You May Take the Floor in Competition

Those seven words have the ability to make my heart race, my mind clear and my body ready for a fight to the finish. They are the words that begin every colorguard performance. They are the words, depending on your preparation, that kick off your road to either victory or defeat. Regardless of outcome, those words are a drug. They make every practice, every drop of sweat, every injury, every callus and every sore muscle worth it. It's all about the performance. All I need is a flag, a floor and an audience. Nothing else matters.

Yesterday I went to a show as a spectator for the first time. I spent almost 7 hours in a high school gym, watching all ages and talent levels ranging from elementary school to Independent World. I relished every last second and drank in my surroundings. The excitement of the performers and the air of self-importance of the instructors was palpable. I wished that I was stretching in the cafeteria, warming up in the rain and doing little pre-show rituals with my teammates. I wished I had crazy show makeup...I would've even loved a crushed velvet uniform.

I miss my spinning days. Yesterday was enough for me to realize that I need to do it again. The last time I marched was in 2005 with an Independent World (IW) guard named Apex. They were based out of Delaware. I loved every minute of it. Apex has since closed its doors, so need to find another guard, but I don't think that will be a problem.

I NEED to spin. That's just the way it is.

PS: If you have no idea what I'm talking about, please check out Winter Guard International and google things like "colorguard" or "winterguard."

A Duck Walks Into a Bar...

I have a love/hate relationship with the show Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives. I usually see episodes that feature places that are too far away to realistically visit any time soon. Tonight, however, I was lucky enough to see an episode that's first stop was a place that's a little more accessible. And I fully intend to go. Soon.

Why?

Because someone  has managed to make pot pie look appealing. See, I hate pot pie. Crust, peas, carrots, celery, onion, chicken and some kind of gooey, white-ish stuff (more commonly referred to as gravy) do not belong together. Why? Because it's gross. How do you make this formula un-gross? You make it with duck confit. Somehow, duck that's been marinated in its own fat, which is then the base to make a succulent looking gravy (and that says a lot, because I find the whole idea of gravy absolutely revolting), which is the blanching liquid for the vegetables...now that sounds amazing. Duck confit pot pie. Yes.

I wore the new coat today. I love it. It was the most interesting thing I had on today; I was almost sad to take it off when I got inside.

Don't mind the silly faces I'm making. Obviously, I don't have a modeling career in my future. I'm too fat and short anyway.

And now for some practical, girly-type nonsense. You may tune out if you wish.

I think my hair is having a mid-life crisis. Most would say it's naturally curly, I think it's naturally annoying. It's not doing anything it's supposed to. It won't curl properly when I leave it to curl on its own, it won't hold a curl if I create curls (any method - curling iron, pin curls, hot rollers or foam rollers), and today it didn't stay sleek and straight! It got all bushy and frizzy and I could feel kinks in the back of my head. When I got home from work, I flat-ironed it again and that seemed to help, but it was so weird. The last time my hair misbehaved like that when it was straight was quite a while ago. Like 2010 while ago. I don't know what to do. I'm considering bangs, but I'm terrified that they'll look terrible and then I'm stuck with them.

Ok, practical girl nonsense over.

Lately I've been wanting to write (something other than a blog). I've always had the vain imagining that I could write a book, one that people would actually read and, here's the kicker, like. I know, that's silly. I mean, what would I write about? Last night I was offered the chance to write my dad's biography (thanks Dad), today during a meeting with my boss and the computer guy, I thought that maybe I should write my boss' memoirs, because it seems the man has been everywhere, met everyone and done everything (no offense, Dad). At least it seems that way. Every time you have a conversation with him because one minute you're discussing something relevant and before you know it, you're on a fishing boat in Louisiana. I don't know. I'll probably never do it, because in order to succeed at such an accomplishment, you need one of two things, talent or confidence; I happen to possess neither.

I'm not sure how to tie all of this together for a neat finish. What do duck confit, my hair and my literary aspirations have to do with each other?

Sounds like a bad joke.

Never a Dull Moment

I just had a conversation with my parents about transvestites. Now that's my idea of an exciting evening.

Let's recap my thrilling day, shall we?

