9.28.2006
Wanted :: Day Off
Criteria: Must be full-24 hour period where work is not able to be done.
Presentations are not able to be reviewed.
Collection calls are not able to be made.
Registrations will miraculously just happen. And the form will work.
Like it is supposed to.
Silly questions cannot be asked. Repeatedly.
Budgets cannot be scrutinzed.
Speakers cannot back out.
Phone cannot ring.
Peeing must not be acceptable form of a break.
So, I haven't had a day off in at least 3 weeks. Yes, that's right - I've even been working Saturday's. Six hours on Saturday to be exact. Two hours Sunday. Nevermind that I'm a complete social leper and my dance card has been less than "filled." But ya, seemingly overnight I have become the worlds most underpaid professional or the worlds most over paid collection agent (depending on how you look at it). (Ok, the underpaid thing wasn't overnight) My brain is turning me into one of those women...you know, the ones who work 12-hour plus days and who feel a little bad when they take a couple of hours away for themself, and God forbid their email. It's disgusting.
Working is overrated.
To top it off, I haven't had a cocktail in two weeks. I know - the horror. The dismay. The irony...the gym? Tis' true. The empty calories simply haven't been worth it.
Seriously, who is this person and what have they done with the real Nat?
Mama needs a martini. And a cig. And some time away.
Where's the Calgon when you need it.
Oh and ya. That little big accident I had. Well, the verdict is in. Superior service also means serious retribution. They doubled my insurance. DOUBLED. Sometimes you can't win for losin'. I'm screwed.
9.22.2006
Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones...
I have spent the greater part of the last few days thinking about the power of words.
When you think about it for any amount of time, you come to realize the true significance of the thing that makes up the bigger picture - the one thing we all share - the human language. For most words, when they sit alphabetically in a dictionary alone, there isn't much significance. Sure, there are a few that can stand on their own, but when the individual words are put together - well, that's where their true power lies.
When you think about the power of words there isn't one person alive that hasn't felt their thrust. You remember that words do indeed hurt more than sticks and stones when you are the middle school kid bullied on the playground, taunted by someone claiming their superiority. You trust the kindness of words when a friend or family member tells you how they have missed you. You feel the butterflies that come along with the admission of love for the first time. You can't forget the pain you feel when you disappoint someone or when someone says something that disappoints you. You are transported to the past through the songs that tell the story of your life, the ones you can still sing and feel exactly as you did in the years before.
They can say so much.
Everyday, words are the most important choice we make. They can change everything in a second. They can make you change course, direct your future, or make you relive your past. They can make you smile. They can make you laugh so hard your sides split. They can make time stand still. They can lift you up and make you believe in yourself. They can make it better. They can make it worse. They can crush you without warning. They are the only things you can never take back.
They can tell you everything you need to know.
The perfect formulation of words is what we as humans spend a large majority of our subconsious time consumed with. Just as I am laboring over the writing of this entry, I do the same when crafting a communication at work. I look for the just right combination so to most effectively convey my true meaning. I sometimes craft conversations to other people in my head before I am able to speak the words outloud. I freely admit that I spend most of my life analyzing the meaning behind the words of others. There must be a billion different combinations out there. Surely, there must be one perfect sentence for every situation.
I wish I had a handbook...
A handbook for others to know the right and wrong words to say. I could distribute my handbook to those who know me - whether by birthright, friendship, employment, acquaintance, or by some other chance. My handbook would contain only the acceptable words and combinations of words for use on me. It would be a handbook of only words of love, encouragement, answers to questions, and constructive criticism. The words would answer my questions when I had them, teach me when I needed to learn, and unpatrionizingly tell me when I was wrong.
I wish everyone else had one, too. A dictionary. A theasauraus. And a beginner's handbook of knowing the right / wrong things to say.
In my next life I'm coming back with thicker skin.
(Oh, and also a smaller nose and ass, too).
When you think about it for any amount of time, you come to realize the true significance of the thing that makes up the bigger picture - the one thing we all share - the human language. For most words, when they sit alphabetically in a dictionary alone, there isn't much significance. Sure, there are a few that can stand on their own, but when the individual words are put together - well, that's where their true power lies.
When you think about the power of words there isn't one person alive that hasn't felt their thrust. You remember that words do indeed hurt more than sticks and stones when you are the middle school kid bullied on the playground, taunted by someone claiming their superiority. You trust the kindness of words when a friend or family member tells you how they have missed you. You feel the butterflies that come along with the admission of love for the first time. You can't forget the pain you feel when you disappoint someone or when someone says something that disappoints you. You are transported to the past through the songs that tell the story of your life, the ones you can still sing and feel exactly as you did in the years before.
They can say so much.
Everyday, words are the most important choice we make. They can change everything in a second. They can make you change course, direct your future, or make you relive your past. They can make you smile. They can make you laugh so hard your sides split. They can make time stand still. They can lift you up and make you believe in yourself. They can make it better. They can make it worse. They can crush you without warning. They are the only things you can never take back.
They can tell you everything you need to know.
The perfect formulation of words is what we as humans spend a large majority of our subconsious time consumed with. Just as I am laboring over the writing of this entry, I do the same when crafting a communication at work. I look for the just right combination so to most effectively convey my true meaning. I sometimes craft conversations to other people in my head before I am able to speak the words outloud. I freely admit that I spend most of my life analyzing the meaning behind the words of others. There must be a billion different combinations out there. Surely, there must be one perfect sentence for every situation.
