Collecting Freckles

Saturday morning. I wake up refreshed, rejuvenated and sans sleep marks. Slowly, ever so slowly, I stretch the muscles that have been lying dormant for the last few glorious hours.

Mr. Darcy lunges at the moving objects under the sheets that have sparked his curiosity. Like the natural predator that he is, he has been awake for hours, just waiting. Waiting for something to move.

I think about the day and what I have in store. A small smile of satisfaction sweeps across my face. There is so much to do. The piles of laundry on the floor need to be washed. The mounds of clothes on the floor need to be folded and hung. Counters cleaned. Dishes washed. Floors vacuumed.

But that’s not why I’m smiling.

“Why,” you ask, “are you smiling then?”

Secretly, I know none of those things will be done. Not today. Today is devoted to one thing.

Collecting freckles.

I make my way to the edge of the bed, sit up and stretch again. Sometimes, you just can’t stretch enough.

As I walk to the closet, I narrowly miss an altercation with the lion sitting on a pile of dresses. He looks up, peeved at the near death experience, squints his eyes, pins back his ears. The lion is hungry. Not to be the meal of choice, I divert my attentions to the kitchen instead.

Darcy races me there. He wins every time.

Back to the closet. My bathing suit is on the floor, where the rest of my closet is. Pick it up. Put it on. Tie it securely. Double knots.

Sunscreen is key. SPF 30. SPF 45 for the face and neck. No skin cancer here. Just freckles.

I get my bag together.

Magazine? Check.
Book? Check.
Water? Check.
Towel? Check.

I tie my hair back with a scarf. There’s no need to be fancy.

Walking out the door, I send my love to the little lion stalking me from behind the couch. I make my way to the pool.

Sitting in my lounge chair, I close my eyes and imagine the wind blowing my hair smells like salt. The moisture in the air is hung heavy with sea spray. I can hear the ocean roar when a car passes. When a little boy laughs, I imagine it’s his first time to the ocean and he has been knocked to his knees by an incoming wave. In my daydream, he gets up, squealing excitedly, and runs up to the arms of his dad who is further away from the water’s edge.

Like an outdoor sauna, I can feel my body relaxing with the heat. The ocean looks so inviting from here by the shore.

I dive in. Cool water shocking my body’s senses. Come up. Catch my breath. Avoid the large pink float heading my way. It was a close call. I get out. Walk back over to my lounge chair…try to decide whether it’s time to lay on my stomach. Saturday’s big decision.

The magazine titles call to me:

“His Body (A User’s Manual)”

“7 Ways to Outsmart a Rapist”

“Feel Sexier Naked – 4 Steps to Total Body Confidence”

“Don’t Bend Over Backward for Him”

Sure, nothing like reading informative and useful literature. I open up my girl-porn and learn ways to tantalize men and the shocking confessions of women whose men are beyond hooked to you know what from behind. I can feel myself growing more and more intelligent as the pages turn. I also have a strange desire to purchase a Louis Vuitton bag.

Subliminal propaganda at its best.

Saturday at its best.

Collecting freckles at its best.

Yeah, dumb$%*&, It was funny...

So, I was thinking back to a time…a long time ago. A time when I was a novice drinker. In fact…I had only partaken of one kind of beverage…and that was Mike’s Hard Lemonade. Scratch that…there was one time when a friend got me heavily intoxicated with whiskey but that doesn’t count. Why? Because it wasn’t the plan. It was all his idea.

Anyway, this particular instance I was feeling a little, shall we say, frisky. I didn’t want to drink by myself…because what’s the fun in that, but my roommate didn’t feel like drinking. I convinced myself that since she was in the room, that drinking with her there did not constitute as drinking alone, though I would be the only one drinking.

So, there I was, three bottles of Mike’s down and three to go. Three was all it took to get me intoxicated at the time. Now? Well, I have no idea how many Mike’s it would take…I haven’t had them since…probably this night.

We were watching the Florida/UT game on TV in our dorm and this AFLAC commercial came on. The script was the usual – duck trying to get someone to pay him attention…but remember, this was when these commercials first came out. I don’t think that we had seen them before. I just thought it was hilarious when the duck said “AFLAC!”

So...I spit my Mike’s everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean everywhere.

My roommate looked at me scornfully and un-amused.

“What??” I said, drunken cheeks ablaze. “It was funny!”

“Yeah, dumbshit. It was funny. But now you’ve got Mike’s all over your keyboard.”

Good times.

