Stop. The. Presses.

I received word today there is an upcoming Wii game for marching band. I already wanted a Wii before… now I must have one. How much fun does that sound, people??!?? Marching band! Without the scalding pavement and bugs!

Also, it has a really cute name… Major Minor’s Majestic March. I haven’t had time today to look into it (when it’s out, what exactly you DO in the game, etc.) but I’m pretty sure I’m going to love it.

Maybe it will come out around birthday time….??


The hills ARE alive!!!

Julie Andrews was GREAT!! I try not to be to star-struck when I get to meet people like that…and usually I’m pretty good at it. When I got off the phone with Julie Andrews… I knew I’d acted like a child. But when I listened back to the interview today… it was even worse than I thought.

But you know what? I’m okay with it. I mean, she’s JULIE ANDREWS. Here’s a little sneak peek:

Some lady: okay, Julie Andrews is on the line…

Me: HELLO JULIE ANDREWS!!! (giggling)

JA: Why, hello, Stephanie! So glad to speak with you.

Me: (melting a little bit at hearing her wonderfully, British, Mary Poppins voice saying my name) :: hee hee:: (breathing nervously) Thanks for spending a few minutes with me…

JA: You’re certainly welcome, Stephanie, I’m happy to be with you.

Inside my head: Please stop saying my name, Julie Andrews! I can’t concentrate!

And so it went… I managed to pull together some pretty decent questions… you can hear them at the station’s website…and look for Studio 619.


Standby…


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No Room for Neo

A couple nights ago, while I was watching t.v… I realized I’d been scratching my arm for quite a long time. The culprit was a bug bite… a pretty big one… you know, the kind where you can SEE the actual skin punctures in a fang-like pattern and there’s even a trail of mini-bites in the bug’s escape path.

I had been inadvertently scratching it so long, it was even bleeding a bit. (this isn’t mean to gross you out… there’s a point…) So I thought to myself… wow, this really itches… and HURTS now too… if only… if only I had some sort of… portable Neosporin!!


Seriously, people. This product is so you can take your Neosporin around WITH YOU. Because that tiny little tube of goop was just SO bulky before… I mean, I can’t even fit money in my purse with that Neosporin tube in there! Thank goodness there’s a smaller version! I always find myself glancing longingly at my giant tube of Neosporin as I walk out the door and think to myself ‘If only I could take you with me… if only…” Now all my dreams are coming true!


Ahem.


Driving for fun

I’m going to have another little rant here about gas prices. While I was driving at some point this week with my windows down and my sunroof open, I remembered how awesome that summer nighttime air feels… and that abandon that comes with turning up the radio and singing as loud as you want because no one will hear even though the windows are open. Great. I used to drive around for fun in high school, and especially in college. In high school, it was mostly when I was getting a little stir crazy.

In college, driving around was ten times better… I had a better car (miss you, Grace), I didn’t get to drive much anyway, with everything being on campus, and there was a great drive to the lake… just the right amount of time driving to the lake and forest and back… a little time at the water in between. Perfect. That little drive brought me back from a lot of those over-dramatic will-I-ever-make-it-through-this moments in college.

Driving for fun doesn’t exist anymore. It costs too much. In fact, extra non-necessary driving causes me pain now. The terrorists have won.

Just kidding on that last part… I just felt like being over-dramatic.

But seriously, I was joking with Vivian this weekend when we watched Get Smart, I bet that gets said a lot in Homeland Security. You know… “Derrick! What’s wrong with you? I told you TWO creams and ONE sugar in my coffee! Dangit, man! Every time you screw up my coffee, the terrorists WIN!”


Big Superstar News

Brace yourselves for big-time, breaking news.

I get to interview….Julie Andrews… TOMORROW!! Julie freakin’ Andrews ya’ll!!

Yes, Mary Poppins. Yes, Maria in The Sound of Music. Yes, Victor Victoria. Yes, Queen of Genovia in The Princess Diaries!!!

Um… (back down to earth)… what do you ask Julie Andrews that she hasn’t already been asked a brazillion times?

(silence)

Get back to me on that.



Standby…

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June 24th.

We didn’t forget. We never will. Until the day birthdays no longer matter.

You’re already there. Someday we will be too. See you then.

Love you.



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I Heart My Church

Every Sunday I stand and sing or sit and ponder or pray and am humbled and think ‘I love this church’. We just started a new sermon series called Bumper Sticker Beliefs… and we just heard the first one this week, but I can tell you already it’s a great series. And it represents almost all the things I love about my church: they aren’t afraid to tackle issues that will most likely tick some people off… they tackle those issues in a loving way… and everything is based on Scripture.

