how wonderful it will be when finished. Then maybe I will finish it. Maybe.

The fact that some people skip that whole process and just complete the idea from the start. Amazing. I am going to think about that some more.

That's why.. Part Two.

Calm restored we continue to paddle towards the tiny green signs. We paddle at a leisurely pace, looking out towards Ocracoke Island, racing each other, bumping kayaks, having a great time. We start to get close to some fisherman that are standing in the water. They are pretty far out and the water is about to their thighs. We paddle close to them and say hello. It's about that time we come upon the sand bars. The water is so shallow we are unable to paddle the boats and have to climb out and walk across the sand bars pulling our kayaks behind.

"You want me to get out of the kayak?" I ask D.

"Yes love, we won't be able to make it over the sand bar unless we get out." D replies.

"Uh. I didn't plan on getting out."

"Well you kind of have to. Look it's no problem honey, the water is at our calves."

"Calves?"

"Yes, calves. Come one get out, I'll hold your boat."

D holds the boat and I climb out. Luckily I still have on my flip flops so I don't feel the slimy seaweed that is everywhere (this would have been a very different story without those flip flops, slimy yuck on my feet? No thank you.) waving back and forth as the tide comes in and out. I take a few steps and get more comfortable with the fact that I am hundreds of yards away from the shore and the water is up to only my calves.

"Oh this isn't so bad." I say

"Were you scared?"

"Yes, walking when I can't see my feet freaks me out."

"Alright, well there is nothing in this water but minnows. See them?"

Suddenly music from jaws is playing in my head.

"Minnows?" I ask.

"Minnows." D replies.

"Oh I see them!"

Music stops.

"Minnows are cute."

"Honey, you are a goofball." D laughs

"Well they are."

We continue on like this for a while, the sand bar is large and as we pull the kayaks across it I feel the sun beating on my shoulders. Once we reach the end of the sand bar D holds my kayak again as I jump in. He pushes me off into deeper water. I use the push to take off and get a lead on D knowing he will catch up in seconds.

"Now we need to aim our bows more toward the shore because we are getting close to where the ferries turn." D says.

Newsflash freak out. I start paddling like crazy again, my sights set for the shore. The beer has relaxed me enough that I turn and see D point for the shore. I keep paddling paddling my arms starting to ache but I am too determined to slow down.

"Honey that's good. You can rest," D shouts.

I turn my boat towards his and paddle up next to him.

"I'm getting better at this!"

"Good love. Want to take a break?"

I hesitate because I know that means I have to get out of the kayak again.

"Chips, beer, sunblock?" D tempts me.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." I reply

We paddle the short distance to shore. Eat chips, drink our last beer, apply sunblock. We are laughing having a good time. We then consider how much farther we have to go versus how long it took us to get this far. Decide the wind is too strong for us to make it around the point, much less all the way to the beach where everyone is relaxing. We naively think the wind at our backs will make our return trip easier.

Refreshed and ready to go I jump in the kayak. No fear at this point. I start paddling back across when I notice that my kayak keeps turning towards the shore, when I want it to turn away from the shore. D hasn't mentioned it so I assume it's just me as I often have trouble keeping my kayak straight. I have to stick my oar in on the left side of the kayak and hold it there to make my boat turn left then paddle paddle stick paddle paddle stick. It's only been a few hundred yards and already I am exhausted.

"Are you having a hard time keeping your boat straight?" D yells to ask.

"Yes. Why? Are you?" I reply

"Yes. It must be the current."

"What should I do?"

"Just keep doing what your doing."

Paddle paddle stick. Paddle paddle stick. For a long time. The ferry terminal seems like a speck that is not getting any closer.

"It's the wind. It's pushing our boats around." D tells me.

"What should I do?"

"Just keep doing what you're doing. That's the only way to keep the boat straight."

"Stupid wind! I thought you were my friend!" I raise my fist in the air.