My furry son

I have yet to share pictures of my baby! I rescued Mr. Darcy (named after a character in my favorite Jane Austin book), nearly on the verge of death, in November of last year from an animal shelter.

The lady that dropped him off at the shelter had dropped three other kittens off 3 days prior and they had all since been adopted. While holding out a malnourished kitten on her next visit, she told the shelter that she had thought there were four when she came in previously and stated that she found this one hiding in her closet. He hadn't been fed the entire time.

When I saw him in his cage, he was being tormented by these other black kittens. They were just trying to get him to play, but he was so sickly that their playing was killing him.

When I told the vet tech that I was considering adopting him, she and the vet advised me against it, stating that they were basically waiting for him to die. That there was nothing they could do. When she said that, I was incensed. I said that I wanted to adopt him anyway and to my amazement the vet tech said "Well, you know once you adopted him, we can't return your money." Honestly, that really wasn't a concern at the time.

I wasn't prepared to bring a kitten home that day so I had to go by PetSmart that night with Darcy in my arms, wrapped in a hand towel, and buy everything he needed. He slept for days after I brought him home and he wouldn't come out of his carrier. I kept watching his stomach to make sure he was still breathing. Since he had not been weaned, Mr. Darcy didn't know how to eat and I had to mush up water and food so that he could lick it up. Gradually, I implemented hard food into the mush.

This is Mr. Darcy when I first adopted him. I was so sad when I had to go to work - I didn't want to leave him. Every time, I thought I would come back home and he would have passed away. That collar that he has on is the extra small size and it could fit easily over his head. (It's way to small now, Darcy got fat quick)

Darcy playing on the floor.


So freakin' cute! Darcy's First Christmas.


Trying to sleep... but Mom won't stop taking pictures!



Darcy's 10 pounds now...and only 8 months. He's part Maine Coon so he should get really big!

Okay - enough gushing about him, I suppose. Seriously, this little feline is fabulous. Well, he's fabulous and annoying...all at the same time. Like when he claws on my furniture...or the walls...or the floor. Ohh but then I am a complete pushover when he snuggles up to me in the middle of the night...right up against my back...or on my head.

It's worth the lack of sleep.

Quote Installment and Other Rantings

"Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I'm not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived. You never know, lightning could strike." - Meet Joe Black

"I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: I've loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough." - The Notebook


By the way, this past weekend, it was as if someone read my blog about pet peeves and decided to enact them. All of them.

Either that or it was God shaking his fist at me, telling me to be more patient and loving towards others. I am patient, God. I am! But I tell you what, I am getting a little tired. Okay, a lot tired...and a lot annoyed.

By the way, I am eating tuna fish for lunch whilst sitting in my cubicle and surfing fashion websites. I am sure everyone in a 5 cubicle radius can smell it. I am sure that tuna-eating cube dwellers are someone's pet peeve. Because everyone knows that tuna only smells good if you are the one eating it. But today I don't care. Tuna with sweet hot pickles and tomatoes is what I am craving. So sue me. Kinda sounds like a pregnancy craving, doesn't it? Maybe I am pregnant. (laughs while rolling on floor) Man, wouldn't that be funny. And impossible! Well, I guess not technically. Mary was preggers.

I'm sorry. Really, this randomness has to do with the fact that I couldn't think of anything to blog about. So, inevitably I just end up ranting.

Oh! This was part of the Elenburg Excess (my friend Brittany's newsletter) that I thought was hilarious! She is writing a satirical account of her impersonation of email forwards.

"Read Carefully: If someone comes to your front door saying they are conducting a survey on deer ticks, and asks you to take your clothes off and dance around to shake off the ticks, do not do it! IT IS A SCAM; they only want to see you naked. I wish I'd gotten this yesterday..... I feel so stupid now....."

If I think of anything important to write...I'll write again. Otherwise, 'til next time.

Only child syndrome? Maybe.

Maybe it's because I am an only child. Maybe it's because I was/am spoiled. Maybe the fact that I live by myself is its manifestation and I’m destined to a life of cats, frozen dinners and weird smells.

But, I have a lot of pet peeves.

Some, I can control. Others, not so much. Some people and their "quirks" grate on my last ever-loving nerve.

** I was reading a recent post from Charming, but single and she shares one of my peeves:

"He also didn't leave a message, which is a huge pet peeve of mine. Unless you're a good friend or a family member, you leave a message. Because otherwise I can't know when it is best to call you back or what you want. Say you're calling to ask me out for a drink after work. How am I to know not to go straight home if you don't leave me a message? It's presumptuous to think I'm going to call back someone I do not know well if he or she can't be bothered to state the reason for his or her call.

