Only two and a half hours until I'm "off" for the day! yeeeeeee-haw! Nothing makes you love your kids more than being away from them for a few hours, I tell you what. Whoever said "absence makes the heart grow fonder" was most definitely talking about stay-home moms and their kids. I mean, I can be on the verge of actively searching for gypsies to whom I could sell my children for a very low price, and if I then get to go away for a couple of hours--even just to the g.d. grocery store--I return with great feelings of tenderness and adoration. It's a beautiful thing. So i'm going to see two movies and have dinner.

I had the kookiest dream last night about my memorial day trip to Maine...apparently it was the night before i was supposed to leave there to come home and i was panicking, realizing i hadn't seen any of my friends yet, not to mention that i was planning to take a BUS home and i had looked at the schedule wrong so i wouldn't be able to leave for another few days, but my husband was there and he was insisting that i leave as planned...and all sorts of other strange stuff. it's so hard to translate the strangeness of dreams into words, because it's usually the strangeness of the situations rather than the situations themselves...and the way things feel. ack. whatever.

ooh! i miscalculated (more like, guessed wrong) and it's only 52 days until i will be smelling salty ocean air and devouring seafood at every turn. that makes my heart soar. It also makes my stomach a bit queasy, since I'm not quite a stick figure yet and I'd really like to be. That's okay, it's not reunion time yet, and i still look ten times better than i did last summer when i saw all the same people i'm going to be seeing in 52 days...I'm as deep as a puddle over here, so look out!

Only 57 days until i reunite with the ocean. if only the visit weren't tainted with the memorial service for my dear grandmother i would be overwhelmed with giddiness. i think she would want me to fully enjoy the visit though. she was the sweetest, most unselfish, tough lady in the world. My hero, truly. And she raised three sons with good hearts, who in turn raised good children. There are some wonderful, rich stories to be told from my family and i think i'm going to start capturing as many of them as i can before all the storytellers have left us. Just last year i learned for the first time the full, detailed story of my paternal grandfather's death. He drowned, just a few years before i was born. But there was so much about it that i never knew before--the exact where and when and how... i will record that story in my father's words sometime. not here, though. One of my cousins drowned when i was really young, too. He was in his early twenties, and was drunk out on a dragger (like the boat on The Perfect Storm) and he fell overboard. His sister named her son after him, and when the child was about a year old HIS father drowned as well. And my other uncle has had two boats sink on him, but was saved. These are the perils of an ocean-dependent existence. Sorry for the downer post. I guess it's just one of those days.

I just made the world's greatest brownies...so much for my skinny pills, eh? I can't help myself!! I was compelled. Martha Stewart SAID they were the "best" brownies, and holy mother of god, if she gives a recipe the whole hearted thumbs up, i'm gonna have to follow her like the herd-able little sheep i am. Actually I think she's a frightening poster child for OCD, but she has damn good taste in food. Yum. Come on in, fat grams and carbohydrates, make yourselves at home right here in my problem area, oh no, stay away from my breasts, we wouldn't want them getting larger, and the ass, no we like it small, but grab right ahold of that gut and cling for dear life cuz it just ain't big enough!!! Hallelujah and praise the King of Cooking.

Well, it's officially golf season again. That should improve my husband's mood. This is the first winter in a few years that he has actually been unable to golf for most of the winter and it hasn't been easy for him.

Well that was a pathetic attempt at entertainment--I just have nothing to say today. This is not good. My brain has been really fuzzy these past few days, and if it's from my skinny pills I'm going to have to ignore it. I can't afford to stop taking them. The last thing this high school cheerleader wants is to show up at that pesky reunion with a less than perfect figure. Pride, pride, pride, what can I say? I need to show up with a tight ass and a book deal. Nah, I really don't care tooooo much, it's just that it would be nice to still appear to be at the top of my game, you know? Our class was fairly clique-free by the end of our senior year, and i had a lot of friends, and no known enemies, but still. I really relish the thought of showing up looking and feeling fantastic, that's all. And so I will.

