I blame the allergies

I'm a blog stalker. It's okay, I can admit it. There's no shame in my game, but I do stalk blogs of people that might know OF me, but don't KNOW me.

Here's the thing about blogs: They say whatever the writer wants em to say (WOW. That little revelation just blew your socks off, didn't it?) What I mean is, though, that if someone wanted their life to seem all cotton candy and sunflowers, they could easily make it out to be like that. So when I read the blogs of those I don't know too well, eh... it can sting sometimes. Why? Cause nothing makes me feel worse than one of those "OMG you are my sweet precious baby" blogs. (No offense to any of my friends that write them, I think it's awesome. I'm honestly jealous that I just don't have it in me to say that kind of stuff.)

"Dear.... you are such a PRECIOUS addition to our family... We are so BLESSED to have you... I just can't IMAGINE my life without you..."

*gag*

If I were to write about CJ, it'd go something like this:

So...:

Thanks for not being a hellion or a pain in the ass.

Thanks for using good manners.

Thank GOD you're smart and can write your full name already. God knows you got enough going against you already without adding "stupid" to the list.

I'm glad your glasses make you cuter and aren't setting you up to be called "Four eyes" one day.

You can get over the fact that I won't give you candy and other crap. I don't have any cavities and I refuse to let you have cavities either. I also refuse to let you get fat. Eat healthy and deal with it.

I'm really glad you don't want any siblings... cause you ain't gettin' none. After the hell you put me through when I was pregnant, I figured it was a sign I should stop at one. Plus, I refuse to spend all that money on another kid. Besides, you deserve to have my full attention and resources. I can't do that if you have a sibling. YOU'RE WELCOME. (I would like to note, however, for the record, that I nursed you for 2 years. You never got a DROP of formula. Again, YOU'RE WELCOME.)

So... yeah. I think I'll keep you.

Love, Mama

For real, y'all. I can't DEAL with all that sugar. Some of the stuff I read would give Paula Deen's diabetes, diabetes! The thing is, the people that I know personally who write it are sincere... I guess I'm just not wired to think that way.

Same with those husband posts. Same sweetness, rebagged and relabeled for the hubster. "You know me so well... you were made for me... I can't imagine life without you... you are my heart..."

* double gag*

I find it VERY hard to believe that anything with a tallywacker is THAT perfect. They leave their dirty clothes on the floor, the pee on the toilet seat (and ONLY on the toilet seat, if you're lucky) they don't know how to clean right... They wanna spend money on stupid stuff like motorcycles. Whatever y'all are smokin' that makes your man seem infallible, please, pass the blunt to the Cracker on the left.

If I were to write one to Ed, it'd go a little like this:

Dear Ed:

I'm glad you aren't as much of a douchecanoe as you used to be. A little douchiness is healthy, but you took it to a whole other level for awhile there.

I'm glad you're good at math and mechanics. Between my reading/writing skills and your math skills our kid has a fighting chance.

Speaking of mechanics, thanks for being one. You know, since I can't even change a tire and all.

I'll be glad when we can get the pool cleaned out. It's naaaasty. And it's already so hot outside, that water needs to warm up and be swimmable soon.

We've been together for 12 years in some way, shape or form. We've been through a lot. We haven't killed each other. I think we deserve a t-shirt or something. Yay, us!

Love, Mandy

Do I suck for being so... I don't know what I am. I can't say "real" cause, like I said, I know most of the people that write the sugar blogs aren't being FAKE. I guess it'd just be fake if *I* wrote that stuff.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I just wish I could "conform" to all the sweetness without everyone calling me out. (Y'all know you would. The second I wrote "My dearest daughter..." someone would be callin "Shenanigans" on my behind!)

It doesn't help I feel miserable. Sugar when I don't feel good never helps. When I feel like crap, treat me as you would a wounded animal: carefully approach me in a non-threatening posture, put a mirror under my nose to make sure I'm breathing, toss some food and water at me- maybe a pain killer or two- and then back away slowly.