I wish I had a handbook...
A handbook for others to know the right and wrong words to say. I could distribute my handbook to those who know me - whether by birthright, friendship, employment, acquaintance, or by some other chance. My handbook would contain only the acceptable words and combinations of words for use on me. It would be a handbook of only words of love, encouragement, answers to questions, and constructive criticism. The words would answer my questions when I had them, teach me when I needed to learn, and unpatrionizingly tell me when I was wrong.
I wish everyone else had one, too. A dictionary. A theasauraus. And a beginner's handbook of knowing the right / wrong things to say.
In my next life I'm coming back with thicker skin.
(Oh, and also a smaller nose and ass, too).
9.18.2006
I Couldn't Make This Shit Up If I Tried
I'll admit it. Sometimes I bring on certain circumstances. I am probably more at fault for some of the crazy shit that happens to me than I want to acknowledge, realize, or admit. But there are just sometimes when I swear, I couldn't make it up if I tried.
So, let's just say I made a new friend - a friend met through a friend, if you will. I kind of knew that there probably weren't going to be sparks or anything after the first conversation revealed a certain propensity to say my name, repeatedly. Now, I don't know about you, but it makes me nervous when someone states and restates and then restates my name. It's sort of like a dirty salesman (no offense) who can't help but make you feel cheap because of their constant desire to sell themself (themselve?) to you. Anyway, I decided what the heck. My expectations were low, and I thought - why not, I have nothing to lose. Girls, let me tell you. Sometimes, you just should stay at home. The second inclanation I had that this meeting would be less than the whirlwind Joseph Fiennes type romance I envision for myself, was in the time (9:00 p.m.) and choice of establishments for our encounter. I gave him the choice of three. He chose the one I would prefer to go to with a few good friends for a Sunday afternoon football game beerfest. So me, being the good drunk girl I am, said sure. After all, I'm agreeable. Why not, nothing to lose, right?
Now, I'll give the dude props - he did bring me a little gift - one of thoughtfulness for my love of the OHIO STATE BUCKEYES. That was nice. He reiterated that I am truly a thing of beauty and desire. He was not a bad guy. Ok, I made the beauty thing up. But, we did have lots to talk about. Lots more in common. Clue numero trois this was going to go nowhere: phone rings - it's the ex-wife. He takes the call. T-A-C-K-Y. Tacky, tacky, tacky. I think at that point, whatever dude. Nice guy - probably would hang out with you but no further interest in making you a fixed part of this girls life. He seemed to want to pound the beers. Me being the lush I am, says rock and roll, Axl. Show me what you've got. We do shots of Jaeger.
To make the rest of this otherwise completely long and rambling story short...well, let's just say I've added a new "must" to the ongoing list of "must not haves." Let's just say, that I am, as anyone who knows me would tell you, the worst of the worst kinds of drunk. I am the one without the know when to say when switch. The one who suddenly passes out or who sneaks off. The one who goes from fine to forget it in seconds. I will admit. I am a drunk asshole. Cute but an asshole. BUT, there is one thing that I don't do. One thing that frankly, I would say could be the clencher of all clenchers for even the worst drunk like myself. Let alone a man. A man on a first date.
I don't, well, how do I put it nicely. Well, I believe I've firmly established my questionable judgement regarding my tolerance. And well, I would expect that a thirty year old male would be able to drink me under the table...Not puke those cheese fries after a few beers and a couple small shots of Jaeger.
Oh ya. He did it. He puked.
I told you, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
*******************************************************************************
So on Saturday, NB-C and I went to my newest obsession in the LV - Culver's. Let's just say a big freakin' YUM-O on the cheddar butterburger and crinkle fries. Not to mention fabulous rootbeer and strawberry sundae. Is it really so wrong to be in love with a hamburger? So it's the one bad meal I have a week. Sue me. I would have taken a picture if I could have. I also would have murdered the annoying, undisciplined 2-year old asshole that was rolling all over the floor in the table next to us. I am not kidding when I, the one who LOVE LOVE LOVES the babies and kids, said outloud to this FloorWalleringAsshole "I hate you" in my nicest nasty voice, while he laid on that dirty floor looking directly at me. I know it's not really his fault. I blame the idiot parents who never ONCE told the kid to sit his unruly butt in the chair. I'm not sure but I'm pretty certain my mother would have taken me outside and busted my hind end if I would have acted like that. Now you understand why I can't watch Supernanny. Those parents should be shot, flogged, or beaten for rasing their children like that.
*******************************************************************************
The Belgian will be here in one month and 3-days. So excited! Oh wait, that means I have one month and three more days to freak out about this little conference that I'm planning and that is otherwise consuming my life and taking me away from you my little blogosphere readers. I'll try to keep up with new and refreshing adventures of my profoundly un-exciting life, I promise. Please don't leave me or lose interest in this little thing we have. I love you, really. I just need a promotion more. Remember, my finances are for shit.
Kisses.
*******************************************************************************
In case you were wondering how the story ends...The answer is no. No, I will not be going out with the puker again.
Ever.