Paddle paddle stick. Paddle paddle stick for what seems like an eternity. Finally we reach the sand bar. This time the water is even more shallow. We cross a couple of small sand bars by simply pushing off the ground with our hands til we reach deep water again. This only works for a short time when we are back to pulling the boats behind us. We walk for a while. Now the wind is catching the boat and knocking it into our legs every so often. My flip flops are rubbing my big toes raw. The tiny speck of the ferry terminal is not getting any closer.

The fishermen that we passed earlier out still out and we finally get to them.

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of having a boat?" The older fat one asks me.

"Hmm." I chuckle.

Doesn't that defeat the purpose of .... your face. Damn it. Why can't I ever come up with a good come back?

D is too far away to hear the smart ass fisherman so I just keep walking and walking and walking. Finally we get to deeper water I have never been so happy to jump in the kayak.

This is where D goes from average guy to the wonderful great guy that I love.

We are paddling along. Our spirits lifting because we have turned directions and the wind is helping us now. But we are still exhausted and ready to get back to the boat ramp. We manage to cross the ferry channel no problem no ferries in sight. There are however quite a few boats driving past heading towards the boat ramp.

"Keep your bow pointed toward the wave, other wise it could flip you over." D says.

"Okay love." I reply

I manage to turn my boat towards the waves and the bow pops over them. It's fun actually the kayak rocking back and forth. But in order for me to keep my bow towards the waves I have to stay still. This does not make for good progress when a boat is passing every few seconds.

"Honey, you can't stop for every boat." D says.

"Well that's what I like to do."

D keeps paddling like a pro. Riding the waves on his way in towards the boat ramp.

I panic as he gets farther ahead.

"Honey come on just paddle it will be fine, the wake is not that big." D says.

"Okay."

I start to paddle, when I see 3 boats heading our way. I start to freak out thinking of D's words. "..or else you'll flip over."

I see myself flipping out of the kayak. The wake starts crashing against my boat, it's rocking me side to side. D is pretty far ahead now, thinking that I am keeping up with him.

"Honey! Honey! HONEY?!!!" I start to scream hysterically.

D hears me and turns around.

"Honey, just paddle!" D yells back to me.

"But I'LL FLIP OVER!! I scream in that 'come help me tone'.

"Honey the water is only two feet deep. You can just stand up!"

Now at this point if I were not me I would want to smack me.

"BUT HONEYYY!!" I say still worked up.

"Honey, you can see the bottom. If you flip over, just stand up." D says

His reassurance calms me and I paddle the rest of the way in to the boat ramp. At the end I actually start to have fun and kind of like the wake. I realize what a nutcase I am and can't believe D didn't lose his patience with me.

We make it to the boat ramp. Load the boats on his truck. We start to talk at the same time.

"I'm sorry I freaked out." I say

"Want some ice cream?" D says.

This just in

Ever have those moments of clarity where some little (or possibly big depending.. it could reach down to your very core and change your entire world or it may just fleet across the big screen of your brain) strange part of yourself sudenly makes sense? It may even be more then makes sense, it may be a part that shows itself, something you didn't know existed let alone that it was affecting every part of you and how you react in say.. relationships. ("Hi. I'm a strange part of you. I've always been here. You just didn't know it. Now that you know about me your life will be easier".) (the word 'revelation' as defined by A.)

One of those moments just flashed across my screen. Only it was more like a movie trailer that leads into a movie of me that I forgot existed and now I see that movie from a different light. Roll Camera 2. Take- who the hell knows.


I was in the kitchen pulling apart some chicken legs to make chicken salad for dinner. I was making a plan in my head; I'll finish the chicken legs so they can cool. Go take a nice long shower- it's hard to concentrate on writing all sweaty. Then write until maybe 4 and start making dinner. Then D will be home, we'll eat dinner and have a glass of wine. Leave out some cheese and wine for Janelle to munch before I give her a massage. Then we will get ready to go dancing. Oh dancing, hope a lot of people show up. Can't wait. This has been a nice day. Took Chance for a walk. Got some stuff done around the house. This being home alone on a weekday isn't so bad. I have not felt guilty once today for having a nice day by myself.

This is where the movie screen flashed.