So I didn't unblock him from my buddy list that night. Not because he didn't leave a voicemail. I didn't unblock him because I had a long day at work and wasn't feeling on top of my game. And because his lack of voicemail showed a lack of interest. (Also, did I mention that he cried on our second date?)"

Lack of a voice mail message definitely means to me, "I've got nothing important to say and, honestly, I’m kinda glad you didn’t answer. I was just calling to say hi." Just so you know, I may or may not call you back if you don't leave a message. I feel that I am under no obligation if you can’t make the effort to leave a message. Oh, and please keep it under 40 seconds. If you bumble around with your message for any longer than that, I’m just going to get annoyed.

** Also, in the same vein, do not call me on my cell phone while I am at work unless it’s an emergency or it’s around lunch. Texting during work hours is okay as it does not disturb and it gets what needs to be said out in the open – without me having to pick up a superfluous voicemail. Try: “Dinner? Ru Sans? 6:00?” Then I can respond via the same method and we are both not out time or the risk of being seen talking on a cell phone by the “corporate powers that be.” It’s a win-win.

** Chronically tardy people. This is just inconsiderate. By being late, you are essentially telling me that your time is more important than mine. I have some news for you, buddy; and this may come as a shock You may even want to sit down. It’s not. Your time is not more important than mine, and as soon as you realize this, I think we will both be a lot happier. Why tell me to be somewhere at a certain time…and then show up 30 minutes later? Why didn’t you call to let me know you were running late? Why do you think that because you are meeting me at my house, that I am offering you my permission to be late? I don’t recall this conversation.

** People who complain about things, while doing nothing to fix them. As an example, a person complaining about being overweight while eating a Snickers.

** People at the gym. You know the people. And so does Anna Fibee in her post about gym rats. However, my annoyances extend way beyond Anna’s. All the way to the ladies in the locker room. You know the women. They just got out of Senior Swim and are getting ready for a day of Fox News and grandchildren. But questions beg to be asked. Why are you naked? Why am I not? You are old and wrinkly…I am young and well, unwrinkly. There are changing rooms, you know. I was not sure if you were aware. Isn’t it bizarre how the ladies that should be confident in the locker room are the ones who remain clothed…and the ones who don’t care are the very ones that shed their clothing for a, shall we say, cooler alternative?

** People who instigate conflict. Why feel it is your job to make everyone feel awkward? Why do you want to argue? I am, quite possibly, the most non-confrontational person you will ever meet. If something bothers me, I like to hold it for a while, close to the vest. Think about it. Decide if it’s worth bringing up. I inherited a hot head from my dad and this is the way I have learned to avoid saying things I don’t mean or shouldn’t say. But you, Mr./Ms. Instigator, why is everything a battle? Why can’t you just take my opinion as just that, my opinion? I take your opinions to be yours and I don’t try and sway you my way. Can’t you give me the same courtesy? Don’t you know, you aren’t always right?

** People who feel the need to explain things in grotesque detail. Enough said.

** People who cut me off, mid-story, to tell one of their own. Apparently, it somehow relates. I just haven’t figured out how yet.

** Guys who wear women’s jeans. You know, designers are making men’s jeans tighter now? There’s no need for us to be wearing the same pants. Where does your member go? Are there lifelong medical implications for your member being shoved into women’s jeans? I’m sure there are. Or is your member just that small? Girls think about this, don’t think that we don’t. And the fact that you are only two sizes bigger than me freaks me out. Eat something for crying out loud. And stop looking at yourself in the mirror, your hair looks fine.

Yankee Test

Lucie is a co-worker of mine who recently moved here from Minnesota. She has all the "Minnesota'isms" down pat which makes me smile. See, my grandma was from that area and Lucie reminds me of her...well, Lucie's accent reminds me of her...not so much Lucie since Lucie isn't elderly.

Well, she sent me this link for a "Yankee Test" yesterday and this was my outcome:

83% Dixie. Do you still use Confederate money??

My answer?

Until recently, yes, I was still using Confederate money. Unfortunately, places stopped taking it...I just tell those people to bite me...and watch out because the South will rise again!

Seriously though, yall. I have lived in the South my entire life. Born and raised in 'Bama and then uprooted to the North (Tennessee) when I was just entering high school.