I watched webinars about trade show exhibition. I hate the word webinar. I feel cheap even typing it.

I diffused the bomb I like to call my father. His client database disappeared last night. He broke the internet today. The computer as a whole wouldn't load correctly. If I hadn't come home for lunch (which I never do), I probably would've come home to only one parent. It wasn't pretty. I practically took him by the hand and forced him to eat lunch, sit with me while I finished eating lunch and hold the cat (touch therapy?), while my mom (AKA tech support) fixed everything upstairs.

I returned a red trench coat I bought last week because it was too big in the arms.

At the next store, I found a better, longer red trench coat that ended up being $7 cheaper than the first one.

My dinner was identical to my lunch. A turkey sandwich with tomato and colby jack cheese on potato bread. I switched up the mustard though. Whoo.

That about wraps up my day. Tomorrow holds promises of more webinars and a meeting. Man, if I keep up this pace, I might pull something.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

If you've ever been broken up with by the other person saying that they don't think you need to see each other anymore, and that you'll stay in contact and if you ever need them they're just a phone call away, then you know what the end of my therapy session felt like today.

Again, I pose the question, now what?

Cuban Guilt

"My parents brought me from a country where the people had no freedoms so that I could one day vote!"

This is what happens when your mother was an immigrant. If you can't tell by the title, she was born in Cuba.

I didn't vote today. I would've, but when my dad came to ask if I wanted to go with him, I was asleep. Apparently we had a conversation about it. I said I didn't feel well, he said ok and left. I don't recall this exchange at all.

It's true, I didn't feel well. Between my miserable mental state and my unhappy stomach, I was in rough shape today. I didn't go to work, I didn't organize my room (as I thought that I might, in an attempt to feel better mentally), I didn't do much of anything. I did manage to make it to my meeting tonight though. I'm the camp director for the young women at my church and tonight's activity was camp related so I obviously had to be there. I started out pretty miserable but managed to suck it up, have a decent time and actually be a little productive.

I should go to bed but I'm not tired...probably because I slept like the dead between 2:30pm and 6pm. Oops.

Wait, What Are We Celebrating?

Today is the 30th birthday of one of my best friends. I met up with her, her boyfriend and her brother for dinner tonight. Upon my arrival, she whips out a sparkly, colorful creation and hands it to me over the table. It was a divorce card! Handmade! It was so thick and heavy it didn't even fit into an envelope! Here, take a look:

The picture in the middle is a marriage certificate with flames underneath it. Love it.

The inside is a bit personal, so no pic. Suffice it to say that it contained a heartfelt message of love and support and it almost made me tear up in public, just as the server tried to take my drink order. I managed to squeak out a request for a diet coke and then explain jubilantly that I just got divorced and that I got a divorce card! She seemed happy for me, but I doubt she cared much.

Anyway, you can imagine my discomfort when I handed my friend the punchy birthday card that I purchased not an hour prior.

It's a big year, 2012. So far there's been a birth, a divorce, and a birthday in my circle of friends. We turn 30 this year. More birthdays are coming, more parties, more happiness. I really think that this could be the best year ever. Bigger and better things are on the horizon, I can feel it.

Here's to being 30, divorced and most importantly, happy. Cheers!

Not Your Average Sunday

It started out normal enough. Got up, got dressed, had breakfast. My niece was coming with us so my mom took a few extra minutes to get her car seat ready, then we packed everyone in the car and were off on our way, a little later than usual, but we didn't miss anything when we got there.

As we settled into our pew, all was well. My niece was having fun singing made up words to the hymns (even when it wasn't time to sing), she was playing with her animal puppets, and overall was behaving rather well - until the first speaker began. This particular speaker was in her later years, and was whispering into a microphone that wasn't even working. The 8 or 9 fussy kids in my general region didn't help things any. I couldn't hear a thing. I had already volunteered to walk the halls with my niece if necessary, and it was soon evident that it would be. We had a grand ole' time. We played the piano (nicely & gently of course), we got a drink of water (from both water fountains, of course), we looked outside at the trees and the grass (when I asked if she knew who made the trees and grass she answered, "daddy?"), and made some new friends in the foyer.

