Monthly Archives: June 2012
[Am I hallucinating again? Does that really say hot air balloon rides? Aliens may have abducted my blog yesterday, but I don’t think they abducted me and messed with my noggin. Maybe they erased my memory. Either way, yay for massive balloons and me inside of one.]
Next week brings Independence Day. This obviously brings with it celebrations, pyromania, and most importantly one much-needed day off of work. A certain conveniently placed party will be going down in my neighborhood. A neighbor of mine gushed about the annual fireworks show over the pond a few weeks ago in a Pilates class, and naturally, I have been impatiently waiting to enjoy the spectacle from my third story balcony ever since. I like it there. It is safe there. Just because I love fireworks doesn’t mean that I am not pathetically terrified that they are all defective and will somehow turn in to
heat Becca-seeking missiles as soon as they leave the cannon. There is a chilling childhood story that explains the origins of this fear, but it really isn’t chilling at all… at least not to anyone besides myself. I’ll keep that one in the vault for now.
Speaking of fear, I’ll get back to that balloon thing. Assuming that wasn’t an epic typo, this 4th of July is starting to look up (literally). Read the rest of this entry
[I finally captured Jack (front right), Ace (distant middle), and myself (part of me) all in one oddly angled and slightly blurry photo. Man, why am I even trying to become a writer when I am so obviously a photography prodigy.]
My mind has been trying to wrap itself around a certain obstacle I will eventually have to overcome. I will assume that you have caught on to the fact that I plan to move oodles of miles away when the time is right. I will also proudly say I believe to have determined the general region for my relocation. I’ll elaborate on that a little later. I can’t tell you specifics right now. You already know too much. What I can tell you, is that the region is well over a day’s drive from the
end of the world tip of the boot.
My point? Well, I want you to take a good look at the animals in that picture up there. One of them is a seasoned and serial car pooper/vomiter/demon noise maker. I refuse to take Ace half a mile down the road let alone half way across the country. So, I did a little research to find out just how I would pull off the biggest kitty voyage ever attempted and what tools I would need to get me through it. Let me just put on my cat whispering gear.
What I assumed the solution would be: Fork over a ridiculous amount of money for some extra strength cat roofies and try to explain to hotel staff and onlookers at pit stops why I am waltzing around with two limp balls of fur like it is some sort of fashion statement, all while my cats remain in a coma for two days straight.
What I learned after a good old fashion Google session: Do not roofie your cat(s). Instead, I will follow the plan of action below. Read the rest of this entry
[Look! I have a really cheesy cover, and I am cheap, but it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? Click my obnoxious cover to buy me on Amazon. Yay!
[Also, the title says “for grown-up girls”, but that shouldn’t stop the fellas from checking it out. Would I steer you wrong? Well, not intentionally at least.]
I returned to reality and a Sunday of cooking stuffed bell peppers with a new addition to slide onto my make-shift bookshelf. In her normal fashion, Booger handed down a book to me as an early Birthday present. Its title is The Merit Badge Handbook for Grown-up Girls by Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. Her name makes my jaw hurt a bit, and I didn’t even attempt saying it out loud. Filled with activities, projects, goal ideas, and new learning/experience opportunities, you could think of this book as a sort of generalized bucket list and guide. My initial appreciative reaction was quickly followed with eagerness to start flipping pages. Upon doing so, something unexpected happened.
The beginning of this year had me sulking in the realization of all the things I have yet to do in/with my life. I have a hard time being patient when on a quest. Nothing was helping, especially not seeing all the cool stuff other people around me were doing. Then, I began writing again and went from sulking to basking in the new-found determination I had to start doing things. New or different or scary or silly or constructive or whatever kind of things, it didn’t matter. No more ruts. Read the rest of this entry
[Let’s pretend that this is an appropriate photo for this post, and you can just call me whatever the female Vito would be called. Or, just let me pretend I look this cool. Alright, I am a horrible phony. I haven’t even seen The Godfather. ]
You know what I have seen though? A bunch of ultra-sounds and baby bump pictures. Yes, the infamous Booger is growing a tiny human these days. While I never expected we’d planning her reveal party for the sex of the baby this weekend, I also never expected to get so amped about baby stuff in general. And probably the least expected, but most incredibly exciting part of it all… she offered me the position of godmother.
Here in the south, godmothers are generally called the nanny and the godfather is the paran (I don’t think I can give an accurate phonetic spelling, so just pronounce that with your best French accent). When Booger called me to ask what I would prefer to be called (Godmother, Nanny, Aunt Becca), the whole life changing event became more real in my eyes. I can only imagine how she feels.
All of my friends know me as the one who was never overly concerned with settling down or marriage and definitely not procreating. The slightest thought of child-birth always triggers the “NOPE!” section of my brain. Even as a child, I never fantasized about my wedding or was much for playing with baby dolls that were promised to realistically defecate on me. I was more in to putting Ballet Barbie in her convertible and playing make-believe as a restaurant owner. No lie, I had boxes of faux meal receipts that I organized to keep tabs on my imaginary diner’s success. We had the best hot dogs. All the regulars said so. Read the rest of this entry
Today I have two orders of business. I so wish I had a gavel and had just said that out loud. The first includes me thanking a really kick-ass person by the name of Jillian. She has awarded me with my second blog award, the One Lovely Blog Award, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. I am
secretly openly envious of her bravery as she takes on Southeastern Europe. She is all about couch surfing, bungee jumping, and smooth talking security. Seriously, some of the stuff she does makes my zip lining excursion look like mini-golf in comparison. You can tag along on Jillian’s journeys here. Thanks for the compliment and added encouragement Jillian.
