Auld Lang Syne

I just can't keep up with how fast this year has gone by. As it is now, I barely have 3 minutes to write my end of the year blog. Somewhere I have a list of all the things that I did, saw, learned, drove, flew, and experienced that I had all good intents of putting here, but I don't even have the time to do that. Man, what a year. What a busy, busy year.

As for next year (AKA 15 1/2 hours away), I'm going to start things off right. Tomorrow, I'm jumping in a car and driving to Maryland as quickly as possible. Buckle up kiddies, 2010 is going to be another good year!

Happy, safe, sane, New year to everyone!

Thank you for reading and being a part of my life...especially to Carly for so many awesome laughs. I can't wait to hear the account of the New Year's party sheanigans!

so this is Christmas...

Merry Christmas!

(that's all I got)

fark me

I can't take it anymore. I nodded off on the freeway twice in the last week. On the freeway! I drifted into the carpool lane. Drifted. into. the. carpool lane. I fell asleep while I was working the radio and missed a traffic stop. Last night I fell asleep with false eyelashes on. I found one partially stuck to my eyebrow this morning. This weekend during wedding madness, someone asked me if there was anything that I didn't do. Sleep. I don't sleep. I don't think narcolepsy is this bad.

Fark me, I'm tired.

I should have gone to bed

You know sometimes that inner voice that speaks to you is trying to save you from yourself?

I should listen.

Sometimes you should just pay attention before it's 5am and you're walking down your own hallway, topless, covered in glitter and teal paint, with glass stuck in your thumb, wondering when the burning smell will leave the bathroom.

I am a tweaker - minus the injection marks and missing teeth. I'm up when the world is asleep and most productive when the sun is on the other side of the Earth.

I should have gone to bed when I spilled a big box of seed beads on the floor of the spare bedroom. It sounded like that one time I went straight from the beach on North Shore to Chili's and used the ladies room only to dump half of the beach out of my bathing suit and out under the stall door. Whooosh! Who knew that much sand could hide in bathing suit lining?

I should have gone to bed when I tipped the green glitter all over the stovetop in the kitchen. It looked like Tinkerbell got beat to death.

I should have gone to sleep when I almost lit the acrylic ornament paint on fire in the front bathroom.

I should have gone to sleep when I got the tiny sliver of glass broken off in my finger tip.

Finally, sparkly and glass pricked, I should have gone to bed before I accidentally squeezed half a bottle of bright teal acrylic paint on to my light grey fleece $60, work sweater sleeve. Not only the sleeve, but the opening where the paint could slowly run down my left arm, the only part of my body not covered in green glitter.

As I managed to shimmy out of my sweater without streaking my body in paint like a Carnivale performer and soaked my virgin sweater sleeve in hot water in the bathroom sink next to the smoldering ornament, I had to realize.....besides my bathroom at 5am, the only other place you could find a topless, glitter, and paint covered woman playing with water is a strip joint.

It's 5am, do you know where your stripper is?

sound it out

I saw Precious this weekend. I knew I was in for a few tears, but this one really got to me. It was heavy and graphic, but not distasteful. I think the part of it that really pulled at my heart was knowing that people, women, girls live lives like that everyday. Knowing the basic premise of the movie, I expected to see some of the scenes, but the scene that started the flood of tears was the one where Precious wasn't able to read outloud the title of a children's book. You could see the frustration and self-doubt (amazing acting by the way!). I cannot imagine what it must be like to not be able to read the words that are all around you - to feel lost trying to decipher basic directions in everyday life.

I can read. I write. In fact, I know the power of both so much, I share my life and my feelings in words with all you. I can read at the speed of pursuits, structure fires, baby's not breathing, shots fired, pedestrians hit by vehicles...but more importantly I can read when I'm at the grocery store, I can read when I have to get somewhere new, I can read when I need to find someone to help me. I CANNOT imagine having those basic life skills stripped away from me.

So with New Year's to-do's coming upon us, I think I'm going to volunteer at the local library to teach someone how to read. What a skill to share with someone...what an impact to have on someone's life. I may not be able to remove a child from a dangerous home or keep someone from being abused, but damnit, I can teach someone to read.

I've been struck...

by crafting genius! I wish I could say that it was ultimatley cheaper to make people presents rather than buy them, but in all actuality, it's not so much. Time costs after all, not couting the million little chockies that get purchased and put to use. But, that hasn't stopped me from checking the majority of the recent birthday, Christmas, baby shower, and thank you gifts off the "made with love" list. I even was told the other night that I should do this kind of stuff professionally and quit my job. Ha! Fat chance, but there's always a dream of doing something like that. I wish I could...I'd do it in a heartbeat. But alas, I'll have to continue to make scrappy camp out of my front room (and kitchen and bathroom and actual "scrapbook" room) until then. The "room" is like a minature store - I pick a theme, grab and empty box, and start shopping for all the odds and ends of things that I'm going to put in my new creation. I could literally go to the hardware store and find stuff to make a scrapbook or altered creation. It's an obession and one I've been happy to feed for the last few years. Merry Christmas, may you be a good enough friend that you get a homemade creation from me someday. :)


My living room is buried somewhere under there.