Thursday, March 24

Mother Nature didn't get the memo.

This morning:

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Can someone please pass it on to her that's it's Spring? The season of flowers, sunshine, and mud. Somewhere along the lines, she got confused.

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Even though it has snowed in Rhode Island since, well, before it was Rhode Island, the people in this state refuse to actually admit that it happens. Therefore, the roads barely get plowed and rarely get sanded.

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I had actually cleaned my car off about 15 minutes prior to this picture. And just so you know, the breakdown occurred this morning before I even left the driveway. Do you agree I need a vacation?

Wednesday, March 23

I'm already there, just don't tell my boss.

The week before a vacation, I might as well not even show up to work. I am useless. Mentally, I'm already in the hot tub in North Carolina with my fellow girls sipping on whiskey and Coke.

I'm going back to my college town next week with 8 other girls (and two very brave men) to stay in a rented cabin in the woods by a waterfall. I can only imagine what types of things will occur in this cabin and in town. I have never had more fun than the times I am with these particular girls. They are amazing individuals, each bringing to the group their personal qualities that would leave us feeling lop-sided and dysfunctional if one were missing*. One spring while we were still in school, we spent a week in a family cottage in Nag's Head. I convinced everyone to run around naked on the beach after dark one night. It's exhilerating and releasing; I've been a long-time fan of the naked-beach-running that actually started in the Outerbanks, so what an appropriate place to introduce others to it's freeing capabilities. I do remember photos being taken, though. Hm...I'm wondering where those are. If I ever plan on running for president, I'm sure that's when they will resurface. The next year we spent a week at a condo in Grand Cayman. I have never in my entire life had a vacation where I did absolutely-fucking-nothing. We did nothing. We woke up, stepped out the front door onto the beach and lounged the rest of the day. Occasionally, one or two would go snorkeling, but it didn't last long...soon they'd be back in their chairs snoozing under the canopy or baking in the sun. It was deliciously guilt-ridden, and I loved every second of it. Trust me, when you're only essential decision of the day is whether or not to mix the cocktails before noon or wait until the mid-morning nap has commenced, the vacation lasts much longer. Forget sight-seeing and adventures, this was a true vacation.

Now we are attempting Round 3 of the estrogen-gatherings. This time, it's been years since we've been together, and I can only imagine what is going to happen. I'm pretty sure there will be no naked-beach-running, considering we opted for mountains and waterfalls this time, but I can almost bet on there being nakedness involved at some point. (No, I will not give you the address of our cabin. And no, we will not post pictures. Well, ok, we might. I did, afterall, learn how to post pictures on this thing finally!)

Girls, I can't wait to see you all. It has been way too long, and I'm in need of a little craziness in my excruciatingly boring life. Watch out mountains of North Carolina, you may have let us all go, but we're coming back with vengeance. See you in a week, gals!


*Technically, one is missing. But we're going to balance out the dysfunctional-feeling with plenty of alchohol; which will, in turn, make us more dysfunctional, but definitely a more tolerable dysfunction.

Tuesday, March 22

Pictures have arrived!

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Ok, so FINALLY I've taken the time to figure out how to post photos. I chose to use Photobucket in place of the popular Flickr. I have no reason for that, except that it seemed as if everyone is using Flickr, and the name "Photobucket" has a rather child-like-dirty-joke appeal. Since the decision to figure it out today was rather random, you're just getting a picture of the cutest Malamute on the planet earth, one I have spoken about here and here.

Yay Pictures! Now, when I'm at a loss for words, I'll just post cool pictures and all three of you can talk amongst yourselves.

Friday, March 18

The post of turned-around luck and most likely poor grammar.

Happy (late) St. Patrick's Day!

Yesterday, I had quite the day, so I thought I would just tell you all about it...but we'll just fast forward to after work, shall we? T and I were walking to our cars as usual, and we had just passed the last overhang when I felt a drop on my head. Instantly, I knew what had happened. I turned to T, "I just got shit on, didn't I?!" She looked at my head, and started cracking up, "Yes!" I proceeded to exclaim, "Get it off! Get it off!" like a bird myself, flapping my arms all panick-stricken like a 5-year old who just, well, got shit on. She went into the closest store and got a paper towel from the clerk who then said to T, "Tell her shit happens." (HA! REAL original lady! Do you have shit in your hair? I don't think so! Keep selling really expensive outdoor clothing so rich preppies can look like they just stepped off a rock face on their way to their Mercedes SUV, sipping their lattes!) She was able to get the majority of the nasty poo (no, it wasn't green for St. Patty's Day) out of my hair and I avoided touching that area of my head for the rest of the commute home.

But then I got to thinking that old folklore says getting pooped on by a bird is good luck. Then I realized it was St. Patrick's Day, and that means it was double the luck! So from now on, you can be sure to only expect uplifting, positive posts from yours truly.*

I would like to say that starting right away I did things like win the lottery or lose the pounds I've gained being depressed the last 3 months, but no, I didn't...but at least I now have the faith they might happen, even if shit was what it took to get there. I did, however, have a wonderful night with some incredible women, and I ran into two of the most wonderful people I have met in this city in the bar later that night, who I hadn't seen in months. THEN was awoken at 5 a.m. by a phone call from an anonymous number that later turned out to be a very sexy man (on the west coast - hence, the 5 a.m. call) who I had dated for few months last year just calling to, "Wish me a happy st. patty's, and that he was thinking about me."

