Go Tell it on The Mountain and The Neighborhood Streets of Long Beach

Hello chickens. I just want to preface this entire post by saying I in no way have anything against people of any religion that send people door to door to preach. I do think it is respectable to be that dedicated to your beliefs...so with that being said.

So a few weeks ago, there was a knock at the door and Adam answered it, as I hid in the back room. I wasn't hiding in the back room for any particular reason other than the fact I can be really socially anxious. So when I hear a knock at the door, my head starts screeching, "STRANGER DANGER, STRANGER DANGER." Plus, when there is a knock at the door, I seriously don't know what will be going on on the other side. I'm not even kidding. Yes, we have the run of the mill door to door people, but we also have some random junk peddlers and even a door-to-door strawberry salesmen. He is unsurprisingly concerned with making sure I get my appropriate servings of fruits and vegetables everyday.

Adam is exceedingly nice in these situations, and I truly love him for it. Although it is truly surprising how nice he is in these situations, being that he is such a curmudgeon. A lovable curmudgeon, but still a curmudgeon. I am exceedingly awkward in this situations because my cripplingly social anxiety gets paired with trying to find an extremely kind way to say, I'm not interested". Anyway, Adam talked to them for at least 20 minutes. 20 whole minutes of me cowering in the back room. 20 whole minutes where he never even mentioned he wasn't interested in conversion. As we are so fond of saying in the South, "God bless his heart."

After they left, I told Adam they would be back. He was certain they wouldn't. But as I often am, I was right. And the missionaries dutifully came back every weekend for the last month. And again, Adam never politely turned them away (he truly is a kind man, but still a curmudgeon). But then last Saturday, there was a knock at the door. It was them. Adam ducked down to hide, and gestured to me to have me pause the TV. Usually people leave after 30 seconds when you don't open a door. But these people kept knocking and knocking, and we could hear them talking about how Adam was a good candidate for conversion. Finally, they stopped knocking. But continued to talk about Adam (I only know this because Adam was standing on the bath tub, listening to them through the window LOL) for five minutes.

I started getting annoyed because I really wanted to get back to watching my DVRed episode of The Rachel Zoe Project (I really needed to know what she was going to do when she found out her clients couldn't wear white to The Oscars. Really compelling stuff, people!). I told Adam I wasn't going to hide in my house every weekend, so I would be really nice, but I was going to take care of it. He just kind of shrugged his shoulders. OK, so little ole social anxiety riddled me, step outside in my pink pjs and leopard print slippers to talk to them.

I opened the door, and they look slightly surprised. I employed my Southern Accent (cause Southern Accents equal sweetness) and the nicest tone I could muster, and told them that my husband had just been trying to be nice, but that we were Baptists and not really interested in converting. She told us she wasn't interested in converting us (umm I just heard her say SHE was, but I left that out) but just wanted to share some scripture with us. I just thanked her, told her I went to church often, and have read the bible.

I guess she was done talking to me, and wanted to talk to nice, sweet, and meek Adam.
But instead of simply asking me if she could talk to Adam (or even if he was home), she yelled over my shoulder, into the house, "ADAM! Are you in there?!" As if I had Adam chained in the backroom. As if I was the mean wife that doesn't allow her husband to speak for himself. I told them Adam was in the bathroom, which I'm sure they thought was a lie. Since I obviously had him locked in my underground torture chamber, where I pipe show tunes in, all day long, on full blast (his least favorite type of music), and feed him all the icky vegetables he hates. But that was actually the honest to Bob truth, since he was listening to the conversation through the bathroom window. They finally left, muttering something about coming back. Probably to rescue Adam.

I was worried that I hadn't been nice, but Adam said I had been. Adam said next time they come, he is going to answer the door all shaky and slip them a note, telling them when they can come back and save him from his tortuous existence. I just want to know how ME, who is nice to a fault, and scared of everyone, and never even complains when waiters get my order wrong, gets labeled as the mean, forceful one in this relationship. I'm the one always trying to pull him over to my annoyingly optimistic sunny side of the street where it rains lollipops and puppies.

I'm Hot ,You're Hot, He's Hot

Do you know that the song with the lyrics, "I'm Hot, You're Hot, He's Hot," mentioned in my post title is sung by a guy named Buster Poindexter? Buster Poindexter! Some reason his name really tickles my funny bone. I just picture a little kid with glasses getting picked last for kickball, not a guy who sang a song that I always picture the Chiquita Banana Lady dancing to every time I hear it. Why do I picture the Chiquita Banana Lady dancing when I hear that song (and lets face it I only hear that song at weddings)? I have no effin clue. By the way, I only discovered  that the song was by Buster Poindexter because I googled the lyrics because I wanted to make sure I got the lyrics 100% correct.  This is who I am, I stress over the lyrics to the Chiquita Banana song. I'm so neurotic.

Believe it or not, I did not start this post to talk about the Chiquita Banana Lady (although she is worthy of a post). I wanted to tell you I'm sitting here and I'm extremely hot. And not the "bikini model sexy" type of hot. No, I'm the "I want to dive into a pool full of ice cubes naked" type of hot. We are smack dab in the middle of a heat wave in Southern California. We have had a particularly mild summer so far. A huge, huge blessing since we have no air-conditioning.

The other day I remarked to Adam that it had been a really cool summer, and I thought we had gotten off scottsfree. Later that day, I got some Chinese take-out and when I opened my fortune cookie, it said in a very cryptic way, "Don't count your blessings before they have hatched. Or you are apt to lose them." When I read that, I knew I was in for it because I am an avid believer in the wisdom of fortune cookies. Except once I got one that said I would soon be in a "family way." What kind of cruel joke is that?

When I woke up the next morning, the air felt stuffy. And that was a red flag that it was going to be a hot day. And it was. It was hotter than the devil's toe jam (as my Southern grandmother would say). The type of hot where you sweat wherever your skin touches the couch. Even the back of my knees were sweating. Yes, I just told you about the sweat on the back of my knees. I have no shame. And if there is one thing in the world I hate, it is sweating. I'm such a girl when it comes to sweating. I whine. I wither. I fade. Like a sensitive dandelion. And poor Sarah is so hot she has taken to sleeping wedged between the toilet and the sink, making it really hard to get into the bathroom. It is like trying to leap frog a killer whale.

It has continued to be just as hot every single day since. Worse of all, it is usually too hot for me to nap! I love to nap. In college, me and my roommate used to take naps at the same time and plan our days around our nap. Not that I nap everyday, but I nap often. (On a side note, I actually did manage to take a nap this weekend. And I told my wonderful husband to wake me up at 3 and he thought I said 5. He claims this is due to the noisiness of the fans we have going 24/7 lately. To his credit, it does kind of sound like a 747 taking off in our living room. So I woke up from the nap 10 minutes till 5, out of the deepest sleep in my life. I had pillow marks on my face, and I'm surprised I wasn't drooling. Only to find I had slept 3 and a half hours! I felt like the energizer bunny and didn't sleep a wink last night. THANKS ADAM).

