So I’ve been told by three different people in the last two weeks that I’m quirky and random.  Not that those are bad things…but I’m not sure if they are exactly great things either.  So lucky you–I’ve decided to share my randomness with you.  And, considering I’m one of the only people I know who hasn’t posted a survey as a blog yet, I figured it was long overdue.  Enjoy!

 My dream job:  to be a Professional Sports Writer.  Not as in Wally Hall of the Arkansas Democrat Gazette…but as in Rick Reilly, formerly of Sports Illustrated.  Honestly–who doesn’t love him?

My biggest irrational fear:  I have several.  Dirt, fake animals dressed in clothing (and yes–they do exist), splinters.  Oh, and also, I have this strange fear that every time I pass someone on a bicycle they are going to fall off and I will accidentally hit them–therefore, causing their death.  Okay, strange I know.

Biggest animal/insect phobia:  Once again, several.  Are you noticing a trend here?  Moths, birds, flies, worms, slugs, spiders, snakes, fish, gnats, bats, anything that flies.  Honestly, it’s a miracle I even leave my house sometimes.

Favorite color:  pink–but only certain shades.  I don’t like carnation pink, mauve, or rose.  I like electric pink or pink sapphire.

Favorite flower:  daisies–specifically, pink gerbera daisies

Least favorite flower:  carnations

Character flaw:  definitely more than one.  I’m such a control freak that I physically cannot make myself use the cruise control on my SUV.  True story.  Also, I expect people to be as conscientious as I am.  I’m typically very hard on others and tend to have a no-nonsense way of thinking.

One thing that attracts me the most:  eyes. 

One thing that I get complimented the most on:  eye color.  My eye doctor always refers to my eye color as ‘ice blue’

Something I wish I would have stuck with:  nursing.  Imagine the money I could be making by now…*sigh*

Place I want to visit the most:  Italy–anywhere in Italy.  Oh, and also Ireland.

Place I want to visit the least:  China/Japan/anywhere in Asia

Something I say all of the time:  “It is what it is.”

I go to bed watching:  Sportscenter

Disney character I identify the most with:  sadly…Merlin from the Sword in the Stone.  Nothing EVER goes right for him–but it usually turns out funny for everyone who’s watching

Names of my fictitious children:  first of all…they are fictitious because I don’t want children.  Ever!  Boy name-Asher Jacob.  Girl name-Ava Jillian.

Celebrity I am compared to the most:  the character Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City.  Seriously–it’s an everyday occurrence.

Who would play me in a movie:  Kate Hudson

Hair color:  I have three.  Alternating dark brown, platinum blonde, and Razorback red.  Go hogs!

Person I would most like to meet:  Manolo Blahnik or David Ortiz (Big Papi from the Red Sox)

Number one on my “wanna have sex with” list:  Chipper Jones (3rd baseman for the Atlanta Braves)

Something I’m dying to get:  Royal blue Manolo Blahnik heels or my pink gerbera daisy tattoo that I’m too scared to get

Favorite movie:  You’ve Got Mail

Something I get teased about a lot:  the fact that I’m clueless when it comes to daily news/headlines/current events–but I can quote stats from almost any sporting event in the last month.  Many of my guy friends ask for my advice with their Fantasy Football teams.

Most embarrassing injury:  too many to think of.  Either the time when an econo-size bottle of dog shampoo fell from the top of my shower and broke my foot–or last year, when I tripped in a parking lot (over absolutely nothing) and did a pile drive on my elbow, thereby breaking it.  But my PT was a total hottie so all was not lost

Ocean or lake:  neither.  I like to look at the ocean, but I don’t like the way the sand feels on my feet and I won’t swim in either because things have died in that water.

City or country:  I’m a complete city-girl, even though I grew up in rural Arkansas.  I never honestly fit in there though. 

Number of shoes in my collection:  62 pairs…and growing

Item I can’t resist buying:  strappy sandals with a heel

Favorite season:  Fall–hello…football season!

