Things I am so over

(FYI: This has nothing to do with bloggers or any blog I read. These are things I've realized over the last couple years -- since I graduated college and hang out more with people who are in their late 20s -- that I think suck.)

• People who aren't old saying they're old. Seriously -- 30 isn't old, so 28 isn't either. Forty isn't. And if you have the right attitude, neither is 80.
• People who are like 5 years older than me saying, "Oh, you're only 23? You're just a baby!"
• Girls who are absolutely gorgeous looking in mirrors and pointing out every flaw they think they have. (On that note, totally loving the new Dove campaign, as I've blogged before.) Two of my old roomies did this a couple weeks ago. Girls, trust me, you're the only ones who see those "flaws"!

Be positive, guys and gals!

Such a romantic

Friday night when I got to K's, I unloaded my car as I always do. I got to his door, but when I went to open it, the door slowly opened on its own. I peeked into K's apartment to see several little tealight candles lining the entryway.

I stepped inside the door to see more candles going all the way up the stairs, and even more leading into the kitchen. K emerged from behind the door and gave me a hug. We walked into the kitchen, and the table was covered with more candles, and so were the counters. On the kitchen table, though, was a plate of strawberries and whipped cream, M&Ms, little Butterfinger Easter eggs (hey, candy is seasonal!) and a bowl of my favorite ice cream -- Edy's Slow Churned Double Fudge Brownie. Next to the plate was a bottle of the champagne that I absolutely love that K and I have had the last two New Years -- Martini & Rossi Asti Spumante.

We shared the ice cream and goodies, and we each had a glass of champagne. We went upstairs, where K gave me a massage.

He did all of that because we hadn't seen each other in a couple weeks and since we didn't get to spend Valentine's Day together or do anything special for that.

Even if he's taking his time, I'm a pretty lucky girl.

Sometimes it's just not cool to be a girl

It's tough to be a girl. We pick up on things guys don't. We think about things in ways guys don't. We worry and stress over things guys don't. We anticipate things happening that guys don't.

Sometimes some of us obsess over anticipating things happening that some guys evidently don't think about as much as we'd like. But it's not our fault. Do you think we want to think about those things as much as we do?

Friday night I was driving to K's. I had a little over an hour to go before I'd see him for the first time in a couple weeks. I was excited to see him. Somehow, we were talking about money or something -- I honestly can't remember. He said something about how he thought it would be awesome to get a year's pay tax-free, except that would mean he'd be deployed. When I said I didn't realize that, he continued with the perks they get pay-wise in the military (to attempt to make up for all the nonperk things they have to mess with).

Since he doesn't live on post, he gets a basic housing allowance. If he were married, he would get $200 more each. month. for basic housing allowance.

(*insert stopping-the-music-so-quickly-the-record-gets-scratched noise here*)

Excuse me?

Because I'm a girl, that comment frustrated me. And because K is a guy, my guy, the guy, I couldn't tell him why I was frustrated when he asked me moments later why I'd gotten so quiet. I knew it was a stupid girl thing to be upset over, but I'm a girl. I was upset. Since it was something I couldn't tell him about since he (a) wouldn't understand or (b) would get frustrated himself that I'm upset with him that he hasn't proposed yet, I pretty much just thought about it all weekend.

We've acknowledged that we both knew July 4, 2005 -- just a month and half or so after we'd met and the second weekend we ever saw each other -- that we would get married someday. We acknowledged it to each other the following October. His mom told him the following April that she knew we'd get married someday.

We've talked about it. We've talked about where it would happen (Dallas), when (spring or summer; football season is out of the question) and the fact he'd wear his dress blues instead of a tux (I'd totally rather have him wear the tux because he looks really good in one, but I know he's proud of what he does too). We've talked about what kind of food we'd have at the reception and rehearsal dinner (a Yankee Italian meets stereotypical Southern thing -- very us and very fun and laid-back). We've talked about colors and whether or not we'd have an open bar. We've talked about how we'd probably do the sword thing and who would be in that line (since he has so many guys he'd want to involve that it probably wouldn't be just the groomsmen). I've told him I'm okay with the idea of having a guy in that line whack me on the butt on my wedding day, in my wedding dress as we're walking out of the church (It's like a "good game" going into the marriage!).

I'm going to two weddings this spring of couples who met and started dating after K and I even knew we were going to marry someday. My patience is getting thin -- my patience for the situation itself, and my patience at myself for freakin' thinking of this as much as I do.

It must be nice to be a guy ... (at least they have a shot at being normal!)

