WORDS! OMG!

1.     I have gained 18 pounds in the last 11 months. This is unacceptable. About half of that is from the time I spent eating and drinking my way through Colorado (and then celebrating my time at home with more eating and drinking) and half from the last month or so. The last month portion is thanks to a variety of factors:

A.      I’m only marginally employed. I have a job and a paycheck and all that jazz, but I’ve been between projects which means I have lots of time to sit around in close proximity to the fridge.

B.      I’ve been battling a case of the blues. This is partially because of my lack of a place to go every day, but also because I’m pretty unfulfilled in terms of love and career. The effort to make changes in these departments has taken A LOT of energy, but ultimately has failed (for now), which has been discouraging and exhausting and has also led to a lot of couch à refrigerator à couch à refrigerator circles.

The good news is that the family and community portions of my life are rich and I couldn’t ask for more. I’m trying to eek out some wins in the career department to push me over to the greater-than-50%-happiness side of things (assuming 25% weight across the family, community, love and career categories, though I don’t necessarily think the weighting is truly equal). 50% happiness isn’t baaaaad and plenty of people would be happy to be 50% happy, but I’m used to being closer to 75% and I’d like to get back there. (I won’t even get into the topic I spend a lot of time thinking about: Does anyone get 100%? Should I be content with 75%?)

2.       The bonus to being only marginally employed is that I’ve enjoyed a lot of flexibility with my workout schedule so I’ve been kicking ass and taking names. We could argue that at least a smidge of that 18 pound weight gain has been because I’m building muscle and sure, I’ll agree to that, but I know I haven’t gained muscle in my face, so plenty of it is fat.

3.       Dating is brutal and I do not recommend it. I’m trying to decide if it’s more draining than a job search but I really can’t tell. Both involve significant effort and lots of rounds of interviews and long periods of anxious waiting.

Part of my current struggle is that I got kicked in the head by a job prospect and a relationship prospect in the same week and, as Leslie pointed out, in virtually the same way:

You are really great and but we’ve decided to close this particular rec. We like you SO much that we tried to see if there was another role we could put you in but decided that the timing just isn’t right. We may have a spot for you in the next 3-6 months though so please keep in touch!

And then:

You are really great but I’m realizing that I’m just not as ready for this as I thought I was and last week I was cool but this week I’m freaking out and all I’m doing is making us both crazy while I try to sort through my crap. The timing isn’t right. Please keep in touch.

Seriously, Internet. THE.SAME.WEEK.

But then because my community is 100% amazing, my lady friends circled the wagons and we drank a lot of pink champagne together. There were also a lot of spin classes to counteract all the pink champagne (see: #2).

I beat my head against the dating wall all the time, but to actually like someone is *rare*. “OMG that guy couldn’t stop touching his teeth!” or “OMG the first words out of his mouth to me were ‘Just so you know, I don’t have a sense of smell’” or “OMG he smelled like old sweat” are easy peasy to move on from (“run away from” is more like it). But “OMG he was cute and he smelled like soap and he enjoys his family and we could talk foreverrrrrrr” was a tough one to walk away from (I did manage to beat him to the punch, but just barely).

The search for cute, pleasantly scented, from-a-nice-family, employed and EMOTIONALLY STABLE men continues. If anyone knows where they’re hiding, I have half a dozen amazing single ladies on my team who would also like to tap into this elusive circle.

So, I’m sort of sad and fat these days. Unfortunately, they’re a coordinating set. 

But *fortunately*, I have friends who will drink pink champagne and go to spin class with me (not usually in that order) and I have the five cutest nieces and nephews in the whole entire world so my 50% of awesome is REALLY awesome.

And speaking of those perfect children, so help me God, I *will* video my miracle niece saying my name. Even though she can say “Elizabeth” perfectly when telling you what her name is (her middle name is Elizabeth), she can’t say it at allllll when she’s talking about me. “Aunta Bip Bip Bip” is the best I can type it. And because she’s a sassypants (the fucking fours, we’re told), if you directly ask her what my name is she starts purposefully speaking jibberish.

But when I walk up to their house and I hear “AUNTA BIP BIP BIP!!!” I care far, far less about the crappy 50%.

Non Sequitur Story About My Dead Grandparents Coming to Talk to Me

I'm going to a big group reading w/ a medium tomorrow. Like, a dude who talks to the dead. There will probably be a couple hundred people there so I'm not expecting anyone to come through for me personally, but it'll be a Sunday afternoon and I have time to kill, so why not?

