I found it! I found it!

You guys just have no idea. I've been looking, seriously looking, for my blog for approx. 2 months. I might be exaggerating. Check the date of the last post, but it definitely feels like the blog has been lost for more than 2 months, years is what it feels like! I kept going to the dashboard only to find "Create a new blog." No!! I screamed for 2 months, I already have a blog, but it's missing. Help! Then something clicked and I found it.

This beta thing's a mystery to me. Here's how it all went down I think. See I switched to beta, it worked and THEN at school we were all being devious and downloading google talk and I forgot that I already had a gmail account and so I made a new stupid one (so stupid that i let crazy gmail add the -ster to the end of my name) b/c I so wanted google talk so that i could chat with teachers when we had a free minute and it's hysterical to call people down the hall. well the good people above us found out and we got rid of it, which is completely understandable, but still i was bummed and had completely forgetten about the other -ster ending email address which is important when you're searching for your blog. YAY I found it!

mistake of the day???

I know you want to know. Here's the winner: thinking that I could strip and sand and repaint a piece of furniture without any frustration on a Sunday morning.

I got this cabinet from my grandparents' house. It's just a little cabinet that could be useful and possibly a nice addition to my kitchen. It's got the glass cabinets and all so I can display cool stuff inside, right. Riiiight! So the problem is that the paint is a blah shade of white/beige. Bleh! So about 3 weeks ago my awesome hubby buys me the supplies to strip off the old paint and paint it with a fresher, less blah color of white. It takes me 3 weeks to get to a point of attempting this job but because today had few plans, I thought this would be a good way to spend the morning. Not.

I slapped on the stripper which promptly ate through my paintbrushes. I thought (wrongly) the paint was just going to magically disappear or something. I'm apparently naive to the actual powers of stripper. It just makes the paint bubble, which means I'm supposed to scrub and scrape until it's all gone. There were a couple layers of paint and so the job just became the biggest mess. All I could think was, "I have never been so annoyed" and "Painting the walls in this HOUSE was easier than this." So thinking I've reached a stopping point, wanting to shove the thing back in the corner, shower and go to the mall, I joke to that awesome hubby o' mine about how my usual point of wanting to stop a project at 80% completion, drastically dropped to 30%. He laughs. We're still good at this point people.

He comes inside to help me with the shoving back into the corner part, and in the shuffle, his motorcycle, super cool leather jacket, which was innocently hanging on the back of a kitchen chair gets sloshed onto the floor, where paint had been smushed into the linoleum thanks to my clumsy job of "laying down the plastic." Now, you can guess the result, the anguish, the stomping. So I found a toothbrush and set to scrubbing the smushed paint off the kitchen floor. The whole time realizing, that the mall was probably not an option today or ever as I would probably be buying a new jacket for the now angry hubby o' mine.

Yes, well the paint came off the jacket, "almost." The biggest result and kick in my pants was the hubby showing back up in the kitchen, dragging the cabinet to the front yard and beginning to finish the job I had so haphazardly begun. Now how do I feel at this point??? There's so many options, I'll let you fill in the blank. ______________________. So after being shunned to the front porch to sand the drawers, I eventually sneak my way back into helping and eventually most of the paint has been removed from the stupid cabinet.

I don't care so much for this cabinet anymore. It's not finished. We have to replace boards and stuff now. It's ridiculous. It was supposed to be easy, but instead turned into a bit of a showdown between the newlyweds. Oh well. It was bound to happen, right?

Deli monger

I don't know what a fruit monger is and I really don't even know if the appropriate word to put in front of monger is fruit, but for some reason that sounds right. Correct me please if I'm wrong. So about not knowing what the "blank" monger is, let me tell you what I picture when I hear the term. I picture a monster grubbing on "blank" (again fill in the appropriate word here). The monster is short and has hard skin and beady eyes just like any monster. I think it looks a bit like a lizard and it has short arms that just reach its mouth. So what does this "blank" monger do? It eats the "blank" ravenously. Now those of you who are thinking that I'm way off the mark on my understanding of the word monger, please understand that I know this. I have no clue and don't want to ruin my imagination, I guess, by going to dictionary.com. It's ok though if you want to tell me the true meaning of the word. I won't be upset with you.

