Engaged!

I bet you can't guess what this post is going to be about?! I tried to come up with a more subtle title, but all that came to mind was 'Holy Shit! I'm Getting Married!'. I still can't believe it.

The Monday before Christmas, the boyfriend called me a little flustered over something. That something was my first, and second best, Christmas present. After months and MONTHS of begging and pleading to increase our pet count, and constant, slightly angry, refusals by him, he gave in.

"I'm Reese!"

The flustered part was due to his attempt at making that sweet little face a surprise. Waiting until Christmas to pick her up was no longer an option, and he was at work, so I had to leave right then to go pick up my new baby. Yes, I cried. 

Now, I had actually thought I was getting a ring this Christmas, so the puppy completely caught me off guard, and I just assumed the proposal would wait for another day. Per our tradition, we opened our Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, and the possibility of gaining myself a fiancé crept back into my mind. But, again, not the case. Which, again, I didn't mind, because I had a wonderful boyfriend and now two sweet pups to snuggle up to that night. 

The next morning, while we were cleaning up wrapping paper, because I open presents like a maniac, and putting away our respective gifts, I got my final and best present. 

!!!!!

It is five hundred times more perfect than I could have imagined, and I am one million times happier than I ever thought I would be. 

The thought of spending the rest of my life with him makes me feel so at ease with the way my life will turn out. I hope every person gets a chance to feel this way. Also, I hope you find somebody with enough sense to butter you up with a puppy first. We all knew this was a guaranteed yes when I got that first whiff of puppy breath. 

Now that I'm actually planning a wedding, I realized how counter-productive Pinterest is.  So far, I've come across two dresses that I absolutely must try on.  After some serious detective work, I was able to find the designer of one to inquire about the price of his dress.  And since $18,000 is more than my budget for my entire wedding, I decided to start working on hunting down dress number two.  After some more intense detective work, I was able to find a store that carried the second dress and it was in Melbourne! Just an hour away from my house. Perfect! I have to drive down to Melbourne to run that pesky little marathon anyways. This is totally meant to be.  Except, I can't read, and this store was actually located in Melbourne, Australia, not Melbourne, FL.  

Tina:  0 

Wedding Planning:  2

Whatever.  The nice thing about being engaged, is now I have a shiny ring on my finger to stare at until I forget all my problems and then run into a wall since I'm usually walking while doing this.  

Another bonus in all this is the band is gold, and I own absolutely no gold jewelry, and since I couldn't dream of making any changes to the most perfect ring on the planet, your girl gets to go shopping for new bling.

Holla.

You Win Some, You Lose some

Hey there. So marathon training was chugging along just fine. I found a training schedule that looked manageable and got to it. Last week my long run was nine miles.

            

Pat on my back, and I kept the general pace I'm gunning for in February. Also, I didn't feel like I was going to die afterwards. My feet were a little sore the next day, but I mean, it's nine miles. So this week the long run was ten miles. I easily could have added an extra mile onto last week's run, so this should be a piece of cake. Let me just add, that I also had a piece of cake before this run (I wish I was lying) which proved to be not the best approach at fueling up said run. So, what was supposed to be ten miles turned into seven miles and then me sitting on the sidewalk and playing with some grass until I felt like I could trust my legs to carry me to my car. So, you know, well on my way to busting out 26.2 miles. 

An important thing about running that I've learned is, if you're not 'feeling it', it's not going to happen. I don't mean before running either. Maybe I'm just speaking for myself but I never wake up or get off work and think in my head 'I sure can't wait to go running!' Doesn't happen. I usually wake up and lay as still as possible doing a mental scan of every muscle and joint in my body, hoping one of them hurts bad enough to warrant not abandoning my post, snuggling with my dog. On my drive home from work, sometimes I cross my fingers that I4 will be its typical I4 self and traffic will turn my twenty five minute drive home into a two hour drive and I won't have time for a run before going to bed. These rarely pan out. So, clearly, before I actually start running I'm never 'feeling it'. I'm referring more to during the run. I can usually tell pretty quickly into a run if it's going to be a good one or not. The first mile is usually so-so, because I start out a little full of myself at too fast of a pace. The second mile is usually spent regretting my mistake of starting out so quickly and trying to catch my breath. The third mile is spent nailing down my pace, and by the fourth mile I usually start to gain some confidence and feel pretty good. That's when I can tell if my run that day will be a good one or not. Needless to say, yesterday's run did not turn out the way I wanted it to. I have chosen to blame it on the water bottle I decided to carry that day. I am apparently not somebody who can carry something and run at the same time. Which fits right in with my 'can't walk and chew gum at the same time' personality. 

Side note:  I do at least feel pretty proud that I've went from just being happy if I made it two miles to being disappointed, for lack of a better word, in a seven mile run.

So what have I learned? Sometimes (very rarely) you shouldn't say yes to cake and my hands demand a certain amount of freedom while running.