Favorite holiday:  Halloween

Something I’ve never done and won’t do:  walked around with my bare feet

Something I’ve never done and want to do:  sky dive

Time I laughed the hardest:  When I came home last summer to discover that my obese chocolate lab named Molly was wedged in under the deck and couldn’t possibly get out.  Even though it resulted in having to take my deck apart, board-by-board, it was still comical.

Things I collect:  shoes (ha ha), Hallmark Christmas ornaments, holiday villages, Sports Illustrated magazines, office supplies.  Okay, not really on that last one.  But I have a very serious obsession with office supplies.

Things I like:  shopping (especially for shoes), animals (mostly dogs), music, making Tiramisu (tastes so good it’ll make you wanna slap your momma), Chevy Trailblazers, the smell of a freshly cut lawn, spring, the sounds at a football game, the smell of grilling out, fried rice, the Razorbacks, the New Orleans Saints, dressing up, traveling, reading, sweet tea (God bless the south), the Atlanta Braves, the Boston Red Sox, fried green tomatoes, spinach, roller coasters, cleaning my house, being independent, Big Brother.

Things I dislike:  Houston Nutt, LSU Tigers & their fans, Texas Longhorns & their fans, mini vans, golf, anything touching my feet other than shoes, socks, or bed sheets, the Dallas Cowboys, meat, the New York Yankees, the outdoors, being away from my family, drama, summer (especially in Arkansas), people who drive 50 mph on the interstate, American Idol, people who have a ga-zillion kids, getting my eyebrows plucked–but it has to be done.

That’s about all I can think of.  If you need anymore randomness, just ask me. 

Have you ever had a knee-jerk reaction to something that didn’t even pertain to you?  It’s a strange feeling once you realize what just happened.  So I was on the phone with a friend last night and he was telling me all about how one of his friends had recently been cheated on by her long-time boyfriend with just some random girl he met while shopping.  And without realizing–I immediately started into a vicious rant about chopping off certain parts of his anatomy and going on about how nothing is sacred in relationships anymore.  I believe the actual statement was “I would chop off his d*ck and shove it down his throat SO hard that he would take two weeks to sh*t it out!!!”

And then all of a sudden I thought, “Whoa!  Where did that come from?  I don’t know either party…why did I get so angry?”  I have NO tolerance for cheaters.  Period.  And having been cheated on by my ex, I know the pain that infidelity causes.  But that was a long time ago.  And I’m now in a relationship where I honestly don’t think that would EVER be an issue.  So why the hostility?  And it made me wonder……was my knee-jerk reaction a testament to just how deep the pain was that I had suffered during that part of my life…or is it a statement meaning that I am perhaps not as over it as I would like to think?  Either way–it shocked me to my core that I had that kind of reaction about two people I don’t even know.  And to be honest…it bothered me to think that I had given one person that kind of power. 

Power that has apparently made me harbor a deep grudge and burning hatred long after the fact.  That’s not who I am.  And that’s not who I want to be.  I’m not the kind of ex who wastes time thinking of all the bad things I want to happen.  I’m the kind of ex who blocks phone numbers, throws away your forgotten crap, and forgets you exist as a person.  And I really thought I was over it all.  That not only was it behind me……I was so over it that I didn’t even remember it.  Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe those memories are still there–down somewhere very, very deep.

 So today, I cleaned out my closet.  Both literally and figuratively.  I sorted through my vast shoe collection…and surprisingly found that I was able to part with about 10 pairs.  I bagged the shoes, old purses, makeup bags, and slightly worn clothing to take to the local homeless shelters.  I mean–giving away pieces of my beloved shoe collection has to be good fashion karma……right?  (And it makes space for new shoes…ha ha).  Manolo Blahnik…if you can hear me…I’ve been a good girl.  Now send me those damn royal blue Sex and the City heels!

But more importantly–I rid my closet of all the old pictures, scrapbooks, and gifts from the days of the ex.  Those were pieces of my old life, and I’m a whole different Jenn now–so it was completely necessary.  And to be honest, it was neither liberating nor sentimental.  It was just me, throwing away old crap.  So maybe I’m more over it than I had given myself credit for.