The Frog Prince

Once upon a time there was a little froggie, named Prince. He was so sweet and green, just sitting by the pond, catching flies. He heard approaching footsteps and tensed in preparation to fight or flee, as was his instict. When the sound of the footsteps was united with the feet making the sound, little Prince looked in astonishment at the vision of beauty before him. An elegant princess was before him and something deep inside him stirred--a memory? a dream? He knew this lovely creature and was moved by her presence. She sat on a big rock and began to cry. Her soft little shoulders shook and her long black hair lay in waves across her shoulders, falling forward to block his view of her perfect silhouette. His little froggie heart skipped a beat and he was overwhelmed by the fear of losing his chance with her...a chance with her? Yes, it WAS a memory. Not a dream...no, not a dream. He was not a frog, but that Prince from that fairytale who was turned into a frog with a spell by an evil sorcerer...a spell which could only be broken by the kiss of his true love. Only it was no fairytale. it was a nightmare from which he feared he would never wake. A waking nightmare, his cold hard reality. Seeing her had jarred his memory of who he really was, but he could not determine the best manner in which to approach this beautiful girl--his potential savior. If only he could still speak...well, he would try it. He cleared his throat, and opened his little froggie mouth and tried with all his might to make the words, "Do not cry," come out. "RIIIIIIIBBBBBBIIIIIITTT!!!" he bellowed, instead. The sound was so loud and close, that the sad little princess looked up at him, startled. She blinked, and shook her head. No, it couldn't be. She had heard the kindest voice say, "Do not cry." But the only one in sight was a little frog. A dear little thing, looking at her so earnestly and with such a depth to his little amphibian eyes, that her heart was touched and she stood to approach him.
"Well hello little froggie. It is a sad day for me, but you seem so peaceful here in your little pond. Aren't you a lucky frog? You do not have people telling you that you must marry an ugly fat old man. It isn't fair." her lip quivered and the tears started falling again, as she scooped up the little frog and held him in her cupped hands. "If I could find my true love before tomorrow at sundown, I would be free to marry him, but that will never happen and I'll be forced to wed that pig." She sobbed harder, as she thought of the duty which she had to her crown to marry a prince, and the one her parents had chosen for her. The man was old enough to be her father. The only reason he had been chosen was so her kingdom could acquire more land. She rubbed the little frog's head with the tip of her finger, so softly. The little frog seemed to enjoy that, so she continued. He did enjoy it. He decided to try again, to speak to her of what was in his heart. "Riibbiiiitt," is all he heard. But the dear girl heard, "You are so beautiful," and her jaw dropped as she realized the voice had truly come from the little green frog in her hands. She nearly dropped him, in her surprise. "Did you speak to me?" The frog was confused. He had tried to speak, but only was able to make frog sounds. He wondered if she could understand him, so he tried again. "What is your name?" Again, he heard a ragged croak.
"Isabelle, heir to the stupid throne." She gave a half smile and began to doubt her own sanity. Talking to a frog? The little prince's eyes shone with excitement and love. It was her. She would save him and he would save her. "Kiss me and I'll be your prince," he sang, so full of hope and joy that the words even sounded right to him. Isabelle felt the truth of his words, and was washed in relief, happiness and warmth. She lifted the little guy to her perfect rose bud lips and kissed him with the softness of a summer dew. The world dropped away, and all was black and quiet. She roused herself from this state and returned to the world, taking in the new sights around her. She was lying on her back next to the pond, and next to her was the most beautiful young man, who was also just returning from unconciousness. "Isabelle?" He said, with a smile and not a hint of frog in his voice or appearance. "Yes...prince." She smiled shyly, now realizing this would be her husband. "Jacques...Prince Jacques." He took her hand and kissed it, then pulled her close and hesitating before kissing her, said, "You saved me, so I will save you." And with that kiss, sealed their fate as fairy tale true love and assured their happily ever after.