So freedom they shall get. But you won't see me running like that today. Today is rollerblading day, so you will most likely see me in a bush or in the lake. I still haven't quite figured out how to brake in those suckers. 

Until next week kids, when I come here to tell you how cake once again foiled my training. 

Is This Thing On?

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you, blog. I've just been too busy, or too boring to write about anything, or dancing to Taylor Swift's new songs, or any combination of those things. You choose. Whatever, we all know what I've really been doing:  Charity work. 

She's been hanging out with me, guys. That's it. Nothing else.

Not true! I've been marathon training too. Are you finished laughing? Good, because it's true. Just 101 short days until I do what will hopefully be the hardest thing I ever do in my life because my feet already hurt. Don't worry, this won't turn into a 'running blog', mostly because I typically just complain about running and I'm not knowledgeable enough about it to start doling out advice. I've never really felt like a 'runner' even though I spend more time running more than I do anything else, besides working. I guess I've been waiting for that 'a-ha' moment to happen that makes me feel like one. Hopefully it comes after this marathon, because I've already put a ton of money into it and again, my feet hurt. 

And for anybody who doesn't buy the story that I've basically just been running for the last few months, I'll give you other options: 

1. I've been hiding behind my couch because I've finally watched that one episode of a true crime show that made me crack and I'm now convinced that every last one of you is trying to kill me.

2. I ate so much candy and drank so much coffee that my hands were too shaky to type up any blog posts. 

3. I've finally moved into the dog park and there is nowhere to plug in my laptop, and the wifi isn't so strong there. 

4. And the most believable of them all, Netflix binging. 

And I also picked up lying the last few months, this mayyyybe might kind of turn into a little bit of a running blog on some days, but mostly for accountability. For myself, of course, unless any of you other guys like to drink too much wine and sign up for things you have no business signing up for, then join in on the fun! Kill me.

Again, don't worry though, because the real star of this show will make her regularly scheduled appearances on here.

Although I'm sure some of you guys have gotten your regular doses of my blog's namesake on Instagram, check back here to put stories to that precious face and to make sure I haven't smartened up and thrown in the towel on 26.2 miles of hell.

Later, gators.

Birthday!

Guys. I'm OLD. Like old enough where I had to arrange my birthday shenanigans around baby showers and a friend's son's fourth birthday party. Old enough to refer to myself as 'almost thirty' in conversations. Old enough to need a full eight hours of sleep a day. The only thing making me feel better about this is harassing my dad about being old enough to have a twenty eight year old daughter. No wonder I'm his favorite. Anyways, instead of reflecting on this past year, which has been wonderful, I wanted to think more about the future. So, here are twenty eight things I want to accomplish this year.

1. Pay off all my credit cards. And somebody needs to put some type of law in place that forbids credit card companies from giving those suckers out to anybody under twenty five.

2. Run a marathon. (Already signed up for one of those suckers.)

3. Read more. I did attempt to do that last year, but spent six months on one book because Game of Thrones is hard.

4. Travel more. There are eight year olds out there who have logged more miles than me. What can I say, I love The Sunshine State. 

5. Visit my family more. They drive me a special kind of crazy, but there is a level of happiness that I can only achieve when I'm with them.

6. More girl time. No matter how much any girl describes herself as 'one of the guys', there's just nothing like emerging yourself in weekends dedicated to all things nail polish and wine and gossip.

7. Learn how to knit. Mostly because I have a strong obsession with scarves and hats and would prefer to point at the poorly scarf around my neck and proudly proclaim "I made this!"

8. Go outside more.

9. Complain less. Very few things in my life warrant a complaint out of me and I need to remember that.

10. Drive less. I live about 1/2 of a mile from everything. Time to lessen my carbon footprint and hop on the bike....it's somewhere around here.

11. Smile more. I am the proud owner of a resting bitch face, not smiling tends to scare strangers.

12. Kick this Target addiction.

13. Stop lying about kicking my Target addiction.

14. Quit smoking. This back and forth of not smoking for two months and giving myself permission to have a few cigarettes when I go out needs to go away for good.

15. Eat more veggies. I eat a million different fruits a day, but most veggies make me want a donut.

16. Get a passport. Just in case...

17. Worry less. Apparently turning  twenty eight brings about the wrinkles, so I've seen on my face heard.

18. Make more friends. Making friends as an adult is tricky but you can meet some wonderful people as you get older.

19. Be nicer. I consider myself a pretty  nice person, but I have my moments that I'd love to get rid of.

20. Reconnect. My high school reunion was last month and it put me back in touch with some great people that I don't want to lose touch with again.

21. See snow. I did see it once when I was three. I think Lake City got a solid 1/2 an inch of snow that we enjoyed for roughly an hour. I'm not a fan of the cold, but I could really get on board with sitting in a cabin and looking at some snow covered mountains out of a window.