When we heard the intermediate hymn, she wanted to go back to Mama, so we went back to our seats, only for her to not want to sit still or do anything she was told, so my mom took her for a spin. When they came back, I noticed that Niecey didn't climb up on the pew like she normally would. Odd. And then when I tried to drop her off at Nursery (something she always looks forward to), she walked in and then before I knew it, there was this tiny sobbing thing stuck to my legs. Weird. I picked her up and tried to get out of there as fast as possible (stepping on another child in the process) to take her to my mom and try to figure out what the heck was going on.

The timing of this couldn't have been worse. Why? Well, my mother teaches the adult Sunday School class! In hushed tones we scrambled to figure out what we needed to do and decided that my mom should try to take her to Nursery. It didn't work. Nothing worked, we had a screaming/sobbing two year old on our hands. I'm not sure why I'm saying "we." I had a screaming/sobbing two year old on my hands. For the next hour we walked, and we sat on the couch and had a small snack, then we walked some more, all with bouts of hysteria dispersed throughout. I had to carry her the whole time. We thought she hurt her arm; it was all swollen and she wasn't moving her left arm if she could help it.

Baby injuries are like Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about fight club. The first rule of baby injuries? Don't talk about the baby's injury! She'd start crying every time someone asked me what was wrong with her. And then if anyone tried to peek at her little arm by hiking up her sweater sleeve a little, forget it, she was howling.

When my mom was finished with her lesson, we left church early to take her to an urgent care center. It was determined (by a doctor who was not a pediatrician and didn't have the best child bedside manner) that my poor niece had a sprain; this was the product of an overzealous tug on my mom's hand while they were roaming the halls.

It was kind of a rough day. Playing mommy is not my thing.

New dress (Bass), blue suede shoes I've had a while (Candie's),
vintage everything else (bracelet, necklace, earrings & slip)

At least I looked ok doing it.

Good Night

This post is brought to you by The Odd Couple, Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives, and the biggest piece of chocolate cake I've ever seen.

I spent my day shopping estate sales, Goodwill and the Salvation Army. I'm going home with a set of yellow melamine dishes, a dress, a Burberry purse, a jewellery box, a white alarm clock, a multi-strand vintage faux pearl necklace and a mail sorter thingy with owls on it.

Time to sink into my comfy hotel bed and get up early for Time Out For Women, a Deseret Book sponsored conference for women.

Night!

Now What?

The title just about sums it up. Today was my first full day of divorcee-ness and I couldn't help but worry about what I'm supposed to do next. Like this whole "looming divorce" thing was a barrier to the world and now that it's actually happened, I feel like I'm supposed to do something. I don't like this feeling at all, and it's making me want to crawl back into my nice warm hole where I am alone and comfortable.

This reaction is exactly the opposite of what I thought would happen, and it's the opposite reaction that everybody seems to think I'm supposed to be having. Ok, so it's great news that I'm divorced. Yippee, I'm over it. I'd like to be left alone now, thanks.

Why do I always end up having smiley pictures on the days that I don't really feel like smiling?

D-Day

Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Morning: I woke up to a dream about having received my divorce decree in the mail.
Afternoon: Check mail. Nothing. Pout.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012
10:03am: Google chat my mom telling her to magically make the decree appear because I'm sick of waiting.
10:05am: Receive phone call from mom saying that the attorney just called to say he had the decree.
10:06am: Yell and jump up and down for joy.
10:30am: Realize that my productivity for the day is shot.
11:45am: Leave work to go to attorney's office.
11:55am: Find favorite parking spot on that street empty, with an hour and two minutes in the meter.
12:00pm: Pick up decree from attorney's legal assistant.
12:05pm: Yell out my car window to my attorney, who is walking down the street, to thank him profusely. I am in the middle of the street blocking traffic.
12:30pm: Have lunch with two of my bridemaids. Initially, the purpose was not to celebrate my newfound freedom, but the irony was there nonethless.
2:30pm: Return to work.
5:10pm: Give decree to mom so she can look at it in all its glory.
5:15pm: Look at official date of divorce to send to the clerk at church to change my marital status. It was Wednesday, April 11, 2012.