Also, I'm lucky enough to say that I don't really know that many dead people.

The closest person to me who has died is my grandfather -- my mother's father, who died on December 31, 2004. I remember thinking that it was nice of him to die on December 31st because it kept the bad in 2004 and allowed us to start 2005 fresh. Of course, 2005 ended up being one of the worst years for me, so I totally jinxed myself there, but it was a nice thought anyway.

Boppa died at 100 years old and after being sad for a day, the next day was fresh and new and we could all be happy for him that he lived a good life and wrapped it up very tidily -- 100 years old and died on the last day of the year.

I don't think many people would argue that there's much to be sad about when someone dies at 100.

Boppa's wife, my grandmother, died more than thirty years before him. She was a lot younger than he was so he'd always expected to go first, but she actually ended up dying several years before I was born and he ended up hitting the triple digits, so that didn't work out as he'd planned at all.

Boppa and I used to discuss -- pretty regularly, actually -- that when he died, she'd be in heaven wating for him. This was ME telling HIM that though. He would say that he hoped I was right, but he wasn't buying it at all. He was a pretty black and white guy and things like heaven were just silly.

(He also thought women should have short hair -- I think he thought hair was hair and that there wasn't any point to growing it long. He was remarkably progressive in his opinions on social issues for someone of his age -- interracial marriage? SURE! But long hair? BOOOO!)

So Boppa died and that was sad for a minute, but mostly it was happy.

Then one night, probably about six months after he died, I woke up in the middle of the night and Boppa and Zena (my grandmother...and yeah, that was her actual name -- like a princess warrior, but with a Z instead of an X) were standing at the foot of my bed.

I immediately started to cry and Zena said "I told you Walter, we shouldn't have come...we're scaring her."

I said that no no -- it was okay.

And then Boppa took a step toward me and said that he just wanted to tell me that I had been right.

And then I went back to sleep and the next morning when I woke up I was like OHHHHHHHH MYYYYYY GODDDDDDDDDD THAT ACTUALLY TOTALLY HAPPENED.

And I swear to you, it did.

Over the years I've read a couple of books and watched a couple of documentaries on the general topic and even though it could easily be explained away as a dream, I prefer to side with the theory that says that when you're asleep or in a twilight state, you're more relaxed and are open to allowing these visitations  to come through.

I don't know if I actually believe in mediums but I 100% believe that my grandparents came to tell me that I had been right -- that my grandmother was in heaven, waiting for my grandfather to eventually join her. So I've already received the only message I might be expecting and do not expect to receive another tomorrow, but I guess you never know.

------------------------------------------------

Here they are on their wedding day:

When Baby AJ comes to my house she'll point at all the pictures and tell us who they're of. She knows that this one is of "Daddy's Boppa."

A-DORBS.

Complete, Understandable Sentences

I've noticed that my mother is teaching my nieces and nephew British English. It's definitely not how we'd say it in the US but "Where's Mommy gone?" sounds normal to me because I was raised by a woman who says such things but after watching this video like 10 times, I'm pretty sure it's incorrect English.

(And my mom is probably reading this wondering what the heck she's SUPPOSED to say so Mom, for the record, an American would say "Where did Mommy go?")

Rich in Love

Rich in Love, originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

I already posted this picture but I'm posting from my phone and having trouble and blah blah blah, it's easier to post a pic via mail and add commentary than it is to post directly.

So:

1. Baby AJ and My SIL Who Does Not Wear John Deere Pajamas came over for a visit on Sunday. When AJ saw me and realized that she was coming to my house she got a big grin on her face and started running toward me.

My heart was full.

2. I was at work today when my brother called me (a very rare thing). It turns out my darling nephew had drawn me a picture and wanted to talk to me about it. So there, right smack dab in the middle of expensive consultant we-are- super-discreet-about-personal-calls land, I said "Hi, Baby" and then we discussed that I told him my favorite color was blue a few days ago, but he drew me a picture in red and that he was going to turn FOUR in June .

And again, my heart was full.

Airport

I went to the airport to pick up my miracle niece and my SIL Who Does Not Wear John Deere Pajamas this evening. I was standing in baggage claim waiting for them when I heard Sarah say "There's Aunt Elizabeth!" to Baby AJ so I walked over to them, took AJ from Sarah and gave her 100 kisses.