22. Volunteer more. Every week I tell myself I'm going to volunteer at the ASPCA on Saturdays, but you know, sleep. 

23. Go pick up both my diplomas from UCF that have been sitting there since 2009, because I just can't bring myself to deal with the parking ever ever again.

24. Save, save, save. I'm not sure for what yet, but I do know that currently my savings account will possibly only buy me the front door to a new house. And maybe a welcome mat. 

25. More me time. My down time has seriously suffered the past few months and I can feel it everywhere.

26. Say adios to caffeine. The idea of surviving without it makes me twitch a little bit, which is a problem.

27. Convince the boyfriend that we NEED another dog. Anybody want to help me with a PowerPoint presentation?

28. Relax. My life is easy and happy and full of love and it wouldn't hurt to sit back and take that all in once in a while.

Here's hoping #27 happened and I'm playing with the new puppy I got for my birthday. Or the rollerblades I asked for. Either way, somebody's probably peeing on the floor or I'm wishing I had a helmet on.

PAR-TAY.

I Love You Like XO

Hello there!  Welcome to Monday, guys.  This Monday, I like. See, on this Monday, four years ago, my world got just a little better when I asked the boy I couldn't stop thinking about to be my boyfriend. Actually, I kind of just told him he was my boyfriend, but whatever.  He didn't object. I've never been much of a patient person so I definitely wasn't waiting around for him to ask me out.

            

The concept of long term commitment always seemed so foreign to me.  Whether it be because of my inability to hold interest in something for more than two seconds, or being a child of divorce, I truly believed I would never be interested in something long term with somebody. How are people with each other for decades? People change every minute of every day.  I just never saw it working for me.  It sounds cliché, but it took the right person.  The right person who I never saw coming. 

I still, and will always remember the first night we officially met and hung out.  A stranger approached us while we were talking and complimented us on what an adorable couple we were.  We laughed and thanked her but told her we were just friends.  I remember where we were, what he was wearing, what I was wearing, and the way he looked at me when she said that, and I knew this, whatever it ended up being, was going to be good.  And it was been.  So so good.  All of the ups, the very few downs, and everything in between has been more than I could have ever hoped for out of a relationship. 

           

It's funny how every little thing I've done and every little choice I've made up until this day four years ago put him in front of me.  Some of those choices were mistakes, but I thank God I every day I made them. If I never took a certain job or let a certain person break my heart or decided to go out a certain night, things might not be where there are now.  And if guess I wouldn't have known what I was missing if I never had met him, but I think somewhere, deep down, I would have felt different.  I would have known that something wasn't quite right in my life. 

Building a life with him has just come so natural to me.  I never thought twice about moving in with him, owning pets with him, buying furniture, all kinds of mundane, adult things that tie me to him long term, because I've been in this 100% from day one.  

I love you, dude.  These four years with you have simultaneously flown by too fast and felt like forever.  You make me happy all the time and I look forward to everything with you. Especially if you'll please let me have more pets.

              

(Sorry for making anybody throw up on a Monday.  Carry on.)

Long Lost Sister

Guys, the most serious thing in all of history happened to me yesterday.

Actually, two serious things happened:

First off, Joey FINALLY caught a frisbee for the first time ever.  She typically just lets it smack her in the head or she tries to catch it with her paws like she's a person or something.  But yesterday, she straight up caught it in her mouth, out of the air, and I almost cried like a proud mom should.

I just caught this.

So after Joey was finished catching frisbees and being awesome I posted a picture of her on Instagram being pretty, because it's what the people want to see, which caused the second awesome thing to happen.

I also happened to check in at the dog park with this picture, so when a random stranger happened to be flipping through the pictures taken at Fleet Peoples, he stumbled upon that picture up there and thought it was his dog.  The following conversation ensued:

Guys, I FOUND JOEY'S SISTER.  I didn't want to be all rude and just blast his name all over my blog, because, I mean, millions of readers, but if you go to my Instagram page you can figure it out, which makes crossing out the name pointless, but whatever.  Internet etiquette or something.  IRREGARDLESS.  I'm 75,000 times more excited about this than any person should ever be about something not related to winning the lottery.  I told Joey about it and she licked my nose, which I took as "Mom, you're not crazy, I'm just as excited as you are about this." 

I will most likely film a reunion and it will be the most important story Oprah ever tells.  Obviously.  I'm now on a mission to hunt down the entire litter for the best puppy play date of all time.  So, if you see anybody with a dog who looks like Joey walking around Orlando, don't warn them that a crazy girl is looking for them.

Annnd, in other pet news, my oldest babe turns 3 today!

Happy Birthday, Penny!  Thank you for showing me that something with four legs can actually be sane.  I love you more than the craziest of cat ladies loves her cats.

Enjoy your Thursday, dudes.  I have t-shirts to make for the canine family reunion.  This is how people end up with restraining orders, isn't it?