I am SUCH a mess.

I need, like, Candy-Land Boot Camp or something.

Bringin' the cray-cray to the yay-yays (<-- Yankees)

It never ceases to amaze me at what the prospect of flying north for a week will do for me. Kelly isn't going to be able to make it down here for awhile- and I hadn't planned on going until August- so, we decided to switch. Ima visit in the spring and she'll come in the fall (which is really just "still dead ass summer" here)

The nice thing about Ed being in Lake City is I now have an easier ride to the airport in Jacksonville. THAT's nice because I would need to be independently wealthy to afford a ticket outta Tallanasty these days. But with Skymiles, I can fly (non-stop! holla!) in and out of Jacksonville at decent times for the bargain price of $185. Now DAT's what I'm talkin bout!

And not that the yay-yays need any help (and not that I drink) but I'll be arriving on Cinco de Mayo. Coincidence? I think not.

The Vikings won't be around (curses!) but we ARE going to see the Twins play the Angels. I even got our awesome seats again. That guarantees us a day in the Cities and at the Mall of America. (I'm terribly afraid that I'm going to run into the DSW store and start murmuring "Precious" while I pet the shoes. Kelly SHOULD keep me from such things. But if she doesn't, rest assured, she'll get pictures and post em for the whole dang free world to see.)

T'would appear as though it's time to get my tan on!

Random Crap

I'm tired y'all. I really don't know why. I haven't really had any stress... I've been sleeping, eh, decent, at night. Got more daylight now with the time change. What gives?

I'm also homesick. I miss Minnesota. Bad. I guess more accurately, I miss Kelly. Bad. This morning I saw a picture of the landscape up there and almost went to tears. Turns out she's been feeling the same way I am. It's clear- we are HOT messes without each other. Needless to say, as soon as I get the "ok" from Ed's parents that they can keep her for me, I'm bookin' that ticket. Now that Ed is going to be in Lake City, I can fly outta Jacksonville (for cheaper AND non-stop! *happy dance*) and have a ride there and back with no problem.

Oh! Ed got his transfer date! He'll be leaving warm and sunny Central Florida for warm and sunny North Florida! He has to report to Jacksonville on April 9th, but since he's in a service truck, he'll really be working all over. We aren't sure when the shop in Lake City is gonna open. Another bonus, he's gonna set up a little place out by my parents' house. We talked to them about it this weekend. Daddy seems real happy that Ed's going to be there. I know I am. It'll be so nice to not have to coordinate weekends. If he's not here, we'll be there. Another happy thought was Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is THE holiday for my family. Ed hasn't been there the past 2 Thanksgivings and it's been hard on me. Now, when I go over there, he'll be waiting on me. Same with Christmas.

Let's see. I've been reading a lot lately. If y'all need book recommendations, hit me up. That seems to be the way I pass my time. It's so peaceful, all curled up with my Kindle, completely engrossed in a book in my little house. Huh- maybe I'm too zen and THAT'S why I'm so tired?

No news on the Twatwaffle front- and that's a good thing. Apparently he and Princess Kit-Kat are still going strong. Snaps to them. Well, to her, for putting up with his antics. Maybe they're molded from the same material. I know I can think of a LOT of ex's of Ed's that can't believe he settled down with someone.

So CJ starts Kindergarten on August 20th. I can't decide whether to be thrilled or cry. I've known this day was coming since I had her, but it just came too fast! I am encouraged, though, that she'll do really well. Her VPK teacher said the only concern she had was that CJ needed to get outta VPK and go on to Kindergarten cause she's so smart. (Teacher's words- not mine. I swear.) We know she can hear and see, she can write her name (Colleen- not CJ- though she can write that too, of course) she can count, understand directions when you read em to her... all I can think is "Durn. I KNOW I didn't know this much when I was her age!"

I guess that's all for now. I hate that I'm not full of snark and sarcasm today, but I am just too dang tired! I'm gonna meander around the office and see if that helps.

Peace and Love.