At the same time, the flight crew was coming down the escalator and walking past us. I noticed that a few of them looked at us and smiled at the warm and fuzzy "my niece has been gone for five days and I missed her" cheek kissing that was happening. I commented to Sarah that AJ must have been a good girl on the flight because none of them were giving us "THANK GOD that nearly-two-year-old-who-has-all-of-her-Aunt-Elizabeth's-less-awesome-qualities is off our plane!!" looks. Sarah said that no, AJ slept for the whole flight.

Then later I was thinking about the beginning and the end of Love Actually and about how it talks about the arrivals gate at an airport as proof that love is all around us. That flight crew, for all the bullshit I'm sure their passengers offer them, are also lucky that they probably also get to see people being happy to see each other all the time.

Also: I'm not sure if not-quite-two-year-olds are suppppppposed to speak in full sentences, but I swear to you that if Baby AJ enunciated just a tiny bit better, she'd be about ready to join Toastmasters. (Assuming the topics involved Dora the Explorer, trains and the dog.)

Blog Mom & Dad's Anniversary / Retirement Party: CHECK!

My brothers, sisters in law and I hosted a party for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary and their retirements (my dad basically retired 100 years ago, but he's OFFICIALLY retired now). This all happened back in October so while their garden is lovely, it's not this lovely in January.

And this isn't really a blog post as much as it is a picture dump because it was all just so stinking pretty...but I can't really take credit for all the great ideas - it was like 80% Pinterest. I will, however, take credit for being on a ladder at like 5:30 that morning, hanging those damn lanterns. It all looks so simple and easy breezy, but it did take a lot of effort.

And speaking of effort, our friend Mary -- my brother and SIL Who Does Not Wear John Deere Pamajas' neighbor, was SO AWESOME. She offered to help and at first I told her not to worry about it because I knew I'd be in bitch mode but she was like "Elizabeth, I totally know what it's like to be our kind of person in party prep mode. You tell me what to do and I will do it."

And hot damn, she rocked it. SO HELPFUL!

I believe I've already reported that I wouldn't do the driveway balloons again because they got all tangled with even just a light breeze:

The main food was a taco guy who I didn't get a picture of, but there was also a table of supplementary items - the big hole was for the artichoke jalapeno dip that was in the oven when Laverne took this picture:

The oranges in the mason jar were a bit of a twist on something I saw on Pinterest that I'd totally do again...though my morning would have been less hectic if I'd decided on baby's breath earlier and did the running from store to store to buy enough sometime OTHER THAN the morning of the party.

Sangria and sun tea down at the end (not in view: the jelly jars I rented for said sangria and sun tea! I LOVE A THEME!):

One of my favorite Pinterest ideas:

The crates for the empties (there was another one for dirty dishes and another for something else that I can't think of right now) were my idea -- I have three of them in my garage now, so expect to see them again at any future adorable outdoor parties I may throw.

The other side of the yard with the seating. It was unexpectedly warm so umbrellas would have been nice, but then I couldn't have done the lanterns:

 The kids' table was this adorable little midgety table (with matching midgety chairs) that I stocked with kid stuff:

See that bike in the picture above? Mary and I looked over at it at one point during the set up process and we both noticed that her husband had sort of awkwardly tied the balloons to it (per my request), but we were busy and I was thankful for his help and we had bigger fish to fry so I was going to ignore it...but then Mary, my party execution twin, was like "You're thinking the same thing I'm thinking."

"Um. Probably. But don't worry about it."

And then the next thing I knew, her husband was re-doing the balloons on the bike.

I'm pretty sure that when he offered to help he thought he'd be doing masculine things like moving tables and putting beer on ice (my brother's ONLY day-of job was to get ice, but I had to send him back to the store three times because this task wasn't being completed to my satisfaction) and that he didn't at all expect to be named the VP of Balloon Decor (he also did the driveway balloons for me!), but those balloons on that bike (which were an afterthought because my dad's bike just happened to be leaning up against the fence and we had extra driveway balloons) actually turned out to be one of my favorite details.

Mary also made the cupcakes and her mother-in-law made the party favors (chocolate pops) -- I would have FOR SURE been up a creek without Team KPR!

We had a huge turn out, it was a lovely day for a party, and I know my parents enjoyed themselves.

WIN!!