So overall, I would say my luck has turned around. Or, I can just say my night was pretty damn good for this sort-of-Irish-woman. But I'll keep you posted. Because the past has shown this doesn't usually last.


*This does not, however, make me exempt from the usual bitchy-complaining-hate-the-world posts that you have come to know quite well. I mean, afterall, I did GET SHIT ON.

Wednesday, March 9

I swear I used to be happy and fun and not so bitter. No, really.

This is the summary of my last 20 hours that will make you either very happy you live where you do in the warmth, or you experienced something very similar and will agree completely:

Last night, after I left work, I get to my car to find a parking ticket and a layer of ice plastering said ticket to the car. I try to tear it off, and it rips in three. I then attempt to get into my car, all the while trying to close my umbrella that is being turned inside-out by the wind, therefore causing me to whack my head on the door frame of my car, instantly giving me a splitting headache.

The drive home is the worst I have ever experienced. I get home and take my dog outside and fall hard on my right side, hitting my head on the ice-covered road. The headache that had been started from my door frame, is then multiplied by the whacking of my head against the road. I'm also left with a cramped neck and bruises on my hip. (yes, I am 80 years old)

Fast-forward to this morning's commute...

I let my car warm up for a good 15 minutes, but it does windshield wipers still refuse to actually touch the windshield, despite de-icing them and removing all snow from under the blades. I then drive the entire way while trying to squint through the backwash on my windshield that will not be removed by my stubborn wipers. My heater breaks, so I'm sweltering hot in my car. I stop at the gas station to wipe off the window and the fluid I use freezes to my windshield. So I attempt to continue the drive blind. I get into the city and get cut off twice by the same woman..but since my horn is broken, all the rage that would've been released by using my horn, is built up inside and I start yelling at her, hoping she can hear me through BOTH CARS. I'm pretty sure she just had a good laugh because of all the hand gestures I was performing in her direction.

I show up to work 20 minutes late, angry and feeling like I am literally about to have a mental breakdown..for the 2nd time this winter.

I usually back New England up when people are curious why we want to live here, why we would deal with the cold. I can usually do this, fight for why this part of the country is incredible. And it is, but right now, I'm having a hard time remembering why that is. Instead, I'm thinking of ways I can get out of the cold and snow as soon as possible. This winter has been relentless. And it's ironic, because this is the first winter since I can remember that I've actually enjoyed the snow....until now.

I guess we're tough up here. But I'm not feeling so tough any more. Enough with winter...SPRING, WHERE ARE YOU?!

Tuesday, March 8

It's like Christmas, but highly addictive and causes you to shake and ramble-on all too easily.

The new dean just bought every office in the building their very own coffee pot. It just arrived...and it's not just any old Mr. Coffee, it's a Williams-Sonoma Capresso MT500. Some get Yoga and laptops...but I think this is almost as good. Except he might as well have just bought me an I.V. complete with a supply of coffee going directly into my blood stream, because this can mean nothing but trouble for yours truly.

Friday, March 4


He had rusty orange hair and freckles to match, a smile that was devious in intention, but sweet and genuine simultaneously, and a Southern accent that could melt your heart with just a simple hello. He was the best friend of someone I was dating at the time, and lived below me in the same apartment complex. At first meet, he seemed like a slacker, an endless partier, and someone who just drank their way through school. Although that very much was the case a little too often, he was intelligent, sincere and had a kind heart that is all too rare...and I was lucky to have been given the chance to know this. His sister was born without hearing, Sign language was second nature to him. This fascinated me, as I had never known anyone who could speak it fluently. The silence contrasted so drastically with his voice, as no one had a drawl like he did. Nathan was the epitome of a Southern gentleman in every part of the definition; meeting him would have brought a Yankee over to the Confederate side without a struggle. If he had been Lee's sidekick, the North would've surrendered immediately. I felt as comfortable with him as I did with someone I had known my entire life. When things started to get bad between my boyfriend and I, I didn't have to say anything to him, he'd just give me an extra smile or hug. When it was really bad, I just went to his place and cried as he stood there hugging me. He was the person that made everyone feel safe. He made me feel like it was all ok, when it really was anything but. Even though it was his best friend that was causing me so much hurt, he treated me like his friend; he told me I was beautiful, and I actually believed it because it came from him. When I left town, I knew I would miss him, that I would leave a part of me there, still dampening his shirt with my tears. We spoke a few times after I was gone, his Southern accent bringing a smile to my face in a matter of seconds.

Last night I lied awake thinking about him. It's hard to believe he's gone because I wasn't there to see him go. I wasn't there to give him one last hug, to hear his drawl one last time before he was taken. It doesn't seem real because anyone that this world should be proud of for creating, it was him.

As over-stated as it is, I feel like he's still with me. I feel like he's my ally in this world, giving me his shirt when I need it to soak. His smile is the first thing I see when he enters my thoughts.

I miss you, Nathan. Thank you for coming into my life when you did, and for remaining in it even now; it was worth all the pain your friend instilled in me, to have known you when I needed to the most. You will always be alive to me...sitting outside apartment B6, smiling like you knew something we didn't. I'm still searching for it, and you'll be the first I tell when I find it.