I am such a boring person. I was about to begin this entry with a comment about how much i enjoyed my run today, but then i realized that i've talked about my workout for at least 3 days in a row and while i know i included in my blog description at the top of the page that I am an exercise addict, i'm not really ready to be so boring as to only talk about that. Because frankly, i'm not nearly as addicted as some people. don't get me wrong, i love it. it makes me feel good in more ways than i can count...well, that's sort of a silly thing to say, because i can count to the highest trillion available, and i only stop there because i don't know what comes after trillion...gazillion? Well let's find out. nope it's much more logical than that quadrillion... interesting... Anyway, expressions like that are soooooo silly. LIke, "have your cake and eat it too". Well, duh. why in the bloody hell would you NOT eat cake if you had it? I mean, that is what it's for after all. I just shared this thought with a friend recently and it's still plaguing me. Also, the crossing the bridge when we get there thing--yeah, um, of course we won't cross it before we get there because that's physically impossible. Who came up with that crap, and furthermore, why do we all use those expresssions when they're so meaningless? I know I'm not saying anything new, probably every half-assed comic from here to Alaska has said similar (but funnier) things a million times before, but I don't really give a flying fuck. That used to be my favorite word, but now I don't get the chance to use it much.

I'm thinking about getting a job for a few hours a week just for something to do. How's that for a strange motivation for job hunting? It's kind of cool. For the first time in my life I'll be looking for a job without the intense desperation caused by the Grim Reaper of late credit card payments following me around as I go. I don't even care if they only pay me minimum wage--all i need to do is earn enough to pay my babysitter, and she's not charging much. The best thing about this will be that my kids will be in an environment where they can develop some social skills, you know? They're coming up on 3 here, so it's not like they neeeeeeeed me the same way they used to, and i don't think i'll feel like i'm abandoning them or anything. I mean, hell, i'm only planning to work 10 or 15 hours a week so i think they'll hardly notice i'm gone. And the other good thing about it is I could maybe make some more friends. Being a housewife is a bit on the solitary side sometimes. If I lived in Maine, it wouldn't be as bad because all my family as around and one of my best friends is a housewife with two little boys too. Hers are older, but still. She's awesome. Of course, I could start ever sentence wth "if I lived in Maine..." because that's my obsession. Oh well. Perhaps someday.

Well, well well. Here we are. I would like to make a sacrifice to the gods of physical fitness to pay homage for the beautiful way in which my body is changing. Also because it's taken them long enough to start blessing me that i'm beginning to feel like perhaps something more is required of me than burning candles in their name. Perhaps a live chicken, or a goat...or a skinny chick of the girl variety. Of course, that's just because i want to, not because i think it would please them. I have often considered how it is that these fabulously finicky gods of all things earthly can be appeased. It seems i am always pissing off at least one of them. I am starting to learn how I piss them off, but frankly i'm still in the dark about exactly how to make them love me, dote on me, shower me with their sweet blessings. I piss them off by bragging. This is how it works: I say something casually in conversation like, "my kids haven't been sick all winter, " and BAM they both have the pukes and strep throat and a rash. I remember one time bragging about being thin without effort. oops. So the gods listen, i have learned that. The transportation gods were really bent for a while there, and i really have no idea what i did to them...perhaps they are from Detroit, and heard that I preferred Japanese made vehicles...or perhaps they just knew i was a really fast driver so they wanted to protect others from me by always throwing car trouble in my path. it didn't work. i'm still a fast driver, but a damn good one. i never tailgate, i always use my turn signals, and i concisely participate in the intricate dance of the 4-way stop. oh well. they're off my back...although now they'll probably be back with a vengeance since i mentioned them. so anyway, the phsycial fitness gods were my nemeses for a while there frankly. I have hit the gym 5 days a week for the past 9 months and i'm only just getting close to seeing the results i want. Could it possibly have been the frequent stops at McDonald's or the obsession I had with baking? I think that was the curse of the fitness gods--giving me the talent of being a good cook and a taste for dessert. Damn them.