Holy crap!  That totally sounds like the title of a Scrubs episode! 

Anyways, moving on…I haven’t been feeling very good over the last couple of weeks, so I finally went to the doctor last Thursday.  It turns out that I have a very treatable illness and I was prescribed a pretty common antibiotic.  When I arrived at the pharmacy to pick up my prescription, the pharmacist was far too busy talking on the phone to her daughter to discuss the medication with me.  You know–the minor stuff–such as directions, side effects, etc., etc., etc.  Before I took the medicine I read the paper that came with it and found out that one of the side effects was sensitivity to sunlight.  Because I spend a small fortune to achieve a beautiful golden skin tone (much to no avail), I decided to call the pharmacy and make sure it would be okay to continue tanning while I was on the medication.  She told me to cut back on my time but that it should be just fine.

So yesterday I went to the tanning bed and told salon girl to set me up with 10 minutes instead of my usual 15.  That should be a sufficient cut-back, don’t ya think?  Apparently not!  Around 4 minutes into my session, my skin started burning and itching like crazy.  I reached down to scratch my stomach and I was covered in welps.  I jumped out of the tanning bed to discover that my entire body was covered in hives.  Woo hoo!  I immediately ran home and popped some Benadryl and called my friend who is a doctor.

She informed me that the particular medication I was prescribed was known to cause a fairly severe sun allergy.  To which I responded, “A sun allergy!  How is that even possible?!  The sun is like……necessary to live!  Right?  I thought so anyways.”  But apparently the antibiotics I am taking require that I do not leave the house without SPF of some kind.  I am also banned from over exposure to sunlight and direct sunlight–which most definitely means no tanning.  I am so f*cking happy that the overpaid, under-worked pharmacist told me that!!!  So today I am still as red as a lobster.  My 10 minutes of relaxation in a heated bed turned into 4 minutes in a crawfish boil.  Needless to say, I’m slightly peeved at my pharmacist.

And to make matters worse, my doctor friend also informed me that feelings of depression were common with this antibiotic.  Which means, that the terrible week I was having was amplified times 10–leaving me with the strong desire to runaway from home and go somewhere that I would NEVER be found.  SO glad that I decided to hold off on that plan! 

At least now I know…the next week will be filled with lots of indirect sunlight, sunscreen, and sadness.  Don’t you just love when the medication to treat a minor illness becomes a bigger issue than the illness?!  God bless modern medicine.

Today was the great big cherry on the shit sundae that was this week.  I’ve been having a rough time this week.  For reasons that I had rather not go into, I feel myself sinking in a hole of depression so deep that I cannot dig myself out of.  There are some things going on in my life right now that have left me with feelings of emptiness and loss.  To be honest, this week, today in particular, has crushed me.  It’s been a really long, long time since I’ve felt the way that I do right now.  I just want to give up.  To walk away from everything that is bothering me right now and pretend it didn’t exist.  But that’s not who I am, so I will face it head on and hope that in due time…everything will be okay.  Well, at least some version of okay.

As I drove through my neighborhood on my way home this afternoon, I noticed there were only two houses on the street with closed blinds.  Mine, and the neighbors who just lost their matriarch on Wednesday.  She was far too young to die, but that’s usually the way it goes.  As I pulled into my driveway I thought about how in just five short years the father has watched both his daughter (at age 23) and wife die in that very house–from the same kind of cancer.  And I noticed that the wife’s car, a white mustang with a memorial to her daughter on the back window–was still parked in their garage, taking up the whole middle section.  For a brief moment I wondered what would become of the white car.  But then I noticed the neighbor son walking over to my driveway as I was getting out of my car.  He is my age and comes over a lot when I get off work just to talk. 