This week I quickly took notes and tried to listen at the same time, it reminded me of how I’m a little out of practice since college. It also reminded me how nice it is to be learning something that you want to go back over later, enough to take notes!



I Heart The Pool

I spent some good, quality time at the pool this weekend… reading, eavesdropping, relaxing. It was fantastic. I think my favorite thing about it is that it costs me next to nothing. I pay for sunscreen. Which brings me to…

I Heart Helioplex

I’m still getting used to my grown-up skin. My young-Steph skin would just soak up rays and get tan, tan and tan. Grown-up Steph skin is a little more rebellious. My family can attest to the fact that I most often get it wrong (and by ‘it’, I mean the application of sunscreen)…resulting in severe (SEVERE, people!) burning, most often in strange patterns like stripes or reverse polka dots.

Just to help you understand the severity of this problem, there was a sunburn I got on my chest on a vacation several years ago at Myrtle Beach that was so bad, the scarred skin tissue didn’t cycle out until three years later. Yeah.

SO… you’ll be happy to know I’m all over it now (hopefully for good). Mom got us (yeah, she’s right AGAIN!) Neutrogena Helioplex sunscreen when we went to St. Augustine and it was great! This stuff is aerosol, so you aren’t getting griminess all over yourself… AND it’s ‘cooling’ or something so it cools your skin if you put it on when you’re hot. This I don’t recommend for your first application, because it’s aerosol and most of it will blow away before it ever gets to your skin… put it on the first time at home.

Anyway, I’ve bought a couple more bottles since we’ve been home for my pool excursions and I haven’t burned ONCE. No burning… AND I’m getting some sun! I think you can get up to 75 SPF, but I don’t really see the point in that. I use 30 and it’s awesome.

(one other note: if I’ve talked you into getting some Helioplex, and I really hope I have, you should get it at Target. I braced myself for expensiveness when I first bought it at Target, and I remember being impressed it was only 3 or 4 dollars, not any more expensive than the other sunscreens. But a couple days ago I ran into a CVS to get more and didn’t pay attention to the price and it was TEN DOLLARS! Crazy talk!)


I Heart My Friends

Something awesome happened last night. One of my friends needed something. It was sort of a tall order… but not really… I never hesitated to help her out. And when I crawled back into bed at four a-m after picking her up at the airport and taking her home… I thought, I’m genuinely happy to have helped her. Sure, I’m a little tired. But I would do it again tomorrow if she needed me too. I’m not begrudgingly helping her because I have to. I helped her because I WANT to… and I’m glad she called me to get her.

Awesome. Real friendship. Thanks, God!


Standby…

God bless this Hedge

People – you must watch this – make sure you have speakers on or a headset…



I can’t tell if I was just a little slap-happy when I watched it and that’s why it’s so funny in my mind, or if it’s really that funny.

Also, about half-way through, I’m imagining all the cursing and death wishes going on in the hedgehog’s head… poor guy…

Have a good weekend, peeps!

Happy Summer Solstice!


Standby…

Why do we read?

What do we want from our fictional characters? I’ve been thinking about this for a day or so because NPR brought it up about one of my favorite characters of all time. They have a really cool series called “In Character”, in which they examine American fictional characters and why we love them, hate them, aspire to be like them, etc.

Most recently they profiled Jo March from Little Women. I should tell you now Little Women is my favorite book EVER and I read it every couple of years. It speaks to me on a different level and through different situations each time I read it.

This NPR piece about Jo examined her individuality, her strength, her creativity, her independence, devotion to family and how she developed personally as she grew into adulthood. Then, it took a somewhat disturbing turn… apparently Jo is too lofty a character for our young girls to aspire to. Apparently, no one can be that strong, that true to themselves and yet able to love others, that creative and yet still longing for home and family. It’s too much to expect.

I’m sorry. First of all, it’s not. But that’s not what I’m writing about today. Second of all, and perhaps most importantly, isn’t a book one of the few places where that is acceptable? Isn’t fiction the place where we can create magnificent characters and work to understand them and the complexities of their personalities? Sure, characters should be believable. But I don’t want to read about someone exactly like me. I’m living this life, homey, I want to read about other types of people! And if literature is no longer the place where we can embrace rich, colorful characters, then I don’t know why anyone reads.