Because I learned my lesson

I hadn't run on the treadmill in a long time -- since that graceful night over a month ago when drinking water proved to be a life-threatening activity. Since that night, I have done many forms of cardio -- the bicycle, various elliptical machines with various training emphases, the stair-stepping machine and even running outside. But I haven't gone near the treadmill.

The scars are still there mentally. And on my finger. The little purplish, whitish line reminds me every time I look at my left hand that the treadmill is nothing to laugh at. It fights back.

On Wednesday night, though, I decided it was time. I had finished my circuit of back workouts, and it was time for cardio. After the previous night's leg circuit, I didn't know if the stairs would give me much of a workout before my legs turned to noodles.

I slowly walked to the treadmill and climbed on. I put my water bottle in the holder on the machine, and I began entering the info to begin my workout. As the treadmill started to move, I realized I was actually scared. My heart started beating faster, but it was too soon to put the blame on the speed of the moving belt below me. Still, I increased the speed all the way to 6 miles an hour -- the rate of speed I was running when it all went downhill.

I was freaking myself out with the possibilities of being back on the treadmill: What if I overstep and I'm too close to the front? I'll fall between the front of the treadmill and the actual conveyer. The belt will still move, and it'll skin me up and pull on my hair. ... What if I accidentally step on the edge with one foot? The other foot will hit the treadmill, and I'll fall face first and be flung off the back. The treadmill would manage to scrape me up in that case too. What if I somehow get distracted and get too close to the back? It happened before when I was running with K and looked at my iPod to switch songs. I was able to catch it and run back to the front. But it's different now. Better not look at my iPod. Otherwise I'll fly off the back.

I tried not to think about what I was doing. I tried to concentrate on my breathing as I ran -- three steps inhale, three steps exhale.

I tried to get into my music as Justin's "Damn Girl" blared out of my iPod. I tried to find something to take my attention on one of the 13 TV screens in front of me. But what if I got too into it and didn't realize I was too close to the back of the treadmill?

After five minutes of running, I decided it was a good idea for some water. And to slow down so I could make it through without panicking. After all, I did want to go 15 minutes for my first time back on. I slowed the treadmill to 4 miles an hour. I took a drink of water, and it went down just fine -- no choking.

I sped the treadmill back up to 6 mph. As I did that, I realized my fear was -- for the most part -- gone. I was still a little worried, but nothing like before. I could do it. I ran on the treadmill. For 1.75 miles. For 17 minutes.

Take that, treadmill!

What an awesome day!

• After not seeing him last weekend, I get to see K tomorrow!!!


• I got a laptop today at work. Now, I'll be able to work from home easier.


• I met the company president today. He approached me to talk to me and meet me. One of my coworkers who's been here longer and offices near him (and who I was talking to when the president approached me) said she'd never talked to him that long before or really seen him talk to an employee that long. I must've made a good impression!


• We had a big meeting today that was really cool. Afterward, we got pizza and cake!


• I am totally loving my job and especially my boss.


• It's Thursday.


• I was pretty busy all day today, so the day went by quickly, and I felt productive.


• It was so gorgeous outside today! It's starting to feel like spring. I actually wasn't really ready for winter to be over. Not that I want the cold to stick around, but I'm not sick of it. I went to Target after work, though, and seeing all the springy-colored stuff and feeling the warm weather made me so excited it's close!


• I got some cute new springy kitchen towels and potholders at Target for $2.50 each!


• My laptop is officially paid off.


• I got my awesome new "The best girls are from the South" shirt in the mail today!


• Tomorrow is Friday!!!

Why, yes I have

In Norman last weekend, I happened to see some guy friends who I worked with before I moved to Dallas. They looked at me in my sleeveless shirt and asked, "Have you been working out?"















They noticed! Awesome.

Does this make you want to buy a swimsuit?

From an email I got yesterday from Urban Outfitters:



















Those bottoms just don't look flattering to me. One size too small, maybe?

It's really not giving me any good thoughts about buying a swimsuit -- at least not from them.

She had no idea

Getting set up and ready to surprise Rachel (note festive hats and noisemakers!).














Ready to capture it all, and calling to get an ETA














All decorated and set up!














Watching for her car














She was totally surprised!














And especially shocked to see one of her friends who flew in all the way from Chicago just for her birthday.














Cookie cake is her favorite, and her nickname is Rockst@r R@chel. (I used the "@" so no one can catch me here.)
The bridge is supposed to be the Golden Gate Bridge, since she's going to San Francisco next month with the guy she's dating, who put the whole surprise party together.


