Everybody has one of those friends that has stories of weirdness that only seem to happen to them. You know the people I'm talking about - the ones who find themselves in strange situations they didn't bring upon themselves. They just have that cosmic 'luck' and seem to perpetually piss off the gods enough to get into weird things.

I've decided, at least to some of my friends, I must be one of those people.

Two things happened this week to make me believe this. On Wednesday, I was driving to work, minding my own business and talking to my friend Gurnal on the phone when I realize there's a horrible burning smell coming from my car. Then I see the smoke. LOTS of it, pouring out from under the hood. (There is no part of "smoke under the hood" that can ever be good, you know?) I get off the phone and pray I can get into the gate at work and park before the car erupts into flames and scorches me, my stuff and my iPod. (By the way, I will pass along a tip: It does tend to alarm your friends when you end the conversation with an abrupt "OMIGODSMOKEUNDERTHEHOODIHAVETOGO!!!!". Just thought you might need to know this.)
Anyway, after a AAA call, car towing, and look-see by a mechanic, the problem was located. I had somehow driven over a plastic bag (No, Jess, NOT the most beautiful thing!) and it had gotten sucked up into the catalytic converter and promptly was set on fire, melding it to the private parts of my car. Hence the godawful smell and the smoke. I had a good laugh, was thankful it wasn't anything more expensive (to my budget or my pride) and went to class, inundated with the smell of 'burned-plastic-Dixie-cup' that would emanate from my vehicle for two more days. ("Naw, there's nothing we can do to get that off there. You'll just have to drive it around and the smell'll go away." Thank you, sir, please may I have another?)

My car has now been renamed the "Hoovermobile" for its vacuum capacity.

As if the Great Flaming Plastic Bag story wasn't enough, today another thing happened to drive the whole "weirdness" point home.
Under the "I-couldn't-do-this-again-if-my-life-depended-on-it" category, I somehow managed to knock my cell phone off my couch and straight down into 16 oz. of milk in a large cup sitting on the floor. I swear, this stuff can only happen to me.

Do you have ANY idea just how strangely people react when you say the sentence "I'm having trouble with my phone since I dropped it in the milk"? Let me just say, it results in gales of laughter and bewilderment, normally followed by the question "How in the HELL did you do that??"

Any sane person would think I was making this up.

Thankfully, my friends know me better. :-)

(All rights reserved - Copyright 2005)

Today, I'd like to start with a phrase written by Robert Herrick:
"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Old Time is still a-flying"
This bit of poetry occurred to me this evening as I was thinking about life and how quickly it passes us by. (That, and the fact that I recently watched an episode of West Wing where it was uttered by Donna Moss, who was talking to Josh Lyman about Joey Lucas. But I digress...)
Anyway, for some reason, life and the speed of it have been on my mind a lot lately. It could be because as I'm getting older and, consequently, so are those around me. It could also be because I've been thinking about people who are no longer with us. Whatever the cause, it always has the same effect on me: it makes me want to add more meaningful things to my already-packed life and live it to the fullest. But just how much to we add to our lives before the sheer amount of stuff starts to take away from the quality of it all? If we're so busy doing things so we don't die before we get them done, are we slowing down long enough to enjoy them?
I've always leaped headlong into pretty much everything I've ever done. This includes big things (like marriage) and little things (need a room parent? Sure! I'll do it!) I look at my children, who are 4 and 6, and see the way they run toward things with the unreserved wild abandon that only kids have. I remember the days of doing that, and think back on them with a wistful smile, because while they were sometimes fun, I've also learned the talent of hanging back a little and proceeding with more caution. (Especially as far as relationships are concerned.) Let me tell you, you'll learn just how long 3 months can feel like when you're waiting for the glorious day you are no longer legally bound to another human with whom you leapt headlong into things with, then ended up feeling like you'd had your head cut OFF. Or maybe feeling like you should have your head examined, I don't know which is more true.
Life is a funny thing - we spend so much of it trying to figure it out, and not enough of it just living it.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.

(All rights reserved - copyright 2005)

Don't have much time to write today, but felt it was necessary in order to form a habit of posting to this blog more often than once every 8 months.
I feel sort of inadequate with the posting. Let me explain:
I'm not trying to quit smoking. I've given up on radical weight loss (I'm now just perfectly willing to wear more black, which is very slimming). I'm not swearing off caffeine, nail-biting, or chocolate. (Lord knows, that last one would kill me.)
For the first time in a LONG time, I'm not on my "all-men-are-scum" tirade and I'm not sitting around designing bumper stickers that say "Help Stamp Out Toxic Men in Our Lifetime". (But that's not to say I don't still have a sketch around here somewhere left over from the old days.)
I'm no longer putting off my life and am going back to college to earn not one, but two degrees. I'm not putting up with people who aren't good for me to be around, either. (Bad habit - I don't recommend it for anyone.) Control freaks need not apply to be my friend/significant other/order-taker at the drive-thru. I guess, for the first time in my life, things are as they should be. It's a nice feeling. I have a guy I'm crazy about who returns the sentiment. I have great friends who love me for me. I have the two coolest kids on the planet (yes, I'm biased - get over it). I have a job I like. And I'm going to school to finish something I should have a long time ago. All is right with the world.
It's strange for me. I'm used to SOMETHING being wrong. Too much fighting with the significant other. Too much stress at work. Too much worrying over not looking like ______(fill in the blank with the model of the month here). Too much concern over what someone else thinks of me. Everything is good. I can let out the breath I've been holding for thirty-something years. aaah.

Um...so, when does the other shoe drop?

Maybe I haven't made that much progress after all.

(All rights reserved - Copyright 2005)

Hello again.
I know, it's been awhile. What with raising two kids, working full-time and becoming a full-time student since my last posting, I've been a tad busy. Cut me a little slack, wouldja?
Instead of this being a "what's bothering me" post, it's a shout-out (of sorts) to someone I'm very proud of. (Not that I don't have anything bothering me, but we can get to that later.)
I have a dear friend who is going through a rough time of it now, enduring a breakup and asking herself a lot of tough questions about what she wants out of life. This is especially troubling to watch because she's always been one of the most pulled-together people I know. And to see things go any way but great for her...well, it simply isn't fair. (I know, a fair is where they sell cows, or whatever the phrase is...)
She is fun, self-assured, not willing to be someone else she isn't just for the sake of pleasing others, cute, sassy (as my 6-year old would say), SMART, cool, and an all-around good person. Why there isn't a line of men longer than the Walgreen's Viagra prescription list waiting outside her door begging her to give them two minutes of her time is beyond me. (I honestly think the men are scared. SCARED, I tell you. Bwak Bwak - make the appropriate chicken/yard fowl noises here.)
Nevertheless, even though she may not think so, she is dealing with the whole breakup issue with grace and style, as usual. I'm so proud of her for never being scared of the unknown. That's one thing I've learned from her - not to be scared of things. She has no idea the lessons I've learned from her just by being around her, but there are many. (These include how to say 50 Cent in French, the fine art of baking banana bread in a can, that Star Jones can really get under one's skin, that there is a German version of "Rock Me Amadeus", that "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" is a great book, and everything is made better with a little British chick lit.)
So, while I'm not equipped to find her a man whore or help her with her new Pilates addiction, I can offer a few words of support and the occasional Tall Non-Fat Vanilla Latte.

J - I'm proud of you for being you.

(All rights reserved - Copyright 2005)