Holy Shit! I like to be alone sometimes. I like to be alone, but only when I know that the alone time is coming to an end. I'm having fun because I know that D will be home around 5 and I have all day to myself. It's not alone I don't like. It's the not knowing when alone will end. No wonder I can get clinging sometimes. Jesus christ.

I see the Camera 2 flash back.

"When are you coming over?" I say to D.

"I don't know let me see how I feel," D replies.

"Ok, just shoot me a text." I say, trying so hard to play it cool but inside. (See how you feel? What does that mean? Could be an hour? Could be two days? Whatever. I just need to know.)


In the movie I see myself try to occupy myself for a few minutes. Then I become uneasy with the unknown alone. I pace around the house not able to concentrate on any task. What if I start something and then he wants to come over? Or what if someone else calls? I know I'll call Cheryl and then see what she is doing.

I call Cheryl and feel better. We are going to meet for a drink at Schucks at 9.

Okay I have time to read my book, drink a glass of wine-that will save me buying one drink at the bar. Then take a bath, listen to music, straighten my hair. Oh what am I going to wear?


See when I experienced that on Camera 1, I felt so guilty for wanting to know when I would see D. I thought I was some crazy clingy girl. But really I just wanted to know when I would see someone I care about. (not that I didn't want to see you honey. i'm making a point here)

I don't like open ended alone time. One hour-great. One week-awesome. Just give me some time frame so I can plan out my self entertainment, or the need for it.

This brings up other questions for me. Does the fact that I don't like open ended alone time make me weak? Are the people out there that love solitude stronger? Is the fact that I love to be around people more than I like to be alone sad? Was I born with this need to be around people? Or was I taught this other people dependence? Is this some passive aggressive way of loathing myself? Or is this normal?

I don't think I loathe myself. I like my alone time. I like to complete projects by myself. I talk to myself often and I think I'm pretty cool. Kind of dorky. But kind of funny too. I make myself laugh. What more can one ask for really? Maybe the fact that I know what makes me happy makes me stronger? I get joy from being around other people. Therefore I seek them out and make plans.

So at any rate, there is my revelation movie moment. I know what I like. Now I just need to ask for it.

That's why..

D and I just came back from our family vacation in Hatteras. Well when I say, our family, I mean his family, but I absolutely love his family. The crew included D's Dad and wonderful girlfriend Lynn, her daughter, D's older brother and sister, all the spouses, a gaggle of cute kids and two puppies. The house was bustling and we all kept joking that this is what it would be like to live in a commune. We absolutely had a blast and can't wait to do it again.

During one of many lazy days on the beach D's sister and I went for a stroll. As big sisters often do she inquired about her baby brother's relationship, it went something like this.

"So how are you and my brother doing?"

"Great!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're brother is a great guy."

"Tell me more."

I think I throw out some adjectives like "Caring, loving, funny." Which of course are all true, but I think this little tale paints a better picture.

It's the next to last day on vacation and D and I have yet to take the kayaks out for a ride. We decide the surf on the ocean side is way too rough to make it out without taking on water and flipping. We instead drive around the island to the sound side. We find a boat ramp and unload the kayaks. We apply gobs of sunblock on each other, fasten our life jackets and off we go.

"Let's go around the point and kayak down to where everyone is relaxing on the beach," I say.

"Alright let's give it a go." D replies.

First of all let me give you all a little back ground on me and my ability to swim. Lets just say it's slightly above nil, but lower than adequate. If forced I could doggie paddle for quite a while, but not without panic setting in, making my palms sweat (if that's possible in the water) and my heart feeling like it's going to explode. But like my other fears (heights, rats biting my toes, and spiders) I am making an effort to over come them (well at least the heights part, rats and spiders please keep your distance and I'll try not to shriek and swing brooms at you.)

OK so where was I? Oh Yes.

Me = sucks at swimming (and as you'll see, judging the depth of water).

D= former lifeguard/possibly part fish.

So here we are paddling out across the sound towards the point. All is well, we are paddling against the wind but we are going at a steady rate and having a good time. We get to the channel where the ferries are crossing.