This is the face of someone who has been through hell and back (twice) and lived to tell the tale. I've been spit on, beaten, bitten, scratched, kicked, thrown, degraded, yelled at, called worthless, thrown in jail for reacting like a human being, homeless, out of work, called fat & useless, prohibited from practicing my faith and contacting my friends and family. It didn't take away my faith, and the last shreds of strength I could muster were 100% God-given. My gratitude is inexplicable.

Watch out world, I'm back.

A Birthday, A Holy Day, Insane Days

First let me apologize for my absence. A lot has happened in the last week! So much that I was too tired to even think about writing anything. So sorry, but here's the scoop:

Niece's Birthday
My adorable niece turned 2 last Saturday, April 7th. She had a great day. My parents got her a little climber gym thingy for outside, and of course as soon as she saw my dad putting it together, she had to go outside NOW. That worked out for Aunt Bekah, who was busy making chocolate hazelnut cake bites. It was an arduous process that yielded delicious results. You bake a cake, let it cool, crumble it, mix in frosting (or in this case, Nutella) and whatever else (mini chocolate chips), roll them into little balls, cool them, dip them in melting chocolate and let it harden. From start to finish it took about 4 hours.

Her other gifts included a play vacuum that actually works, clothes, toys, and a pair of blue Converse that matched a pair I bought for myself:

Aren't we cute? She loved her shoes, I gave them to her as soon as I got home with them (bought both pairs that morning) and she was walking around hugging them, she even ate breakfast with them! Too funny.

Easter
Easter was nice and low-key. Here is a slice of LDS Easter goodness, 'He is Risen.' For dinner I made salmon, roasted veggies and tomato/cucumber salad. We're not huge fans of ham (as an entree) around here.

The Baking Extravaganza
Remember how I was asked to make the cake/cupcakes for the wedding of my bishop's youngest daughter? Well, the wedding was this past Friday. I prepared all week, getting last minute ingredients, tools and who knows what else! I worked Monday-Wednesday and took Thursday and Friday off. I think I was in AC Moore at least 3 or 4 times this week. By the number of coupons I had that were valid this week, I must've been there at least 3 or 4 times the week before as well.

I made one batch of fondant Monday, three on Wednesday and one more on Thursday. Thursday morning at about 8:30am, the mixing and baking began. My mom had invited 3 of her friends over to help, they were amazing! We finished at about 4pm with 156 "cupcakes" (they were really just cupcake sized mini square cakes) and four 8" round cakes, to be trimmed and layered later.

After cleaning up, I spent about a half hour sitting down, then returned to the kitchen to tackle the biggest/worst part of the whole project: THE FONDANT. I've never worked with fondant before, and promises of help from an old friend who is a pastry chef had my hopes held high, but as the hours ticked by with no confirmation of help, I knew I was on my own. Thankfully, a new friend had offered her services and was over just in time for the fondant-ing to start. The two hours immediately prior were spent figuring out how in the world I was going to trim a round cake to the size I needed...there was some trial and error and a bit of a meltdown which caused the members of my family to scatter and scurry out of the house to leave my to my own devices.

7:30pm, new friend arrives and we begin. She frosted (with the cream cheese frosting that was also made that morning) and I fondant-ed. We had a good rhythm going for about three hours, then she had to go because she had to be up at 5am. My dad had just gotten home from a meeting so he stepped in and took her place. Frost & fondant, frost & fondant, frost & fondant...it felt like it never ended. The hours ticked by slowly...midnight came and went, and between 1-2:30am there was nothing but silence. My poor father and I were so tired and ragged that we couldn't even speak. But at about 3am, the end was in sight! We perked right up and my mounting nausea finally went away. The last cake had fondant on it at about 4:45am Friday morning. We cleaned up, and I was asleep by 5:15am.

At the unholy hour of 9am, I rose from my bed like a zombie from the crypt. The cakes needed ribbon. My delirium was at an all-time high. Just as my mom and I were discussing how to proceed with the ribbon-ing, I received a phone call from yet another of my mom's friends, offering her services. She came armed with scissors (to cut the ribbon) and adorned the cakes with ribbon with my mom while I made a hard candy garnish that I never ended up using.