Not a moment before I pulled onto my street I had hung up my cell phone with tears streaming down my face.  I was embarrassed to talk to him because I was still crying and after what he had been through, I didn’t want to bring him down anymore.  But he just walked right up to me, wiped the tears off my face, and said “Hey, are you okay?  You seem a little down lately.”  There are people that are amazing and make a difference without ever trying to or even realizing it.  I can’t honestly say that it made my day all better…but it did really mean something.  Sometimes all it takes is just a brief moment of perspective to provide even the smallest flicker of hope.

So today, after reading countless blogs from my friends who are on, have recently been on, or about to go on vacation–I decided to count the days until my glorious, much-needed vacation.  BIG mistake!  I feel as though the walls are closing in on me, the ceiling is falling down, and the floor is crumbling around me.  I desperately want NEED a vacation!!!

And yet…I’m still 134 days away from my vacation.  Sad, I know.  My last vacation I suppose was technically my honeymoon–which was not only terrible because it was with my ex-husband, but also because it was cut short by food poisoning.  As if that alone wasn’t a sign from the Gods that the marriage was doomed to fail, lol.  But that vacation/honeymoon-from-hell was in June 2003–and five years is entirely too long to wait for a vacation!!!

In lieu of recent situations (i.e. house flooding from a broken dishwasher, outrageous vet bills to the tune of $1200, etc., etc., etc.), we–meaning Jeremy and I–have opted to spend a week in a seaside condo in Gulf Shores rather than a week in Disneyworld.  And though I have to admit, I was a little disappointed at first, I’m really excited about having a nice, cozy, romantic vacation on the beach with my beau.  October/November is a beautiful time to visit Gulf Shores–the weather is perfect that time of year there.  And to be quite honest–at this point of desperation–I’m quite sure you could book me a trip to Gulf Shores in the middle of hurricane season and I would still go……with bells on.  So I hope you will excuse me if I seem a little cranky at times.  Cabin fever tends to get the best of us–especially when it lasts FIVE years.  Perhaps a weekend trip is in order to help me keep my sanity

So today I had a very real grown-up moment–and it felt like a sucker punch to the stomach.  They are resurfacing the floors in all of the studios at work, so I have been home for the last two days courtesy of the toxic fumes radiating into my office.  While I was playing around with my MySpace page today, I heard the doorbell ring.  Considering I live in the suburbs, it’s not altogether uncommon for salesmen to ring the doorbell in the middle of the day, looking to solicit some business.  However, when I looked out the peephole, I saw a shriveled little old woman holding multiple grocery bags.  After speaking with her for a second, I discovered that she was an aunt to one of my neighbors and that they had passed away early this morning.  But right then, there was nobody home and she didn’t want the groceries to ruin, so she asked if I would mind taking them over later.  Of course–I don’t mind.

This particular neighbor family was a husband, wife, and son about my age.  They were your typical American family.  Mom owned a successful tanning salon here in town, Dad has worked in a factory for decades–and was nearing retirement, Son is a recovering crack addict.  They were a beautiful family in a beautiful suburban neighborhood, driving around beautiful, crisp white cars.  Every Saturday, son & dad would spend the whole morning washing all three cars for hours and hours on end.  Mom always kept herself looking young & hip while dad let his age shine through his graying hair.  And son apparently loves to torture me by mowing the yard without his shirt…especially while Jeremy is at my house. 

But in all honesty, I’ve despised the mom and dad since moving into my house in early 2004.  Mom was always very snobbish to everyone in the neighborhood, and dad was somewhat of a fruit loop.  He was OCD at best about everything-his yard, my yard, his cars, his landscaping.  He was so particular about his own yard, that he would bring his poodle into mine to do her business.  Not usually one to hold my tongue–this caused me to come unglued with him on more than one occasion.  After all, my house is just as nice as theirs and deserves to be treated that way.  The son hasn’t always been a recovering addict, and it used to anger me that the parents allowed him to stay around while he was stealing everything in sight.  Since those days though, he’s cleaned up and become a pretty cool guy.  I was venting to one of the other neighbors sometime back, when she informed me that the family didn’t use to be that way.  Apparently in July 2003 they lost an older daughter to cancer–and it was all downhill from there.  So while this helped me understand them a little, it was still hard to be patient with them sometimes. 