You don't want to know what I thought about moving to Nashville. Seriously, you don't.

Really? You want to know that badly? Fine. I'll tell you.


I thought it was like moving to New York city. A huge urban area. I was petrified when I saw the skyline. Those big buildings reaching to the sun.

Let's compare, shall we?

Nashville-

Montgomery-

















The first weekend here, my parents and I went to a restaurant downtown and when we were leaving a homeless man asked us for money. I about peed my pants...and then I cried. I'd never seen a homeless person before.

Sheltered? Yes

Innocent? Yes

Now I've lived in the "big city" for almost 10 years. I realize that Nashville is no NYC...no LA...but it's big enough for me...and I love it here!

Homeless people and all...

I'm...So...SCARED!!

I'm...So...SCARED!!!


Oh gosh...Jessie Spano's hooked on drugs...caffine even!

While this part is funny, my favorite part of this episode was at the end when Lisa Turtle did some sort of PSA telling kids who to talk to if they knew a friend addicted to drugs.

Seriously...

You want to hang out with me...

Lincoln Park Trixie Society

I was told by a fellow blogger, DP, that (if in Chicago) I should join this society because I would fit in oh so perfectly.

Here, ladies and gents...is the Lincoln Park Trixie Society.

Description: Chicago's premier social organization of young, on-the-move women living in wonderful Lincoln Park. You don't have to be from Chicago to get the joke; every town has its Trixies. They're the women with Kate Spade bags for every day of the week; the ex-sorority girls still lusting after big, dumb jocks; the women who go to law school to find husbands.

The Lincoln Park Trixie Society provides "the backbone and courage necessary for many young Trixies to climb the social ladder, and continues to provide the structure necessary to maintain Lincoln Park as one of the most wonderful neighborhoods in all of Chicago." Along with information about the society's history, membership and services, a site devoted to said society features a host of sections, with names running from the subtle (the "Ask Ashley" advice column) to the ridiculous ("Ride in my Jetta").

I really must go now - I'm driving in my Jetta to meet some sorority sisters at the Starbucks around the corner.

Screech wants your money

I’m sorry but I have no sympathy for this. None. And I am a sympathetic person. More than most and oftentimes more than I should be.

But this?

I am appalled at this ridiculous plea for money from and benefiting a famous actor.

Dustin Diamond (Screech from Saved by the Bell fame) should be rolling in the dough. Did he not save anything? Is he not saving now?! The last time I checked, Saved by the Bell was in syndication, meaning he should currently be making money just by sitting on his poor ass.

As the story goes, he is living in Wisconsin and purchased a place on a land contract for less than $250,000 as his property has escalated to a value of $250,000. I was not aware of what this “land contract” was before but after researching, I have even more questions.

“Land contracts vary widely from transaction to transaction. In most cases, no grant deed is recorded. The buyer rarely obtains a new mortgage loan at the time of purchase. Instead, the new owner makes payments to an intermediary, who then makes payments on the seller’s mortgage, which is still in place. Keep in mind that such an agreement usually violates the lender's guidelines. If the lender becomes aware of a transfer of title on the property (which is why you usually don't record the grant deed), they can exercise the "due on sale" clause of the note.

This would require you to refinance the loan or sell the property. Since many who buy on land contracts have problems qualifying for a mortgage, you can see how this can lead to problems. At the same time, lenders generally only check for transfers of title if the loan becomes delinquent. Within a certain number of years, it is expected the buyer will be able to qualify for a loan. At that time, they will obtain a new mortgage and pay off whatever amount the land contract requires.”

Why could Dustin Diamond not qualify for a loan??? I DID…and I was not on a hit TV show! Me thinks someone squandered his money…and he wants our help and pity.

I think I’ll create a website to have people donate money to me because I have an unhealthy love for clothing and home decor. I need therapy for it…maybe people will donate money for my therapy too.

Caney Fork Fish Camp

I'm going to be honest.

I was skeptical at first.

Caney Fork Fish Camp....well, if you know me...it really doesn't really sound my style...more my dad's style than my own.

I was wrong.

This place was great!

My office and I went to celebrate a co-worker's birthday and this was her choice.

They give these corn fritter things sprinkled with powdered sugar before your meal...

Oh. My. Gosh.

They tasted like a county fair...like a funnel cake. Granted, there was so much grease in them that my boss could write his name with the leftover grease on his plate...but his name only has three letters...so really...it wasn't all that bad.

Cough. Cough.