American By Birth, Southern By the Grace of God

This weekend I went back home and partook in the festivities of the annual Olustee Battle Festival & Reenactment. As in a Civil War Reenactment. For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of a Civil War reenactment, go watch Sweet Home Alabama then come back and finish reading.

SO.

On Saturday my family and I went to the festival downtown. We clogged our arteries with Pulled Pork Sandwiches and Funnel Cakes, we watched the soldiers march down the parade route and we even went out to the battlefield to watch one of the reenactments. *

A little background on the Battle of Olustee: It was the largest Civil War battle fought on Florida soil and resulted in a major Confederate victory. This battle ended the Union invasion of Eastern Florida.

Y'all. I am a bonafied Daughter of the Confederacy. My grandfather's grandfather was a Confederate Captain. I'm a Daughter of the Confederacy and I'm damn proud of it.

What I am not, however, is a racist.

Apparently, the fact that I was at a reenactment of a battle that resulted in a Confederate victory and I was PROUD that it resulted in a Confederate victory makes me a racist.

I guess all of the black, Confederate reenactors are racist, too. I sure hope someone got them the memo.

So many people hear "Civil War" and think "Slavery". To fly the Confederate Battle Flag means you might as well be a member of the KKK.

REALLY?

Really?

Y'all, the Civil War was about states' rights. Slavery was but a small part of that equation. I have been to the north and lemme tell ya somethin- I have witnessed more racism and bigotry in the north than I EVER have down here. Sadly, racism is everywhere. And ironically, it's colorblind. It involves black people and white people and hispanic people and middle eastern people and all other kinds of peoples.

Yankees on their high horses go on and on about how awful us southerners are for being proud of our heritage, they say that we're MAD we lost the war and want slavery back. Most of our ancestors didn't own slaves.

Let me repeat that:

MOST OF OUR ANCESTORS DIDN'T OWN SLAVES.

I know my great-great granddaddy didn't. Prolly most of em didn't agree with slavery, either. They dang sure believed in the states' rights though. And that's why they fought.

Y'all ever heard of "Carpetbaggers"? No? Let me enlighten you: Carpetbaggers were Yankees who came down south during reconstruction and treated the southerners like trash.

Nothin' pisses me off more than hoity-toity Yankees (or anyone else for that matter) thinkin they're all that and a bag of Skittles because clearly WE (the southerners) are insensitive, racist bastards and they were just perfect lil angels. No, no, Yankees. Y'all were meany-heads too.

Y'all remember that little thing called the Revolutionary War? We got pissed at England and fought back. We won. We became a great nation. Do the British hate us? For the most part, no. They're among our strongest allies. Do we label Brits anti-American because of what their ancestors did? No. British soldiers fought for what they believed in just like American soldiers fought for what they believed in. The Civil War is no different. I bet the Brits are GLAD they lost- especially since it was their former territory that helped save their rear ends during WWII.

So I say all of THAT to say THIS: Just because I rooted on my boys in grey on Saturday don't mean I'm racist and I'm pissed off that we lost the war anymore than it means a Northerner who is proud they won the war is a Carpetbagger.

I am proud to be a southerner. I am proud of my heritage. I refuse to be ashamed of it. I am 110% against slavery, racism and anything else that resembles slavery and racism. We all have skeletons in our closet. The Yankees have the Carpetbaggers and we have Slavery. I know I joke about the "Yankee Varmints," but, I'm GLAD that the events happened in such a way as to unite our great country. I'm GLAD that I can hop a plane to Minnesota to see my BFF and my Twin and play in the snow (when they have it). And I know my BFF is happy to hop a plane to Florida and play in the warm water and bake at the beach.

Don't hate, y'all. Just... don't. Be proud to be American. Embrace ALL our history- even the ugly parts- because it helped make our country into the awesome piece of land it is today.

Et tu, Subconscious?

So two nights in a row I've had these long, vivid dreams. I don't know about y'all, but my dreams are always chopped up or don't follow along any sort of plot line. These dreams though, theeese were different. I can even remember thinking "Wow. This is a really long dream... and it makes sense. Freaky."