So, let's just say I made a new friend - a friend met through a friend, if you will. I kind of knew that there probably weren't going to be sparks or anything after the first conversation revealed a certain propensity to say my name, repeatedly. Now, I don't know about you, but it makes me nervous when someone states and restates and then restates my name. It's sort of like a dirty salesman (no offense) who can't help but make you feel cheap because of their constant desire to sell themself (themselve?) to you. Anyway, I decided what the heck. My expectations were low, and I thought - why not, I have nothing to lose. Girls, let me tell you. Sometimes, you just should stay at home. The second inclanation I had that this meeting would be less than the whirlwind Joseph Fiennes type romance I envision for myself, was in the time (9:00 p.m.) and choice of establishments for our encounter. I gave him the choice of three. He chose the one I would prefer to go to with a few good friends for a Sunday afternoon football game beerfest. So me, being the good drunk girl I am, said sure. After all, I'm agreeable. Why not, nothing to lose, right?
Now, I'll give the dude props - he did bring me a little gift - one of thoughtfulness for my love of the OHIO STATE BUCKEYES. That was nice. He reiterated that I am truly a thing of beauty and desire. He was not a bad guy. Ok, I made the beauty thing up. But, we did have lots to talk about. Lots more in common. Clue numero trois this was going to go nowhere: phone rings - it's the ex-wife. He takes the call. T-A-C-K-Y. Tacky, tacky, tacky. I think at that point, whatever dude. Nice guy - probably would hang out with you but no further interest in making you a fixed part of this girls life. He seemed to want to pound the beers. Me being the lush I am, says rock and roll, Axl. Show me what you've got. We do shots of Jaeger.
To make the rest of this otherwise completely long and rambling story short...well, let's just say I've added a new "must" to the ongoing list of "must not haves." Let's just say, that I am, as anyone who knows me would tell you, the worst of the worst kinds of drunk. I am the one without the know when to say when switch. The one who suddenly passes out or who sneaks off. The one who goes from fine to forget it in seconds. I will admit. I am a drunk asshole. Cute but an asshole. BUT, there is one thing that I don't do. One thing that frankly, I would say could be the clencher of all clenchers for even the worst drunk like myself. Let alone a man. A man on a first date.
I don't, well, how do I put it nicely. Well, I believe I've firmly established my questionable judgement regarding my tolerance. And well, I would expect that a thirty year old male would be able to drink me under the table...Not puke those cheese fries after a few beers and a couple small shots of Jaeger.
Oh ya. He did it. He puked.
I told you, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
*******************************************************************************
So on Saturday, NB-C and I went to my newest obsession in the LV - Culver's. Let's just say a big freakin' YUM-O on the cheddar butterburger and crinkle fries. Not to mention fabulous rootbeer and strawberry sundae. Is it really so wrong to be in love with a hamburger? So it's the one bad meal I have a week. Sue me. I would have taken a picture if I could have. I also would have murdered the annoying, undisciplined 2-year old asshole that was rolling all over the floor in the table next to us. I am not kidding when I, the one who LOVE LOVE LOVES the babies and kids, said outloud to this FloorWalleringAsshole "I hate you" in my nicest nasty voice, while he laid on that dirty floor looking directly at me. I know it's not really his fault. I blame the idiot parents who never ONCE told the kid to sit his unruly butt in the chair. I'm not sure but I'm pretty certain my mother would have taken me outside and busted my hind end if I would have acted like that. Now you understand why I can't watch Supernanny. Those parents should be shot, flogged, or beaten for rasing their children like that.
*******************************************************************************
The Belgian will be here in one month and 3-days. So excited! Oh wait, that means I have one month and three more days to freak out about this little conference that I'm planning and that is otherwise consuming my life and taking me away from you my little blogosphere readers. I'll try to keep up with new and refreshing adventures of my profoundly un-exciting life, I promise. Please don't leave me or lose interest in this little thing we have. I love you, really. I just need a promotion more. Remember, my finances are for shit.
Kisses.
*******************************************************************************
In case you were wondering how the story ends...The answer is no. No, I will not be going out with the puker again.
Ever.
9.14.2006
This Is Why I Love Myspace
So an old friend from High School asked me to be his friend and sent me a fun little reminder of exactly how I got my nickname...LOVE IT! Made my day.
Funny thing is, I don't think think we were that good of friends, but it sure is nice to feel that familiar connection.
Anywhooooooooooo...I am completely blank this week for refreshing, witty and otherwise ingenius blog material so please stay tuned. I promise, I will be back soon to delight you all. I am thinking some new material is quite possible very soon...
XXOO,
Nat X
9.11.2006
I'll Stop Soon, I Promise
But seriously, this kid is so cute I can't stand it. And smart, smart, smart. He doesn't look like a newborn and is so attentive. Much like a certain other someone I know (who incidentally will be one year old very soon)!
For Kate
Here's hoping he eats his schnitzel...
Kate, where are you I am going to Chicken Dance for you...
Ok, it's way too early to try to be witty...These are a little joke between my friend Kate and I about this coming weekend's Octoberfest in the 'Nati...
More later.
9.08.2006
I Ain't No Holla Back Girl
And I am not even sure what that means. But I'd bet that I'm not really one either.
Sooooo, I know I have been a slacker in the refreshing new and uplifting content lately. Maybe it's cause I've had a rockin' good week. It goes a little somethin' like dis...