The original deadline for the cake was 2pm...my mom had it pushed back so we wouldn't lose our minds, but we would've actually come very close to being on time if we'd had to! I was going to try to squeeze a nap in, but that didn't happen. My dad and I delivered and set up the cakes around 5pm and were finished a little after 6.

Some of the cakes have a bluish tinge because at the end, I decided that rather than going back to the store to get more marshmallows & powdered sugar for another batch of fondant, that I would use the excess that had been trimmed from all of the other little cakes. There were cake crumbs in it, and since the cake is blue, the fondant is a little blue. It matched the wedding colors, so it worked out.

The Aftermath
The reception was lovely. The cake was a hit. When I got home around 10:30, I pretty much passed out cold.

Yesterday I made more cake bites using the excess cake from trimming the round cakes. I mixed the cake with leftover cream cheese frosting and then dipped them in melted white chocolate. They were tasty.

It's back to work tomorrow. I finally feel sane enough to join the real world.

Next up on my list of projects: church Memorial Day picnic. After that I'm clear until September, where I've been commissioned to figure out a "Cowgirl" themed cake for my best friends 1-year old.

That's about it for me. Back to reality tomorrow. For once, I'm happy to return to it!

Wonderful

The baby channel is playing in the background. Clearly, my reign of solitude is over.

Tomorrow the niece-girl turns TWO. I can't believe it. As much as I love the west coast (particulary Oregon), I'm glad I'm around to see her grow up. We'll be shoe shopping before you know it! I'm making chocolate hazelnut cake pops that will (hopefully) be in the shape of Minnie & Mickey mouse heads. We'll see. I'll post a picture of the results.

Speaking of results, this is how my hair ended up today after sleeping in pin curls:

Not too curly, is it? *sigh* I don't know what's going on. My hair hates me. It was kinda big and bouncy this morning though, so I guess it wasn't all in vain. Maybe big and bouncy is the way to go.

So it's Easter weekend. Time to remember the sacrifice that Christ made for all of us.

Oh it is wonderful that he would care for me enough to die for me
Oh it is wonderful, wonderful to me.
-I Stand All Amazed

Hi there!

I'm still riding this high called life. I opened my blinds today. I haven't voluntarily done that in years! But when I got home from work today, I was enjoying my empty house with some music and dancing, and just spontaneously opened the blinds! My room looks so different when lit with natural sunlight.

So today there was dancing and nostalgia and the sudden urge to create. Suddenly I want to write the book people tell me I should be writing. I want to submit poetry and prose to hipster lit mags. I want to dance and sing and write and draw and paint all at the same time!

Seriously, I don't remember the last time I felt this great. I just woke up the other day and was happy. Genuinely happy! And a little stir crazy. I want to go out and do something for a change. I'd like to poke my head out and say hello to the world!

In addition to all of that, there was some primping. I put my hair in pin curls.

Please pardon the grainier-than-usual photo. I used the front facing camera on my phone to take the picture and the quality isn't as good. Not that the regular camera is that great.

Anyway, there they are. They're a pain to do but the results are fun. Well, if they take. If they don't, then I wasted an hour and my hair looks terrible, usually resulting in a ponytail.

I'm going to attempt to sleep. Wish me luck. I'm not tired but I have to get up for work, so...yeah. Bedtime.

Night!

Note:  When I was labeling this post, I typed in 'happy' and realized that it hadn't been used yet. I've been blogging for 3 months and never once made a significant enough mention of happiness for it to warrant a label. That's kinda sad.

Motivation, Music & Me

My bizzare streak of productivity and motivation continues. Tonight I made dinner, ordered Insanity, showered, dried my hair and cleaned my bathroom, all before 9:30. Very strange. Maybe not for normal people, but since I've proven time and time again that I'm nowhere near normal, this is weird. I almost feel normal. It's kinda nice! But I'm still on my guard and skeptical about whether or not this will stick.

Hmm. I just took a moment to rock out a bit, and when I turned around there was Narnia, staring at me from the corner. Creepy.