And I totally overbought on beverages so we have beer and soda in the basement to last us for years.

I also had a bunch of people say that OMG ELIZABETH, YOU SHOULD DO THIS PROFESSIONALLY and I was like OMG THANK YOU BUT NO, because then I'd have to execute other peoples' ideas and truthfully, it's a lot of effort and it's really only worth it when I'm doing this for someone I love.

And speaking of someone I love, here's a beautiful picture of my miracle niece that Laverne took (one of many -- some of which I've stolen for use in this blog post):

SO PROUD OF THAT GIRL!

SO PROUD OF THAT GIRL!, originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

Stolen from the Facebook of my Sister in Law Who Does Not Wear John Deere Pajamas. The jewels are mostly donations from my collection.

She knows that Aunt Elizabeth has a wall of necklaces...

She knows that Aunt Elizabeth has a wall of necklaces..., originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

...and that I totally let her wear them.

Wave

You guys.

My miracle niece has had another accident.

She’ll be fine, despite being the tiniest little pacemaker recipient with the tiniest little nose job, but good god did this one take a toll on my family. On the other hand, it really did cement our pre-existing belief that we’re the luckiest family ever in the history of the world.

And not just because Miracle Niece will be fine, but because we have this incredible support system where we all have each other’s backs ONE MILLION percent and are able to mobilize and take care of things.

I was telling my parents that I feel like the nose incident made our family react like a wave: We reared up, paused as we gathered steam and figured out the path forward, and then carried each other smoothly toward the shore. They think I’m too metaphoric and in my head about it, but I think it’s exactly representative of what happened…and now we’re all wrapped up in appreciating each other and thinking about how lucky we are, when I’m sure plenty of people would be thinking the opposite if they were in our shoes.

I’ve been working my way through a couple months’ worth of other peoples’ agony (2012 is proving to be rough for A LOT of people) and feeling strong and capable of supporting the people I love, but this last thing with the baby made me think that perhaps I might be near the end of my rope. Let’s not test that out, okay Universe?

But that tiny little girl? She’s the least traumatized of any of us. And when I helped my SIL Who Does Not Wear John Deere Pajamas put medicine on Miracle Niece’s nose the other day, I expected it to be a struggle but instead, the world’s tiniest TROOPER just leaned forward and patiently let me glob crap on her face.

She’s not quite photo-ready these days, but here’s a shot from our family portrait photo shoot a couple of months ago just so you can be reminded of how beautiful she is:

The very worst moment of my life: A Monday night recap.

On Monday night I stood a foot away from my Miracle Niece and watched as she fell six feet off my parents' back porch, knowing that at the end of that fall, she would be met by concrete steps.

Did you catch that?

I WATCHED AS SHE FELL SIX FEET OFF THE PORCH AND THEN LANDED ON CONCRETE STEPS.

That moment and the two seconds after that that it took me to fly down the stairs to find her were, WITHOUT QUESTION, the worst moments of my life.

My cousin was over with her 7 and 10 year old daughters. The girls LOVE Baby AJ and were holding her hand as she toddled around (she CAN walk without a finger to hold onto but she chooses not to). I followed them out onto the back porch because I knew they were going to take her down the stairs into the garden and I knew enough to not let the 14-month-old get escorted down the back steps by a 7-year-old, no matter how loving and well-meaning she might be.

So we were all standing on the back porch, which is really more of a small landing off the back door...it's like a three or four foot square. One minute I'm watching to see if they really were going to go down the stairs, in which case I was going to pick up the baby and carry her down, and then the next minute Baby AJ has broken free from the 7-year-old, is somehow between the planters that line the edge of the porch, and is falling off.

And then my heart, if you were wondering, totally and completely stopped.

I WAS RIGHT THERE. RIGHT THERE.

In the teeny, tiny fraction of a second warning I had that Baby AJ was going to fall, I remember thinking that I should grab her, but also not knock the 7-year-old down the stairs in the process. As fast as that thought shot through my head, it wasn't fast enough to actually react, so I stood there WATCHING THE BABY FALL.

I flew down the stairs and saw that she had, horrifyingly, landed on the cement steps, rolled down them, and was laying at the foot of the basement.