Then, not long ago, I found out that the mom had cancer herself.  They had sold their tanning salon and the dad–who is retirement age–had decided to push back his retirement to cover the medical expenses.  The son–who was finally strong enough to move out on his own–moved back into the house to help take care of the mother.  Over the next few months I watched from a short distance as the mom grew weaker, paler, and lost her hair.  Then one day, she just stopped coming out of the house.  Dad and son carried on in a normal routine as best they could–but for neighbors, the only evidence that the mom even still existed was the large amount of medical equipment boxes found in our trash cans every week.  And because so many people survive cancer these days, the thought never occurred to me that she might not make it.  Until today.

I feel bad for the son & dad.  Having been through my fair share of loss, I know what they are going through.  And I remember thinking when my friend died in December 2006, “How can all these people just go about their business?”  I would stay locked in the house for days at a time mourning his death…despising all of my neighbors who went on with their daily lives.  And now, here I sit a year and a half later–with the roles completely reversed.  To my neighbor son & dad, who have lost both their daughter/sister & matriarch in just five short years–I am now the despised neighbor who goes on about my daily life.  I am the representation of the person they will not be for awhile, if ever again.  My heart aches for them, and for the fact that I couldn’t look past my own opinion of the mom & dad to go over there and see how she was doing.  Not that it would have mattered, but not once did I express that I cared.  And now I can’t…that breaks my heart.

So my friend Shannon and I went to see the Sex and the City movie on opening night.  Let me just say “WOW!!!”  It far exceeded my expectations!  The plot was great, the dialogue was hilarious, and the fashion was absolutely phenomenal.  Much like the show, it dealt with some tough relationship issues.  And when these issues arose, there was not a dry eye in the house.  Well…except for mine.

The truth is–while I’m a sensitive, compassionate girl, I’m also a skeptic with a “suck it up and move the hell on” kind of attitude.  Show me an ASPCA, Humane Society, Feed the Children, or United Way commercial and I’ll sob like a baby.  But I have a hard time having the same reaction with a movie.  In part, I think it’s because I have a fairly strong disconnect with the characters.  While most movie/television show characters are easy to identify with, I am still fully aware that they are fictional people created to live in a fictional world and deal with fictional problems.  It’s hard to sympathize with these characters because I know that within two hours all will be right in their world again.  That’s not to say that the Sex and the City movie didn’t have sob-worthy parts.  It definitely did. 

But while most people were wiping their tears away, I was simply watching the movie…with not even so much as a lump in my throat.  That is…until these made an appearance:

So help me GOD…time stood still when that shoe box opened!  It was like a light from Heaven was shining down on them and my eyes literally filled up with tears.  Aren’t they honestly the most gorgeous shoes you’ve ever seen?!  Well–if you’re not a shoe enthusiast like me, you probably don’t understand.  But from that moment on in the movie, all I could think about was “OH MY GOD!  I must have those shoes!!!”

In all actuality, the Manolo Blahniks will probably not be gracing my closet with their presence.  An exact replica will be made available for a purchase price of $885 on June 9th at Manolo Blahnik’s New York store.  And considering I need a new dishwasher and a vacation…that is an amount of money I cannot justify spending on shoes.  Sometimes it completely sucks playing the role of a responsible adult.  Boo hoo

So lately I’ve discovered that I’m actually starting to like cooking.  And even more, I REALLY like baking.  Perhaps it gives me a sense of accomplishment that I can make something capable of sustaining life.  I mean, let’s face it, when you make the decision not to have children, some people begin to analyze you and your place in this world.  If you don’t plan to procreate, and you can’t cook, some people look at you as though you’re not earning your keep.  But at any rate–I’ve tackled some pretty tricky recipes lately and had overwhelming success.  Which makes me think this whole cooking thing could become a habit rather than an adventure.