The last thing I want to say is weather.com is absolutely evil. I can't resist checking their site everyday, and every-time I see the temperature the house automatically feels hotter. And weather.com is also a total tease because when I check the ten day forecast it always makes me hopeful that we only have a few days left of the torture left until it drops again. But when I check back the following day, the day of relief keeps being pushed back. This isn't even the first time weather.com has told me tales. It also told me it was going to storm on my wedding day. BUT IT DIDN'T. Oh wait, that was a good lie. But a lie none the less!

Kowabunga, Dudes?

This is the building Adam works in. It is a very pretty building, and a very tall building in downtown Long Beach.  However, I think it is very lame that while he works in a 25 floor building, he works on the 1st floor. No one ever wants to be on the first floor. It is like when you go to summer camp or church camp and you have to race the other children to the cabin because everyone wants the top bunk. And if you happen to be one of the unlucky ones who doesn't get the top bunk, you have to lay in your bottom bunk and stare longingly at the bunk above you every night, knowing that their life is currently better than yours. Or at least you know they have a better view than you because they are probably looking at those plastic glow in the dark stars.

But shock of all shocks, Adam loves that his office is on the first floor.  That first time he told me that, I was really surprised because I thought it was impossible to not want to be on the top floor. But you know why he likes to be on the bottom floor? He worries about earthquakes.  I get it I do, Southern California has many earthquakes, and I have been in many small ones since I moved here. When we do have earthquakes, his entire building sways and creaks. I tried telling him that is a good thing. Buildings built today are made to sway, so the likelihood that they will crumble during a earthquake is reduced. My logical approach doesn't help him feel any better, although I imagine a creaking building is pretty creepy. And his reasoning is that if a major earthquake hits, he will be safer because he is closer the the ground, but I think he is wrong. OK, I know he is wrong.

I think it would be better to be on the top floor, because if the building started to crumble, you could just kind of surf the debris down. Grab on to a door or a desk and just hold on. KOWABUNGA, Dudes. If you are on the bottom floor, aren't you going to be crushed by the 24 floors above you? The only support for his argument, in my eyes, is that maybe you would have more time to leave the building if you were on the first floor. I will give him that, and ONLY THAT, but that is not really his argument.  So I feel he is dead wrong. 

We have discussed the merit of top floor vs. bottom floor in earthquakes many, many times. This conversation seems to be so important to us, that we have brought our arguments to friends and families, and we can't seem to get anybody to completely agree with either of us. Some people are Team Brittany! And some people are Team Adam! Frankly, I only count the people who are Team Brittany. (By the way, Team Brittany vs. Team Adam will be a lot more popular than Team Edward vs. Team Jacob, and will be a national phenomenon soon. Although I am not a fan of Twilight, never read the books, or seen a movie. But I would totally be Team Jacob because Edward looks like he needs a blood transfusion. I guess that is why he is a VAMPIRE). So in the great earthquake argument of 2010, are you Team Brittany or Team Adam?

If You Are What You Eat, I Hope I Don't Start Quacking

I am by no means a picky eater, believe me. I can only think of a few foods that I absolutely can't stand. The only one I can think of off the top of my head is PEAS! And the word PEAS needs to be in all caps because they are that nasty. SKANKY even. Yes, PEAS are SKANKY. Take that PEAS. But I have had some semi-odd things. I ate squid in my sixth grade science class, and one side of my family is pretty redneckish so I've eaten a squirrel that was killed by them.

(Side bar here-my family actually gave me the tail of that squirrel to keep in the freezer, so when I went back home that summer to my mom's house, I wanted her to keep the squirrel tale in her freezer forever & ever & ever. So when she threw it out, I was so UPSET. Of course now I understand why she wouldn't want to keep a squirrel tail in the freezer next to her ice cream).

I live and die for sushi. All kinds of sushi. I crave sushi every second of everyday. I see sushi in my dreams dancing around in little sushi sized tutus. And when I write this on my blog, hit publish, and send it out on the great World Wide Web, I'm probably going to have an angry mob of PETA members and cute little duck lovers outside my door with pitch forks. I just hope Sarah will protect me. So, yeah, I have eaten baby ducks. Not only have I eaten baby ducks, but I have eaten baby duck skewers. I know that sounds really bad, but just hear me out. It was when I was on the trip to Israel, back in 08, when I tagged along on my mother's business trip. So while in Israel I ate my weights worth of hummus, and apparently baby ducks. One afternoon we were having lunch, and we didn't order from the menu. Instead the wait staff brought us out a bunch of dishes to share. And I'm a fat kid, so I didn't ask what I was eating. So there I am eating my baby ducks skewers, and I asked what I was eating and they told me. And that is when I kind of freaked out. Ugh.

But recently I've tried a lot of new things for the sake of cutting calories. Mainly California type things:

1. Fish Tacos 
Yeah, this might not seem so unusual, but I had never ever heard of fish tacos before moving to California. Personally, I like my tacos chocked full of fatty beef and beefy, fatty grease. Fish doesn't even have the texture or anywhere near the flavor or beef. That is no where near an easy swap. But I tried it after examining the calories the other day. And it's not half bad. It's not near as good, and I'll take my Taco Bell over that any day! But for now, it’s good enough. Sacrifice!

2. Avocado Sandwiches
Again one of those not so unusual things. But I never thought I would like avocados because of their texture. I'm really weird about the texture of things. I will not eat eggs because of the slimy, oozy, disgusting texture of eggs. Plus who wants to eat a food you don't really have to chew? Gross. I'm not old, I don't have dentures, so I have no reason to not like chewing my food. Also, I rarely eat untoasted bread slices because I hate, hate how bread feels. Don't even get me started on my napkin phobia. So one of the girls in my class was always getting these avocado sandwiches from the cafe at our school. And I always thought the smashed avocados looked like baby food. But the club sandwich I was always getting was not too healthy, so I bit the bullet and gave it a try. I loved it. All week long I look forward to my Thursday night class avocado sandwich. Yes, when I like a food, I get positively obsessed.

3. Ostrich Burgers

When I texted my mother, and I told her I had eaten an Ostrich Burger, she replied, "We need to get you out of California! Stat." Adam and I love to go to Fuddruckers, and when I wasn't dieting I could slam down one of those amazing burgers without batting an eyelash. But lately we go to Fuddruckers and we order the exact same thing and Adam manages to LOSE two pounds, while I manage to gain five pounds just by thinking about eating the burger. This is where I insert some comment about how unfair it is that it seems to be so much easier for men to lose weight than women. But that would make me sound bitter, now wouldn't it? So I decided to try the ostrich after reading a little bit about. It is a little chewier than a beef burger, but pretty good. So now at least I can go to Fuddruckers!