There are a lot of things about the next minute of my life that I don't remember, but I do remember that the 10-year-old wanted to pick her up, but I knew you weren't supposed to move her, I remember that she started crying (which is a good thing, I know), the sight of this tiny body that I love SO MUCH laying there in shock and pain, the sound of my voice as I screamed my brother's name, and the sound that came out of my SIL (Who Does Not Wear John Deere Pajamas) when she realized what had happened to her baby.

My brother thought she'd only fallen down the steps so he picked her up, she continued to scream bloody murder, my mom called 911 and then we waited.

I didn't fall apart right then though. I got on my knees and held the crying 7-year-old and promised her 100 times that it wasn't her fault. It really wasn't her fault because the baby got away -- there wasn't anything she could have done about it. I stroked her hair and I told her that it would be okay. I remember thinking that I desperately didn't want her to feel any guilt over this, but I knew I would be FAR less kind to myself.

I knew in my head that it wasn't my fault, but I also knew that if I'd reacted faster, if I'd held onto the baby as soon as we stepped outside, if we'd done anything that would have changed our paths, this wouldn't have happened. Therefore, it was totally my fault.

HOW COULD I HAVE LET THIS HAPPEN!?!?

So the ambulance came, the neighbors all came out of their houses, and off my tiny niece went to the trauma center. I told the 10-year-old to be kind to her sister, to tell her sister that it wasn't her fault, and then when they went home I sat on my parents' couch and finally cried.

My brother called from the hospital and said that the doctors said it happens all the time, that she'd be fine, but that they'd observe her for a few hours. We agreed that I'd go sleep at my brother and SIL's house and keep the dogs company.

So then I went and sat on *their* couch and cried. Ugly cried, for sure. The dogs were so sweet and obviously concerned that Aunt Elizabeth was so sad and were wonderful friends to me. One of the neighbors came over and kept me company until it was late, but my brother and SIL were due home with Baby AJ soon, so I dozed on the couch a bit and waited.

I'd had a couple of updates (she had FRACTURED HER SKULL, but was going to be fine) and then a couple of pictures (she was still plenty cute, though the swelling on the left side of her face sort of displaced her ear a bit), but I wanted them to bring her home so I could kiss her and see her for myself.

They ended up staying in the hospital past the original estimate of a few hours, so when my brother came home to get stuff in the 4AM hour, I took myself the two blocks back to my house and sort of slept until my alarm went off an hour and a half later.

So you know how when you're really tired, you're sort of a mess anyway? Well imagine how much of a mess I was when I was running on an hour and a half of sleep and had woken up to the HORRIFYING realization that I had just watched my tiny, precious, baby niece fall off the porch and break her head.

I went to work anyway and was generally pretty dazed and spent multiple hours crying in a conference room (it also happened to be the day before our twice-a-year HUGE milestone meeting that I'm in charge of, so the timing was awesome), but they were on their way home from the hospital that afternoon and I was watching the clock like a CHAMP until I could go see her.

I went to their house that afternoon and my whole family was sitting around in their garden talking and laughing and being pretty normal. My darling nephew was telling me that Baby AJ had hurt her head and everyone else was relieved and tired but pretty okay (even my brother and SIL!).

AUNT ELIZABETH, on the other hand, could hardly form a sentence without starting to cry again.

Baby AJ was going to be fine. She wasn't moving too far away from her mother, probably had a headache, and was black and blue under her left ear, but she was fine.

I WAS NOT. I'm still not all that okay, but at least I only cry when I think about the fall and the screaming and how I was comforting the 7-year-old, but really I was probably the one who needed the hug.

My SIL, bless her, told me not to think that this meant I was ever going to get out of babysitting duty.

(You know what's awful? That when I went to save that picture to my laptop, I already had photos called "AJ Hospital" because of that poor darling and the quality time she spent at Stanford last summer. THIS HAD BETTER BE THE LAST TIME, AJ!!!!)

Also: The post-head-injury hairdo is adorable.

Grandma and Miracle Niece enjoy reading

Grandma and Miracle Niece enjoy reading, originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

Miracle Niece loves Grandma, but not nearly as much as she loves her Grandpa Joe.

Those two are BFFs 4 -->

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter!, originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

One of us is adorable...

One of us is adorable..., originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

...and other appears to be growing a unicorn horn.

Miracle Niece's family portrait ensemble

Miracle Niece's family portrait ensemble, originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

Three of my absolute most favorite people

Three of my absolute most favorite people, originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

My thighs + my miracle niece

My thighs + my miracle niece, originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

Birthday Girl

This is one where I had the reverse camera on so she could see herself. She's trying to touch foreheads with herself...just like she does with Grandpa. SO CUTE.