So why all this talk about mongers?

I went on the weekly grocery jaunt to Publix on Sunday. Not only did Publix not have the best apples in the world, but they also didn't have Whole Wheat Chips Ahoy!, which make me feel better about eating the occasional cookie. I'm standing in the line a the deli and there are 2 or 3 people ahead of me. I'm waiting and WAITING and at some point I think to actually look up there and see what the hold up is. Well here's where the term monger (definition: greedy little monster) comes in. The reason the line was persistently long was because my fellow grocery shoppers were ordering their meat or cheese and then the lady would slice a piece off, walk over to the counter, show them the specimen and then they would take the meat or cheese and greedily eat this little sliver of food, as if they hadn't eaten in days. It's not the deli lady's fault or anything because I'm always shown the turkey or cheese and usually offered it, but I always decline taking the sample and chowing down. I decline for a number of reasons, but the only one that really matters is that I'm there to get my stuff and go home to eat. I don't know why this struck me as odd really and especially why it would make me write a whole bunch about the meaning of the word monger because really these people aren't doing anything wrong, but as I stood in line leaning on my buggy watching these people fold and cram pieces of deli meat or cheese into their mouth and then put the plastic paper back on top of the deli case for the nice lady to throw out, it just bothered me. So the word monger grunted into my brain and I guess I'm a mean person for thinking that because as sure as I write this someone out there will read it and think, "Oh, I love to eat the sample of the meat or cheese at the deli. It's nice that they offer it." I have the same opinion about samples at nice places like Earthfare or Whole Foods. Why eat ALL those samples? Do you really need them?

have you ever noticed

that when you want to post a comment on someone's blog and you're supposed to type in the word that has been all manipulated to make it more difficult, that sometimes the letters are so skewed that you really can't tell what they are. how is that a security thing? i really don't understand it. who's it keeping from commenting, really!? i can picture some person sitting at the computer being rejected from the blogger all because of the skewed word test. i don't get it.


i got married. i have tons of pics, not that our buddy hasn't already posted a slew of them, but i'll try to do that one day. who even reads this?

454

i've had one whole day of true freedom, meaning no school. the weekend sort of counted, but it wasn't as authentic as waking up on a monday morning and staying on the couch with coffee and couric, rather than going to referee the lives of adolescents.

i successfully ran and lifted some poundage and then fed my muscles with a yummy smoothie. my hip hurts though. i think it's broken. or it might just be that the band connecting hip to knee that is totally blown b/c my knee also hurts and won't straighten out. i think it's all gunked up with scar tissue and goo. it hates me b/c i won't stop messing it up, so as a result it has now gotten my hip to join in its ranks against me. me and the battle of my right leg. it's ok, i just feel old.

i remember being in high school, i think the summer after 9th grade, and being at basketball camp, which always sucked b/c the idea of playing basketball from 9 to 9 is not at all intriguing. i was sitting just inside the gym door, waiting my turn to play i guess, and i remember having this very bright conversation with one of my coaches about how i was going to run and lift weights forever and never let my muscles go all slack and blah blah blah. she looked down at me, rolled her eyes, and said yeah right. the fact that i remember this is funny, and the fact that she was right about how freakin hard it can be to make your body do all that stuff it used to is not exactly a refreshing thought. again, it just makes me feel old.

i should rub some flex-all 454 all over my leg and go hang out with the 5am crowd at the ymca or something.

They were lovely and pleasant

Funny things about this picture. 1. The vein in my neck is about to explode. Bam! A mess.
2. Will's eye is blood shot from being seasick for approximately 5 hours. 3. His tongue makes his lip look really swollen and puffy. Poor guy.

Transition

We were 18 changing people

mixed up in 2 bodies,

me with 17 faces and you 1

on Tuesdays,

and on Fridays

you with 16 and me 2.

But that’s no more

than the toast

we eat with jam,

than the coffee

we drink with cream,

the cups we hold

in cold hands

full of unthoughtof words

trying to move, comfortable

within the stairwell

you’d never want

to let go in,

afraid to be finished

while still in transition

from a lower place to higher,

high to low,

and this is me

stealing your idea,

using you for

the 2 empty cups

of your worth.