Saturday night I had a dream that certain people from a certain state that I frequent came to Florida to visit. A certain someone from that certain group of people from that certain state that I frequent was also here. That certain someone was dating their own certain someone. This whole dream sequence ends with me getting a kiss on the cheek, a smile and "I could get used to this." Then a REAL kiss that screamed "I love you. I've always loved you. I'm not going anywhere." *

* In my defense, I was reading City of Glass this weekend (It's part of The Mortal Instruments series, by Cassandra Clare. Read it. Better n' Twilight. Promise.) Anywho, in this particular part of the book, Clary and Jace were tortured because they loved each other and couldn't be together. I'd like to think that was a major contributing factor to the dream. I'd like to THINK that, but it's probably not true.

So I woke up yesterday morning feeling rested, peaceful and happy (since my dream had been so peaceful and happy). Then I realized it was a dream. Then I was sad. Then I did the whole pissed n' bitter thing again and cussed the bejezus outta my subconcious.

Then I went to church. Cause cussin' is wrong. Even if it's your own subconcious.

This brings me to last night: I watched the Super Bowl.*

*Madonna SERIOUSLY looked like She-Ra when she first came on stage, y'all. SHE-RA.

I ironed. I finished my book and started another one. I texted my BFF.

And then I found out that the certain someone from my dream the previous night wanted to bring his new girlfriend and her little girl to an upcoming birthday party. Ugh. Can I NOT escape all of this? (At least my BFF has my back. She's in charge of the shindig and assured me I would be rep-rah-zent-ed. *fist bump*)

I mulled all this over while I read and showered and did my end of the night stuff. I took my sleeping meds, but they didn't work. The only time THAT happens is when Gerty's acting up. So, a special shout out to Gerty for NOT HELPING MY ISSUES AT ALL, you hag!

I didn't fall asleep until past midnight.

Then my subconscious sucker punched me AGAIN.

It graced me with another long and vivid dream. Wait. Did I say dream? I meant nightmare. And yes, I'm going to bore you with it. Because I hate symbolism and I'm sick of this BS so I want someone else's opinion on WTF my subconscious has against me.

In this dream I was going out to help some scientists research this fault line in the ocean. The water was just pouring into it. It looked really cool actually. So we do our research and go back to the beach house.

I feel it important to note that there was no one in this dream that I knew. Just me and a bunch of faceless scientists.

So we're at the house and I look out the back window (which, incidentally is the back wall. The entire wall is glass) and I see this tsunami coming at us. I distinctly remember thinking "Well, you're researching a fault line just offshore, of course there's going to be a tsunami. Wow. That thing's gotta be 100ft high!") The guy that owns the house tells us not to panic, we're high enough that the water will miss us and the pillars of the house are embedded into the bedrock, so just hold on- the house was tsunami-proof. Sure enough, I feel the impact of the wave and see things underneath us wash out, but we're okay.

WHEW, right?

No.

No sooner did that wave pass then I look out and see another one coming for us. And another impact. And another impact. (Interestingly enough, all of the waves were the EXACT same height and looked EXACTLY the same. I even remember that the water was dark blue as it was coming at us) After about 3 or 4 waves the guy says "Ok, well the house wasn't built to withstand THIS much action, so we need to evacuate onto the boat"*

*Apparently, while my subconscious had no problems torturing me, it couldn't seem to come up with a plausible explanation as to WHY the boat was still there after 4 tsunamis. Whatevs, Subconscious. Whatevs.

So now we're on the boat. And the waves keep a comin'... and the boat keeps a rockin'. Cause we can't go anywhere. We're stuck. Something's wrong with the motor. So even though we aren't in the house anymore, we're still sitting ducks.

I was never really terrified. Just... TIRED. Instead of thinking "OMG! I'm gonna DIE!" I was thinking "Son of a... can't SOMEONE drop a nuke in that fault line and stop these gotdang tsunamis? I'm TIRED!"