Last Friday I decided to share the love.  I made a peanut butter pie on Thursday night to take to work with me on Friday.  The pie was gorgeous, and I actually make this fairly frequently, so I already knew it would taste delightful.  But because I am habitually late and therefore, always rushing out the door of a morning–my dogs were the only beings with the pleasure of tasting the peanut buttery goodness that day.  The pointed toe of my shoe caught on the trim on my floor and down went the pie.  I moved the pie pan out of the way so I could get the dust pan–which I decided would be a more efficient tool for cleaning up pie–and by the time I returned not even a crumb remained.  In fact, the only evidence that a pie had even existed was the smudged peanut butter on the end of Molly and Zeus’ noses.  

But perhaps the worst part of the whole ordeal was the disappointed looks of everyone’s faces at work.  Because the pie was partially for a birthday celebration, I made a quick trip to Wal-Mart to grab a generic birthday cake.  I’ve discovered that when you put something moist and covered in royal icing in front of people, they quickly forget that there was supposed to be a homemade pie–lucky for me.  And though the cake was nothing special, it was actually quite tasty.  So of course I took a couple of pieces home for the weekend :)  However, on the way to place the birthday cake in the refrigerator, I tripped over the same spot and next thing I knew…the cake was in the floor.  The pieces were gone in a flash–icing and all–and just like the peanut butter pie, the only evidence was the smudges on the dogs’ noses. 

I ended up calling the whole day a wash and ordering pizza for dinner.  And the next morning before I started making tiramisu for Sara’sdinner party–I made certain that the dogs were locked away in one of the bedrooms.  Granted…it wasn’t them that caused me to drop either of the sweet treats.  But the way I see it–if I don’t get to partake in the rich, sugary goodness…I’ll be damned if Molly and Zeus do!!!  The tiramisu ended up making it safely to the dinner party–and turned out to be a huge hit.  Who knows…maybe I do have a little Betty Crocker in me!

It’s quickly becoming a well-known fact in my office that technology hates me.  Specifically…the technology in my office.  At home, I do just fine.  My laptop never gives me problems–well–as long as you don’t count the usual irritations that seem to come with Windows Vista.  Have I mentioned that I think Vista sucks goat balls?!  And my new elliptical–which, by the way–is completely programmable and has far more settings on it than I will EVER need, never gives me any problems.  You know, aside from the problems it gives my ass when it switches to a higher resistance level.  But from a technological standpoint, I do just fine once I am outside the walls of my office.

The IT guys at work think I’m an idiot.  At least once a week I have to call them because my computer won’t come on at all.  At least twice a month I have to call them because some component of Microsoft Office isn’t working properly.  And honestly, there is no way it is a user error.  I mean seriously–how could I possibly muck something up to the point that Publisher won’t show pictures, only text boxes?!  And don’t even get me started on the new fancy schmancy color printer we just had to have that is the big brother version of the old piece of shit printer.  But heaven forbid you should say anything bad against it–because GOD knows printers have feelings and the crazy cat lady that arranged for us to get the printer will shit a brick!  And did I mention that we have a paper-folding machine that hates me as well?  Now, if you’re like me, you’re probably asking yourself, “Why in the hell do you have a paper-folding machine?”  But, in it’s defense, it certainly comes in handy when you are trying to prepare 1000 brochures for an upcoming career fair.  Well…that is…if it decides to work properly.  I think it’s safe to say that when it comes to my office technology–I have the reverse Midas touch. 

So I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked this past week to discover that my spellchecker hates me as well.  You see, I have my email preferences set-up so that all emails are automatically spellchecked prior to being sent.  And not to sound arrogant, but I typically am a very good speller.  I suck at math–but spelling and grammar I can do.  So typically my spellcheck is an unused tool.  More of a precaution really.  And because it is so rare that it actually picks up a misspelled word, when it does, I usually just click ‘correct’ without actually looking at the suggestion.  If spellcheck picks it up–I trust that it needs to be fixed.  BIG MISTAKE!!!