Our roomies reunited for a night on the town (two nights in a row!). We had one hot apartment! ;)














Yes, I missed K, but it was definitely an awesome weekend. Especially when one of your best friends tells you that you helped make it the best birthday she's ever had.

Getting it out here

before I get to Norman.

So tomorrow is another old roommate's birthday, so all four of us old roomies are going to go out for dinner. I just got a call that "dinner" may be turning into having a meal at this very prentious new bar/club in Norman. I ate brunch there not long after it opened, and the place has the worst service ever. Ick.

Then, the birthday girl wants to go to a club. A club? Really? I don't like those! I'm not a huge fan of dancing -- especially when K isn't there. I don't want some icky, sweaty guy to come up and grind on me in ways strangers should not be moving even near you -- much less on you. Not my scene.

But it's the birthday girls' time. I'll pretend. But they're not making it easier for me to like this weekend.

Someone had to tell her the truth

I was looking today at urbanoutfitters.com, and I happened to see a really cute shirt that said "The best girls are from Nawlins." I'm not from New Orleans, so I couldn't get the shirt. But surely they had similar shirts for other areas.

Sure enough, I found a cute shirt that said "The best girls are from the South." Perfect! (But you already knew I feel that way, right?)

I called one of the Urban Outfitters stores in Dallas to find out if they had the shirt in stock so I wouldn't have to order it online. "No," the girl on the phone told me, "but we have the ones that say 'The best girls are from Texas.'"

"No!" I told her, disgusted. "I don't believe that. Thanks!"

If only teleportation were already invented

I'm packing tonight. I spend a lot of Thursday nights packing. Pretty much every other Friday morning, I leave my apartment for the weekend, to return late Sunday night.

This Thursday night, though, I'm packing for Oklahoma. And K is still in Lousiana. He's in New Orleans with some friends for Mardi Gras. But today is Rachel's birthday. I've known Rachel since kindergarten, when I was 4.

We've been through a lot together over the 19 years we've been friends. She's the first person I called when I got my first kiss. I was the one she called when she lost her first love. We had our weekly Friday night "rituals" in high school, which involved me spraying her apple glitter spray on her face and my face while we drove around "uptown" ("dragging Main" is what it's called on movies and in other towns, but we only crossed Main Street twice in this four-block square everyone drove around) listening to "Teachers" by Daft Punk. We roomed together all four years of college.

Rachel's boyfriend, who was a friend of mine in college, has put together a surprise party for her tomorrow night. I'll get to see my old roommates (the two who lived with Rachel and me our senior year in college) and some other friends I haven't seen in awhile. I'll also probably get to see Danielle on Sunday to see her ring in person and hear the story of her proposal. Rachel and Danielle -- and my old roommates, too -- are all very good friends, and I haven't seen them all in a while.

But I'm not that excited. I'm kind of frustrated, really. Weekends are my time with K. I don't like to give up that time.

I know I shouldn't take friends for granted, and I don't. I know it sounds terrible that I'm bummed out that I'll be heading north tomorrow rather than south. The thing is, though, of the seven days in a week, I get to spend less than two of those with K. Of the 168 hours in a week, we get to spend only about 45 together. And we have to drive 10 to do it.

It's getting harder to make that drive each week. I've driven it so many times. It's not a very exciting drive, but it's always worth it once you get there. Since we rotate, we each make that drive almost every other weekend (sometimes more) -- come rain, come shine. I treasure those Friday nights, that fabulous full day together on Saturday, and the time-warped Sundays that end as soon as they begin.

It'll be hard when I leave work tomorrow to point my car in the opposite direction from the person I really want to be seeing the most. But I'll do it. And I know I'll be glad I did. I know I'll enjoy myself this weekend, but I also know in the back of my mind while I'm in Norman, I'll be thinking of K, who will be 12 hours from where I want him to be.

I'll be sure to practice piano before I go back home again

I've been busy this week and trying to get to bed earlier, so I haven't gotten to post about K's and my crazy weekend. Things went well during our time with CG and Joe (even through my cranky attitude, which I think I did a great job hiding until they'd left -- sorry K!). We left Saturday afternoon to go see my dad and his girlfriend back home. We went out to dinner that night at this place my dad's been a member of for quite a while. There was a band playing that night that my dad's girlfriend really likes.

The restaurant is shaped sort of like a giant "Y," if the upper legs of the "Y" go straight up rather than out at an angle. So the lower leg of this giant "Y" is the dance floor and restaurant area. The two legs of the "Y" are two different bars. I have no idea what the difference is, other than to tell you that in one bar the two bartenders were bad dressers and not very friendly, and on the other side -- which was much less crowded -- the bartenders were dressed much cuter (since their clothes actually fit them and they weren't hanging out of them) and were more likeable.