So is there anything that you guys have ever had to give up or swap out? What are some of your surprising food finds? I'm open to suggestions!

Jury Duty, The Glasgow Smile, and Drunken Golf Cart Driving

Disclaimer: This post has been receiving lots of hits, I guess that is what happens when you blog about a celeb. So I just wanted to say that I don't know the exact truth of what happened that day or truly claim to, this is just a story about my experience as a juror. I would have written the same account if I had served on a case with a non celeb.

A few weeks ago, I got a summons in the mail to serve jury duty. I've always kind of wanted to serve jury duty. I've watched a lot of Dateline and Law & Order ,so I imagined myself being on a really important case that people would talk about for years. But I was required to report after a horrible few days. Nothing truly terrible had happened, just a perfect storm of little disappointments after little disappointments, making me want to go home and hide my head under the covers permanently. Or at least boo hoo a little about the unfairness of my life.

But I showed up at the Long Beach County Courthouse Monday morning anyway overflowing with patriotism, sunshine, and puppies. There were at least 150 people there, and there was standing room only. After about an hour, they made an announcement that they would be sending a panel over to the San Pedro courthouse. The minute they said that I knew I would be stuck to going to San Pedro. 30 out of 150 people, its just my luck. The last place I wanted to go in the world was San Pedro. Because to get to San Pedro you have to go over not one, not two, but three bridges! I am terrified bridges. So much so, that I have spent a considerable amount of time studying how to survive if your car plummets into the river from a bridge. If that ever happens, believe me you want me on your side.

Of course I was chosen to go to San Pedro, so I crossed the bridges driving as slowly and carefully as a blue-haired lady. A farming tractor passed me, I'm not even kidding. I'm that person you hate when you are driving. I got to the courthouse and then the waiting began, and we waited, and we waited, and we waited. And I began considering naming this blog post We, The Jury, are Bored. But finally they let us go for lunch. Two women I had never met before asked me to go to lunch with them. The amazing thing is I said Yes! Do you know how monumental that is? It is like the Red Seas Parting! I am painfully shy, and the thought of spending an hour with strangers is enough to make my nervous little heart explode into a million different pieces.

After lunch, we finally got called into the court room for jury selection. When I entered the court room, the defendant looked really familiar to me. But I couldn't place him. He was a pretty scraggly looking, had two long scars on the corners of his mouth (known as the Glasgow smile), and wore sunglasses. I found myself kind of staring at him. Soon twelve people were called to be interrogated by the lawyers. My name wasn't called, so I was sure I wouldn't make jury. One of the questions put forth by one of the attorneys was if members of the jury had a problem with judging someone who was an actor. I was shocked? An actor? My brain was going a million miles an hour, I had to figure out who this was.

One by one jury members were dismissed, and I took my place as juror number 2. They asked me question after question, it was quite nerve-wracking. "Yes, my brother is a prison guard, no that doesn't effect how I feel about criminals." "Yes, I can tell when one of my students is lying to me." "No, I don't think I drank a lot in college, but what is a lot?" They also asked if I recognized the defendant. The defendant laughed when I said I recognized his face, but not what he was in. After about five minutes, I passed the test, and was sworn in as a jury member. I guess I am your average, everyday person. I don't know if that is a good thing or just makes me boring.

One of the rules of being a juror is that you are not allowed to look up anything about the case on the computer. But I really wanted to know who this actor was, but I resisted the urge to google him for a while once I got home. But finally I gave in to temptation. I was so scared when I logged on to imdb.com., I just knew there was a secret tracking device in my computer. And any minute an entire SWAT team would burst through the door and haul me away to the place they take all wayward jury members. It is a bad place, where cookies don't exist and no one is allowed to hug golden retrievers.

My google search turned up Tommy Flanagan. He was in Braveheart, Alien/Predator, Gladiator, and more recently Sons of Anarchy. He is probably a B level actor, but it was still pretty darn exciting. I mean what are the odds that I show up for Jury duty, get chosen for Jury duty, and then it is a celebrity?! That is just so Southern California. The case was a DUI case, but not your run of the mill drunk driving case. It was a drunken golf cart driving on Catalina Island case.

I'm really bad at explaining things to people, so I will do my best. But it might still be pretty confusing. Basically Flanagan, his brother, and his girlfriend were at Catalina Island, when they drove their golf cart down to the gas station to get gas. The girlfriend drove to the station, but once they reached the station, Flanagan and his girlfriend got out of the cart to look for the gas tank. They found it and Flanagan went to sit in the drivers side, while she pumped gas. But they were on the diesel side, so they had to drive to the other side.

The girlfriend tried to get Flanagan’s attention to switch sides, but he was too busy talking to his brother. So she decided to drive from the passenger's side. As she reached over to drive, her black beach bag fell on the floor, pinning her foot on the accelerator, and causing the golf cart to go through the center of the gas pumps, hitting a car on the other side. They went to be checked out at the hospital, where a police woman came to interview them. Flanagan was obviously very intoxicated, and refused to take a breath analyzer test because he had seen what happens to celebs on reality TV shows. In the interviews, both Flanagan and his girlfriend kept flip flopping on who was driving. So the purpose of the trial was to determine if Flanagan drove, and was he under the influence.

Being on a jury is really strange. I kept locking eyes with Mr. Flanagan and that made me extremely uncomfortable. Do I smile? Do I nod? Do I pretend it didn't happen? Ha. Plus, we weren't allowed to talk about the case even with the other jurors (before deliberation), which was odd, because it was all we wanted to talk about. After two days of testimony (with Flanagan testifying himself), it was time to deliberate. We only had an hour to deliberate, before we had to leave for the day, so we took a secret ballot. We were half/half, and completely hung. I thought there was no way we would wrap it that day. But we spent time going over all the evidence, and ultimately decided there was too much doubt to say he was for sure guilty.

We all agreed the whole story was "fishy", the bag thing was most likely a complete fabrication, and that someone is covering up for someone. Personally I feel like he was driving, but there just wasn't enough proof. We came to a unanimous verdict of not guilty. As soon as the verdict was read, he thanked us, and shook our hands on the way out. Once he left the court room, he yelled "FREEEEDOM!" By happenstance, he walked near me on the way to the parking kot. He said, " This was just such a f***** ridiculous case, thank you so much!" Imagine that with a thick Scottish accent. He wanted to talk more but I was just so uncomfortable, since I kind of felt he was guilty. So I stealthily slipped away as quickly as possible.  He seemed kind of nice, but Im just so shy.

But the moral of this story is Don't Ride in Golf Carts with Tommy Flanagan.

