I love being a girl. I really do. I like all the trappings and the primping. I like getting dolled up and smelling good. I like the response I get to it, sure, but that is only a part of it. There is something heady and powerful about looking your best and feeling good about it. It is a uniquely female experience and no matter what those mirrors reflect back to us and what horrible things that inner bitch says, we have all had the high that comes from knowing you look your girly best (the additional appreciative male and envious female glances are a great bonus, too!). Read More
“Baby, I love you very much. But, I’m Moving Out… of the Bathroom.”
This is what I said to my boyfriend this morning. We just moved into this new house together. The moving in together thing seems to be going really well – at least from my perspective, and he has yet to voice any problems (so I will assume he is good until told otherwise). But there is still settling in to do. I am a nester. (No, this does not in any way have anything to with the “nesting instinct,” for those of you with minds that would go there – Paresh). I like my home. I have always liked to get settled into a place and get everything put away conveniently. I am a homebody at heart and will stay at home mostly above anything else. Not that I am a recluse or anything, I am just shy and more comfortable at home (yes, you read that right). Read More
Last weekend Jay, Greta, Ezra and I went back home to Dothan, Alabama to pick up Greta’s car. My dad has had her 2001 Mazda Tribute for some time and has been fixing it up. Which I thought meant getting it tuned up (which he actually has a shop do now, something unheard of when I was a kid), replacing the brake pads and rotors (which he still does himself) and doing no telling what else to no telling what other parts of the vehicle.
Actually, it meant not only doing all of the above, but also replacing and fixing every other single thing he could find wrong with it (except the $1300 compressor – but Greta is 19 and she has not yet earned a car with air conditioning). AND waxing it twice, vacuuming places I didn’t think could be vacuumed, rain-exing the windshield and mirrors to the point that there is an actual inch barrier above the windshield so the thing doesn’t even get wet now, and other things so minute, detailed and anal that I will just stop writing about it now. We will just leave it at the fact that the 10 year old Tribute has not been that clean since the day it came off the factory floor. And my parents are perfectionists. Read More
I suppose my libertarianism is obvious, at least to people who know me. I am one of those strange birds who think that, not only should I make my own decisions, but I will answer to God for them. I alone. Your opinion of the outcome of that reckoning is none of my concern – and I humbly suggest that you concern yourself with your own reckoning instead of mine.
I am almost as sick as one can be of the political posturing and moral conceit of our government – on both sides. EQUALLY. One is just as smug, pretentious, condescending, pompous, invective, slanderous, corrupt, nefarious, mercenary, selfish, unscrupulous, sordid and tainted as the other. And both seem to be only able to point fingers at the other calling it out for the same faults it itself embodies. Read More
It will not stop. I would love to have a dollar for every sneeze today. I would have made far more cash than my paltry daily salary. But it would not be worth the money. Believe it or not, I would rather forego the sneeze money and just get the paltry salary. Yep. That bad.
I have no idea of the specifics of what I am doing for the 4th of July holiday. In fact, there really may be no specifics at all – and that does not bother me on little bit, let me tell ya. But I do know this: it will be just the two of us –
starting some time tomorrow afternoon. Jay and I will have three whole days of newly wedded bliss with no interruptions. And, yes, there will be fireworks.