I have been getting lots of funny war jokes in the brief time since the war began, and here's a link to the one that made me laugh the hardest. what to do in an emergency

I had the most fantastic workout today. I think I"m actually getting close to having my cute body back. So ha--my dream mom was wrong, I WILL be beautiful again!!! That was so funny, too, because my mom is the sweetest lady in the world and would never say something like that to me. oh well. what good would a dream be if it was realistic? OOoh. That reminds me of those dreams that are so real that you wake up shaken to the core. That used to happen a lot during the first year after my first boyfriend (the Marine) obliterated my heart. obliterated, because "broke" just doesn't do it justice. i would have those dreams where he was there and he said he still loved me and the whole marriage to another girl thing was only a cover so he could be an assassin for the CIA or something--he had to break all ties with his family and friends and go deep undercover,etc. and we would embrace and i would finally feel like i wasn't going to die...then i would wake up with a smile on my face and my subconcious was in denial, but everything felt all mixed up, inside out and wrong as i would slowly accept the reality and cry for losing him all over again...and have a miserable day from the after affects. I used to have dreams that my husband was cheating on me and when I found out he'd be soooo incredibly mean to me, a totally cocky heartless asshole, and then I'd wake up crying and roll over to see him sleeping innocently next to me and of course I'd be mad at him...for dream cheating. Silliness.

Well, Mondays are always good. Weekends can be so hectic that it's sort of a relief to get back to the boring routine of my week. I should be getting ready to go to the gym right now, but I'm going to procrastinate just a bit. I had the wackiest dreams last night. My Mom arrived back from a short trip (as if she lived here) and went to sleep in my bed and there was much discussion about what time the garbage truck comes (it really does come on mondays) and she was telling me that I would just never be beautiful and I should accept it and then my pregnant sister was driving me to my brother's house and she was driving like a maniac on snowy mountain roads and laughing about it and we kept almost going off cliffs but she didn't seem to notice. She lives in Florida, and my Mom lives in Maine, so go figure. Then we were part of a CSI or Law and Order episode, because there was a murder investigation going on and everything was hazy and psychedelic. I'm actually surprised that eminem didn't make an appearance since I watched 8 Mile before bed last night. It was better than I expected, after hearing some friends' reactions, but not as good as The Good Girl. MAN, I loved that movie. It was sad and depressing, but it was fantastic. I did get inspired to write a story or book from the video for "Superman" which was a bonus feature on the 8 Mile DVD, though. I am just a creative-writing fool lately. Everything gives me a story idea. I'm afraid i'm going to be way better at short stories than novels. My novel is collecting dust in a major way...but, I have been spending some time on it in the past week or so. I reallly have to get moving on it if I'm going to have ANYTHING to brag about at my ten year reunion this summer. AWWW shit. I just gave it away. I'm a horrible secret keeper, but mostly because i don't like to keep secrets. Since I dropped out of college, I'll need something to tell my old friends about, to save face in the intellectual/overachievers group I was a part of. I mean, sure I have a house and a husband with a good enough job that i can afford to stay home but I don't consider those accomplishments, just good fortune. So...I need to have something palpable, something to say when they ask what i've been up to. See, the last time I ran into someone whose opinion i value, and had to answer that question, I had nothing to say. I was just past the one year birthday of the twinners and i was sooooo fat and completely depressed about that and about being stuck in the house for days on end. All I could do was smile and shrug and say, "Uh...not much, you know...uh, just living..." Oh MY Gawd. It was pathetic. Anyway, I'm not writing the book for this reason, it's just that I've realized it'll be extremely handy for filling that need. OKay. gym time.

I'm feeling rather guilty about how lazy i've been this weekend so i'll make a list of things to do today, and when i complete the list i'll feel so good about myself!!

1. Lay on the couch.
2. Re-watch The Good Girl, since once wasn't enough.
3. Actively avoid doing housework. (see that, i turned something i should do into something i can say i've accomplished by not doing it-i'm wicked smaht like that)
3. Take a long hot bath--can't see the clutter with the bathroom door closed.
4. Teach 2 1/2 year olds to be obsessive compulsive...oh wait, they already are, just not about picking up their toys. (their ocd is confined to opening and closing doors)
5. Teach 27 year old husband to be obsessive compulsive...or at least to pick up after himself and/or the kids and or me.
6. Figure out how to add a comment section to blog. (oops, i already did that, but their new-member sign up is not working today.)
7. Nap.
8. Leave laundry in the dryer and in laundry baskets for folding tomorrow.
9. think mean thoughts about all my uptight Mormon neighbors.
10. think happy thoughts about my new next door neighbors and their Harleys and chainsmoking. sigh of contentment. there is a god--i am not alone in this prissy neighborhood anymore.
11. post to blog.
12. add a new favorite link to my sidebar.
13. drink a nice cold wheaty beer. (this is my favorite number, so i'll end here.)