A Golden Tale

So tonight before Adam went to bed, he asked Sarah if she would like to hear a bedtime story. I know this sounds insane, and its not like he has ever told her bedtime stories before. But I guess when it boils down to it, a big part of our lives is coming home from work and saying really ridiculous things to our dog. But I wanted to share the story with you guys. So here is A Golden Tale by Shel Silversten Adam M.

Long ago, in the kingdom far away across the Great White Ocean, there lived a monarchy that was ruled by three ruling goldies. These goldies ruled a vast land overflowing with raw hide bones, fried chicken, and McDonald’s french fries. However, the goldies did not know their limits, and soon became greedy. The greediness lead to sloth and stifled their creativity. It took their promise and smashed it upon the rock of laziness! This is a cautionary tale, young Sarah.

In other news, I've been serving on a jury all this week (wrapped today), and I can't wait to tell you guys all about it because the defendant was actually a celebrity! Talk about a quintessential Southern California experience. I go in for jury duty, get chosen, and its a celeb. That is better than my, "I saw Richard Simmons at LAX story!" But jury duty has set me so far behind in work and school, I barely have any time to breathe. And I'm running on like no sleep, so now I'm having issues sleeping because my body was like, "Ok girlfriend, so you don't ever get in bed before 3 a.m., I'm going to make it impossible for you to fall asleep before that time from now on, TAKE THAT." Which would be fine if one ornery golden retriever didn't make it her job to wake me up.

I also haven't been able to check up on everyone in the blogosphere, so I can't wait to have time to come by and say hi.

Moment of Clarity

Do you ever have one of those days where you find yourself crying over unimportant things? Like because your husband comes home after a long morning of running errands with some Jack in The Box, and he didn't even bother to ask you if you wanted anything? So you ask him why he didn't call and ask you if you wanted something.  And he says he didn't want to tempt you because you'd been so good on your diet for weeks, and because you asked him not to offer you any fast food anymore. And the truth is you didn't really want Jack in The Box in the first place, but how dare he even do something that you asked him to do? Then all of a sudden you burst into tears, and your husband is looking at you like you grew two heads, and one of those heads is spinning around spitting out pea soup, and he is flipping open his phone to call an exorcist which he obviously has on speed dial (because he is married to a crazy lady).

But then it occurs to you that maybe you aren't crying because of your missed encounter with a cheeseburger, but because of the amount of pressure in your head. You know the sinus infection you have, that is making you feel like there a rhino trying to charge its way out of your skull. And usually you aren't such a cry baby about things like being sick, but this has been hurting for days, and you are just plum exhausted. Also your heat isn't working, and Long Beach has been pummeled by storms for days, so there is no sunshine and you are cold 100% of the time. So you're frustrated that you are paying $875 a month for rent,  for a place with no heat. When you could live in Alabama, and probably own your own bigger home with central heat and air! And you're watching TV thinking I wish I lived in the Jersey Shore house, because it looks warm there. Then you feel kinda of dirty inside, because you are even watching Jersey Shore.

So now you know you are just having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  And your remember why you love your little duplex in the first place. And you tell your husband this mini-break down has nothing to do with his behavior. But he is kind, and basically spends the rest of the day taking care of you, while you hide under the covers and cuddle with one warm golden retriever. And the day turns out not so bad after all.

Stormy Weather

I've been really busy, and really sick. Stupid Sinus Infection. But I just wanted to share some crazy pics from the storms we've been having here in Long Beach. Insanity.

Photos from MSNBC.

From Point A to Point B

I feel like my life has been going a million miles an hour since I started the great grad school adventure. In some ways it is completely awesome, and in other ways its like I saw a oncoming train and thought, "gee, let's see what would happen if I jumped in front of it!" When I graduated from college and moved 2,000 miles away from everything I've ever known, I was pretty naive in thinking it was going to be a big old piece of pie. I thought because I had a degree I would get a job right away and live happily ever after and be financially secure for life. (OK I wasn't that bad, but a little like that).

But it just wasn't that easy. It might have been different had I not graduated into this economy, but my job search stretched on for months and months, with one disappointment after another. After a while it really started taking a toll on my self esteem. And because I wasn't working or going to school, I had no built in methods for making friends. And more than anything, I missed having friends. I've never considered myself an extremely social person. In fact, I have a lot of social anxiety. When I first started therapy, I was diagnosed with social anxiety, before we determined that I was mainly just scared of life itself. But over the years, I have managed to develop a lot of close friendships with people who I adore and who are understanding of the fact it is almost physically impossible for me to carry on a phone conversation and sometimes I get to nervous to attend their parties.

So with all this stuff going on, I really started to realize I had to reevaluate my life plan a little bit.I also had to accept that this just might mean going back to school. I mean I really thought I was done with school. My mother wanted me to have a master's degree, but ummm to put it politely I couldn't have cared less. I wanted to know if there was life out there that didn't involve sitting behind a desk and trying not to fall asleep. But gradually it just seemed like a good idea to me, and I always wanted to become a therapist. So that is what I decided to do.

So here I am 6 months later with three classes under my belt, and busier than I have ever been in my entire life. Sometimes I think what the heck did I get myself into? But I actually love going to class, and even when its really hard, I'm so passionate about what I'm doing. And I'm really starting to make friends, and an even bigger plus I've made friends with a guy. I hardly ever make friends with guys, unless its someone one of my girlfriends are dating. I don't trust men, maybe because I have been hurt by lets say 95% of all men who have ever been in my life. So its a positive step for me.

What it boils down to is that I'm probably the happiest I've ever been in my entire life. And maybe its cliche and a little cheesy, but I do really believe everything happen for a reason. So just maybe, it was suppose to be so hard for me last year, so I could get to the point I am now.

P.S.-I'm leaving Saturday to spend a little time with my family for Christmas. My grandmother has dial-up, and I am way too impatient to deal with that. So I won't be around much, so Happy Holidays everyone!

Milestones

So before the start of the New Year, I laid out ten goals I hoped to accomplish by the end of the year. Number 5 on that list was to drive on a L.A. freeway. In my mind, there are few things more terrifying than the freeway. I'm a nervous wreck, even when others drive on it due to my anxiety problems. So when Adam would chose to TORTURE me by taking the freeway, I would cover my eyes until he had merged, and then periodically scream "watch out!" I really am a joy, aren't I?

I originally planned to complete this goal by using the behavioral therapy technique of systematic desensitization. (I'm typing this post while I watch a show on the history channel about Prostitution in Pompeii, so I had accidentally written "the behavioral therapy technique of PROSTITUTION" at first LOL). If you don't know about systemic desensitization, it is taking little steps to expose yourself to your fear, before taking the plunge.