Also, Jo March isn’t a saint. She has faults, just like everyone else. One of the themes of the book is knowing yourself well enough to know your faults and weaknesses and handle them like an adult. NPR’s piece featured a few mothers who were in a mother/daughter book group who, after reading the book again, didn’t like it and weren’t sure they wanted their daughters aspiring to be Jo March. I, for one, I’m glad my mom forced… yes, FORCED… me to read Little Women for the first time when I was very young because I have learned a lot about life through the years not only from Jo, but also from Meg, Beth, Amy and Marmee. Thanks, mom. Right again!

Another example of a great character… Scarlett O’Hara. I just finished (last night) reading the sequel to Gone With the Wind… Scarlett. I won’t give any of the plot away, but I will say if you left Gone With the Wind hating Scarlett and feeling like she got what she deserved… read the sequel. The character development is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G.

But, back to my point…. I don’t want to BE Scarlett. There’s a lot about her that is just not in my personality. But I LOVE reading about her. She’s terribly interesting… she has great character strengths, but she also has enormous flaws and she grows THROUGH those flaws without losing herself. GREAT character development. This is why I read. Scarlett O’Hara.

I’ll say one other thing that won’t ruin the book for you when you all drop what you’re doing and go read it immediately… I’ve never cried out of HAPPINESS while reading a book before. Until now. Go. Read. Drink it in.

I’ve ordered Rhett Butler’s People (the other sequel). I’m going to go through a bit of withdrawal when I have to leave these characters. They’ve been part of my life since vacation, when I started reading Gone With the Wind.


Now is also an appropriate time to give a shout-out to my Nannie, who read to me endlessly when I was little, and helped cultivate my love of reading. Thank you thank you thank you thank you.

I’ll also say I’m happy I finally get to lend my friend Robin a book. She’s loaned me so many GREAT books and helped me pick good vacation reads for awhile now, and I’m glad I get to return her generosity.

Standby…

I Pine for The Bus

Vivie took the bus to work this morning. And I’m a little jealous.

Seriously, people. I’ve been thinking every day about new options for the commute and $2-BILLION dollar a gallon gas.

Here’s how the scooter debate goes:

That’s it! I’m getting a scooter! Yeah! Those things get like 83-miles to the gallon… I’ll save a TON of money! And they’re super-cute! Oh wait. I’d have to drive it on the interstate… that’s a little scary. And I’d have to LEARN how to drive it. And, now that I think about it, sometimes it rains here. And snows. And ices. Forget the interstate, I’d have to drive on Shelbyville Road and THAT’S scary….hmm…. okay, it’s decided. If I get a scooter, I’ll probably die.

Then I have the bus debate:

I can ride the bus! Yeah! Lots of people do that! If I get a monthly pass, I’ll save a lot of money! And not have to pay ridiculous amounts of money for downtown parking…I’m sure there’s an express that runs in the mornings and evenings (there is)… AND I can read while I ride! Yay! Wait… but then I wont’ have a car at work. And I actually have to go cover stuff…mmmm….yeah… I DO use the car a lot at work. And sometimes I work late… I’d have to miss the express back home… sometimes I work until after midnight… then I’d have to sleep at my desk… and wear day-old clothes. Hmmm….sometimes I have to come in early too… I’m doing Morning Edition in a few weeks, no express for THAT. Okay, it’s decided, if I take the bus, I’ll have to become a homeless person for half my life.

And then back to…

That’s it! I’ll get a scooter!!

And so on…


The first-graders and me

I started volunteering as a small group leader for first graders at my church this weekend. I was a little scared. I’m not the best with little kids. I’m not sure why. I’m pretty good with ONE kid. But not a group.

I just get this sense they all know I don’t know what I’m doing. Like a horse. They can’t just TELL. (This, by the way, is ALSO the reason I’m uncomfortable around horses. That, and the thoroughbreds are crazy.)

Anyway, I volunteered this weekend, without the comfortable fall-back of having my friend Ann there (who is awesome with kids). I don’t really know why I was scared. Because here’s the thing… they won’t find out I don’t know anything and call me out because I KNOW MORE THAN THEM. They are first graders. The very fact I am 25 makes me smarter than them.

Here’s how I learned this:

A little girl who was looking for something to do before worship service was scoping out the crayons when I invited her to color with me. She didn’t want to color. She wanted to know if there were word puzzles. Like a word search? Yes. She likes word puzzles.

I thought, “Now THIS is my kind of kid!” So I sat with her and complimented how good she was at the puzzle… I noticed she was basically just staring at it and waiting for words to pop out to her.