My Partner In Crime was here for a long weekend last week. If I could have, I would have held her hostage. We did the stuff we usually do when together. Drank a lot of red wine. Smoked more cigarettes than in all previous four months. Talked for hours about our lives and places in the world. Used spell check, poorly, and masterfully re-created me. Watched a boatload of movies. Laid around. Ate. Watched more movies. Drank lots of beer with NB-C and watched UK get destroyed by UofL. Watched more movies. Ah yes, we really bring out the best in one another. In all it was wonderful. Wonderful because it was just us and it was exactly what we both needed.
Go see Little Miss Sunshine. Run, do not walk. You must see and laugh hard at that movie.
Hello...cutest baby in last 11-months was born last Thursday. Take a look at this chunk a chunk of burnin' love...Going to see him and his momma tomorrow and am very hap hap happy.
Went to ATL for another sales meeting. Stayed here. It was, let's just say, awesome. Now that is a hotel experience. Had a pretty good time catching up and hanging with some of the work folks. Drank too much. Blew the hinges way off the old diet. Well, there's always next week to get back on.
And I will. Get back on.
Speaking of, the old girl is back in the saddle again. So to speak. No further comment...
Did you fully absorb the cuteness of this child...If not, please oooh and aww again...I love da' babies and I love showin' 'em off to you who do not care...Feel free to hate me when I have mine. I'm gonna be the worst kind of offender.
OH! In other wonderful news of the week!!! My good friend, The Belgian, is coming to my conference in October. By the way the Belgian will be hanging with the homies for homecoming...He just smells good...ah yes, gotta love the Jean Paul Gautier (that one was for you P, I see you've been reading).
Anyway, that's about it from Camp Cupcake. More later...
Sooooo, I know I have been a slacker in the refreshing new and uplifting content lately. Maybe it's cause I've had a rockin' good week. It goes a little somethin' like dis...
My Partner In Crime was here for a long weekend last week. If I could have, I would have held her hostage. We did the stuff we usually do when together. Drank a lot of red wine. Smoked more cigarettes than in all previous four months. Talked for hours about our lives and places in the world. Used spell check, poorly, and masterfully re-created me. Watched a boatload of movies. Laid around. Ate. Watched more movies. Drank lots of beer with NB-C and watched UK get destroyed by UofL. Watched more movies. Ah yes, we really bring out the best in one another. In all it was wonderful. Wonderful because it was just us and it was exactly what we both needed.
Go see Little Miss Sunshine. Run, do not walk. You must see and laugh hard at that movie.
Hello...cutest baby in last 11-months was born last Thursday. Take a look at this chunk a chunk of burnin' love...Going to see him and his momma tomorrow and am very hap hap happy.
Went to ATL for another sales meeting. Stayed here. It was, let's just say, awesome. Now that is a hotel experience. Had a pretty good time catching up and hanging with some of the work folks. Drank too much. Blew the hinges way off the old diet. Well, there's always next week to get back on.
And I will. Get back on.
Speaking of, the old girl is back in the saddle again. So to speak. No further comment...
Did you fully absorb the cuteness of this child...If not, please oooh and aww again...I love da' babies and I love showin' 'em off to you who do not care...Feel free to hate me when I have mine. I'm gonna be the worst kind of offender.
OH! In other wonderful news of the week!!! My good friend, The Belgian, is coming to my conference in October. By the way the Belgian will be hanging with the homies for homecoming...He just smells good...ah yes, gotta love the Jean Paul Gautier (that one was for you P, I see you've been reading).
Anyway, that's about it from Camp Cupcake. More later...
9.04.2006
The Man We Never Speak Of
My grandfather was a sailor.
He went to the yacht club and sailed sailboats. I have a silver tray that he won at a Regatta. Proof of a life I would otherwise believe belonged to someone else, except for the shared blood that runs through my veins. My grandfather, would have loved my Flossie forever. Instead, he loved her for as long as he could. He would have taught his children things only a father can. My mother would have been able to call him dad. Instead, he died before his children had the chance to know him, before my mother and her youngest brother knew what they should call him. He was only a few years older than I am now.
We never speak of him.
He was the man who began a family and set us on our course. Him. His family...An ironic thought of some place long ago and far away.
And for that, we reward him with our silence. With the distant, fading memory of who he was. He is everyday rewarded by his family who never speaks of him.
He was an English professor. He wrote a thesis on Wuthering Heights. My mother was four-years old when he died. He was a handsome man. In pictures he has the kind of eyes that make you look back at him, the kind you trust.
He is buried in a flat field in a state filled with mountains. We never go there. I think I've only been there one time.
I don't know much more about who my grandfather was. He loved sailing and English. I don't know if he loved English because he liked to write, or if it was because he liked to read. I don't know why it was English, and not History or Math.
He was a professor, who moved his wife and four children from the safety of their Massachusetts roots to a place far away. He was to be a professor at Columbus Academy. They didn't know anyone in Columbus. I don't believe he ever taught a day at that prestigious school.
I think it was somewhere along the way, before their journey to their new life was complete that he got sick. Short of breath walking up a hill. Went to a doctor. Lung Cancer. Couple months? Maybe it was only a couple of weeks. Whatever it was, it was swift.
I've never even asked if he smoked. He was young. He had sort of wavy hair and he looked like he was a man who thought a lot. I bet when he spoke, people would listen. I recognize him only from a few pictures that remain and the oddly similar and hauntingly familiar features of his face in my cousin Ben.
Like his image in Ben, I wonder if his legacy to me was the gift of writing, or for poetry, or even in a shared love for Heathcliff and Catherine.