So I planned to spend several months staring at the freeway from a far, and that is where my plan stopped. Truth be told, I threw that goal out the window two weeks after I made it. It was going to be IMPOSSIBLE. But I hadn't started school yet at the time, and I didn't know the house I was working at and my campus would be 23 miles apart. It takes me an hour and a half every Thursday to get to class, just taking the side roads. It is miserable. But I've been doing that drive for months. Last Thursday, I was walking to my car after work, thinking about the long commute ahead of me, and a small thought creeped into my head, "The freeway is faster."

My first reaction was, "Girl, You are CRAZY that is you biggest fear!" But what is weird is that the thought didn't totally terrify me (This is probably due to my recent prescription for medicine that makes me less crazy). So I decided to lift the freeway ban off of my GPS, and just do it. Merging onto a freeway is a bit like playing a game of Frogger, and I was never very good at Frogger. The whole time I was driving up the on ramp, I was praying for my life. And luckily, God saw fit to spare me. I merged! And then I thought, "Holy Hades, I am driving on the Freeway!" Y'all it wasn't so bad, and I felt like I was flying. But then the GPS told me I would have to merge onto the 405N, and I thought about abandoning my whole plan. But I wasn't going to blow this chance, and I stuck with it and successfully merged a second time .

It took me 25 minutes to get to class, as opposed to an hour and a half! Then I took the freeway home that night, and got home in ten minutes. This has revolutionized the way I go to class. I probably won't be using the freeway to go everywhere, and I will never love the freeway. But at least now I know I can use it, if I need too. Fear rules so much of my life, so it feels good when I can conquer it.

Old McDonald had a Dead Baby in a Cage in the Barn

This is Clyde. Clyde's name is spelled with a backwards L. If you don't spell Clyde's name with that backwards letter, he gets angry. When Clyde gets angry, he kicks puppies. And you don't want to be responsible for a kicked puppy now do you? That's what I thought. Clyde sits in our backyard, and is shared with our duplex neighbor. Do you know we have lived here a little over two months now, and I have yet to glimpse our next door neighbor? Adam met him on move in day, and assures me he exists. But other than once hearing him sing karaoke through the walls, I have no proof.

Clyde holds the washer and dryer, and all the crap that we can't fit in our one closet. In Clyde, there are various items, that either belong to the mysterious duplex neighbor, or were left there by the landlord.
Doesn't everybody have a dead baby doll hanging from a cage in their storage shed? I know we do! We call her Chatty Cathy, because that just seems fitting. Plus, I hypothesized (ohhh, big word) that maybe it is her chattiness, that got her strung up in the cage. Bad Chatty Cathy! Bad! I about fell out laughing the first time I saw it, and now I don't even notice it. What does that say about me?
There are several things that terrify me about this sign. First, was this stolen from a place that their are actually buried mines? Are there innocent souls that are going to be walking around a dangerous place, lets say a wal-mart parking lot, and are going to be blown up by a mine? Or is the sign to warn me and Adam of the dangers that lurk in Clyde? Will I be separating my whites and colors one day, take too many steps to the right, and be blown to smithereens? If that is case, dear Internet, I leave you all my snow globes

In the scheme of all the weird things in the barn, this wielder's mask isn't as interesting or as scary. But why it is there? Its not like the barn is used for wielding, as there are no other wielding tools in the barn. (Not that I knew what welding tools looked like, but I do now after I googled it). And why is the mask named Hutch? I just envision the horror movie scene that might be reenacted in our barn, and worry that it is lowering our property value.

This isn't an object, but a picture painted on the back wall. First, can I say WHY!?! Why is this painted on the wall? Is it art? Second of all, what exactly is it? I'm pretty sure two of the images are a giant man and a cloud. But what are the other images? Tacos? Rocks? Joints? Is he smoking them? Eating them? Dreaming of them? You tell me.

This, That, & Alex Trebek

Summer has finally come to an end. Can I get an AMEN? I'm tired of hot days with no AC, and I'm ready to get back to work. As much as whole days filled with nothing to do sounds appealing, I get bored pretty quickly. And for me, boredom is a gateway drug to depression. If you don't know, I work with a company that works with the No Child Left Behind program. I test children to find their weaknesses, and then develop materials and lesson plans for them. I really love what I do. Except that I sometimes get overly attached to the children, which makes it hard to step out of their life a few months later.

Most of the parents of the children I work with do not speak English. This can make it a little awkward, when I'm sitting in their homes & working with their kids. I wish I had taken Spanish in college. I thought it would be "cool" and unique to take French, because everyone takes Spanish. Plus, I couldn't roll an R if you put a gun to my head. Pathetically, the only thing I remember from that class is how to pronounce DVD in French (day-vay day). Now I'm sure someone who speaks fluent French is going to pop up and tell me that is wrong. So go on, try to tell me how you really pronoucne DVD, and you will just confirm that I wasted two years of my life that I CAN NEVER GET BACK. lol.

In other news, last weekend Adam and I went to a taping of Jeopardy! We love us some jeopardy, I've even wrote about the show on here before. We are a very competitive household, and we scream out the answers and keep score. Don't let the haters fool you, winning is everything. We are both equally good, but he claims that I always lose because I don't phrase my answers as questions.Pfft, that is foolishness I tell you. FOOLISHNESS. Not only did we get tickets to Jeopardy, but we found out that it was Celebrity Jeopardy. When we got there, we saw Christopher Meloni from Law & Order SVU, Joshua Molina from The West Wing & In Plain Sight, and Harry Shearer from The Simpson's. I immediately thought of Miss. Heather because I know what a big SVU fan she is. All I can say is they were all really funny and charming guys.

Of course, the most exciting thing was getting to see Alex Trebek! In between breaks, he talked to the audience and Adam got to ask him a question. I believe this is the single most amazing thing that has ever happened to Adam (forget our marriage!). He kept saying, "I talked to Alex Trebek! I talked to Alex Trebek!" When I was on the phone with someone, he would say,"Did you tell them I talked to Alex Trebek?" "Tell the people on facebook, that I talked to Alex Trebek." It was seriously cute and kind of annoying. So by the way, did you hear Adam talked to Alex Trebek?

365 days ago (give or take):

This all reminded me of a joke by Mo'nique from her Queens of Comedy tour. Mo’nique jokes about a time that she entered a club and some catty girl remarked, "I bet she’s going straight to the buffet." And Mo'nique commented, “It was true, but that bitch didn't have to say that shit!"

HAHA, that is my favorite joke. I talk about my work orientation, how awesomely serendipitous is that!

Humble Beginnings

Sunday and Monday were record high heat days here in Long Beach, California. This should have only been mildly uncomfortable because we have a pretty decent window air conditioning unit in the living room. But sometime last fall we lost the remote control to the AC, and for some stupid reason you can only operate the unit with the remote control. We looked everywhere, but that remote is nowhere. I can't come up with even ONE semi-logical explanation for this. We did order a new remote the other day, but it will take 4-6 weeks to get here! 4-6 weeks! In this age of Internet I shouldn't have to settle for anything less than instant gratification.