We had quite a little group there -- my dad, his girlfriend, me, K, my uncle and my a family friend. We went to the less crowded bar and started talking to the bartenders. We were having a good time, and my dad's gf and I took a shot my uncle recommended. Then, the bartender made us another she swore we'd like better since it was more girly (but it had the consistency of cough syrup). Which turned into her making another one for us to try. By that time, she'd decided she really liked us, so when she'd accidentally made way too much for two shots, she gave my dad's gf part of the extra, which meant she got a whole other shot for free, and the last of it to me, which meant I got an extra half a shot.

It was at that time that someone asked about a picture, and I decided to pull my camera out to take pictures of everyone. We were having a great time.

My uncle was in OK on work, so he was talking to his wife on tEe phone in the back corner of the bar. My dad and his gf suggested I take his picture too. It was after I took his picture that I looked over and saw it, there in the back of the bar: a piano!

I used to take piano lessons. I started in the fourth grade, and my mom didn't let me quit until junior year in high school. I was pretty decent, but I would've been awesome if I'd ever actually practiced, since it came so easily for me. I sat down and started playing one of my favorites, "Turkish March," by Mozart. The piano was old and out of tune, and several of the keys were sticking or making no sound at all, so the piano was a bit difficult to play. We were the only ones on that side of the bar though, really. There were people at one table close the entrance of that bar, but they were much closer to the live band. I wasn't thinking anything of it -- I figured they wouldn't be able to hear me over the band.

I was wrong.

Soon after I started playing, I heard yelling. Then, I realized what they were saying. It was sprinkled with four-letter words (mainly the one beginning with "F"), and they weren't impressed by my playing. I was just goofing off, so I was confused. I heard one of the two women at the table yell, "Get the f$%^ off the piano if you can't even play 'Chopsticks.'" So I started playing "Chopsticks."

She kept yelling. I said to her, "If you can do better, you're welcome to have at it." After about five seconds more of playing, I decided it wasn't worth hearing them complain, so I rejoined our group at the bar. I'd been sitting there for a good 15 seconds, and the three jerkfaces at the table at the front of the bar were still complaining. Still.

I turned to my dad's gf and said, "I think they want me to play some more!" I walked back over to the piano and -- just in case my shots were impairing my playing abilities -- began playing "Fur Elise," which anyone who has ever learned how to play "Chopsticks" can play on the piano. Only I was playing the real version. Since I'm pretty sure I could play a fair amount of that well in my sleep, I know it didn't sound bad. The table of three wasn't pleased.

They kept cursing at me. My dad said to them, "She's not doing anything wrong. It sounds fine. Leave her alone." Since I was at the back of the bar, I'm not sure I heard everything he said, but I do know (because I know my dad, and because his gf told me) that my dad did curse back at them eventually. K told me later on that sometime during this, the one man at the table of three flipped them off. He said, "See this? I got it on sale at Target."

"That's so original. I've never heard that before," K said back to him (I did hear that part, and K wasn't cursing back at them). (For those of you who haven't seen it, that "on sale at Target" line while showing the finger is from Talladega Nights.)

Everything was happening quickly, but shortly after I heard K say that, I heard the bartender yell, "He's causing trouble, he's causing trouble and he's causing trouble." I later found out that when she said this, to be fair, she pointed at my dad, K and the man at the other table. They brought the manager out, who happens to be a friend of my family (and who happened to tell me in high school that he wished I would be his daughter-in-law). By then, I had gotten up and headed back to the bar, realizing the whole thing was getting much more serious than an argument over a piano should ever get.

The manager was asking either us or the other group to move to the other bar. I went up to him and apologized. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble," I told him. "But honestly, no one ever came up and asked me to stop. They just started yelling about it."

He told me not to worry and that I hadn't done anything wrong. When the table of three saw all this, they kept heckling us and saying things to us. We were all ignoring them, and the manager was still talking to us. I heard them say something about how it "sure does smell bad over here," so they were leaving to go to the other bar.

What's funny is that after they'd moved, I headed toward the bathroom. I had to walk past the band, whose members were gathering their equipment since they were finished for the night. I noticed the man from the table of three coming out of the men's room a few feet in front of me when the band members stopped me to ask what the fuss was about.

"What was going on back there? Were those people yelling about the piano? It didn't sound bad." They'd heard it all happening when their set ended (that was about when the whole ordeal was beginning). I laughed when they said that because I know my new friend had to have heard it when he was leaving the bathroom.