Flashback Friday

This post brought to you by the fact that I am a million years old. 

#notahighschooler

It's true.  Somehow, I woke up one day as a girl in her late twenties. Girl in her late twenties sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? I should feel comfortable saying woman or lady, but I don't. I've been trying to figure out how to refinance my car for the past three months, there's no way I'm either one of those adult words. But, I sit here, on the eve of my ten year high school reunion, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I'm not panicking over calculus homework or stressing over winning softball games any longer.  I own things (like debt), my insurance cards have my name and my name only on them, and I have an IRA, that I know absolutely nothing about, but I have one.  Am I a full fledged adult now?  

It's funny to think back to when I graduated high school (seriously, ten years ago!) where I thought I would be now compared to where I actually am now.  Twenty eight years old is up there, surely I thought I would be married with three or four kids.  The thought of that now is laughable, although the laughter gets quieter and quieter every year.  It's more of a snicker now, letting me know that I in fact, am old enough to do that kind of stuff, and should maybe get on it. (All puns intended.)  So, although silly high school Tina fully expected to be married and finished procreating by this age, like my mom was, I'm totally cool with not achieving that goal just yet. That would have required me marrying somebody I dated in my early twenties and, throw me off a bridge.  I'm glad I waited for this dude.

High school Tina definitely had different ideas for a career as well. There was the super naive side of me that was 100% sure I would somehow make a career out of softball. I was OBSESSED as soon as I picked up my first bat at eight years old. 

You're welcome for this.

Don't get me wrong, I was good. I was really good, but not 'play in the Olympics good' like where I thought I was headed. Needless to say, that didn't happen. I spend my nights working at a sleep lab at a job I never even knew existed.  Even when I started college as a psych major, I never ever thought I would be doing anything medical related, but here I am, three years deep working at a hospital and throwing in the occasional co-ed softball game or two to keep the dream alive.

When I was in high school, I knew I wanted to move away for college, but I was definitely coming back to my hometown when I finished.  I loved growing up in a small town.  But now, Orlando feels like home and the idea of ever leaving here is crazy to me. How did I deal with having to drive 40 minutes to nearest decent mall, two lane roads, and last call being at 1:00, for the love of God?  

I was even wrong about my preference of pets in high school. Your girl was TERRIFIED of dogs.  Like, refuse to get out my car and go in your house if you had one, terrified. I was destined to a life full of cats, and was absolutely fine with that.  Now?  I'm the proud co-parent of a two year old lab mix that I can't and will never get enough of.

I still have some cats running around, so I wasn't completely wrong.

My life is nothing like I thought it would be, but that's ok.  Anybody who graduated high school with me and tells you they are exactly where thought they would be ten years after graduation is either lying to you or actually got their letter from Hogwarts. 

When I bring up the topic of high school around most people my age, they usually cringe.  I loved high school.  There weren't a lot of us there and most of us knew each other since preschool.  I had a genuinely, pleasant high school experience, minus the few hateful idiots who didn't appreciate the extra 40 pounds I carried around through most of high school.  Thanks to Facebook, I see that most of you were nice enough to match my weight loss with a weight gain.  If I were still in high school, this would be where I would tell you to suck it, but I'm an adult now and can use curse words, so, eat shit.

Moral of the story? High schoolers are dumb.

Too cool for school.

Going Back to the Dark Side

Happy Monday! Bear with me today, this post is probably going to come off as much more dramatic than it should be.  I'm a female, shoot me.  Anyways, I had to make a kind of difficult decision this weekend after making a really dumb one last week. 

If you remember correctly, I busted out a half marathon a few months back. 

And I know you remember, because I still like to brag about it.  Also, I'm one of those obnoxious people with a 13.1 sticker on the back of their car.  Get over it.  Anyways, after a few months of mulling it over, I decided on Friday to put myself through that again....times two.

That's right.  I've tricked myself into thinking I can run 26.2 miles.  Even worse, I paid for it.  I have eight months to train, so no panicking quite yet, but I'll get there. 

Back to the point of this post.  I've spent the past five years being a vegetarian/pescatarian.  A year of that I spent avoiding all things animal related as a vegan.  I gave up being a vegan after I got pretty heavy into running and was getting easily injured.  I just couldn't find the right balance of food that gave me everything I needed with my level of activity.  I'm well aware that plenty of people are able to find this balance, but I just couldn't make it work for me.  I didn't have the time or money to put into my diet that was necessary.  Switching to being a vegetarian did the trick, and I was running with zero problems.  A few years later, I found myself in the same situation, so I added fish every once and a while, and again, problem solved.  So, we are again.  I find myself needing to change my diet.  I don't like to eat fish enough to get what I need in my diet.  Being a vegetarian and being a picky eater don't usually go hand and hand. It wasn't a big deal until now.  Now, I am going to put my body through hell.  I will do the hardest thing I will probably ever physically do.  So, it's time to throw in my vegetarian hat.  I feel ashamed.  (Like I said, dramatic.)  Don't get me wrong, I'm not gnawing on steaks over here.  Pork and beef will still be off limits.  Finding free range chicken is much easier than finding a place that gets their bacon from a place that doesn't torture its animals.