To what am I rocking out? "Drumming Song" by none other than Florence + The Machine. It came on Pandora the other day, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head since, thus resulting in the purchase of F+TM's first album "Lungs," and that purchase was the impetus behind the CD post  yesterday. As a whole I believe I prefer "Ceremonials," but "Lungs" has its merits and "Drumming Song" is one of them. So is "Blinding."

In the liner notes of "Ceremonials" is a quote from Florence with which I wholeheartedly agree:

"The music is so euphoric as a way of battling the words. It's like an exorcism, beating it out with drums, shake this demon out, it's so visceral because the melancholy has to be drummed out. I can't let it sit inside me." - Florence Welch

That about sums it up. It's exactly how I feel, perhaps why I identify with her music so much. I wish I had said it. I wish I had written her music. I guess I could write my own songs, but I've lived in fear of doing such a thing for years now, even though I can sing, write music and pen lyrics fairly well. It's the fact that I can not create matching music and lyrics to save my life. Anyway, it's silly of me to even think about it because it'll never happen.

Anyway, I like music that absorbs me. For those few minutes, I become a part of it, losing myself. Complete immersion. Try it: 1) Go here. 2) Close your eyes.

Now you know why I didn't leave the computer until the song was over the other night. Perfection.

And this is what imperfection looks like:

Sweet dreams, kids.

Zippity Do Da

Good morning!

Remember how last night I was amazed at my desire to become a part of society again? Well after that, I went to my room, rocked out to some Florence + The Machine, and - are you ready for this - cleaned. Not in the strictest sense of the word, I didn't break out the vacuum, but I sorted laundry and put stuff back in my closet and by the end of it, I could see my floor.

My tendency to be a little messy is usually directly correlated to my mental state. Right now I don't have any furniture, so things like books and my teapot collection are just hanging out in a corner on the floor. It can't be helped. So my room is as neat and tidy as it can be for now.

It feels a little strange...real, functioning human emotions, and now the sudden urge to be in a more organized environment.

I woke up in a dandy mood, too. We'll see where this goes...I can't tell if it's real or not.

Eeek, gotta run. Time for work.

Who Even Buys CDs Anymore?

I do. And I'm not referring to a low-interest savings account.

I mean those round, plasticky things that you stick in a device and get music in return. Those things.

Buying a CD is a labor of love. Not only do you shell out your hard-earned cash for it, there's manual labor involved once you get it to the car (waiting til I get home is never an option). First you look it over, looking for any obvious weak spots in the plastic wrapping. Of course there aren't any, so you try opening it with your nails, keys, teeth...anything sharp enough to tear through one of the corners. This is especially tricky if you've purchased the "Deluxe" edition that cost extra because it came in a cardboard case and has 4 extra tracks. Obviously, you don't want to damage your brand-new cardboard investment.

Once you've managed to wrestle the plastic off, the real fun begins. The plastic is a tease, a transparent lie that allows you to see the object of your desire. Once it's off you remember that the darn thing is still sealed shut because someone decided that adding a sticker that is practically permanently affixed to the case itself was a good idea. I hope I never meet that person. I don't know what I would do to him or her, but glaring will be involved. I mean, really? A sticker that takes great amounts of patience and skill to detach? It doesn't come off in one clean piece either, it rips and breaks up into a dozen tiny pieces that you can't get off your fingers. And you pick, and you peel, and you pray, and you curse, and you plead until you get it all off...and realize that the piece you just removed was a 'pull' tab that quite possibly could have given you 10 minutes of your life back.

But was it worth it? For your sake, I hope so.

I've taken longer hours at Job #2, mostly eliminating Job #1. I'll be doing things here and there for a few hours, but that's it. Right now I definitely have enough to keep me occupied at Job #2, which will be referred to as "my job" from here on out. Anyway, it's only Tuesday and mentally, I'm beat. It's been a long time since I've sat in front of a computer for 7 hours straight. The irony in this is that obviously, I'm writing to you from a computer.

Look, I have big, unruly hair! And it's parted on the side! I'm really living on the edge, aren't I?

Today I caught myself lamenting the fact that I don't get many texts/phone calls/Facebook messages/personal email. What?! It was so strange...I actually missed being Miss Social Butterfly. I haven't cared to interact with anyone but my closest friends and family (and not even all of my family) since I've been home. Part of that was because I was still in shock over not having the option to have friends or family for so long.