I had no idea going back home to my tiny little town could be so eventful. I haven't seen that much action at bars in Dallas, that's for sure. Then again, I've never tried to play the piano at a bar in Dallas, either.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Or, as K would say, "Happy Valentime's Day!" :)

Here are the pictures I promised earlier.
































No matter who or where you are, what your status is or who you spent your evening with, I hope you had a great day!

The normal me has returned (whew!)

The cranky biotch has hopefully disappeared. I even felt motivated tonight at the gym! I got a pretty good workout, so I'm feeling good right now.

This better attitude today could have to do with several things:

1. I went to lunch today with some coworkers, which means I got to be social. I even got to talk to a couple coworkers I really like in the kitchen area today.
2. I got to bed about 45 minutes earlier last night than I have been getting to bed lately.
3. Jeremy was able to go to the gym tonight after several late nights at work, which meant I had a workout buddy who knows more about the gym than I do, so I don't have to try to figure out what machines to do in a circuit by myself.
4. K sent me roses for Valentine's Day. My living room smells awesome. I'll post pictures later.
5. I enjoyed looking at the roses while I ate a couple Godiva chocolates K sent me for Valentine's Day as well.

I'm sure all those things helped, but hopefully it's really that whatever moody hormones temporarily invaded my body have realized they're not welcome. It's good to feel like myself again.

Fading to white

Help me, laundry experts!

I have a lot of light pink things -- tank tops, shirts, undershirts, undergarments ... I think the color adds a nice, feminine touch to my wardrobe. I've noticed, though, that many of my light pink garments fade over time to an almost white color. This makes me sad. I want my pinks to stay pink.

I don't wash them with dark colors or with whites. I wash them with brights usually. I wash them in cold water. I use All liquid detergent, and I add Clorox for Colors to make sure they're good and clean.

I haven't noticed any of my other clothes fading. Any advice from those of you others who wear lots of light pink?

What the heck is my problem?

I don't know what it is, but lately I've been feeling like one cranky biotch. I don't think I've been rude to anyone or anything like that, but I just feel cranky. And the worst part is I don't know why.

The first night I felt like this was a week ago Friday, when I drove to K's. That crankiness was at least spurred on by something -- strangers' rudeness -- and it just grew from there. It disappeared, but the crankiness quickly returned for a stupid reason I explained in my post about that weekend. Luckily, it vanished for good moments later, but it was frustrating to be on a roller coaster like that and to not really know why.

Things were pretty normal through the week until Friday night. CG and Joe were later than they'd planned to be getting to my place. K and I had a couple things to do before they got in, but CG didn't answer her phone when I tried to call to see how far they were.

K and I actually fell asleep because we were both exhausted from a late Thursday night and a long day that Friday. When I woke up after 7 (30 min. later), I called CG again. She answered this time. They were just a few minutes away. I was frustrated they hadn't called earlier, since K and I were waiting on them.

Truth is, we wouldn't have had time to run our errands, but it would have been nice to know they'd be running behind. The stupid part? I knew they'd be late anyway because they had planned on the only drive taking three hours, even though they'd be driving during rush hour. I realized the whole thing was no big deal and that it was stupid to be annoyed, but I was.

The next day, I woke up before CG. The guys had gone shopping at an electronic store, so we were the only ones here. I wanted to get up and shower, but I decided to wait so I wouldn't wake CG. Once she got up, she showered and started getting ready for a meeting she had later that day. I was getting ready to get in the shower when she mentioned something she had to have done before she left and how slow she was being getting ready, and it was putting her behind. Of course I volunteered to do the thing she needed done (sorry to be so cryptic, but if I say more, it'll give too much away). It involved some supergluing, so I wound up annoyed that I was having to put off getting ready for the day myself, and I wound up with super glue all over my fingers. (All the while being totally aware that I'd voluntarily put myself in that position.)

CG did manage to find time to fix herself a Diet Coke and eat some M&Ms while I was supergluing my fingers together, which bothered me. How can people eat like that at 10:30 in the morning? Especially when they're on Weight Watchers?! At least wait until after noon to eat junk food!

CG and Joe left at about 11:45 that morning. CG is so scattered and was so rushed that I wasn't able to do anything until after they left. She's a little messier than I am (keep in mind I'm totally OCD), so I felt like I was going around putting things back in order and how I like them. Then, I was able to shower, but I had to take time out of getting ready myself to try to get the super glue off my fingers. I was cranky that I was getting such a late start because of everything that morning -- especially since I'd wanted to get moving at around 9:30.