The last wave was the worst, though, it actually completely rolled the boat. I DO remember thinking "Ok. Wow. Well, this one is gonna finish us off."

And then my alarm went off.

So I turned off the alarm AND WENT RIGHT BACK INTO THE DREAM WHERE I LEFT OFF.

That never happens. Once you wake up from a dream, you're up.*

*Or so I thought

Apparently Subconscious wasn't quite done torturing me.

So I go back into the dream*

*and remember thinking IN THE DREAM "Wow... this is a long snooze button. Shouldn't it be going off soon?"

and SOMEHOW that wave DIDN'T kill me. I was given an option: Stick around and figure out the cause of all the waves, or evacuate. I distinctly remember thinking "Nuh-uh. I know what caused all this to happen. I wanna go HOME!"

Then CJ, bless her, came in and woke me up. The reason I heard no snooze button, apparently, was I turned the dang alarm OFF. Thank the Maker I had only slept an extra 7 minutes past when I HAD to be up.

I felt like DEATH, y'all. Felt like I had LITERALLY stood on the shores and battled tsunami, after tsunami, after tsunami.

So I did what any reasonable person would do. I got to work and Googled the shiznit outta "Tsunami Dreams." Here's the jist of what I came up with:

Water in dreams symbolizes emotions. Tsunamis represent repressed emotions which can no longer be held back, or an emotional situation which is about to burst into the waking world. The fact that I kept facing the tsunami over and over again indicates a way of dealing with whatever emotions it represents. (So either the emotions keep coming back or Ima stand there like the stubborn witch I am till they go away. Prolly both.) Apparently the height of the wave symbolizes the size of the problems or emotions (lil’ wave=lil problem etc). I guess a 100ft wave is nothing to sneeze at, but it’s not like it’s 2012 or The Day After Tomorrow sized, ya know? So it’s a problem that needs to be handled, but isn’t catastrophic.

*My* guess is being upset about that certain someone yesterday and last night contributed. The anger and irritation keep coming up over and over again, so I keep facing it over and over again (like the wave). I’m not sure if the wave means that I’ve been dealing with it for a long time or I’m GOING to be dealing with it for a long time. Either way. Clearly, it’s bugging me.

Another hypothesis (offered up by a dear friend) was that the height of the waves indicated the height of my emotional investment. I know I'm strong, so I face them. But I also know that by doing so, I'm going to get banged up pretty bad. I know I have to go through it though, so I stand alone and face it (which explains why I was the only one I knew in the dream).

I'd like to think that means I'm kinda bad ass. Messed up in the head, sure. But kinda bad ass. I didn't run from it, at least. I faced it down. Over and over and over again.

I welcome anyone's thoughts on this. I'm tired of mine. I've tried being logical, reasonable, negotiable... but my subconscious just won't let go. And I don't know how to make it.

Bitter? Table for One?

Sometimes I hate being an only child.

Wait. Scratch that.

Sometimes I hate being spoiled.

Well... No. Scratch that too.

I really freakin' hate that even though I know I don't REALLY want something, I don't want anyone else to have it either.

There. That's better. I can admit it. That's the first step, right?

It's just that it's so dang frustrating when I can identify the problem, I know that it's not REALLY a problem- that I'm just being bitter and *thunk* I really shouldn't be bitter in the first place, so WTF, Mandy?!?

I don't like being bitter. It's not very becoming.

I ESPECIALLY don't like being bitter when I have absolutely no reason to be. And when my "reason" is irrational, oh OH how pissed I get.

So now I'm bitter and pissed. And I'm pissed that I'm bitter. Awesome. It's like the damn Circle of (F'd up) Life.

What am I bitter about, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. (Picture me with my head hung low in shame and embarrassment while I admit this, k? Thanks.)

I'm bitter because Twatwaffle is "in a relationship".

Yep. *smack* I know. I coulda had a V-8.