It has been so terribly hot that I felt like I was melting into a puddle of goo. The only thing I could do was sweat and complain about being hot. I called Adam several times on Monday just to tell him he was a bad person. He was a bad person for getting to sit around in an air-conditioned cubicle while I was at home dying (he is also a horrid person for putting food in the microwave without a plate, the creeps me out). Luckily everything is much cooler now and will be for the rest of the week. But it all reminded me of the summer that I stayed with Adam when we were first dating.

I had decided to stay with Adam the entire summer after my junior year of college. At this point in our relationship I was pretty sure he was the man I was going to marry, and I guess I just wanted to take him for a test drive. Adam lived in a tiny studio apartment hardly any bigger than a dorm room. It was really perfect for a bachelor, but not so perfect for a couple. We were constantly sitting around just staring at each other that is unless we were in the bathroom. Although I think if I had to stare at him in the bathroom, that would be a total DEAL BREAKER. I hate it when people even try to talk to me when I'm using a public restroom. I mean really is that the time for a heartfelt conversation?

The first weekend we spent together Adam and I ventured out to cold stone creamery. I was eating my ice cream and enjoying the day when Adam turned to me and said, "I just realized that you are going to be around all the time." He didn't say this with a smile on his face either. I immediately fell apart...in public. I mean obviously he didn't love me, he never wanted me there, and if he couldn't make it one week with me than how could he last for twelve? I was two seconds away from whipping out my emergency credit card and flying home. But Adam talked me down from that ledge. When I remind him of this incident he feels so terrible. I am a fan of emotional black-mail, so I bring it up often. And someday I will make sure our children know what a heathen their dad once was.

I was forewarned that Adam’s apartment didn't have air-conditioning, but I didn't think it would be a problem. I am from Alabama, and holy Hades Alabama is hot. I figured anyone complaining about it being hot elsewhere was just being a big pansy. Living in an upstairs apartment, that had no windows to open, put me in my place FAST. It was always hot, so much so that I couldn’t even take naps. I am an amazing napper. I love to nap; I can sleep 2-3 hours in the afternoon and still get to bed at a reasonable hour at night. Mmm....lovely sleep. I figured that was my cruel and unusual punishment for shacking up with my boyfriend.

When I was at home I had satellite TV and TIVO, but Adam only had basic cable. On top of that, half of the stations were in either Spanish or Vietnamese. I couldn’t watch The Real World-do you know how devastating that was for me? For some weird reason he did get the Oxygen network, so I watched two shows over and over-Snapped! and The Bad Girl's Club. I think I have successfully learned what to do or not to do if I ever wanted to murder my spouse.And is there really anything anyone can say about The Bad Girl’s Club? They are some crazy bitches. But what boggles my mind about the Oxygen network is that they describe themselves as a channel, "Dedicated to empowering women to do great things." How are the bad girls empowering women to do great things?!? And by showing Snapped! are they encouraging women to kill their husbands? I think they may have drifted a bit from their goal.

I figured if Adam and I didn't kill each other that summer, we could survive marriage. We did move into a bigger place that has windows for an air conditioner and we also have satellite TV. Because if I can't watch my shows or take my naps, I'm not very happy. And if I ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

365 days ago (give or take):

When most girls were pushing the boys down and making them cry, she was pinning their posters on her walls. She got her first kiss at five on the school bus. After she kissed him, she promptly punched him in the gut, and told him it would hurt worse if he ever told anybody.

My niece Kayla is just as boy crazy as ever.

The Secret Life of Bees

Once I was stung by a bumble bee on the lip. I don't really remember the pain of that sting, but I do remember that my lip swelled to 5X its normal size, and it made me look like I was taking part in some underground, four year olds version of Fight Club. Yes, this was back in those carefree preschool days. That is if you define "carefree" as feeling like a total failure because your teacher tells you that you must have ants in your pants, because you never manage to fall asleep in those uncomfortable & cold cots at nap time. A feeling of failure that will only be repeated in kindergarten when no matter how hard you try, the simple act of learning to tie your shoes evades you.

That sting left me with a pretty big fear of bees. So to combat my fear my mother gave me a piece of advice, "If a bee is around you, just stand very still, because the bee just thinks you are a flower, and once he realizes you are not a flower he will fly away." She made me realize I didn't have to fear the bees; they were just innocent, confused little creatures. So life was great until the day I spent an entire hour at Spanish Lake Park sitting stock still on top of the jungle gym, with tears streaming down my face because a honeybee just wouldn't go away. My mom had to literally grab me and run, it was the only way I was coming down from there. I wasn't stung that day, but I've always held onto the belief that each bee has their own internal GPS system, and that they were all programmed to track me. And if I ran from the bee its GPS would just recalculate, just as my GPS does whenever I refuse to bend to her will.

So I went 18 years without a sting, but all that flew out the window two weeks ago. I always take Sarah out for her morning walk. Adam used to take her for her morning walk, and I would take her out in the evening. But it seems that all the crazies in the neighborhood come out at night, and the crazies like to hit on me, and it all made me very uneasy. That and Adam always plays video games on Saturday mornings, and it made him feel bad when I would roll out of bed at noon and remark, "You Haven't Walked the Dog YET?" I haven't asked Adam, but I know my husband pretty well, and I'm sure he was more concerned about his "gamer guilt" than me being scared of the crazies.

My grumpiness and laziness in the morning is legendary, and I would like nothing more than to just roll out of bed and take Sarah out in my pjs. But I don't know how the crazies would react . So I usually just pull a pair of pants out of the laundry and head out the door. This particular morning was no different. I had already leashed Sarah and she was really hyper because I had just yelled," You want to go Walkies?" I hate to admit that I routinely use the word "walkies". And when I say "walkies" her head explodes and she can't contain her excitement. Because she is going outside! Where she can eat chicken bones off the sidewalk! And sniff other dog's butts! And greet people who might not want to be greeted!"

I threw on my pants and sat down to tie my shoes, and all of a sudden my left butt check felt like it was on fire. I immediately ran to the mirror and saw a perfect red circle on my butt. I couldn't figure it out. At this point Sarah is whining and going crazy because we have yet to go outside, and I am totally confused and in pain. I walk into the living room, and I see something crawling on the floor. I think it’s a spider, and I'm sure I'm about to die, so I call Adam at work to tell him that I'm dying (He appreciated the heads up). But when I get a closer look I see that it is a bee, and the bee is now dying a slow & painful death on the hardwood floor. First I call Adam back and tell him I'm not dying. Then I run to the bathroom and get some insect spray, and in a rage I spray the s*** out of that thing. It finally died and I left it there on the floor for Adam to clean up when he got home, because I couldn't bring myself to touch it. This is what men are for, to kill and clean up the bugs.