After all. He was my grandfather.
Who would he have been? Who would he have been to me? Who would he have been to us...To his daughter...And his wife...And to his sons.
I wonder if he would have taught me about what it was like growing up in New England. Or if we would have spent summers on a sail boat. Or under a tree reading books. What would the professor have taught me...
We are all full of a quiet sadness that has never been addressed.
For him.
He is the man we never speak of. He was a sailor and a teacher. He was a father and a husband. He was a son.
What I realize now, even though I would never know him, is that he was my grandfather. For thirty years I tried to figure that out. The man we do not speak of and who he was to me.
A few years ago, we went to the flat field to pay our silent hommage to this man, our grandfather, father, and husband. It was the first time I learned anything more about him than his affinity for the water or his choice of profession. It was twenty-five years or so before I would hear for the first time about how he and Flossie met. How they fell in love. What life was like in that sleepy New England town. A little about how he lived. Who he was. How he died.
But we never talk about what life is like without him. How we have missed knowing him. How we missed loving him. How I'd never know the sound of his voice or if when he laughed, if he laughed hard. We never talk about all the memories we would never make.
He is the man we never speak of.
He was an English professor. A sailor. He was a father. A husband. A son. A friend. The man we never speak of was also my grandfather.
I can only speculate about the reason that those who knew him, those who heard his voice, those who knew the touch of his hands, and who understood the content of his character do not speak of him. It is as if they are saying a silent prayer for him because to them, he was so much more.
8.31.2006
Slated to Be a Happy Day
Slimy was induced this morning at 9:00 a.m...Baby Boy is ultra cozy and officially six days past his scheduled arrival...She sent this picture earlier this week and I LOVE LOVE LOVE it...Being pregnant looks painful. I think I'm just jealous of the ice cream.
8.30.2006
The Last Eight Days
(SEDW - this one is for you circa 2006)
All At Once :: The Fray
There are certain people you just keep coming back to...
She is right in front of you
You begin to wonder could you find a better one
Compared to her now she's in question
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same
Maybe you want her maybe you need her
Maybe you started to compare to someone not there
Looking for the right one you line up the world to find
Where no questions cross your mind
But she won't keep on waiting for you without a doubt
Much longer for you to sort it out
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same
Maybe you want her maybe you need her
Maybe you started to compare to someone not there
Maybe you want it maybe you need it
Maybe it's all you're running from
Perfection will not come
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes
We'd never know what's wrong without the pain
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same
Maybe you want her maybe you need her
Maybe you've started to compare to someone not there
Maybe you want it maybe you need it
Maybe it's all you're running from
Perfection will not come
Maybe you want her maybe you need her
Maybe you had her maybe you lost her to another
To another
8.29.2006
For Anyone Who Didn't Believe Me
8.28.2006
Here's What I Have To Say
Mostly, it's nothing.
I've been staring at this same blank screen for the last six days. So here's what I would say if I could.
I feel like I'm in a vortex right now. I'm standing still and everything is moving around me. Or maybe I'm moving and everything else is standing still. Sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow, but it's fucking me up. I feel absolutely nothing right now. I'm not sad. I'm not happy. I'm just indifferent. Indifferent about everything.
My body is changing. I noticed today when I put on one of my favorite button down shirts this morning. I seem to be swimming in it. As of Friday, I am only down 4 measely pounds, but I can feel a difference in the way my body seems to be shrinking. Thankfully, my new Gold's Gym hobby, strike that, addiction is actually working. I know, right. Novel idea. Bravo, Nat. Bravo.
I am in a constant state of aggitation. I am pissed off perpetually.
This picture makes me smile:
I am a junkie when it comes to death and destruction. A year ago tomorrow, I sat glued to the television for a week-solid because of Hurricane Katrina. Yesterday, I sat glued to the television for 12-hours of vague updates about the plane crash of flight 5191.
I love this song. And I love the movie Elizabethtown. I spent 60-minutes on the treadmill the other day because Elizabethtown was on. I forgot how much I liked that movie. Vee concurs.
This picture of my Flossie makes me hap-hap happy. My mom sent it to me last week from their trip to my favorite city. She said that Flossie made her take this picture of she and "her hero."
That would be FDR for all you non-liberal kind. Incidentally, one of the best presidents in history with the exception of my beloved Thomas Jefferson and the greatest of all time, and noone can convince me otherwise, William Jefferson Clinton.
One day, I will share with you all what happens at my parents house during an election year...
I've been staring at this same blank screen for the last six days. So here's what I would say if I could.
I feel like I'm in a vortex right now. I'm standing still and everything is moving around me. Or maybe I'm moving and everything else is standing still. Sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow, but it's fucking me up. I feel absolutely nothing right now. I'm not sad. I'm not happy. I'm just indifferent. Indifferent about everything.
My body is changing. I noticed today when I put on one of my favorite button down shirts this morning. I seem to be swimming in it. As of Friday, I am only down 4 measely pounds, but I can feel a difference in the way my body seems to be shrinking. Thankfully, my new Gold's Gym hobby, strike that, addiction is actually working. I know, right. Novel idea. Bravo, Nat. Bravo.
I am in a constant state of aggitation. I am pissed off perpetually.
This picture makes me smile:
I am a junkie when it comes to death and destruction. A year ago tomorrow, I sat glued to the television for a week-solid because of Hurricane Katrina. Yesterday, I sat glued to the television for 12-hours of vague updates about the plane crash of flight 5191.