Well, now i feel much better about myself. Self esteem is such a tricky little thing to manage, but I try. Have I mentioned lately how oppressive it is to live in Utah? I wish we could just export or exterminate all the locals and start over. Why the hell didn't anyone else want to live here???? Those damn 1800's Americans couldn't have gotten off their lazy asses and settled this nearly inhabitable place could they? I guess it took the desperation of a people who were not welcome anywhere else to discover such a truly god forsaken place, as it was then. Now, with all of modern technology it's a great place to live if you can possibly avoid contact with the annoying masses. And they're mostly just annoying because they are so like minded. people here all do the same things conciously, because they want to do what everyone else is doing, because it's cool, etc. they all try to look the same too. It's so freaking weird. I have never experienced a more cummulative keeping up with the Joneses phenomenon. I grew up in rural Maine and survival was much tougher--we were much tougher. I had the "when do we get to move out of this state?" argument with my husband again and this time he didn't even pretend. He has dropped the act altogether, and rather forthrightly admitted that he will NEVER move away from here. Great. I wish he could understand that this is cruel and unusual punishment for a crime that I didn't even commit. That's okay. One day I will tunnel my way out of this prison and he'll be sorry he didn't join me voluntarily. Or I'll be sorry I couldn't make myself be happy in Utah.

GAWD I love Lynard Skynard's Tuesday's Gone. I still believe I was born in the wrong decade.

so it's a beautiful spring day in suburban Utah and i'm sitting in my kitchen with the shades drawn, pounding away on my laptop. The sun is just too bright and beautiful for my hungover eyes, you know? that sort of thing never used to bother me...when i was younger. Ugh. I can see 30 looming in the too near for comfort distance and frankly it scares me every bit as much as I always thought it would. So there. They say that 40 is the new 30, which would mean that 30 is the new 20, but i'm thinking there's no way that's true, unless they're talking about the 20 of the Middle Ages--back when the life expectancy was 40 and girls were married with 2-4 children by the time they were 18--and they looked like our 40. Hmmmm....did any of that make sense to anyone but me? Hopefully. Anyway...i think i was whining about being hung over. I bet y'all have a lot of sympathy for me. The sad thing is I can get hung over now without even drinking, and also without getting even remotely buzzed. Why does physiology have to change when you get older? I rather enjoyed the drinking all night, getting no sleep before a long gruelling day of work and oh wait--feeling even more shitty than I do right now. Well...at least i didn't get hangovers back then.

Had to go break up a brawl between the twinners. Oliver bit Max so Oliver is now in time out. Grrr.

Sometimes, with all my romantic notions and silly daydreaming habits of yesteryear, I try to imagine the "perfect match" for me. I want someone whose heart will swell at the coming of spring like mine does and whose eyes will sparkle as we plan an impromptu weekend to the dessert for hiking and biking. Someone who will laugh from the very core of himself at the silliness of life and who will profess to me that the world would be dark without the light I provide, would be empty without the sound of my voice and would be cold without the warmth of my heart beating next to his. I want someone who makes me feel like a goddess even when we both know I’m still carrying around baby fat. Someone who will kiss me like it’s the last scene of a black and white movie and make my knees shake. sigh. but then I remember that I have something just as good, probably better and that it would undoubetedly do me good to be grateful for that. There is no replacement for the feeling of comfort you have with a spouse after 5 years of marriage, and all that entails. We have a great life, better than most. I am just such a grass is greener type--it drives me crazy!!! why can't i just be satisfied instead of always checking out my neighbor's lawn?? and i don't mean anything remotely sexual by that, even though my dirty little mind can't help but make a dirty little association. It seems everything is a dirty joke waiting to be told, you know?