Nevermind the fact that I, too am in a relationship. A committed one. That I have no desire to get out of. With a man I've loved for many years, gone to hell and back with and had a child with. NEVERMIND the fact that Twatwaffle's record for longest running "relationship" is about, oh, a month? (<-- it ain't bitterness if it's true, y'all) NEVERMIND the fact that I DON'T EVEN FREAKING WANT TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH TWATWAFFLE.

I just don't want anyone else to be in one with him either. *pout*

Seriously. WTF? In what UNIVERSE does that make sense?

I feel like Emeril Lagasse on a bad trip: one part logic, one part common sense, mix in some faith and *BAM* irrational emotions! Say wha..? No, Emeril, that recipe doesn't sound right. A little less heroin and a little more garlic next time, ok buddy?

I've done everything I know to do (in no particular order):

- Counted my blessings

- Counted my money

- Counted my shoes

- Counted my Skymiles

I've made all the excuses:

"Not like anything was gonna happen anyways."

"He's a jerk, remember?"

"Uh... he's an inconsiderate, immature, brat."

"Probably the only reason he even came into your life was so you could meet your awesome Twin."

It ain't workin, y'all.

What more do I want? It's like I'm 4 and my cousin came over to play Barbies with me. She reaches for the Barbie that I haven't played with in months and was my least favorite Barbie to begin with, but as soooooon as she touches it... "That's MY Barbie, give it back! You can't have it." And it becomes the extra Barbie in the Ferrari that I crammed in between Skipper and that Hawaiian lookin' chick because she's NECESSARY to the pool party I'm planning so NO you can't have her back even if all she's doing is sitting there.

Know the sad part? (Besides that crappy analogy) I wasn't like that when I was a kid. I never had a problem sharing. I was always the generous one who said "Oh I haven't played with that Barbie in AGES, you can even take her home with you!" This is a recent development. Well, as recent as adulthood. We'll call it early 20s.

So I can't blame this on being an only child.

I can't blame it on "the one that got away" (Thanks, Katy Perry) I never "had it" in the first place.

I can't find anything to blame this feeling on except unsound logic! Which brings me back to being bitter and pissed and pissed that I'm bitter.

Ugh. This whole post made no sense. And I'm still bitter. And pissed.

Help? Anyone? Words of wisdom?

"No thanks, I'm full up in the retard department!"

I gotta give a shout out to my girl K for that title. And apologize for calling her hubby a retard when she offered him to me.

But that got me to thinking... A lot has happened since October, and I'm just not quite sure where to begin. I do know this, though: I really am full up in the retard department!

Development 1: Ed's home.

Well, he's not HOME home. But he is back in Florida. Bless him, his lil brain was not dealin' with cold and dark too well. Apparently he's more sensitive to the cold than I am. 40 degrees and this southern gal was walkin around in jeans and a sweater. He looked like Nanook of the North with his beanie hat and gloves and 25 jackets. The worst part was the dark, though. He had to be at work at 7am and most times it was after 7pm when he got off of work. That far north, the sun doesn't rise until about 8:45am and sets at 4pm. Poor boy never saw the first ray of sunshine. That's not healthy. He was on the verge of death. (For reals, he had about one more day left before he OD'd) I was up there over Christmas and we made the decision to bring him home. It just wasn't worth risking his life anymore. He's in Tampa now, living with his sister and her family and training for his new job with a heavy equipment company. This company has great benefits and a great future for him. Best of all, when he's done training, they'll send him back up this way to work in a service truck, so he'll be all up and down the I-10 corridor. Yay!

Development 2: I have a twin!

Not in looks, but in just about every other way. Same interests, same shoe size, same ring size, same way of thinking. I HAVE to be the luckiest girl in the world. I have my BFF in Minnesota (who is such the polar opposite of me that we compliment each other) and I have my carbon copy twin in Minnesota. The first time I ever met her was last month when I flew up there, even though we'd been talking for months before that. I'm even gonna be in her wedding next year. The connection was THAT instant.

Development 3: Thanks to my twin, the twatwaffle problem has been solved.