(Probably) Super official rules of accepting this award:
1. Thank the person/people who nominated you and link back to them in your post.
2. Share seven possibly unknown things about yourself.
3. Nominate fifteen or so bloggers you admire.
4. Contact the chosen bloggers to let them know and link back to them.
I’ll go ahead and get this out of the way:
1. I have an artificial right upper lateral. Also known as… I gots a fake tooth, ya heard. I was born without the permanent one that’s supposed to be there.
2. In my super viable medical opinion, I believe that very tooth got lost somewhere in the incubation period of my existence. Turns out it was just chilling with my wisdom teeth. That’s right, I had five wisdom teeth.
3. That’s enough about my dental history, but along the same lines I have never broken a bone.
4. My feline children are named after playing cards.
5. Whiskey is my biggest vice.
6. I absolutely can not wear socks under covers and definitely will not sleep in them.
7. I am in serious relationships with a lot of inanimate objects… but if you have been reading along with my blog for a while, you probably already knew that.
And now, I am going in to slacker mode and cheating a little bit. It is Friday and fifteen blogs is a lot, so I am going to slice that in half. Everyone who is anyone cheats on these things anyway right? We will just call it tweaking the rules. Here are some of my latest blog crushes. Does a blog count as an inanimate object? I mean the physical blog is inanimate, but the people writing them are not. Wow, this will be a long day. Back to the podium, and mind you these are in no specific order.
Kenny is an aspiring comedian. He is funny and insightful. You will like him. Oh, did I mention he sings?
I wish I could have been around when this guy was teaching, or rather, I wish this guy could have been around when I was learning. Either way I am sure he will correct me and then flatter me. Oh Rich, how I enjoy our interactions.
Using his units of measure, this guy is pretty sweet. Awesome dad. He will make you cry, then make you laugh.
I hate that I have never done half the outdoorsy stuff Sarah does, but I love living vicariously through her blog. Man, do all the cool people live in New England?
This one is definitely in my top five favorite blogs. If you like book writing bellmen, here’s your guy.
This blogger has a spiffy design to her blog, and I think her blog name is catchy to boot. Plus, she writes interesting stuff.
He is not a business man, he is a business, man. That comes straight from this guy’s about page. We’ve got a clever one here. Read his blog.
All I can say is inspiring. I would say much more, but now my fingers are sleepy. I have much love for this blog as well.
I am sure most of these people don’t need me to nominate them for some award. I am equally certain they must all know they are wonderful already. Regardless, there it is. If I have missed some sort of anti-award clause somewhere in your information, I apologize. I probably shouldn’t get ahold of a gavel after all.
Oh yeah, and for the second order of business, remember how I actually won something that one time? Probably not, but my prize finally arrived. Findingravity is the shiz.
- One Lovely Blog and Kreativ Blogger Award (jabelah.wordpress.com)
- One Lovely Award and Blessing (inlovewiththelord.wordpress.com)
- Awards! Many lovely awards … (evatenter.wordpress.com)
[When you meet the right store, you just know. It means never having to ask, “Where is the Bounty?”.]
One of the main reasons I moved in to the apartment I currently live in, was because of the central location to my favorite grocery store, gas stations, and the blessing that is CVS. CVS always has treated me kindly. It has my favorite wines at a decent price. They have not only one but two actually functioning Redbox machines. You’ve got to love movie vending machines. Add a slot for dispensing popcorn and M&M’s and it’s on (but only if mixed together). Also, it is much more convenient than weaving through the grocery store when all I need is a little lion food and tiger litter. I will dodge the grocery store every time if possible, unless I have a guided list and more than ten items for which to hunt.
The first few trips to my new haven were just as delightful as I imagined. As things were going so well already, I quickly found myself envisioning a lifelong future developing for CVS and I. The perfect consumer-retailer union. That’s when, as it usually plays out in relationships (mine at least), the true identity of my beloved store began to slip through the cracks of its sleek ruby exterior. We had a problem. My CVS had been concealing a Mr. Hyde. The cashier. Read the rest of this entry
[Awww yeahhh 1993. What a bright pink bathing suit I’ve got there. Wait a damn minute, was that really almost twenty years ago?!]
Sometimes I forget about things. Sometimes I get lazy. Sometimes I do both simultaneously.
As I was driving down the highway, I could hear the ice chest in the trunk sloshing around. It sounded like I had a dead body back there. We were close enough to the next stop we were making on our way to Denham Springs for me to ignore it for a few more miles. We finally pulled up on the curb of a friend’s house. The caravan of cars ahead of us had filed neatly into the driveway.
I peeled myself from the driver’s seat and went around the rear of my car. I figured I would investigate what was causing my ice chest to slingshot around my back seat like a bouncy ball. My friend had initially loaded the ice chest. Since I frequently stash things in my trunk (don’t worry, nothing that’s alive… wait that didn’t sound right), I knew there was no telling what I would rediscover when I opened that door.
Whew, it was only an old box. A half-opened old box labeled memories. Read the rest of this entry