But you may be wondering how a bee got into my pants INSIDE my home. You see Adam and I live in a tiny little cottage, and we are lucky enough to have our own washer and dryer. But the exhaust tube from the dryer isn't built in, so when we dry clothes we have to open up the window and hang the tube out of it. Folks this is what $1200 a month rent in Southern California will get you: a non built in dryer tube, a lopsided toilet, weird peach colored bedroom walls, no dishwasher, and a lawn the size of a postage stamp. And we absolutely love our home. One day we will have children, and they will inevitably throw temper tantrums over material things that they will believe they cannot be happy without. We will have to sit them down and tell them about the days when we first got married. When we had little money and not a lot of luxuries, but we laughed all the time and were perfectly happy. This will drive our kids bonkers I'm sure.

So I guess it is possible that while doing laundry a bee could fly in through the window. After a while, the bee began losing strength and it crawled into my track pants to die. And then I put on the pants and the bee mustered up enough strength to sting the heck out of my behind. Let me tell you that sting itched like crazy. There is nothing sexier than when you are constantly walking around scratching your butt. So now not only do I have a renewed bee phobia, but I also feel nervous when I'm slipping on my clothes every morning.

365 days ago (give or take):

I had lost my mother's love forever. I walked back to my bedroom, opened my closet door, emptied all the toys out of my toy box, shut the closet door, climbed in the box, and shut the lid.

I wrote this for my friend Jenny. She constantly asks me to tell her this story, for some reason she can't get enough of it. All I can say about this entry is God Bless my poor, long suffering mother.

Snapshots of the Everyday

One of the best pieces of advice, and the most ignored pieces of advice, my mother ever gave me was to never go to the grocery store hungry. But that is what Adam and I do every weekend, wait until we are absolutely starving, with no food left in the house, before finally getting off our butts to go shopping. And this is exactly what we did last Saturday. The thing I love most about the neighborhood I'm living in is that it is only a few blocks from the grocery store, and not to mention a total kick ass Chinese take-out place. So we always walk to the store, our eco-friendly bags in tow, with a list of approximately 15 items.

But then we got to the store and absolutely everything looks good. So by the time we check out, we have more than doubled our list. And not only do we have small items, but we also have big, heavy items like dog food & several gallons of milk. (On a side note: Adam and I both drink an insane amount of milk each week. So much so that if one of us ever gets osteoporosis, I'm suing for false advertising).

One of the things we had decided we just had to have was some cupcakes (curse them for putting the bakery by the deli). I had finally convinced Adam that we had to get the white cupcakes, why anyone would want chocolate cupcakes is honestly beyond my understanding. I hate most things made of chocolate. (Blasphemy, I know). So Adam put the cupcakes in the buggy, and then proceeded to give me a lecture about being careful with the precious cupcakes, and I'm like, "dude, really, I can protect the cupcakes."

The problem with us buying the whole store is now we have to walk the whole store home. So as soon as we get our groceries and step outside of Ralph’s, it hits us that we have to lug all this stuff home. *Groan, Complain, Bitch* I suggested he go get the car, but he said, "No, we can handle this!" And for a split second I think, "I love this guy; he would never lead me astray, so we CAN HANDLE THIS." Then I picked up the bags, which pinched my shoulders, and I started to waddle home. Believe me, waddling is the only way you can walk when you feel like you are playing piggy back with an elephant. At first I was able to keep up with Adam's pace, but soon I found myself dragging behind. I told Adam to go on without me, because I'd get there eventually. But he stops anyway and looks at me like he is a solider on a battlefield and exclaims, "No Man Left Behind!"

We finally get home, both exhausted, basking in the knowledge of how much fuel we must have saved by not driving that block and a half! I immediately started putting the groceries away, and I discovered the cupcakes had been flipped over on their side. This was not done by the cashier, but by my husband-to-be, Mister. Grocery Store Cupcake Lecturer himself. He simply replied, "I forgot," when I teased him about it. As a result of this blatant mishandling, half of the cupcakes had fallen on their side, smearing the icing. But thank the heavens above that the plastic Laker rings that topped the cupcakes remained unharmed.

Adam and I divided the cupcakes up equally. This is because being in a relationship is a lot like being in a kindergarten class at snack time. If everything isn’t fair and equal we throw big tantrums. That afternoon I decided I was ready for the cupcake ration that I had allotted myself for the day. So I wandered into the kitchen to find that half of the cupcakes had already been eaten. If there is anything that really emphasis Adam and mine's personality differences it is this, he wants to have everything right away and I like to plan & organize to make things last as long as possible.

But not only had he ate all his cupcakes, he had devoured only the non-defective ones. Leaving me the ones he had toppled. I asked him why he did this and he said, “Oh I forgot.” Forgot my ass that was a pre-mediated act! But my mom also used to tell me, “Your Sins will Catch Up with You,” and they caught up with him, when I threw him the remote control that night, and it accidentally beamed him in the face. HARD.

And this is what Sarah thinks of her daddy eating all the good cupcakes!

365 days ago (give or take):

So next we headed out into the Judean dessert – driving alongside the West Bank and we eventually hit the Dead Sea. We stopped there and what a surprise that it was a real beach…It was gorgeous. Which was surprising, since I always pictured dead as in ugly.

Day 2 in Israel, We see the Dead Sea! And Masada! And Gazelles! And nearly get killed driving in Jeursalem!

Who Wears Short Shorts?

A conversation between two best friends with unlimited text messaging (which can be dangerous) about my Friday morning at LAX:

Me: You will never believe what just happened to me at LAX!

Anna: What?

Me: I just saw Richard Simmons!

Anna: That is so awesome, how did he act?

Me: Surprisingly calm, but he was wearing his trademark Short Shorts.

Anna: Of all the celebrities in L.A., you meet the Sweatin' With the Oldies man. Where is Brad Pitt & Angeline Jolie when you want them?

Brittany: I'm sure Brangelena have their own private jet, so they can pop over to Africa and EAT BABIES anytime they feel like it.

Anna: LMAO

Brittany: Oh and by the way, he is no longer so calm-he is over there singing.

Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

Wednesday was just one of those days that was the definition of Murphy's Law. It all started because of the rain. Now don't get me wrong, I love the rain. I have missed the rain since I moved here, so when it first started raining I wanted to take off all my clothes & run naked around the block But alas I think my neighbors have already been traumatized enough by me blasting Circus by Britney Spears non-stop (Shut up, I can't help that I love that song). So I didn't do that (my reputation thanked me for it) and then I realized I still had to take the dog out for a walk.