I feel like I should write something extra profound and interesting since my hits have doubled, but as usual, when the pressure's on I panic. Why is it that I like to obsess over every detail of my psyche, every character flaw, every neuroses??? I was just realizing today that that seems to be my favorite pasttime lately...and by lately i mean the past ten or twenty years. Okay, twenty is definitely stretching it a bit--i was just a happy little kid with too many daydreams to fit in a day and too many Barbies to dress up for their rotating make out sessions with Ken twenty years ago...oops, I mean, I was just a newborn? ahem. guess i gave a little too much away in regards to my possible age. actually, i am now afraid i may have made myself sound older than i am...once again obsessing over something trivial. oh well.

Here's my housewife news of the day: I made strawberry freezer jam today. This jam is so good it inspires a person to create excuses for eating it. I will be having toast with peanut butter and jam for breakfast every day for the next 6 months, or until the red gold supply is depleted...and having pb and j for lunch every day as well. Just a hint: when there's no jam, i rarely have sandwiches or toast. Anyway, if you're even remotely in love with good food, as i am, you should attempt a batch of this stuff--just buy a package of SURE JELL. It's easier than making pie--trust me. Pies are actually fairly easy as well. I love food. I am only addicted to exercise so that i may continue to eat whatever i want. food is love. or something.

Well, so it's war then, is it? Great. I'm so selfish and egocentric that i'm mostly just hoping it's over quickly so that my pathetic little life doesn't have to be disturbed. and by disturbed, i mean i don't want to have to feel anything out of the ordinary--on the inside or on the outside...like, worry/fear/angst on the inside or nuclear fallout/chemical warfare/smallpox on the outside (and inside, i know...). so anyway. enough of that. why the hell did they have to pre-empt american idol just to tell us they officially started the war but nothing's really happened yet? i mean come on. get back to us when you've done something, eh? like i said: don't disturb my precious little bubble of calm existence, please. especially for monotonous and uninformative crap. crap i say, crap.

Anyway. I have been mercilessly scouring the internet for the cheapest possible plane ticket to go home for a long weekend, but i'm coming up empty. Oh well. I guess i'll just have to pay full price like all the non-cheapskates out there. oh well. i almost fenagled a deal where i could fly into the tiny municipal airport in my tiny hometown for only about 20 $ more than flying to the closest large airport which is about 2 hours from my town. the dates didn't quite coordinate, but it would be cool. i will definitely have to do that sometime, cuz damn. it doesn't take much to get me excited, eh?

ooh. i just realized that my best friend is in Thailand, and i was thinking of writing something about how cool that is and how jealous i am, but i don't know about this whole war thing. i mean, i'm sure it's not going to affect her, but i like the idea of having someone to worry about. i have a couple of ex boyfriends who are in an armed service, but frankly, not too worried, ya know? i mean, they're EX boyfriends. One of them is actually my first boyfriend who broke my heart so thoroughly that i still haven't recovered, almost ten years later, and i've only recently started putting out positive feelings about him into the universe. he is married with a 3 or 4 year old and a baby on the way, so it would really be sad if he got sent over there and something happened to him. i'm actually rather proud of myself for feeling that way because several years ago I actually got excited everytime the news would report something like, "3 Marines were killed in a training exercise near blah blah blah..." and i'd listen for the names with an evil sparkle in my eye then say damn when it wasn't him. yes, that's how badly he hurt me. But, like i said , i'm over it. and i hope if he is over there fighting for us that he does it well and returns quickly and safely. the other ex--who is more likely to be over there--is in the Navy and didn't really hurt me much. in any case, it was a shorter affair and i'm long since over that. in fact, his decision to join was a huge shock since he was a stoner long haired musician type when i knew and loved him. he just up and quit partying, buzzed his hair and joined up about 2 years ago. weird. heard it through the grapevine and nearly passed out from shock. this was a good thing for him, however, since he was going nowhere fast, so to speak. i hope he also stays safe and returns quickly...well, after blowing to hell several hundred iraqis at least...

I am watching "In the Bedroom" right now and it's making me incredibly, nauseatingly homesick. I've seen it before, so i put it in the DVD player knowing what would happen, but i felt like being homesick today. You see, that movie was filmed not just in Maine, not just in a town near where i grew up, but in the exact town where i lived my whole life. there are shots of MY lighthouse, Owl's Head Light, there are shots of MY mainstreet, the darling little one way street that we used to drag in high school. ANd just scene after scene including shots of places i have been and seen a million or more times. I just can't even stand it. and the radio that was playing in the background mentioned the sponsor of the baseball game they were broadcasting and it was a company my Dad used to work for. Just too much nostalgia for me to not write it down. If you've never been there, just know this: Maine is the most beautiful place on earth. in the summer in the fall and after an ice storm.