SOS

Hey, remember when I actually used to blog words and stuff?

Yeah, me neither.

I was just looking at my blog hits and realized that I have lost 2/3 of my traffic from back when I had time to actually do this. Oops.

Turns out, this whole "Elizabeth Has a Career" thing is a time suck.

Here's the status:

1. I WILL NOT *not* blog about our recent adventures in Guam and Tokyo. This weekend?

2. "Our" in #1 refers to me and Carrie. There has not been a sudden influx of appropriate men in the bay area.

3. My nephew and miracle neice are still perfect.

We had a family dinner in honor of my miracle niece's actual birthday yesterday (her big bonanza party is on Sunday). It was also my dad's birthday, so he was holding her as he blew out the candles on their cake. She seemed disappointed when the pretty fire was gone, but then Grandpa let her stick her hand in the frosting.

The texture was a surprise to her, but that was nothing compared to the surprise of the frosting when she stuck her hand in her mouth. It was, hands down, the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted and the look on her face was one of shock and made me think that maybe she wasn't a fan of buttercream frosting...

But then that tiny little pumpkin went to town licking it all off her fingers, getting more off the table where the original chunk fell and generally just proving that yes, she is very much like her Aunt Elizabeth.

A short while later she was sitting on her mother's lap (My SIL Who Does Not Wear John Deere Pajamas) and was grabbing for any little crumb or piece of cake even remotely within reach.

She's no fool.

4. I'm the editor in chief of my firm's newsletter for all the peeps working for this client. The last EOC was very professional in her Letter from the Editor section and YOU KNOW I CAN'T DO THAT and have my name signed at the bottom, so I tested the waters this month (my first issue as EOC) and am pleased that A) the communications chick didn't think I was being inappropriate and ask for a re-write and that B) it went out today and I've already had a couple of notes from people telling me they thought it was "very Elizabeth."

4a. I wrote about how I was going to plant a secret word in each issue so that I could ask innocent walkers-by if they knew what it was because I wanted to make sure people were actually reading. This month's word was "ribbit" (because of leap year...frogs...leaping...ribbit) and I'm VERY pleased to have received a few pre-emptive "ribbits."

I'm giving the big boss dudes until Monday to read it and then I'll be checking to see if I can get them to say "ribbit" too.

4b. I also maaaaaaaaaay have made reference to the Milli Vanilli concert tickets I won in a radio contest circa 1991. I'm willing to bet that's the first time Milli Vanilli has ever been mentioned in the newsletter's entire history.

5. Carrie and I are going to see Dr Phil tape his show in a few weeks. My friend Marcy won VIP passes but didn't want to come all the way out to CA to watch Dr Phil do his thang, so she gave them to me. I've never once seen an episode of Dr Phil, but WHY NOT?

The thing that BUMS ME OUT about this adventure is that no cameras or phones are allowed. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO ENJOY THE VIP DR PHIL EXPERIENCE WITHOUT ANY PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE!?!?!?!

6. I'm still rocking my parents' guest bedroom. My current stay at the inn was not intended to last this long (I've been back since Halloween'ish), but my client had a surprise furlough last spring so we all had to take a week of vacation (or work on other stuff, but boooooooooooo to that) so I'm waiting to see if they're going to do it again. I don't want to take time off to move and then have to take another surprise week of vacation, so I'm just gonna hold off until April. Plus, every month I don't move is another million dollars in my pocket. So I'm waiting.

6a. 100 years ago my friend Joanie bounced from temporary living situation to temporary living situation and used to talk about how much she missed her stuff. When she finally landed, she had an SOS party (Stuff out of Storage) and I'm TOTALLY understanding that now.

6b. The good thing about most of my things living in storage for the last two years (OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE IT HAS BEEN TWO YEARS...actually, two and a HALF years, I think) is that when I get all my stuff OUT, it is going to seem like ALL NEW STUFF!!!

I really miss my artwork and I miss having matching towels but lately I'm also totally missing my dishes, of all things.

STUFF IN STORAGE, I MISS YOU AND I'LL BE COMING FOR YOU SOON, I PROMISE!!!

Birthday Girl!!

Birthday Girl!!, originally uploaded by dumpstar_drummer.

Happy Valentines Day