"Honey, just hold back a minute and let those ferries pass and then we'll go across." D says.

"Okay, hand me a beer." (I know, brilliant right? But it's vacation.)

Beer cracked, and half gulped.

"Alright love, see that channel marker over there?"

"The really tiny green sign?"

"Yes. Aim your bow at that marker."

"Okay. Like shooting a gun right?"

"Yes, now let's hurry before another ferry comes."

This is the point where my imagination fires into overdrive. I see headlines in papers.

Girl kayaking while on vacation crushed by Ferry. Witnesses say,"The Captain kept blowing the horn she just wouldn't move!"

My brain now in freak out mode, I lean forward (I'm convinced this gives me more power) and paddle like the Dickens. I imagine smoke coming off the water. I try to glance back at D (but honestly I don't like to turn around for fear of flipping the kayak) don't see him, decided to keep paddling as if my life depends on it. Finally after what seems like years I hear.

"Honey, you can slow down now."

"Are you sure?" paddle paddle paddle for extra measure.

"Honey, I'm sure."

"Whoa!! Did you see me? I was like a speed demon!"

"You were great love." chuckle chuckle.

"I know. That was awesome."

Now at this point we have not even paddled a mile, but my arms are a little fatigued. I look over at D and he is paddling effortlessly. The stubborn part of me says, I got this. I work out all the time! Oh and I have beer. Sip Sip.

(due to poor time management you will have to come back tomorrow for the exciting conclusion)

In a robe

This morning after kissing D goodbye, I was sipping my coffee and checking my email (alright facebook) when D comes running back in the house, "Love, you're blocking me."

Since I was sipping my coffee and checking my face book in my birthday suit (I apologize(not really) to family members who didn't realize I even had a birthday suit, much less that I often wear it.) I ran and slipped on my beautiful black and red silky robe. I jogged out to the drive way, knowing D was already running late, and was jumping into my car when I noticed our down stairs neighbor had his car hood up. D bellowed, "Just pull back and then in front of me so I can give him a jump."

What was meant to be a 30 second foray outside in my robe turned into helping with the 'jumping' process. "Love, will you hold the cables up in the middle so they reach?" "I can do that." But then they little truck that D drives to work decided it's engine was not capable of saving another. It did a little choke choke cough and the neighbors engine would not turn over.

Then D pulls out the big gun, specifically his huge Dodge RAM 1500 V8. The neighbor and I laughed at the size of the battery, the engine was so loud we could not hear each other. Instead we did this mime point, hands apart for 'freaking huge', head back chuckle.

Well the Dodge being the beast that it is, would not fit in the space between the neighbors car and the porch. So there I was in my black and red silky robe that is not known for staying closed, pushing the neighbors car back so D could jump it with The Beast. I felt a little vulnerable watching that I wasn't giving anyone a show, but I also felt like I was in some strange artsy photo shoot of girls in robes working on cars.

It took only seconds for the neighbor's car to spring to life. I hightailed it back inside, after a kiss from D, "Have a good day, sexy!" I love that robe.

Sick is good..

So at any rate, this week I found that being sick once in a while is a good thing. Though, you could not have convinced me of that Monday, while I was the color of the porcelain I was peering into, praying to any God that would listen to "Please make it stop!" Then the next day as I could not fathom why anyone on earth would eat anything, ever. But two days later when I was finally able to smell food and then actually eat food, it was such a wonderful feeling and I did indeed jump for joy... "I feel better!" clap clap kick. (ask D it's true) Plus as a bonus I lost 3lbs. Maybe that little virus knew I have a beach vacation coming up and what girl doesn't want to lose some weight before braving the beach clad in bikini? Thank you icky virus you made me appreciate my normally functioning stomach.

Seriously

Someone stole the pretty red millions bells right off our front porch. I left for work Sat morning and the two hanging flowers that we call 'the girls' were there. A few hours later D texts me

"Did you move the girls?"

"Why would I move the girls?"

"I think someone stole them!"

I didn't really believe him until I got home and saw for myself they were gone.

Seriously people, buy your own damn flowers!