While I was getting dressed, I realized they'd left a pair of glasses. That made me frustrated as well, since if they had planned better and CG had gotten up and around earlier, they wouldn't have just been rushing out the door like they had. They'd have had time to make sure they had everything. K and I had to make plans to try to meet up with them again later so we could get them their glasses. Their meeting took longer than they'd expected, so we didn't get to meet up with them. Instead, K was going to have to overnight the glasses to them. Three guesses how I felt about that.

Tonight, I didn't feel like going to the gym, but I'm going to Hawaii in a month, so dang it, I went to the gym! Once I got there, it was really warm inside, and it's usually not. I started off doing leg exercises, and I noticed this woman sitting on an exercise bike watching TV. She was just sitting -- not working out. Not only was she sitting, but she was slumping on the bike. I really wanted to go up to her and ask her to work out or something. At the very least, just sit up straight so at least her metabolism would be going faster than if she were slumped over. While I was thinking these things, I realized it was absolutely ridiculous that I even cared.

I had gone through my leg circuit and was doing some lunges when these two guys came over to do bench presses near me. Something about these guys bothered me, and I noticed they were both wearing necklaces. Jewelry doesn't belong at the gym. Especially on guys. (Small earrings are okay. Girls who wear hoops get stupid looks from me -- the bigger the hoops, the dumber the look I give them. Seriously -- you're there to WORK OUT!)

I eventually made it over to the ellipticals. The girl in front of me was running in an odd way. It looked like she (a) had been on a horse all day, (b) ran like a guy, or (c) was wearing a diaper that was so dirty she was afraid to put her legs closer together when she moved (use your imagination to realize why). The girl two ellipticals down from her was also running funny. I've seen this girl on the ellipticals before and noticed her odd technique, but tonight I couldn't handle it. She keeps only the balls of her feet on the elliptical, and she doesn't move them at all. The entire top half of her body doesn't move. I realize you're actually supposed to try to keep the top half of your body still to get the most of your workout on the elliptical, since bouncing minimizes the workout, but the way she runs on it just looks funny. Even when I'm not cranky.

There's not much to do on an elliptical. You stare ahead at the 13 TV screens. Since I'm OCD, I have a habit of counting things. Over and over, and in different patterns. So as I run on the elliptical, I slowly drive myself insane by counting the 13 flat-screen TVs before me in 50 different ways. I can't stop it, but it drives me nuts.

With that and the incredibly hot temperature, added to the two weird runners in front of me, I decided to leave the gym after 150 calories on the elliptical. I'll go longer tomorrow.

I'm hoping my bad attitude lately is just from a lack of sleep. For some reason, every night the past few weeks I've gone to bed after 1 and gotten up at around 7. That's getting to bed later than usual and getting up earlier than I did for my old job. I'm hoping getting to sleep earlier tonight will bring back my regular attitude.

How I love Thursdays

Work today was pretty busy -- full of meetings, which was great. I enjoy meeting people and interacting with people. It's part of the reason I left my old job, since I never got to do that, and part of the reason I'm really liking my new job. I'm realizing more and more every day how much my boss and I have in common. It's pretty cool.

K is coming tomorrow. I'm bummed, though, because every year they have this ball, which is really more of a formal dinner that's called a ball. Last year, it was in December. This year, because the guys were in Afghanistan, it was postponed. It's tonight. I missed it. I even had this great dress that I bought in November for it in case K was back from Afghanistan in time for the ball.

Tonight was our typical Home Stretch Thursday night, and I showed the dress to ER and her friend she brought along for the first time. ER said it would be perfect to wear to her sister's wedding this summer, which hadn't occured to me. At least I have something to wear to the wedding and another chance to wear my new dress!

Grey's Anatomy tonight was terrible! It was really frustrating me, and if next week is anything like this episode (since this is supposed to cover three episodes), I don't know that I'll tune in for the third one. The girls night was fun, though, as always, and the new girl was really cool. I think she's planning on joining us again.

CG and her husband will be here tomorrow night. CG has to make an appearance in Dallas on Saturday, so they'll stay Friday night at my place. I'm really excited. I miss hanging out with them, and it'll be fun to go out the four of us again. We always have so much fun! It's hilarious to see the side K and Joe bring out of each other.

My other exciting update is a secret that has been SO hard to keep! Danielle got engaged! She came to visit me one weekend in October. We went shopping and decided to just stop by the jewelry store to get sized, since neither of us knew what size our ring fingers are. Well, of course getting sized leads to trying on and picking out, which we enjoyed doing. She and her boyfriend have been dating for like 5 years. She just graduated this December, though, and he has a little bit of school left. They won't get married for a while, but I'm so excited for the two of them.

