no, but seriously, the only things more stressful than moving is waking up on the morning you are supposed to move to find that your car has been towed, with your cell phone sitting in it's cup holder.

i'm just saying.

it was THAT (see above) kind of morning, quite explicitly that kind of morning, and i'm still reeling a bit. i've got a to-do list a mile long, but at the end of it, i'll be moved in to a sweet new home, with my own parking spot that i'll never be towed from. sigh.


13 things that make it stupid obivous the world is ending, or at least gone entirely mad:

1. i've eaten salad 3 times this week
2. with wind chill, it was 5 degrees today. in HOTlanta.
3. britney. fucking. spears'. head.
4. grey's anatomy sucked hard this week.

5. i been running three of the last 6 days.
6. one of those times was today. in the awesomely un-balmy weather.
7. i haven't been on a date in two weeks. okay, 10 days, but still. cra.zay.
8. my last paycheck was double what i was expecting.
9. i'm currently wearing long underwear under another shirt. i'm bringing back the seventh grade look BIG TIME.
10. i listened to an interview on npr today and thought "who is this brilliant, articulate man?" it was ralph nadar.
11. i've woken up for the fifth night in a row in my closet, in a panic, sure that someone is going to see me naked.*
12. i think i have fallen in love with jumping jacks.
13. i think i have fallen out of love with beyonce.

*i live alone, and no one is gonna see me naked anytime soon. (see #7)


dear boys,

thanks for the drinks. thanks for making me feel hot and funny and interesting and charming. thanks for giving me an excuse to buy the red polka dot dresses, and thanks for complimenting me on how i look it in.
thanks for introducing me to the farmers market, to mjq, to ducati bikes, to front-row at turner field, to running, to tequila. thanks for re-introducing me to a charlie brown christmas. thanks for the apologies. thanks for calling two months later to say you missed me. thanks for not waiting to call. thanks for dancing with me without me having to ask. thanks for the free bed. thanks for the home cooked food, the hikes and the sweet voice mails. thanks for not letting me beat you at texas hold 'em. thanks for letting me beat you at pool. thanks for letting me take a few of you out for test runs, and then return you for a better model. thanks for letting me run a few of you into the ground. thanks for the ear kisses, forehead kisses, neck kisses and back of the knee kisses. thanks for letting me kiss you.

it's been a tricky few months, but i'm so glad you're here to keep me company, keep me humble and keep me laughing.

a warm and happy valentines day to all of you.


my dad is coming to help me move. my dad is the bomb. not only is he the bomb at dressing as the angel of the lord (see above), he's also the best moving man you've ever met. he'll be here for 48 hours. Without a doubt, while here he will accomplish the following:
taking apart the bookshelf from hell, buy me a 'happy new home' plant, re-assemble the bookshelf from hell, move all of my crap while simultaneously saying "no problem, this is easy easy easy, no problem", take me on the grocery shopping extravaganza 2007, do my laundry, give me cold hard cash, go out and get me mexican food when i'm sitting in the middle of my new home in tears because geez, that picture just looks WRONG there, and finally, snore. loudly.

best. dad. ever.


nine sweet pieces of advice to myself on February 7th, 2007.
(Inspired by schnozz)

1. keep making an effort to look really fucking good. wear high heels more. rock the classy cleavage and the short(ish) skirts. you'll get laid more, and feel skinnier. both are really good things.

2. get really good at your jobs. take the accounting class. take the pilates certification. get really good at both, and then ask for more money from both companies. you're really good at the people side of them, get just as good at the expertise, technical side. it is feasible for you to run either of the companies in the next three years if you get focused and competitive. do it now.

3. do not give up on the men. the only thing worse than a single woman is a sniveling, jaded single woman. plow on, slog through the shitty, silly blind dates, and the sad, distant more-right-for-you boys. with any luck, you'll look back on this phase of your life as the most carefree, simple, sweet time.

4. go see dreamgirls. at the drive-in. with amy and elise.

5. move more, drink less. just cause you have a 'sweet in comparison to lots of peeps' body doesn't mean you shouldn't have 'SUPER RIDICULOUSLY sweet in comparison to lots of peeps' body. you are in your twenties. look hot NOW, before babies and full time computer jobs ruin your ass and gravity ruins your boobs.

6. start packing up boxes. now.

7. remember that one time that you talked to the therapist over christmas break and felt so much better and like you had a clear plan, you just had to do these two tasks? and you were going to take care of them in january because, sheeeeesh, THEN at least some life business would be cleared up and wouldn't that feel so GOOD?...
well, take care of those things. now. this week. being scared to deal isn't an excuse not to deal.

8. keep talking to ogy and hedu and manna. they knew you when you were fat and ugly and uninspired. they like you a lot.

9. remain vigilant about talking about what you like about your situation. you used to be good at this, and 2007 seems to stalled those efforts. they are a self fulfilling prophecy. get back to it. talk about the jobs and the dating and the new home and the sweet city and the new babies and the lovely friends and the general awesomeness of it. keep voicing it, and it will keep being true.


inspired by her: i thought, this is my life, this will have to do.

last night i swam, thought about how i'm not really a swimmer, certainly not like the swimmer next to me, hell, i don't even have a swim cap or goggles, good god i am not a swimmer why am i swimming.
the ladies showed up early for class, so i floated around and talked to them sitting on the side of the pool, and one of them brought up again how i should consider midwifery, and how she would love to hire me, and i think she thinks i wouldn't lose my mind out of sheer 'holy shit-ness' if i delivered an actual living baby. the class started, and we giggled like usual, and laughed at how there are babies in all of them, but they are all such different moms already. one has shoes to match every outfit, and one hasn't bought a single thing. they are both going to be good moms, but last night we just laughed at how that is possible.
i then made my weekly amy/ken rounds to drink wine and watch greys and talk during the commercials. we talked about my boy of the month (s), and her little sons, and how boys are boys, 3-30. she had dinner ready for me again, and told me stories about her meeting ken and falling in love and we poured white wine into our red wine glasses to make rose. she listened to my s fears, and as i walked out of the door she had me laughing loud at my own silliness, and inablity to deal.
i went on a late night blind date after that-- he was all muscles and long pauses and stares and wanted me to have another drink, or maybe go somewhere else, and i was all 'maybe this could work, but only for a night' but refused the drink, and the offer of a new location, and came home to a text from him that i answered with an 'i don't think we should see each other again' email.
i'm still unsure about s, and he's spending the weekend with boys, and with mourning, and i today i want to ask him to just call my in three months when things have settled, and he has settled so we can see then. new things are hard.

this morning i taught class, and then sat in the nicu with a new mom and her freshy twins and freshy worry. i missed my mom.

yesyes-- i thought, this is my life, this will have to do.