So I asked if she wanted to hear my word search technique. She thought about that a moment, then said yes. So I showed her how to pick the word she was looking for, then scan each line for that word’s first letter, etc. She thought that was really smart. I told her my mom taught me how to do that...probably when I was about her age.


I’ll also take a moment to add I DO NOT have this sort of anxiety when I interview, say, the Mayor. Or Tom Brokaw. Or Ira Glass. Just little kids.

Standby...

Mom Saw it Coming

What a classy guy. This is going to be the last time I talk about Big Brown, Rick Dutrow, or the Belmont. I promise.

The trainer, Dutrow, spoke up yesterday after acting like a baby and not showing up the day after the race. And when he opened his mouth, it was even more babyish. Mom was right. He blamed the jockey.

THE JOCKEY. The only thing classy about the whole shabamboh.

There are too many unsavory quotes in this story for me to choose just one to share with you…

http://www.courier-journal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080610/SPORTS08/806100463/1002/SPORTS


sigh… if you were a jockey, wouldn’t YOU want to work for this guy? ::roll::

That’s it. I’m off this soapbox.


THAT

As a person who routinely tells stories in 45 seconds or less, I can be quite a stickler when it comes to extraneous words. Here is one of my pet peeves: the word ‘THAT’ when it doesn’t need to be used. This happens A LOT. The ONLY time you need it is to indicate a specific noun. For example, “Please hand me that towel.”

I hate it when it’s used as a conjunction. For example, “I’m sure that you’ll like it.” Here’s why I hate it: you don’t need it. “I’m sure you’ll like it” makes just as much sense as “I’m sure that you’ll like it”.

Let me be clear here for those of you who take my word as grammatical scripture… it isn’t grammatically incorrect to use ‘that’ as a conjunction. I just personally hate it.

Just a refresher:

“Hold it up so that everyone can see it.” (ACK! Sounds of my choking with hatred)

“Hold it up so everyone can see it.” (makes JUST AS MUCH SENSE and without stupid, extra words….ahhh…..eyes closing, falling into peaceful sleep)

Change of Perspective

I worked late last night covering the school board. Normally when I do that, I elect to come in late the next day to catch some extra z’s or run errands while everyone else is at work. Not this time. This time I told my boss I’d like to come in at regular time and leave early. The reason? Pool. :)


Standby...

That's What I Meant to Say...

Billy Reed got it right, folks. READ IT!



Big Brown Bluff
June 8th, 2008 by Billy Reed · No Comments

The petty thief in Rick Dutrow’s larcenous heart told him he could get away with stealing the Triple Crown. He knew the Big Brown that was heading into the Belmont Stakes wasn’t the same Big Brown who rolled in the Kentucky Derby and Preakness. But the petty thief whispered, “So what, babe? Hey, he’s good enough to beat these chumps on three legs.”

The colt had inherited hoof problems from his sire, Boundary, and they were the reason that Dutrow had to nurse him as much as train him. Only three races heading into the Derby. No significant workout between the Derby and the Preakness. Then the quartercrack in the left front that had to be mended and patched in the days leading up to the Belmont.

When it was clear that he wasn’t going to be 100 per cent for the Belmont, his owner, International Equine Acquisitions Holdings (IEAH), should have ordered him scratched. The hell with the hype and hoopla. The horse comes first. Just ask Hidetoshi Yamamoto, the Japanese magnate who owns Casino Drive.

On the morning of the Belmont, upon returning to his barn after a light gallop, Casino Drive showed signs of soreness in his left rear hoof. It was a relatively minor problem. Yet Yamamoto opted to scratch Casino Drive, who was unbeaten and thought to be Big Brown’s main challenger, rather than take a chance.

This is what classy horsemen do. Unfortunately, nobody has ever used “class” in the same sentence with either Big Boastful – that would be the arrogant Dutrow – or IEAH, a mysterious consortium whose front man, Michael Iavarone, was temporarily banned from Wall Street for shady dealings in the late 1990s.

To be fair, Dutrow and IEAH aren’t the first to try to steal the Triple Crown with a less-than-healthy horse. Owner Frank McMahon did it in 1969 with Majestic Prince and Edgar Baptista did it in 1971 with Canonero II. Both horses had physical problems going into the race. But at the end, ego prevailed over common sense, and both colts paid the inevitable price.

In a wonderful bit of irony, the gods of racing smiled on another trainer who came up the hard way, as Dutrow did. Nick Zito grew up in Queens and dropped out of school to go to work on the race track. He had to scuffle and hustle and learn on the fly. He had to earn everything he got because nobody gave him anything.