Do you think Sarah picked the the closet patch of grass to do her business? Of Course Not! She picked the one three blocks up. I had an umbrella but the wind broke it.. So by the time we got back to the house I'm soaked, and the heat is broken so I'm freezing. And that oh so appetizing wet dog smell is radiating from every room in our cottage. But eventually I got warm, dressed, and ready for work.

I was going to do an end test for a family that I had never met before, and I wasn't familiar with the neighborhood. And I was given the wrong address, right street, but wrong number. And did I mention it was raining and that I had no umbrella. Oh I did? Sorry. So I went to the address and the people looked at me like I had grown two heads, and told me they had never heard of me. Bummer. So I called the woman I was supposed to be meeting, and she barely speaks English, and bellows 321B!

The 321 apartments weren't really labeled, so I went to every apartment in that building, and guess who doesn't live in any of them. My student. None of them spoke English, but were all unfailingly kind, but eventually they were giving me that same look Sarah does when I'm talking to her. The one that seems to says, "Hasn't the blonde figured out I don't speak English yet?" I don't know what that lady was thinking. I felt, looked, & smelled like a drowned moose. Eventually I heard a lady yelling, "BRITT-TANI, BRITT-TANI!" I thought why is that crazy lady yelling Britt-tani? Then I realized that is my name if you say it phonetically. She lived at 435B.....Umm how is that anything like 321B? Did she have amnesia? Was she getting kicks out of my drowned moose look? Did she fall down the stairs? All kidding aside, they were a very nice family.

I finished the test and headed to Target to get the ingredients I needed to whip up Adam a spaghetti dinner. The next day I was dropping him off at the airport, he was going home for the holidays (I'm joining him on Christmas Eve). So I just wanted to send him off with a good dinner. But with the rain, and the flooded roads it took me a full hour to get to Target. Tres Annoying. When I stepped out of the car, I plummited into at least a foot of water. There is nothing I hate more than wet shoes and socks. Then those wet shoes & socks, made me fall in Target just like a ungraceful hippo. Pride Smarting...much?

Then I realized that Targets out here don't do groceries. Great just great. So I decided I'd get what I could, and then just pull some cash out and stop at the grocery store by the house. I also grabbed some candy to make me feel better. It would take another paragraph to explain why I had only one check with me, but that is all I had. So I first asked the cashier if I could write a check over the amount I paid, and she said sure. Turns out you couldn't, and then I had no choice but to surrender my purchases, though I think I only really cared about leaving my precious orange slices behind.

I waded back to the car, and had to take Sarah out for the second time. Where we must have walked a half mile, STILL in the rain. Adam came home and I just started boohooing, and I'm not the boohooing type. But I boohooed so much that there was no teenage girl in America that could be boohooing at that moment, because i sucked up all the tears. Then he went to the store and bought the dinner for me, and I was fine..

But come on doesn't this story make you feel bad for me? No? Not a little bit? OK, so it wasn't that bad. But in the moment, it felt like it.





Song of The Day: Short Skirt, Long Jacket by Cake.

Bah Humbug!

I have a definite blogging block lately, chalk it up to stress-but I have no great stories to tell. So I'm just going to sit down & write anything that comes to mind.

While it was a lot of fun stealing away to Texas for a bit, I was happy to get back to my jet-setting Californian life style (ha-my life is about as jet setting as a slug on anti-depressants). In Texas I ate turkey, pie, and TexMex, a real treat since in California I live off ramen noodles & TV dinners. (I'd rather spend my money on DVR, than unnecessary things like FOOD). I spent most of Sunday in airports, playing a never ending game of musical gates and spot the southern women who take being Texans very, very seriously (Hint-look for big hair, big belt buckles, and big jewelry. )

I got into L.A. really late, and the whole town was covered in fog so thick, you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. So I spent the next hour jumping out of my skin, hollering, and declaring to Adam that we were going to die. I'm sure he was wishing he could send me back to Texas. But alas, I think the lug missed me more than he thought he would. We made it home in one piece, and I opened up our front door, and hit something solid. It was Sarah ,who looked up with a "what the fuck, was that necessary" look, before it changed to the, "Oh It's You! The one who gives me more treats than she is supposed to, and spends hours scratching behind my ears" face. She was very excited, probably because she thought Adam had run me off and she was going to be the child from a broken home. (Like I would let him have her.)

To my utter dismay, I woke up yesterday to discover the neighborhood was kicking our asses in the Christmas decoration department. I'm talking about lights, snow globes, and Santas on Harley's. And I'm not talking just about the families, even our Bohemian surfing guy neighbor with the revolving door for girlfriends, went all out. We are kind of hard up for money right now, so while I hope to get a tree, I don't know if we can afford so much as some mistletoe this year. So I plan to put a sign up in the yard that says, "I'm spending Christmas in Wisconsin, where I will have snow, and a real Christmas tree. So have fun stringing lights on your palm trees, suckers."

Thoughts & Prayers

Devastating fires are raging here in Southern California. We live 30 miles away from the fires, tucked away safe in the harbor. But yet we are still noticing the effects. This is not a picture of a sunset, it was taken in the middle of the afternoon. Ash has periodically fallen from the sky, and the air is very thick. I can't possibly imagine what the residents of those areas are experiencing, and my prayers are with them.

Stats on My Life in California Thus Far

1. Number of Freeways I’ve driven on: 1 (accidentally and traumatizing).

2. Number of Freeways I’m planning on driving on in the future: 0 (Are you kidding?!? See above).

3. Amount of Time it took me to realize that Hardee’s and Carl Jr’s are the same restaurant: Way Too Long (What is up with that?).

4. Amount of Time it took me to figure out that Jack in The Box deep frys its tacos once I crossed the California state line: 0.05 seconds.

5. Number of Deep Fried Tacos I’ve eaten since: 1,000 (Dude you get two for $.99 cents).

6.How Long It took for “Dude” to become part of my daily vocabulary: 2 weeks.

7. Number of Showers it took for me to realize that my feet were tanned not dirty: 3 (The flip flop strap should have been my first clue).

8. Number of Times I’ve opened my mouth and people have asked me where I’m from: Every time.

9. Number of Times people have been shocked that my hometown forbade alcohol: No one is shocked because they think I’m LYING.

10. Number of Times I’ve attempted to order Sweet Tea: 30.

11. Number of Times I was stared at blankly for ordering Sweet Tea: 15.

12. Number of Times I was just brought Unsweet Tea anyway: 30.

13. Number of Times I plan to order sweet tea in the future: Infinite Times, I will never give up until Californians accept that tea is better when it is brewed sweet.

14. Number of High Fashion Shops I’ve been in: Zero, like my lovely, big butt would fit into those clothes.

15. Number of Episodes of Law and Order, Cold Case, & Without a Trace I’ve watched since arriving: 500,000.

16. Number of Times watching Law and Order, Cold Case, & Without a Trace has made me think of ways to get away with murder: 500,000.