Her boyfriend told me back in December that he was doing it this month, and he even sent me a picture of the ring a day or two before Christmas. Since I promised I wouldn't tell, I've had to keep this from ER and from all our mutual friends -- even from my blog. Because I promised. I'm so proud of myself. :)

That's a lot of things to be excited about right now: new job going well, loving the new boss and interaction with employees, a new addition to Home Stretch Thursdays, Danielle's great news, CG and Joe coming tomorrow, K coming tomorrow, and the fact that TOMORROW IS FRIDAY!

Thank goodness for straighteners!

Sometimes, a girl just wants a bit of a change ... but not quite like this!

before ...














after ...














Much better!

Realization

One of my favorite things about my new job is my boss. She's so great! She's totally there to help me and to make sure I'm feeling good about things rather than to take advantage of me or get me to do things she doesn't want to do.

What a nice change!

So much to catch up on!

Work definitely got busier at the end of the week. Friday, I actually did work most of the day! It was a nice change compared to sitting all day and looking for something to do.

Relationship healed
In my downtime Friday, though, I took care of something that had been bugging me for quite a while. CG and her husband moved back to Oklahoma in early September. I haven't seen her since my birthday, which was mid-August. For some reason, a few of my friends aren't as good about calling or keeping in touch. I am. I work at it. CG is one of the people I feel like I call more than she calls me. My schedule is more hectic than hers, though, so that might explain part of it -- it's easier for me to just call her when I'm off work or able to talk.

CG is the only one of my close friends who knows what military life is like or what it's like to have a loved one overseas. It was at her wedding that I met K, so she's known him longer than I have. She said some things to me about the whole lifestyle and how different it is, telling me what to expect and preparing me for what I was getting myself into. Some of the things she said had to do with K's future deployment. When I met him, he was originally supposed to deploy the following spring (which was almost a year away) to Afghanistan for one year. That got pushed back, and then cancelled, until that day in late July when K called me to tell me he'd just found out he was leaving in 10 days.

I expected CG to be better about K being gone than she was. I expected her to call me. I expected her to ask about him or if I'd heard from him. One particular time that I remember being a turning point was when I called her in October, I think. We only talked for about 7 or 8 minutes. The whole conversation, CG was telling me about this trip she'd just had to Atlanta that has to do with a position she's currently holding. All of a sudden, as soon as she was finished telling me about her trip, she said, "Well, I'm at [such and such]. I have to go now." She didn't ask me about K or how I was doing. That really upset me. Even still, I called her several times after, but each time, she didn't answer or didn't return my call. She would send me a message on MySpace instead as a response. I don't think MySpace substitutes for phone calls, so I'd call her back and leave a message. We did this a couple times before I gave up. I was going to let her call me. Only she didn't.

I hadn't talked to her since December, and it was really bothering me. What bothered me even more is I felt like she hadn't noticed or didn't even care. How could you not talk to one of your best friends in over a month and not realize it? I struggled with what to do. If I have to call my friend and talk to her about being a friend, is all that even worth it?

I decided it was only fair to tell her how I felt so she'd be aware and be able to change it. It wouldn't be fair to expect her to read my mind, whether I thought the problem was common sense or not.

So Friday while I ate my lunch, I sent CG a long e-mail explaining my frustrations and thoughts. She called me back that afternoon, and we were able to talk for a while. She had thought she was just giving me space and time to spend with K since he got back, and she felt like she didn't fit in with ER and me. She thought we lived a Sex and the City lifestyle, which couldn't be further from the truth. I think she just thought we go out a lot or something, which isn't true either.

Luckily, CG and her husband Joe will be in Dallas Friday night for something, so the call was perfect timing. We're all (K too) going to go out that night. I'm excited. And feeling much better about everything. I should've written that e-mail a long time ago.

So much for customer service and manners
My drive Friday night was going well. I had the last hour of it left, which is the worst hour, but I was doing okay. I stopped off at a gas station to fill up since that last hour is pretty much driving through nothing, with no signs of civilization in sight after the station. The station I usually go to was closed, so I went to the one across the street. Two big guys turned from the register as soon as I walked in the door. They headed toward me and didn't even acknowledge that I was there. These two men, who were both at least 6'2" or so (I'm about 5'9" or 5'10"), almost walked right into me. They had plenty of time to see me and to be gentlemen and let me enter the store. It wouldn't have taken any effort but a slight pause before they stepped toward the door. But these two jerks just walked right at me, leaving me to jump out of the way so I didn't get run over. I was dumbfounded at their rudeness. As I walked past the two women at the cash register, I said to them, "Wow ... those guys are not gentlemen!"