I feel like I've given up.  Like I'm losing at something.  But, running a marathon is important to me, and being healthy is important to doing that.  Again, I'm aware that lots of people lay off animal products and are extremely athletic, but I've done my research, and I don't think it's doable for me. 

My intention is to go back to being a vegetarian after/if I get through this, but we'll see. 

On the plus side, I'm going to be much less of a pain in the ass on Thanksgiving this year.

Birds, forgive me.

Looks Like Carolina

Happy Monday, kittens!  That was actually much harder for me to say than usual, because I'm officially off of vacation today.  Yep, no more spending too much money, eating too much food, and sleeping too much.  It's laundry, grocery shopping, and walking the dog for me today.  Ok, the walking the dog part I'm totally fine with because the separation anxiety was sky high. 

I typically don't leave her for more than two days at a time, so four days away from her was rough.  But I survived, and Joey was only worried about her dad being gone. 

Seriously, I think she forgot she had a mother.  She wouldn't leave his side, no matter how many treats I bribed her with.  I'll pretend like I didn't cry.  Whatever, it made me feel much better about leaving her to go hang out in the mountains of North Carolina.

First things first:  In an effort to be a grown up and not procrastinate, I checked the weather on Monday and packed ahead of time.  High in the 80s and low in the 50s all weekend?  Sounds like perfect vacation weather to me.  Except Mother Nature exercised her prerogative to change her mind.

 

That was the weather I was working with the entire weekend, and I was severely inappropriately packed for it.  So, the sweet sweet boyfriend bought me a scarf that didn't match anything I brought to wear, but whatever.   Anyways, back to the vacation.  I don't take many vacations that don't involve going to visit my family, and they're family, so you know, stress.  More importantly, this was the first vacation the boyfriend and I have taken alone since our one year anniversary.  We're one month shy of our four year anniversary, so to say this vacation was necessary was an understatement.  

A total of sixteen hours in the car together, shopping together, eating every meal together, and going to sleep at the same time (which rarely happens because of my work schedule), and he only threatened to hit me once and that was on the way back to Jamlando.  This is mostly impressive because I am insufferable on trips that last more than 30 minutes. Seriously, being in a car makes me want to die.  But we survived, and we came out looking cuter.

P.S. We have reached the 'tie matches the dress' point in our relationship.  

So, now I'm home, he's at work, and the calories count.  You guys go about your business today and don't worry about me, I'll just be over here unpacking and missing this view:

Mondays are stupid.

Birthday Pup

Ho there!  Happy Wednesday to you, but more importantly, Happy Birthday to my side kick, my best friend, my partner in crime, the love of my life, my dog. 

I'm really excited it's my birthday, guys.

You would never guess it by the way I assault Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook with daily pictures of Joey and constant declarations of my love with her, but  I didn't even want her.  (She will never believe you if you tell her that.)  But it's true.  Joey wasn't the first dog the boyfriend and I owned together.  Our second Christmas together we took our first venture into co-parenting.  We got a puppy we named Mia, and she did every puppy thing puppies are supposed to do.  She ate half of my shoes, terrorized the cat, peed on the carpet, and loved the hell out of both of us.  I was never a dog person until I met her and I fell in LOVE.  The second weekend we had her, we took her on her first camping trip that would end up costing us $7,000.  Yeah, that's not a typo.  Seven G's for a broken femur.  And like good pet owners, we shelled it out.  We loved her.  In a few short months, she was back to normal, going on runs with me, hunting lizards, and still terrorizing the cat.  And then in July, we noticed a limp.  Thinking it was related to the plate put in her leg seven months prior, we took her back to her surgeon to have it removed, and she would be good as new.  Except we were wrong.  She broke another bone, and this one would cost us another $3,000.  We just couldn't do it.  We were just getting back on our feet from the small fortune we spent on her first surgery.  And after this surgery we were going to have to shell out even more money on tests to figure out just why exactly her bones broke so easily and frequently.  We knew what had to happen.  She had to go back to her foster mom, who had the money and resources to care for her.  I was devastated.  I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and I definitely couldn't stop crying.  I still miss her, to this day.  That's why you don't get a picture of her sweet little face, because I still can't look at pictures of her without crying.