Could it be that I'm starting to really recover from my isolation? I'm gregarious by nature but that was squashed right out of me. I can feel it coming back...I know that my anxiety will probably never fully go away, but I hope the fear of people does. It's kind of scary and exciting at the same time, and explains the weird mood I've been in the past couple of days.

I should probably tell my therapist.

Pardon Me While I Keep Talking

I'm feeling extra chatty today. Hope you don't mind. Of course, if you're even reading this, and beyond that, reading it with any regularity, then it's obvious you dont mind my babbling.

Yesterday one of my friends posted a typical April Fool's Day joke. You know, the one where they change their Facebook status to "engaged" or something along those lines. One of the comments to this supposed relationship change was someone saying that she bet they were registered at Staples.

Could you imagine such a thing? If you could register at Staples, I would be the happiest girl in the world. I walk through Staples with the same awe and reverence that most girls reserve for Tiffany's. I think my version of the famed movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's" would be "Lunch at Staples." Except I wouldn't be a call girl. Anyway, I found the most amazing notebook while I was there just a bit ago. It was divided into 3 sections, one lined, one graph and one blank. I believe my jaw may have actually dropped. It was amazing. And pretty. If you don't know about my obsession with notebooks, go here. I didn't buy it...you know, the whole being-a-responsible-adult-who-has-better-things-to-spend-her-money-on thing.

I haven't posted a picture in a while...

The fuzzy thing in the bottom right corner is Narnia. How I love her.

I kept it simple today; black dress, black sweater. One thing to note is that I don't particularly care for this dress. It has princess seams and I just don't find them flattering. But I was in desperate need of variety, so I wore it.

Yesterday marked 3 months of this whole skirt/blog thing! And you know what, I wore the exact same outfit I did on January 1st...on accident. It's weird, I hardly think about it anymore. It's all become normal...wearing skirts and blogging about life are now normal parts of my routine. I may not write every day because I sometimes have stuff to do (or don't have anything to say), but I can assure you that I haven't cheated on my wardrobe.

My stomach is telling me it's time for dinner...I guess I should listen.

So Close I Can Taste It...

One year ago today, I received a phone call that would change my life...for the worse. The night of April 2, 2011, I was contentedly watching Yentl with my mother when my phone rang with an unfamiliar number on the caller ID. I answered it because it was a familiar area code, and I thought there was a good chance it was someone that I knew and actually wouldn't mind talking to.

I was wrong.

It was the ex on the other line. The ex he was living with. The ex who, for some reason, felt it necessary to intervene when he was falling to pieces because I wasn't in his life anymore. To spare you the gory details, this phone call resulted in a "reconciliation" that never, EVER should have happened. I lost everything.

I am happy (and almost proud) to say that today has another marker, and that is that I signed my final divorce papers today. I still have to wait for the return of his signatures, and who knows when that will be, but the end is very, very near. The taste of complete freedom is going to be so sweet.

Let's have a few niece-isms to lighten the mood, shall we?

Niece: Can I pet Narnia?
Aunt Bekah: Sure! (Brings cat over)
Niece: Pet her softly!

Ladies and gents, my niece knows how to use adverbs. I'm so proud.

Aunt Bekah: Were you naughty today?
Niece: YEAH!

Niece: (softly) ruff! ruff! ruff!
Aunt Bekah: Are you a puppy?
Niece: Yep! *giggle* ruff! ruff!

The little monster is now doing her whole screechy/giggly/yelly bit...and I just had her on my lap to discover that she smelled like vomit. Why? She gagged herself after drinking milk. Lovely. I made a joke about it, saying to at least do it in the toilet...I got some dirty looks about that. But as a former bulimic, I can tell you that dairy products are pretty gross on the way back up. I hope she found the experience less than pleasureable and never, ever does it again.

Oh, yeah. Here's one more for you. I was playing with her and tried to crawl into her tent. Her response as my rear half didn't make it in quite as planned?

 "Aunt Bekah's so big! It's ok!"

Just what I needed, a reminder from a toddler that I have a big butt.

But it's ok. :)