I can feel my arteries closing as I type.

But let us not forget the fried dill pickles that we had as well (Thanks DP!). This was my virgin fried pickle experience...this proves that anything is good/better when fried. I hear that fried Snickers are fabulous as well...

For my meal, I got the Grilled Tilapia sandwich with green beans instead of fries (which was the only thing that I tried that wasn't good). Like how my meal is healthy? I even got the tartar sauce on the side. And a Diet Coke. I can feel the pounds shedding away.

Anyway, go. Try. Raise your blood pressure and unbuckle your pants. You're in for some good eatin'.

Letter to my friend Brittany...

Okay - I of course, think this letter that I wrote is hilarious. Well, she did too. First off, you probably won't. It's chock full of inside jokes. Chock full I tell you. Second, if you read it in its entireity, you will gain a greater understanding for my sense of humor and personality.

Love it. Hate it. Read it.

Brittany,

Well, mere words cannot express the deep void that you are going to leave in my life…

Who am I kidding??

That shouldn’t be the start of my letter…It should start more like…let’s see here…

Brit,

Girl! Why you be leavin’ me all up in this joint by mahsulf? That just ain’t coul!

Okay…maybe not that way either.

Look what you’re doing to me…I don’t even know who I am anymore. Sappy romantic friend? Gangsta goddess? I’ll just sit here and sing the songs that remind me of the good times - the songs that remind me of the better times. Tubthumper anyone??

I think that I am going to start this off again. Let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we?

~~**~~**~~**~~DREAM SEQUENCE~~**~~**~~**~~**

1^st class for me back at Belmont. 1^st class for you at Belmont. You? Montana…Me? Well, Tennessee. Ours was an unlikely friendship, but we shared a bond that we didn’t know about. That bond?

American Eagle Outfitters.

We took a test that day and you sat behind me and sniffled the whole freakin’ time. I hated you for that. God blessed me with sonar hearing – that’s right – like dolphins. I hate people who make a lot of noise…or people who talk incessantly. Like I said – an unlikely friendship.

Until one day, I was at work and Sniffle Girl came in to shop. The bond was formed. Like typical girls, I recall the conversation going something like this:

“Hey you’re the girl from my Recording Industry Technology class…Tappan’s class?”

“Yeah! That’s me…Oh my gosh you work here!? I love American Eagle!”

“You like American Eagle? I like American Eagle! What else have you done today?”

“Well, I went and had coffee at Starbucks.”

“Oh my gosh! I like Starbucks too! Which one?”

“The one in Coolsprings. I live in Franklin. It’s so far away from everything and everyone.”

“Shut up! You live in Franklin!? I live like 2 seconds away in Brentwood. It’s like, we have so much in common!”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but it was close. But I owe and am indebted to AE for our friendship.

~~**~~**~~**~~END DREAM SEQUENCE~~**~~**~~**~~

Some of the funniest times I’ve had, have been with you. You have the trait that I admire and covet most – humor. You make me laugh all the time and recently, made me cry. But I’m a wuss anyway. Stupid birth control…makin’ me cry at everything. No – I can’t blame it on that. I’m just sad that you’re leaving…sans birth control or with.

“The Ketchup Has Something to Say to You…”

Ohhh – one of my first times cooking in our little apartment kitchen. The Hamburger Incident. Who knew that hamburger meat was supposed to be mushed all up together? I didn’t! So, we ate worm burgers. But not before I called you into the kitchen because the ketchup had something to say to you. Upon viewing the meat worm, you freaked and threw it outside. I’m sure Jonah and Dave thought we were bizarre.

“Fly Infestation”

We weren’t dirty, I swear! Our apartment was just infested with flies. Hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. Okay, not thousands. Most of them died from starvation (see, we weren’t dirty) but there were lucky handfuls of the little crappers that got mercilessly murdered by anything we could get our hands on.

“I Love Drugs!”

I sure have always known how to make an idiot of myself. One time in particular was when I was getting my prescription sinus medication out of my car, which was parked to the side of Jonah and Dave’s apartment. I ran out in my short PJ shorts skipping and dancing to the music playing in my head – unfortunately, singing the lyrics out loud. “I love drugs! I love drugs! Drugs make me feel on TOP of the WORLD…” only to hear snickering (okay it was all out laughter)…look up and see a porch full of guys staring. Uber embarrassing.