Since all of this awfulness happened a few weeks before my birthday, the boyfriend suggested we think about getting another puppy.  I think this was mostly because I wouldn't come out of the black hole that was my couch and a box of wine.  Rationally, I of course told him no, and that I never wanted another dog, or cat, or even kids for that matter, because something will eventually happen to them, and then I'm back on the couch hugging the Franzia.  Logical, I tell ya.  But then, he showed me this picture:

I immediately started feeling all squishy inside, you know, the way only a puppy's face can make you feel, but reminded myself that I was now a cynical person, who hated all things cute and cuddly.  That dark phase of my life lasted the 30 minute drive it took to go pick her up.

That puppy face is enough to make anybody feel better about anything.  On the nights I still cried over Mia, Joey seemed to know to snuggle with me just a little more.  Or give me an extra lick on the face.  And she still does that for me, it's just a little harder to breath now when she lays on top of me to snuggle.  I couldn't be happier that the boyfriend decided not to listen to me when I told him I would never love another dog again.  He, on the other hand, may not be so happy about it since I'm sure he's convinced I love her more than I love him.

I'll let you form your own opinion on that.

Happy Happy Second Birthday to the only one who can steal an ice cream sandwich out of my hand and live to see another day.  You are my most favorite.

Let's party.

Daddy-o

Happy Monday, kiddos!  Are you guys ready to kill me yet since I can actually say that and mean it since I don't work on Mondays.?  Yeah, well get over it, and get back to work!  (After you read this, of course.)  I had a mixed emotions weekend.  My great aunt passed away last week and her funeral was over the weekend.  My dad's side of the family happens to have nailed the whole longevity thing when it comes to living, so she got a nice solid 92 years out of life.  So, while it's horrible seeing family in pain, I think we all took comfort in knowing she got plenty out of life in every way possible.  The good thing to come out of this weekend though?

I got to hang out my absolute favorite man in the world.  I wish I could bottle the mood I'm in when I get to spend time with my dad and give it to all you guys.  The world would be all peace, love, and puppies.  Seriously.  Somebody asked me why I was in such a good mood if I had just come from a funeral, and it's because of that dude.  I just love to be around my dad.  Also, he gave me vodka, but that's not the point.

It's funny how relationships with your parents change as you get older.  I don't love my dad any differently or any more than I ever had before, our relationship is just different.  When you're finally an adult I feel like you can actually have a friendship with your parents.  My dad wasn't my friend when I was 13.  What 40 year old man would have a 13 year old friend?  Weird, right?  I'm 13, tell me to quit being a smart ass and give me some money.  Now that I'm finally an adult (or something slightly resembling one) I can have real conversations with him, I have things in common with him, and we can swap tips on how to sneak liquor into places. 

Probably some booze under his hat.

It's just nice picking up the phone and shooting the shit with my dad.  Or bumming around the living room swapping stories instead of stock conversations about school, sports, or if I'm behaving for my mom.  I have a good relationship with him because I choose to because I'm an adult (yeah, I said it again) and nobody can force me into anything.  It's interesting to discover all the things I have in common with him now and all the different ways I act and think like him. 

I hope everybody is lucky enough to get along with their parents like that.  Especially people my age, because our parents are getting older guys. Ok, he's not really that old, but you know what I mean.  Time goes by way too fast.  Those two pictures feel like they were taken a month apart, not 25 years.  Enjoy the people who gave you life.  And let them know frequently that you do.  I hope you're all lucky enough to have a dad who mixes a drink like that guy does too. 

Cheers! 

(Because I can get drunk on a Monday, suckers.)

Terrible Twos

I always assumed the 'Terrible Twos' referred to shithead human children.  Makes sense that they would start to suck when they hit two since now they can talk and walk, so not only can they talk back, but they can also walk away from you after using their new ability to form complete sentences to sass you.  That's why people get pets.  Train them right, and train them early, and you'll usually have no problems with them aside from the occasional throwing up on the carpet.  And that's more or less been the case in my household.  I mean, the pets are pretty spoiled, but they listen.  Except somebody has a birthday in exactly two weeks.  And somebody will be two years old on that birthday.  And somebody sucks now.

She's talking about me, guys.

My sweet sweet middle child has lost her mind.  Where she used to listen, she now turns her back and pretends to not hear me for a few minutes before she eventually gives in and does as she is told.  And I'm almost positive I see her roll her eyes when this happens.  This is particularly embarrassing when we're at the dog park and I tell her it's time to leave and then spend the next ten minutes as free entertainment for the other suckers dog owners there as I chase her around in circles attempting to put her leash on her.  Think about how dumb a dog looks when he's chasing his own tail and times that by a million.

Trust me guys, she looks real dumb.