I love this song. And I love the movie Elizabethtown. I spent 60-minutes on the treadmill the other day because Elizabethtown was on. I forgot how much I liked that movie. Vee concurs.
This picture of my Flossie makes me hap-hap happy. My mom sent it to me last week from their trip to my favorite city. She said that Flossie made her take this picture of she and "her hero."
That would be FDR for all you non-liberal kind. Incidentally, one of the best presidents in history with the exception of my beloved Thomas Jefferson and the greatest of all time, and noone can convince me otherwise, William Jefferson Clinton.
One day, I will share with you all what happens at my parents house during an election year...
8.24.2006
God Bless The Liberals
Thank you, NB-C for this bit of comic relief today...Flossie will love this...
8.23.2006
Happy Birthday NB-C!!!
A little something scary for you on your big day...
Did you know that Sweet Child O'Mine, that flippin sweet GNfreakinR anthem of ours was released in 1988? That also happens to be the year that the crop of incoming college Freshman were born. Not to make you feel old or anything...
I hope you have a wonderful birthday and an even better year ahead. No surgeries this year, por favor.
Thanks for being my best friend, big sister, and level ground.
Happy Day!
I love you!
8.22.2006
Watch This Show
If you haven't watched Gene Simmons and his slightly normal family - you should. I have laughed so hard on several occasions because they are just a loving, funny family and the dad just happens to be the lead singer of Kiss. This is entertainment at it's finest - trust me. I'm a big fan of TV.
Check it out by clicking here.
8.21.2006
900 Ounces of Water Will Do That To You
The return of the fat asses to WW has been a productive one. NB-C and I are down a collective 8.2 pounds. She shedding 5 and I shedding 3.2. Not bad for the first week, not bad at all...
More later.
More later.
8.17.2006
So It Went Something Like This:
The dog was black and white and he looked like he was smiling right before he thudded into my car. I saw him run out into the road from two blocks away. I looked to the right and I saw a mom walking with her two kids up the street. In a split second I thought, I'm going to kill that little girls dog. And she's going to see it. I knew there wasn't much I could do to avoid hitting him. He ran into four lanes of traffic and on his return, right into the left side of my car going 40 miles an hour. I can still feel and hear the thud. I hit him and then stopped and/or tried to swerve to the right to avoid hitting him again and hit another car. I screamed and looked around to see where he was. I saw cars lined up behind me and no dog anywhere. I saw the mom's jaw drop and saw her quickly turn her children around and away. It was the most horrible thing I think I have ever imagined happening to me and now experienced.
I will never, ever forget those few seconds.
I've had to drive that path to work every day. I am now tense and uneasy and I hate it. My stomach knots up until I pass that spot and then it goes away. I know that I am changed because of it. I know that one of my worst fears in life - hitting a dog in a car - has happened. The not knowing of what happened to him has been the worst of it all.
Yesterday I drove home from work and there was a dog house sitting outside of the house where the dog lived - it had most certainly not been there the two days before. It definitely was not there yesterday morning. A sick panic fell back over me because I was convinced he had died. That his owner put it out there for me as some sort of restitution. That I would no longer be referred to as the dog whisperer but known in certain circles as a dog killer. I was positive the delicate balance between the animal kingdom and I had come crashing down...and that is the GOD's honest truth as to what went through my head just by seeing that empty dog house.
So I did my usual this morning. Drove to work on the same path. Knot in the stomach at the same place. And guess what?
The dog lived.
I saw him this morning in his yard. Sleeping. In front of his dog house.
Thankfully.
Here's the rest of the story:
I sometimes have a hard time putting things into perspective. I really tend to get worked up more than necessary and I usually look back and think what an idiot, I could have handled things so much differently. However, I am not sure that I really could have not gotten upset about this. I mean, it was a dog - and it was in front of kids. For anyone who knows me, you know that those are my two favorite things in the world and the thought of hurting either DESTROYS me. I am a tad, as some might say, overly emotional. I admit. Highly sensitive and over reactive. Part of what makes me who I am - and I would like to think a good quality most of the time.
Sometimes I just need perspective. Or a hug. Or the simple acknowledgement that I'm hurting. Or to be left alone to process it all.
This time I needed all of that.
I know I probably overreacted, but this one knocked me for a big loop. This one got me pretty good.
This one hurt more than just about anything.
But I'm pretty good again - and while I don't think I can talk much more about the actual details than what I'm saying here - I'm ok and I've held My Girl a little tighter each day and loved on her a little more. Next Tuesday the Honda will be back to me and the Taupe Taurus will be lent to another questionable driver.
And all will be back to good.
I will never, ever forget those few seconds.
I've had to drive that path to work every day. I am now tense and uneasy and I hate it. My stomach knots up until I pass that spot and then it goes away. I know that I am changed because of it. I know that one of my worst fears in life - hitting a dog in a car - has happened. The not knowing of what happened to him has been the worst of it all.
Yesterday I drove home from work and there was a dog house sitting outside of the house where the dog lived - it had most certainly not been there the two days before. It definitely was not there yesterday morning. A sick panic fell back over me because I was convinced he had died. That his owner put it out there for me as some sort of restitution. That I would no longer be referred to as the dog whisperer but known in certain circles as a dog killer. I was positive the delicate balance between the animal kingdom and I had come crashing down...and that is the GOD's honest truth as to what went through my head just by seeing that empty dog house.