“You Make My Tongue Tingle”

…or something like that…You know the time…when we gave Dave a secret admirer? Haha – and he thought it was real. Such an oblivious guy. J That was right near your birthday because remember the Sponge Bob streamers I put up in the kitchen – and then they went on Dave’s car from his secret admirer…and he still didn’t get it. Haha – “You look just like Justin Timberlake!”

“911? A Man Has Fallen! Yes! Fallen Down the Stairs!”

This one really doesn’t even need explaining. We’ll just leave this one to the memories because

only those can help us recall The Indian Midget and the embarrassment that he must have felt as he slinked off to the corner. Haha. And me, trying not to laugh…being mortified at myself…and you, looking at me, and with your eyes, begging me not to laugh. HAHA! And the InfoDesk guy, disgustedly saying “Well, this day just keeps getting better and better” and then on the intercom, “Service Manager, dial 222. Service Manager, 222.”

Starbucks

I mean, how much freakin’ Starbucks have we consumed during the course of our friendship. I would hate to know. I think it might scare me.

“Leukemia is not funny.”

But, it is if it’s in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants! So, that lady in front of us hated me. But, she has to admit, it was funny…until the girl died. Or, how about the girl from Gimore Girls, frustrated at life and at being prude, just stripping off her clothes and jumping into the lake.

Yeah, like that would happen.

In Orange - A box with long legs

In Pink – Boobs, an imploded waistline, short legs and huge hips.

What’s life if you can’t make fun of how you look with Play Dough??? What’s even better is when you put the picture on the door to your apartment for everyone to see!

Who Knew Plucking Your Eyebrows Was Dangerous?!

Now we both do! And you didn’t even wake up when I fell off the sink…hit my head on the door knob…then on the toilet and proceeded to knock myself unconscious. Or, when my mom came over in the pouring rain and stayed with me through the night so that I wouldn’t die.

Hitchhiker’s Thumbs are Hilarious!

Or at least we think so! And now we know that we both have them…all because of sitting at our kitchen island and “throwing thumbs” for a good 15 minutes.

Tuna

I mean really. How much tuna did we eat while we lived together?! A LOT! Tuna and Starbucks…Yum!

Strum, strum, strum on the guitar…AKFJKG ASKLSDFHL

That’s my impression of Dan assaulting your guitar. P.S. did you know he is nominated to be Homecoming King this year? Yeah, he is.

“It Was Just a Little Cocaine on the Gums!”

Oh Austin. The phone call that should have been the clue to not tell him where we lived. As he sat outside someone else’s apartment, banging on the door, yelling for me to come out. When he finally did make it over, that’s when the real fun began. I believe memorable quotes were – “And then I projectile vomited.” “Cocaine on the gums.” “She had it pierced…if you know what I mean.” There were more…and then there was something about Austin moving in with me and

you moving in with his three other male roommates. It’s a good thing that roomie situation didn’t work out…

Brit – There are so many more memories that I have stored up in here. I just don’t have the time to put them all down on paper. We’ve gone through such a pivotal part of our lives together and I couldn’t be happier that I got to spend it and share it with you.

I’m sad that you’re leaving, and I feel that it is a selfish way to be, so I also want you to be happy. I know that you are close to your family, and at this new stage in life, it’s good to be near them. I’ll hope in the back of my heart that maybe you’ll miss Nashville and your friends enough

to come back here. If you don’t though, we will always be close. Always. Do you see that I am not giving you an alternative here??

I love you so much! Have fun in Montana – meet lots of cowboys and real men for me! Be sad for me being in Nashville with all these musician metro-sexuals. J

We’ll see each other soon…we can meet in the middle of the country or something…and I’ve always wanted to go to Montana!

Until then…email me, call me, write me, join MySpace.

-Sarah

I'm blogging again!

I can't think of anything profound to post right now...but here are some quotes that I found from Grey's Anatomy that I really like.

"We're adults. When did that happen? And how do we make it stop??"

"At some point, you have to make a decision. Boundaries don't keep other people out. They fence you in. Life is messy. That's how we're made. So, you can waste your lives drawing lines. Or you can live your life crossing them. But there are some lines...that are way too dangerous to cross."

"You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales, that fantasy of what your life would be, white dress, prince charming who would carry you away to a castle on a hill. You would lie in bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter faith. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close you could taste them, but eventually you grow up, one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is its hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely cause almost everyone has the smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they will open their eyes and it will come true."

"Knowing is better than wondering, that waking is better than sleeping, and even the biggest failure, even the worst, beat the hell out of never trying."