I used to take a lot of pride in the fact that Joey was much much quieter than your average dog.  No obnoxious barking when I come home from work at six in the morning.  No scaring new visitors with a bark that sounds a lot more menacing than the actual dog.  No sitting in the backyard barking at a squirrel in a tree because it won't come down for hours upon hours.  Not only has Joey found her voice, she pretty much just uses it to insult people.  Wearing a regular t-shirt and shorts at the dog park?  You're safe from Joe's barks.  Anything else?  Open season.  She takes serious offense to tie dye (but who doesn't?), dreadlocks, any type of hat, skateboards, vests (don't ask), and basically any thing she doesn't see on a regular basis.  When one person is dressed the slightest bit differently, Joey makes sure to point it out to everybody within a two mile radius by following them around and barking at them.  The good news is, she'll most likely never let me leave the house dressed like an idiot.  The bad news is, I'm apparently raising an extremely intolerant dog. 

We're also still having a problem with thievery.  I don't foresee this ever getting better.  She thinks the world is her dog park and everything is her toy.  If you're playing with something, she most certainly wants it.  I can typically find her being chased by the previous owner of whatever is in her mouth at the time. 

And this is progressively getting worse too.  She will now stop playing with something just to go steal the same exact thing from another poor, unsuspecting dog. 

Am I crazy?  Or do dogs really go through 'terrible twos'?  I mean, we could just blame it on the spoiling and constant attention finally getting to her head.  But I'm choosing to believe I'm an excellent parent and she's just choosing to be an asshole right now.

Guys, did you even notice my mom is a blonde now??

No, seriously, have any of you guys had the same problem?  Also, her spots are getting darker, but I'm almost 100% sure that has nothing to do with her behavior. 

Over and out.

Fool Me Once...

Happy April Fools' Day!  This tricky little holiday is definitely my least favorite..  First of all, I am very easily tricked, so I would prefer not to own up to all the times somebody (everybody) has gotten me on this bastard of a holiday, and second of all, I'm not very good at playing jokes on people, because I usually start crying or laughing two seconds in.  So, enjoy today all you jokesters, but leave me out of it, I don't need help feeling stupid.  I am a very easy target though, if you're looking. 

This holiday was much much easier to navigate in middle school.  You could go ahead and bet your life on not believing a single word out of anybody's mouth.  Your best friend says she's moving?  Not a chance.  P.E. cancelled for the day? You bet your chubby little ass you'll still be running laps.  Brother wants to clean your room for you?  LIES.  Now that I'm an 'adult', it's not that simple.  When a fellow adult gives me some information on this day I never know what to do. 

They would be silly to play a joke today, I mean, this person has a mortgage and a baby.  GROW UP.

Wait, would I be silly to believe them?  I mean, it is a day dedicated to fooling people.

No seriously, they're in their 30s.  This isn't a joke.

But, this is how they get people, right?

Ok, no, I would bet my Disney princess shirt and Harry Potter wand that this person is too mature for an April Fools' Day joke.

...DAMMIT! Every. Time!

I can't actually be this dumb.

But I am. 

It's part of my charm.  That's what I tell myself anyways. Whatever.

You know what April Fools' Day joke I like to play on myself?  That bag of Doritos, mashed potatoes, glass of wine, half a snickers, and half a pint of ice cream I had last night for dinner isn't currently throwing a party in my thighs.  Wait, April Fools' Day joke?  I meant normal eating habits.  I also just spelled 'habit' like 'rabbit', so the real joke is that some of you guys think I'm a literate person.  That might be the best April Fools' Day joke of them all.  I was able to let that joke carry me through five years and two degrees of college, so who is actually the fool?

Me.  It's still me.

Leave me alone today, guys.  I'm too easy of a target.  Challenge yourself, and go for somebody who doesn't regularly put her shoes on the wrong feet.

My Favorite Friday

Ok, every Friday is more or less the shit, but this Friday?  Today?  Is the best one.  Remember a few months back when I whined about my best friend leaving me?  I'll catch you up:  She's a horrible best friend and left me for the frozen tundra of Montana.  Nobody moves to Montana.  She clearly just needed a break from me, which I understand, I mean, I take a lot of work.  But she's been gone for six months.  SIX MONTHS.

Hate her

If I read our best friend agreement that we signed correctly, nobody was allowed to move out of state.  Montana is a clear violation so she owes me money and a hummingbird cake, which I can get from her today because SHE'S ON A PLANE TO FLORIDA RIGHT NOW!

I'm so excited I might die.  No, seriously.  The idea of us being in the same state finally gets me eighteen different kinds of giddy, all of which are almost too much for me to handle.

We haven't even been able to Skype or FaceTime, because she's literally been that much in the middle of nowhere that the internet connection isn't good enough for basic human contact.  Or she lied to me and seriously moved to Montana to take a vacation from me.  Whatever.  I hope you enjoyed your little break and are comfortable peeing in front of me, because I not leaving your side the whole time you're in town.  You'll be lucky if I let you go back.  Actually, you won't be lucky:  Florida >Montana, so you'll actually be lucky if I'm able to lock you in my closet and cause you to miss your flight back (also known as Plan A).