So I did my usual this morning. Drove to work on the same path. Knot in the stomach at the same place. And guess what?
The dog lived.
I saw him this morning in his yard. Sleeping. In front of his dog house.
Thankfully.
Here's the rest of the story:
I sometimes have a hard time putting things into perspective. I really tend to get worked up more than necessary and I usually look back and think what an idiot, I could have handled things so much differently. However, I am not sure that I really could have not gotten upset about this. I mean, it was a dog - and it was in front of kids. For anyone who knows me, you know that those are my two favorite things in the world and the thought of hurting either DESTROYS me. I am a tad, as some might say, overly emotional. I admit. Highly sensitive and over reactive. Part of what makes me who I am - and I would like to think a good quality most of the time.
Sometimes I just need perspective. Or a hug. Or the simple acknowledgement that I'm hurting. Or to be left alone to process it all.
This time I needed all of that.
I know I probably overreacted, but this one knocked me for a big loop. This one got me pretty good.
This one hurt more than just about anything.
But I'm pretty good again - and while I don't think I can talk much more about the actual details than what I'm saying here - I'm ok and I've held My Girl a little tighter each day and loved on her a little more. Next Tuesday the Honda will be back to me and the Taupe Taurus will be lent to another questionable driver.
And all will be back to good.
8.14.2006
Cento
I am completely un-original and stole the premise for this post from one of my favorite Blogger's - Kris at I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet a Wino. I feel like I should have balloon's or streamer's today for my 100th post. But alas, today isn't really such a good day - so we'll just settle for the following:
10 years ago...I was 19 and working in my grandfather’s pharmacy for the summer. It was the summer before my junior year in college. I loved that job and loved working for my family. For the first time in my life I thought – this is a career I could have – to be a pharmacist. But I didn’t change directions in my college classes, I just stayed on the path and reserved my mentality for what I wanted to do post graduation (but didn’t), and that was be a pharmaceutical rep.
5 years ago... I had been married for three months. I was unemployed and vacationing at my aunt & uncle’s farm in Virginia. Five years ago this Thursday (8/17) I was offered a job with my current employer. I was also having a lot of arrhythmia and had to have a battery of tests – most of the tests occurred on 9/11.
1 year ago...I was looking at buying a house. Instead I found my apartment. I had a horrible Miranda moment.
Yesterday...I saw my grandparents, had lunch with my parents and my sister at a favorite Greek restaurant, saw my cousin’s new condo, and drove home from Columbus.
Today...While driving to work I hit a dog. Of all the things I hit a dog. And then I hit another car. In front of a mom and her two kids. I wrecked my car and someone else’s and possibly killed a dog. I have spent a lot of time feeling bad and trying not to cry. I am completely stressed about the conference I plan at work.
Tomorrow...will be a new day.
5 snacks I enjoy...well, given the new WW restrictions…hummus & veggies, Goldfish crackers, guacamole, cheese, and Haribo gummi bears.
5 songs I know all the words to… Sweetest Goodbye by Maroon 5, Breathe Me by Sia, I’m Not Ready to Make Nice by Dixie Chicks, Sailing by Christopher Cross, and Cannonball by Damien Rice.
5 regrets...Not taking my college career more seriously, not moving to DC after college, not making that phone call senior year, not knowing myself better before getting married, not leaving sooner.
5 television shows I watch weekly...Project Runway, Rescue Me (right now), Nip/Tuck, Sopranos, and Survivor (when they are on).
5 things I would do with $100,000,000...pay off my debt and my parents and friends debt, donate a few million to the Pulmonary Hypertension Association, start my own carryout/catering business, invest, travel to fabulous and luxurious locations around the world.
5 locations I would love to run away to...Tuscany, The Greek Isles, Kauai, Bali, Australia/New Zealand.
5 things I hate doing...Yardwork, washing floors, putting away laundry, confronting someone, disappointing anyone.
5 things I like doing...Cooking, traveling, being with my friends, reading and swimming.
5 things I would never wear…white shoes before memorial day, any combination of brown/black together, nude hose with sandals, horizontal stripes, banana clips.
5 recently seen movies I like...The Way We Were, Shopgirl, Talladega Nights, Capote, Crash.
5 famous people I'd like to meet...Thomas Jefferson, Anderson Cooper, Joseph Fiennes, NKOTB, and Tina Turner. This is a hard one because I can’t think of anyone specifically other than my boy TJ.
5 biggest joys of the moment...Not a good day to answer that! I guess I’d have to say – my family, my friends, my girl Abby, my health and my boy DJW.
10 years ago...I was 19 and working in my grandfather’s pharmacy for the summer. It was the summer before my junior year in college. I loved that job and loved working for my family. For the first time in my life I thought – this is a career I could have – to be a pharmacist. But I didn’t change directions in my college classes, I just stayed on the path and reserved my mentality for what I wanted to do post graduation (but didn’t), and that was be a pharmaceutical rep.
5 years ago... I had been married for three months. I was unemployed and vacationing at my aunt & uncle’s farm in Virginia. Five years ago this Thursday (8/17) I was offered a job with my current employer. I was also having a lot of arrhythmia and had to have a battery of tests – most of the tests occurred on 9/11.
1 year ago...I was looking at buying a house. Instead I found my apartment. I had a horrible Miranda moment.