The two girls didn't pay any attention to me. I had wanted to say something to the two guys as they walked out the door, but I was afraid I would be taken for a racist or that my car would be keyed by the time I'd made my way back to it. The women behind the register were the same race as the two men who plowed past me. I was the odd one out.

I walked around the store looking for some sort of medicine because I had a head cold, and I was really congested. I couldn't find anything, so I approached the register. I noticed a rack far off in the corner with all kinds of medicine. I asked the two girls if they had any nasal decongestant. One girl answered, "We have NyQuil."

Now why would someone at a gas station need NyQuil? People who stop off and actually enter gas stations are typically people from out of town, people who are driving. People from the area would likely go to Wal-Mart or some store to get medicine rather than pay a lot more to get one dose from a gas station.

I said I didn't think NyQuil would be a good idea, so the girl said, "We have Benadryl, but I think that's for itching."

And HOW, I ask, is that supposed to help with a congested head?!?

Could K be any more perfect?
After the gas station experience, I was really starting to doubt people today. After the gas station, you pretty much lose your signal until you're almost to K's apartment, so I called to let him know I was about an hour out. I was telling him about my gas station experience when I realized he wasn't paying any attention to me. He was too busy concentrating on the video game he was playing with his buddy. After the rudeness at the gas station, this definitely didn't help my mood. In fact, things went downhill from there. Somehow, I started thinking about several things I was frustrated about, and before I knew it, I was pretty cranky.

When I got to where I had a signal and was closer to K's apartment, I called to let him know. I expected this meant he would send his buddy home as well. I warned him that I was feeling cranky, and I apologized beforehand for my sour mood. I put on a CD, intending to find some angry song to try to get all my anger out. Instead, I wound up listening to Josh Groban's "When You Say You Love Me" (not quite so rageful). It totally relaxed me and made me in a better mood. I got to K's apartment and unloaded my car. I walked in the door, and K came walking toward me from the living room. I heard his friend's voice, so he was still there. My frustration returned.

I took my things up to K's room, and he followed me up there. I told him I didn't know why I was in such a bad mood, and I laid down on his bed on my stomach. He got down on the bed and started massaging my back. He said, "Well, it probably didn't help that I wasn't listening to you and was just playing my game." He gave me a hug, and before I knew it, I wasn't cranky anymore (again). Only this time, it lasted.

Fun day, good food
Saturday night, K and I went to dinner with several of his guy friends at Johnny Carino's, which is my favorite. I had been craving that place, and one of K's lieutenants actually called to ask if we wanted to go because he'd been wanting it as well. After dinner, we went to this really cool club that I'd actually been to once before. We had a blast! I didn't dance, but I kind of wanted to. I was the designated driver, though, and one beer wouldn't loosen me up enough for that. I really want to go back there when I'm not the designated driver. It'll be even more fun that way.

Wii & the Super Bowl
K has a 60-inch TV, so the Super Bowl party was at his place. He had about 15 people over. It was a good time, but I had to leave before halftime, which was a bummer.

One of K's lieutenants has a Nintendo Wii, and he brought it over. Everyone was playing this boxing game and talking about how much of a workout it is. I was one of only two girls there at that time, and of course the guys wanted us all to battle it out on the boxing game. After a bit of coaxing, I decided to not be a fuddy duddy, and I played her. It was really fun! Our match lasted longer round-wise than all the guys' did. It was pretty neck and neck, but I lost at the end. I don't know why my guy wouldn't get up. I was just fine!

Why I dressed like a party girl for work today
Work today was the best so far. I actually had things to do, so it went much faster. I like having more productive days. It makes me feel less like they're going to fire me or something. They do need me here after all! lol

After work today, several of us girls are going to get together for a happy hour. I'm really excited! I get to be social after work (outside of a Thursday)! What I wore for work today wouldn't look out of place at a bar on a Saturday night, but it's still work appropriate. I'm wearing a purple lacy tank top with my nice, tight dark jeans, and I have a black cardigan over the tank. I'm wearing black heels and some chandelier earrings that are black and silver.

At my old job, it probably would have been an odd way to dress. But here, there are so many younger people that I don't look like a circus freak or something.

I was excited about hanging out with people after work. I only hope I don't wind up looking like the freshman who gets all dressed up on her first day of high school!