Also, anybody who is reading this who wants to see Sheila while she's in town, email me and I will try to fit you into her schedule for the ten days she is here, but she will most likely be busy hanging out with me.  I don't share.  Sorry.  Maybe while I'm sleeping or at work you can sneak in a lunch or something with her, but most likely not because I plan on taking her everywhere I go, and I prefer you not come along, you'll most likely just get in the way and I'll have to ask you to leave anyways.

Sheila Shine, I know you're just as excited as I am and couldn't help but get on an earlier flight so call me when you get here.  Oh! I wrote a song for you while you were gone.

It's Friday, kids, and I'm having the best one out of all of you.

Linking up with Whitney, and hopefully I don't pee my pants, because this level of excitement would make it perfectly acceptable.

Also, Sheila, you really aren't leaving Orlando again.  I got you on the no fly list.  I KNOW PEOPLE.

****Update****

Since I'm actually toddler, I've managed to catch what is most likely pink eye (the least mature illness there is behind chicken pox) so if one of you guys could make sure Sheila gets a HAZMAT suit so she can still hang out with me, that would be great.  Also, send something with her to help me sleep, the shit is serious and I can't close my eyes long enough to get any sleep.

Help.

 ****Second Update****

It's Spring everywhere but Montana, and apparently snow storms don't make for good flying conditions, so nobody is on a plane yet, AND the boyfriend just came sick, so basically this day went from awesome to kill me real quick.

Debating on testing out if drinking an entire of wine can get rid pink eye.

Again, help.

 ***Third Update***

Sheila is actually the worst friend ever and was playing a joke on me.  Her flight isn't cancelled.  Thinking about giving her my pink eye when she gets here.

Living In Sin Is The New Thing

Ho there!  (Yes I'm still double spacing after periods.)  So, I want to talk to you about something you're all going through/have been through/will go through:  Cohabitation. 

I've been cohabitating with my better half  for about two and a half years now and it's more or less been one of the best decisions I've ever made.  I'm not here to rave about the boo putting the toilet seat down (but really he does, and it's awesome) but there are minuses to go with every plus when you decide to shack up with your significant other.  But let's bust through the pluses real quick.

1.  Beer

Boys always have beer.  ALWAYS.  When I was single, I would constantly come home after a bad night at work and need a drink but have an empty fridge.  You can't really drown your sorrows in OJ.  Boys are always beer ready.  They somehow anticipate having a bad day, so they always have beer available. 

2.  Food

Living with females provides you with broccoli, asparagus, meal replacement shakes, judgment, and more broccoli.  Boys?  They tell you you're beautiful AND give you french fries.  I have a constant supply of chips, ice cream sandwiches, and macaroni.  Sign me up.  Sure it goes straight to the ass, but boys come loaded with compliments, so it's fine.

3.  Cleaning

The bf is by no means washing dishes, but he's all over mowing the lawn and keeping the rose bushes in check.  Which is great, because I don't want dirt all over my manicure.  And I'm definitely not putting a TV stand together.  Thanks, man.

4. TV

I am a GIRL when it comes to television.  Throw me a housewife, Kardashian, a medical drama, or a small town girl trying to make it big on NBC, and I'm HOOKED.  Enter the boyfriend and I'm watching bearded men catching frogs, guys pawning civil war memorabilia, and dudes eating eight pound hamburgers and I LOVE it.

 It also SUCKS living with a dude, for all the same reasons.

1.  Beer

You know what momma really wants after a 10+ hour shift of hateful patients?  WINE.  Where are the boys who like a good Pinot Noir?  I got that dude up there to take a sip of a red wine that was so fruity it doesn't even count as wine, once.  ONCE.  And I was just thankful he didn't spit it on my shoe.  I don't always want a Bud Light, babe.  Usually, but not always.

2.  Food

I'm a girl, and as much as I would love to live off of carbohydrate and cheese, there's no pretty way to do that.  How do boys not understand that?  Calories just fly right out of their ears while they set up camp and start paying rent in our thighs.  The fuck?  Salt and vinegar chips and Oreos can't hang out in the pantry and have the same effect on us, honey.

3.Cleaning

When David and I moved in together we agreed that I would do the inside 'girl' cleaning and he would do the out side 'boy' cleaning.  And I appreciate him doing the heavy lifting, but two weeks after posting up in our current residence, he made friends with the neighbor boy and started him some cash to mow the lawn.  Smart?  Yes.  Fair?  No.  Plus, although I'm blessed with an oddly neat boy to live with, boys will always be messy.  But seriously, he puts the toilet seat down every time and it's the best.

4.  TV

I love a good Gas Monkey Garage,  but when did we all agree that the boy gets the remote?  I don't want to watch Grey's Anatomy on the laptop, or catch up with the Housewives at two o'clock in the morning.  But he somehow ALWAYS wins when it comes to family TV time.  I don't get it.  

Living with a boy is the hardest decision I've ever made, but I've never though twice about that decision.  I just wish I wore the pants.