Yesterday...I saw my grandparents, had lunch with my parents and my sister at a favorite Greek restaurant, saw my cousin’s new condo, and drove home from Columbus.
Today...While driving to work I hit a dog. Of all the things I hit a dog. And then I hit another car. In front of a mom and her two kids. I wrecked my car and someone else’s and possibly killed a dog. I have spent a lot of time feeling bad and trying not to cry. I am completely stressed about the conference I plan at work.
Tomorrow...will be a new day.
5 snacks I enjoy...well, given the new WW restrictions…hummus & veggies, Goldfish crackers, guacamole, cheese, and Haribo gummi bears.
5 songs I know all the words to… Sweetest Goodbye by Maroon 5, Breathe Me by Sia, I’m Not Ready to Make Nice by Dixie Chicks, Sailing by Christopher Cross, and Cannonball by Damien Rice.
5 regrets...Not taking my college career more seriously, not moving to DC after college, not making that phone call senior year, not knowing myself better before getting married, not leaving sooner.
5 television shows I watch weekly...Project Runway, Rescue Me (right now), Nip/Tuck, Sopranos, and Survivor (when they are on).
5 things I would do with $100,000,000...pay off my debt and my parents and friends debt, donate a few million to the Pulmonary Hypertension Association, start my own carryout/catering business, invest, travel to fabulous and luxurious locations around the world.
5 locations I would love to run away to...Tuscany, The Greek Isles, Kauai, Bali, Australia/New Zealand.
5 things I hate doing...Yardwork, washing floors, putting away laundry, confronting someone, disappointing anyone.
5 things I like doing...Cooking, traveling, being with my friends, reading and swimming.
5 things I would never wear…white shoes before memorial day, any combination of brown/black together, nude hose with sandals, horizontal stripes, banana clips.
5 recently seen movies I like...The Way We Were, Shopgirl, Talladega Nights, Capote, Crash.
5 famous people I'd like to meet...Thomas Jefferson, Anderson Cooper, Joseph Fiennes, NKOTB, and Tina Turner. This is a hard one because I can’t think of anyone specifically other than my boy TJ.
5 biggest joys of the moment...Not a good day to answer that! I guess I’d have to say – my family, my friends, my girl Abby, my health and my boy DJW.
8.11.2006
Hello My Name Is Fat Ass
(You'll never see two people happier to be back to WW in their lives. My head is apparently the size of a basketball. The other picture we took was worse. My double chin looked like it would eat you.)
Oh stop, stop…I know, thanks for saying “no you aren’t.” I appreciate it, really I do. But I am and it’s confirmed. NB-C officially rejoined the public humiliation and cattle call I like to refer to as Weight Watchers.
Again.
I think this is something like, numero quatro for me.
I think I should get a badge for every time I go back. The first time I went to WW, I think like in 2003, I was super gung-ho. I was like the diet nazi. I carried around my 32 ounce water mug and drank like 3 of them everyday. I was exceptionally hydrated. I lost 30 pounds.
So ya, I would go each week and I would actively participate in every meeting. I committed to 8 weeks but I think I made it 18. Let me tell ya, I put the commit! in committed. I’d raise my hand like that annoying kid in your high school math class that always knew the answers. I would affix my five pound star to my first five pound bookmark and proudly display it on my refrigerator so everyone could see my achievements. I loved finding 2-point foods or figuring out inventive ways to make a Skinny Cow just a little more dessert-y. If people would say “let’s go to Wendy’s for lunch” I would announce how many points my meal would have without even thinking. I was an annoying dieter. I think I even started recruiting after awhile.
For any of you who have experienced the dub-dub you know what I’m talkin’ about.
And then I lost my will and my way.
A few months later I think I tried getting back on the wagon. I went back over the next couple of years probably at least a few times, but I never seemed to get that same level of motivation or commitment I had on the first go round. I never attended the meetings. I just counted points, paid $10 a week, got weighed and left. No commitment. No desire to push on through that plateau!
I guess it’s pretty good that I’ve only gained 10 or so pounds back over three years. At least I’m not the total fat ass I was in ’03. I guess it’s just another thing to check off my list. Maybe I’m finally at a place where I need SOME form of commitment again. This time it’ll just be to the WW points and Gold’s Gym. Well hell, I’ve pretty much kicked the smoking thing (again, yes I still smoke mother when I drink it’s better than a half a pack a day, hello) and I was digging the gym a few weeks ago (pre-hormonal rage thing) and well, besides work what else do I have to do?
NB-C and I weighed in at noon and our progress shall be well documented…I would tell you my starting weight but there are somethings a girl should just keep to herself. Yes, I know you are asking yourself if this is an "she's about to turn 30 you know" crisis. Well heck yes it is! There are some things I should be in the new decade and fat is not one of them. So I’m setting a goal of a 20 pound drop prior to the big day. 30 for 30 would be better, but I will keep my expectations to "moderate" for the time being. If I lose 20, I will have to shop for new clothes and gee, I just hate that…
For those, ahem, of you out there who think I lack commitment, that I am all talk and no action. Well you’ve just never seen what this girl can do when she sets her mind to it. Stay tuned.
SO everyone raise your abnormally large and slightly embarrassing water jugs and cheer us on! NB-C and I are on a mission and we’re just the fat asses to do it...
(I mean that lovingly of course)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)