But unlike Dutrow, Zito has class. When he reached the top, he celebrated every victory by thanking God, his mother, and everyone who had given him a hand up along the way. He was humble, grateful, respectful, and modest. He made friends everywhere he went – not only for himself, but for the sport.

It’s simply not in Zito’s DNA to guarantee a victory, to insult his fellow trainers and their horses, or to proclaim that victory in the Belmont is a “foregone conclusion.” He is a gentleman, always. The anti-Dutrow, if you will.

So yesterday, before a crowd of 94,476 and a worldwide TV audience, the horse that pounded down the stretch, all alone on the lead in the Belmont Stakes, wasn’t Big Brown but Da’Tara, a 38-to-1 shot trained by Zito. As Da’Tara hit the finish line 5 ¼ lengths in front, poor Big Brown was jogging along in last place, jockey Kent Desormeaux having pulled him up at the quarter pole.

“You gotta be humble,” Zito said. “There’s no question this game will humble kings. You want that quote, you got it. Before honor, there’s humility.”

At first, Dutrow wouldn’t talk to the media folks whom he had alternately fascinated and repulsed throughout the spring. This was hardly surprising. It’s what bullies and braggarts do when their bluff has been called. And that’s exactly what Big Brown’s Belmont bid was – a bluff, pure and simple.

Trainer D. Wayne Lukas had it exactly right.

“I think they compromised his training schedule to adjust to the quartercrack,” Lukas said. “I think they thought he was good enough to overcome it.”

Only a fool – or somebody who has no respect for history – would believe that it’s possible to win the mile-and-a-half Belmont, the longest stakes race in America, with a horse that’s less than fit. The Belmont isn’t known as “The Test of Champions” for nothing. It puts a greater value on stamina than speed. If a horse is less than fit or healthy, it’ll be exposed somewhere along the way.

In other words, you do not steal the Belmont Stakes or the Triple Crown. They must be earned. Secretariat would not have won the 1973 Belmont by 31 lengths if he had been less than 100 per cent. Affirmed would never have held off Alydar in 1978 if he had been one iota less than 100 per cent. Of course, the owners of those immortals would have scratched their horses instead of trying to steal the race.

For Big Brown, the moment of truth came when Desormeaux prudently decided to pull him up instead of running the risk of breaking him down. It was the best decision to come out of the Big Brown camp all spring, and the entire sport owes Desormeaux a debt of gratitude. After the Eight Belles tragedy in the aftermath of the Derby, a crippling injury to Big Brown would have brought the sport to its knees.

“This horse was in no way, shape, or form lame or sore,” Desormeaux said, “but there is something amiss. He’s probably just tired.”

Considering the investment involved – IEAH already has worked out a deal with Kentucky’s Three Chimneys Farm to syndicate him for $50 million – tests will be run. It wouldn’t at all be surprising to see somebody produce an X-ray that indicates Big Brown suffered some kind of injury, or breathing problem, during the race.

That will give him the excuse he needs as he’s whisked off to the breeding farm, never to race again. That also will take Dutrow off the hook, except in the cynical minds of those who always will believe that Big Blowhard tried to steal the Belmont Stakes with a horse he knew was not himself.

The classy street guy won, the petty thief got humiliated. And the racing gods smiled, justice and history having been served.


Standby...

Hoping He Chokes

It’s a weird position to be in. Smarty Jones broke my heart when he didn’t win the Belmont… I wanted so badly to have one of those stories of watching a brave and scrappy horse that no one would have ever thought could be successful win the elusive Triple Crown. A feat designed to place thoroughbreds of only the highest caliber on the pedestal of immortality. And he was *this* close. And what a great story. Truly, everything I love about horse racing.

Big Brown is almost the polar opposite. His trainer is what I call ‘a punk’. He has a sketchy personal history and a possibly even sketchier track record as a trainer. Not to mention he’s loud, boastful and arrogant. I’m not a big fan of Big Brown’s owners either…insanely rich people in a conglomerate who probably care less for the horse than they do about tradition. Miles apart from Afleet Alex’s owners who sold lemonade in a booth at Churchill Downs and Smarty Jones’s owners who scraped together their life savings to purchase a horse with character from here to the moon. Those two things are enough to make me wish, deep down, that Big Brown doesn’t win the Belmont Stakes tomorrow and become THE horse to end the Triple Crown drought I’ve been hoping would end since I was old enough to understand what it was.