Today I had a moment. I was heading home from a little saturday afternoon grocery shopping. It was 60 degrees outside, and i had my windows down and my new iron maiden blasting... i was waiting to make a left at a red light, and as the traffic moved through, there came one of those fantastic parades of Harley Davidsons. Always takes my breath away, the sight of so many of those huge, powerful, gorgeous machines. And as they picked up speed the rumble of their motors sent chills up my spine. my arm was hanging out my window already, and i reached for them. i wanted to touch the bikes, the leather, the hot exhaust, the dust of the road. I had this feeling surge through my gut—a mix of exhilaration and panic at being left behind—and it took a lot of strength to keep from veering off my course and following them towards the East mountains, hobble creek canyon their possible destination, or perhaps just a stroll down highway 89. in any case, my heart went with them, a small chunk of myself ripped off and fluttered after them in the breeze, leaving a ragged wound. i was so unsettled but all i could do was push 100 when i got to the freeway...and that was almost enough.

Um…did I tell you we got a new dishwasher? If I did, just ignore this, but if not, hold on to your hat cuz it’s about to get exciting!! Our old dishwasher was so crappy, you had to prewash everything or it cam out dirty, and our glasses always had nasty hard water residue. This one is a dream. It has delay start settings and tons of room inside and it gets everything sparkling clean. It fills me with more glee than it ought. Another exciting home improvement we made is this: we FINALLY got blinds. We had the Blind Man do them: custom cut, installed, etc. they’re beautiful. And of course, the best part is, I don’t have to worry about flashing my neighbors or getting caught laying on the couch all afternoon!!! Woo hoo! We’re going to go look at carpet and tile this weekend, and next will be couches!!! We’re finally going to have a house I’m not ashamed of, I think! It’s a miracle…I’m going to cry. Okay, not really, but I’m feeling all sorts of dramatic all of a sudden. And I’ve been ignoring my book lately—hoping it would finish itself and trot off to a publisher, I think. Hasn’t worked yet…dammit. So, I guess I’ll have to start making it a priority again, because I’’ll be in maine in a few months and I need something to brag about…of course, no one will be listening because they’ll be so awestruck by the beauty of my physique…well, okay, still working on that, too. I was getting really bored of the gym so I finally took the plunge and switched from elliptical to treadmill. I’ve been jogging for 45 minutes all week and I love it. It feels so great!! It’s waaaaaaaaaaay more of a workout, too. So hopefully I’ll actually start dropping some pounds. If I work out for a whole year and I’m still not at my goal weight I’m going to go bulimic. I have four months left to reach my goal so I better start working a little harder, because I hate throwing up.

Here's a little story starter which was inspired by a boy in a pink hat...i'll add to it at some point.

She glanced up from the treadmill and as fast as her heart was beating, it still skipped a beat. She had to blink then stare for several long seconds before she realized it wasn’t him. He was smaller-framed and shorter, but his eyes, hair and smile made him a dead-ringer for him. The one she generally referred to as “the one who got away…” Her thoughts wandered, back to the chain of events which had led her away from him. They had been friends for several years, and she had been wildly attracted to him from the first time they met. He was absolutely gorgeous. His eyes sparkled with mischief and he was full of dreams and crazy-wonderful plans. He loved life as much as she did. As she slowed her pace to cool down for the final minutes of her run, her eyes found him again. He was heading for the rowing machines in the row ahead of her, oblivious to her piercing stare. She smiled softly to herself at the twinkle in his eye which was so familiar and the stocking cap he was wearing which looked like it belonged to his little sister—pink with a ring of white hearts around the band. Just the fact that he was wearing such a hat made her want to hug him. It showed personality and uniqueness. He was someone not afraid to be himself, to express himself. With a closer look he resembled her lost love a little less, but he had the same spirit--she could tell.