There is a lady in another department named LaShanda that I deal with quite frequently.  She is very sweet and easy to work with and is always asking me to go out to lunch with her at a local Italian restaurant.  I suppose she just really likes Italian and wants us to get together outside of work.  But anyways, back to the point.  I was sending LaShanda an email the other day and when I clicked ’send,’ spellcheck popped up with a misspelled word.  As usual, I almost clicked ‘correct’ without actually looking at the word, but for some reason decided to see what I was mistaken on.  I was shocked to see that the suggested correction for ‘LaShanda’ was ‘Lasagna.’  Realizing that I had been sending this woman emails with her name in them for over a year now, I decided to look through previous messages to see if I had been calling her ‘lasagna’ this whole time–or if this was something new with spellcheck.  To my horror–all of the sent messages had ‘lasagna’ in them, rather than ‘LaShanda.’  As you can imagine, I felt like I was the world’s biggest jackass!!!  How humiliating!  And to make matters worse, I realized that I have sent emails to other people with ‘LaShanda,’ or should I say ‘lasagna’ in them.  So now everybody thinks I’m an idiot.  Yay for me!!!

But, after about an hour of telling myself that maybe nobody caught it, I couldn’t help but begin to question something.  Is that the reason she is always asking me to have lunch with her at an Italian restaurant?  She probably thinks I REALLY like lasagna

Okay, so I realize I have greatly neglected the blog for the last couple of weeks.  Allow me to explain.  My life has been pretty much a constant blur for the month of May.  It seems like yesterday was April Fool’s Day and now here we are smack in the middle of May quickly traveling into June.  Sorry guys.  I haven’t meant to deprive you of the drama that is my life.  And trust me…it has been plentiful!

Don’t believe me?  Well here is the rundown of the last couple of weeks of my life.  In the past 2 weeks I have:

* dealt with a sick dog (who happens to be as big of a diva as Celine Dion)

* dropped $800 at the vet’s office for treatment of sick dog (so much for my economic stimulus check)

* purchased an elliptical machine–which had to be picked up in a truck (which I do not own-thanks Drew), in a town 30 miles away, from someone who resides in a 2nd floor apartment.  Can you say pre-workout workout?!

* traveled to Missouri to visit family that I hadn’t seen in 4 years

* came home from Missouri to discover that my dishwasher had broken while I was gone and had ran the wash cycle constantly for 30 hours–thereby, flooding my kitchen and living room.  The latter of which has (had) hardwood floors–which of course were floating when I walked into my house.  Thank GOD for homeowner’s insurance!!!

* suffered from an illness that made my head throb, my throat hurt, my lungs wheeze, and my voice sound like Miley Cyrus (or a pre-pubescent boy to those of you who are unfamiliar)

* been told I reminded someone of their mother back in the 50’s–then told that “Jenn” and “mother” were 2 words that should never go together

* wrangled the lost luggage of The Shirelles from the baggage attendant at the airport–and managed NOT to get arrested

* arrived backstage at the Doo Wop concert with The Shirelles‘ luggage with 3 minutes to spare–and got a big hug and a “way to give ‘em hell” kiss on the cheek from the lead singer

* spent 48 hours in a medicine-induced coma snoring like a bear with a deviated septum–while Jeremy tossed and turned by my side

And at the end of it all, I am simply thankful that:  I have a home to get flooded, because many people don’t; I have friends who will maneuver large equipment down stairs for the sake of shrinking my ass; there is a cure for what ails my sweet dog–even if it does cost a small fortune; I got the opportunity to hear family stories that I had never heard; my insurance will replace a floor that I was wanting to replace anyways; I have an awesome job that allows me to work under really interesting circumstances and meet people I never would have otherwise; I have medical insurance that will cover good meds and I am thankful that I have a great boyfriend who is willing to toss and turn all night to take care of me when I need it.  That is all.  I will get back to my normal posts ASAP-I promise.