The only redeeming factors in this horse are 1.) his ‘look’ and 2.) his jockey. Kent Desormeaux is a good jockey, and has an interesting back story. He had some success in racing, become a bit of a ‘punk’, realized his error, and worked hard to overcome it. He also has a son who is ill and that seems to tug at more people’s heartstrings than it does mine. I would be okay with him winning.

Also, Big Brown *looks* like a champion. He acts like he knows he’s the best horse around and he’s handily beaten his competitors thus far. His demeanor, his build, everything about him exudes that… quality… we expect in our champion thoroughbreds. So I wouldn’t be surprised if he does win. I just don’t want him to.


Work Dream Stories

At work the last couple of days, people have been sharing dreams they’ve had about other people at work. You know, “I dreamed you were working at a Captain D’s and you let me make my own dinner” or “In my dream, there was a huge problem in the control room and you were in Switzerland!”

Can I just say I DO NOT dream about people at work. And if I did, that would make me sad. These are my dreams, people.

This week I dreamed Keith Urban was helping me solve crimes. Now THAT’S a dream.

Standby...

80 degrees at 9 a.m.

This makes me a little unhappy. It was pleasant outside. I got sick and didn’t go outside for a few days and then it was H-O-T and sticky. And not just for one day. This isn’t unusual for Kentucky, but in AUGUST, not June. If this is what I have to look forward to all summer, thank goodness I now live in a place that has central a/c so I won’t have to go to Costco and buy economy size bags of frozen biscuits to snuggle with (which is what I did last August).

Kitty update:

Thanks to you guys who have kept checking in on Clara… it really means a lot to me that you’re thinking of her (and me). When I got back from vacation, she was doing REALLY well… she was eating a lot and pooping and peeing, so all was well.

I got really excited about her eating so well, and tried to move her to canned kitty food, which would give her more nutrition and help her put on a few pounds. That made her sick and she stopped eating again.

She’s lost a lot of weight… I’m starting to be able to feel some of her joints protruding when I pet her. Just a few days ago though, she started eating a lot of dog food again, so hopefully she’ll get a little healthier and I’ll just let her eat dog food to her heart’s content. So right now we’re keeping our fingers crossed she keeps it up with the dog food and puts on a little weight.

Yum-yums:

As you all know, I’m a huge fan of strawberries. Not the crappy kind you find in most grocery stories year-round that are WHITE for most of the inside and taste like nothing. The good kind. It’s strawberry season. Mmmm….

AND, my friend Robin has a person coming in for her show next week that is bringing (cue major chords (for non-music people, happy chords) ) Strawberries with Lemon Sugar and Lavender Syrup.

I’ve never had anything resembling that (mostly strawberries, strawberries with sugar, strawberry shortcake)…but it sounds FABULOUS!! She also gave me the recipe and once I figure out where to get lavender blossoms, consider them made. And eaten.

I love my foodie friends. One day, I hope to be like them.


Standby…

The Lost Weekend

That tingly scalp feeling. Head throbbing. Sniffle. Too hot. Want sleep. Hungry. Nothing sounds good. Sniffle. Haze. Too cold. Sniffle. Hungry. Get up to get more medicine. Dizzy. Man, I’m such a pansy! Sniffle. Hot again. Why is my hair touching my neck? Sniffle. Lay back down. Hungry.

On and on like that until….

Beautiful, glowing, radiant Angel of the Lord (aka – my friend Ann – you’ve heard of her, right?) shows up with the most delicious club sandwich that has ever existed. Seriously, how did I get such great friends?

As you can see, I was sick this weekend. And that’s annoying for several reasons…

1.) it’s hot outside. Sick + hot outside = terrible
2.) I had plans for an awesome weekend which included a party at a winery, a cookout at my parents house (including s’mores) and celebration of Vivie’s birthday – which didn’t happen
3.) I pretty much lost any non-work time for that week.

This particular illness was only compounded by the fact that my roomie Viv was also gimp – it’s a really long story, but she wasn’t allowed to move for two days except to potty. So we were about as useless as a fork in tomato soup. (I JUST made that up!)

Anyway, two ER visits, two bottles of Nyquil, two Jersey Mike’s sandwiches (with chips and a drink for EACH), innumerable tissues, cough drops and b-movies later… we’re both better today.

Just in time – to…..go…. back to work.

Sigh….

I’m a little weebly-wobbly today from not moving around for a few days. Like a baby deer trying out its new legs. (don’t ask me why I’m a baby deer and not a baby…human.)



Standby….