It's this development that made me realize that everything really DOES happen for a reason. My twin and I started talking randomly because of a mutual friend. Come to find out, my twin knew twatwaffle. She knew him well. She knew him well because he tried to hook up with her.

Let me repeat that for all you fast readers: She knew him well because he tried to hook up with her.

Within a week of when she and I started talking, I decided to confide in her about the twatwaffle... and my confusion over some of the actions I was observing. That's when it allllll started to unravel. I will say this: The odds of him getting caught were on the slim side of none. He was playing with fire, but the fire was on opposite ends of the country. "Of all the gin joints in all the world..." right?

I woulda taken that bet. And I woulda LOST. Just like he did.

Interestingly enough, about the time that my twin and I put two and two together (Twatwaffle was just bouncing back and forth between us, seeing whichever one he could, when he could.) Ed started to really get it in gear. We'd had a rough few weeks since he'd moved up north. He'd been pretending he was 23 and hot to trot, when really he was 33, overweight and officially the "old creepy guy" that hit on younger girls. I won't begrudge him his mid-life crisis. But I can tell you it didn't set well with me. Luckily, it all worked out. As did the twatwaffle situation. I gained a twin and a lot of perspective

Development 4: I may be full up in the retard department, but he's MY retard in MY department.

Bless his heart, Ed has a lot of learning to do. But he's trying. Oh, how he's trying. I honestly do the "face palm" move at least 3 times a day when it comes to him, but I know without any doubt in my mind, that man loves me more than just about anything. He's got a long road to wander down... he's still got a lot of learning to do. But we'll do it together. No man will ever love our daughter more than him. That one thing keeps me going when I just wanna smack him.

Development 5: How the heck did my kid get to be 5 so fast?!?

WTF, Life? Slow the heck down. There's no rush. Can I please enjoy my one and only offspring just a little longer before she becomes smarter than me? Yeesh. Next Thursday is gonna be here before I know it!

Development 6: The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I am still vain, I am still a size 4 and I am still (sorta) hoarding my money.

Development 7: Maybe I shoulda gone to law school after all.

That guy that hit my car last summer? He got a careless driving ticket. I totally disagreed- those lights are timed for SHIZNIT and if you don't drive that route DAILY, you are just askin' to be another victim of the City of Tallahassee's piss poor traffic engineering department. So like a good lil samaritan (and by good lil samaratin I mean scared to death of the karma fairy) I went to traffic court with him last week and got him outta his ticket. I believe the judge's exact words were "I'm not gonna argue with the love fest... y'all have a nice day." The kid still can't believe his good luck and my karma point cup runneth over.

(My boss actually asked me the next day if I'd 'given that whole goin' to law school thing any thought' I told him that yes, yes I had. I had thought about it and filed it under "Things to do when I'm rich and have nothing better to do with 3 years of my life." Seriously, these people pay ME to learn the tricks of the trade, yet I don't have any student loans, work bankers hours and get to enjoy my vacations. Law school? Negative, Ghostrider. I got it TOOOOO good.)

Development 8: Mama drives a Yukon now.

Only temporarily. Ed bought one when he was up north. (He claimed it was for the Four wheel drive, I claim it was because Ed wanted something new) Either way, that mo fo sucks down fuel quicker than Lindsey Lohan at a frat party so I GRACIOUSLY told Ed that he could borrow ALexus for his commuting needs down south and *I* would selflessly drive the purdy gas guzzler with the booty warmers.

Development 9: Booty warmers are the best. invention. EVER.

Nothing warms you up faster than getting into a toasty warm seat on a cold morning. Nuff said.

Development 10: For once in my life, I really can't complain.

I mean, I COULD, but none of it's legit. Never fear though, as the political season ramps up I am SURE that I will be on here ranting and raving about some stupid candidate that has gotten all up in my craw.

I promise to do a better job of updating this year. Things got so crazy the last part of 2011, that I couldn't even stop to breathe (which could have been a contributing factor in all them panic attacks)

XOXO