Date:	2006-06-16 14:16
Subject:	Faith
Security:	Public
Mood:	amused

Annabel, age 4: What's that say? (pointing to words on my ring)
me: It says "faith."
Annabel: Oh. What's faith?
me: (thinking how to explain this to a 4 year old) Faith is when you believe something even if you can't really see it or touch it.
Annbael: Oh. I think that's a great idea!
me: Me too, honey.


And this is why I keep taking babysitting jobs.

Date:	2006-05-18 02:27
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	exhausted

Flat tire
Originally uploaded by dancindeac.

Date:	2006-05-16 07:03
Subject:	Donkeys make horses feel more comfortable
Security:	Public
Mood:	relaxed

I assumed that when I was no longer employed, I'd be sleeping in a little bit later than this. My little feline friends have been rendering sleep impossible ever since I came home. I got home on Sunday, in time for a little mother's day fete, which was wonderful - can't remember the last time I was actually home to celebrate with my mommy. Yesterday Katie and I puttered around Pittsford, doing all the things you do when you live in the boonies - wandering around the mall, petting the neighbor's donkey, amusing yourself by turning on the treadmill when the cats are lounging on it - you know, good old fashioned suburban fun. We had lunch at Aladdin's on the canal, which was deeeelicious but I wish the weather was nicer so we could have walked on the canal. It's so nice schlepping around in sock feet and glasses without an agenda. It's contrary to everything in my nature to just let a whole day go by without doing anything productive, but I gotta admit, it was pretty damn nice. Today is lunch with my Daddy, and then over to my aunt's house for a quiltling lesson. Yeah I actually turned 85 today, not 24. Yes, that's right, a quilting lesson.

Date:	2006-05-12 19:57
Subject:	If we took a holiday
Security:	Public
Mood:	bouncy
Music:	OMD - If You Leave

Totally anticlimatic last day of work. I didn't show up til 10 (dentist appt, not totally slacking) and I left at 3. I did nothing but clear off my computer, put my feet up on my windowsill and chat on the phone, and took a long walk around Lafayette Park. Productive, eh? My boss asked me to stay on as a temporary, part-time consultant; I guess they're going to do a continuation of the pandemic flu preparedness survey I did in January and want me to stay on to help with it. Works for me - if I get this other job, I won't start til September so that's perfect. Clearly, my flu expertise has become institutionally renown. Then I left at 3. I said goodbye to one person. I shed zero tears. I did manage to finagle a bunch of boxes from a recent Office Depot shipment. That was exciting to carry home on the Metro.

The roomie demonstrated some amazing culinary prowress tonight: deeeelicious shrimp pad thai. Yummmm. Now I am just sitting here anxiously awaiting my departure to Regan to go pick up my man. Being the best girlfriend ever that I am, I got him "Walk the Line" and 2 tickets to The Da Vinci Code (thank you fandango) as a happy first year of med school done slash happy first year of us dating slash happy no more long distance. Mucho to celebrate this week - all of that, a graddyation, an almost birthday, and a wonderful year of living in DC with one of my best friends (and not killing each other - amazing, I know.) I think I am officially ready for the weekend to start.... now.

Date:	2006-05-11 18:03
Subject:	I know a movie star
Security:	Public
Mood:	hyper
Music:	Guster - Barrel of a Gun

I just went to go put my sneaks on for a run and realized that it's raining out. Rats. So in lieu of exercise, I instead ate half a bag of chocolate chips. Woops. Good work, self. Does dancing around to Shakira count as cardio? It's going to have to today - I'm only at 9,031 steps.

Work has basically become pointless. Everyone is on vacation - my boss, my colleague that I work most directly with, and our president. I took an hour lunch break to wander around Barnes & Nobles and still left at 4, and no one noticed. If I didn't show up tomorrow would anyone realize it? Doubtful. But I'm the eternal goody-two-shoes and I will.

Packing is about my least favorite hobby. I'm making slow progress. Very. very. slow.

It's possible I may be employed. I have to wait until said place of employment gets a thumbs up from the NIH that they have their dinero and then the "gentleman's agreement" that I have can officially become a dotted line to sign on. Huge sigh of relief. No selling out to the pharma industry. And, in further happy moving news, one of my girlfriends from Wake just got into their business school and is moving back in August. A job! A friend! Perhaps the universe is conspiring with me.

I am so excited for Matt to get here tomorrow - even though I've seen him once a month in the last 6 months it's always been on vacations or with family or, you know, in a 3rd world country with a group of 15 people from his church. Not too much down time. I'm so psyched just to be able to hang out with him and be a normal-esque couple. We're going to see the baby panda on Saturday and have lunch at booey's - two more things on the DC-to-do list.

Back to packing. Boo. That is on the not fun to do list.

Date:	2006-05-11 08:54
Subject:	A change would do you good
Security:	Public
Mood:	contemplative

I knew it would hit me - just didn't know when. When turned out to be about 4:00 pm on the middle of my last week of work, as I sat indian style on the floor, flanked on either side by file folders chronicling my successes, my failures, my learning curves and my newly acquired expertise. Some in the recycle bin, some made into pdf's to go with me, some into the filing system for the boss to come back to once my institutional memory departs.

I'm terrible at transitions. I was the only kid who never got excited about new stuff because it meant I had to give up the old, the safe stuff. Even when the new stuff had pink streamers and a basket on the front... nope, here's Meghan, crying on her 10th birthday because she got a new bike.

Needless to say I've been counting down the days to Last Day of Work since about, um, January AND I'm beside myself psyched to be sharing a zip code with my love. Regardless of all the yay's, I knew there was a little part of me that was going to freak out at some point. I've held up remarkably well so far. At this point last year, as my academic career came screeching to a halt and I was choosing between jobs and between cities I was an absolute train wreck. Waterproof mascara was a staple in May 05. This year - I've been smooth sailing. Not even a 'rita has sent this girl into an emotional downward spiral. And I think I'm going to remain pretty stable, mostly because I'm so psyched about what's to come.

But, regardless, here I am getting sniffley at the sight of manila folders. I am leaving a pretty cushy job - frustrating, but cushy. Lots of independence, employers who for some reason really really like me (as evidenced by both of my bosses getting ... teary eyed?... when I said I was leaving), and a decent paycheck for fairly low stress activity. I'm closing a chapter of independence, and moving into a chapter of sharing. As the middle child, I'm quite adept at this and am looking forward to the perks of having someone to split the grocery bill and the bottle of wine with. But as the middle child, I don't like waves in my water and I'm doing my best to keep treading until I get settled again and the waters grow still again.

So in the meantime, bear with me. I'm just trying to stay afloat during the transition.

Date:	2006-05-10 06:07
Subject:	It's Complicated
Security:	Public
Mood:	content
Music:	Something Corporate - She Paints Me Blue

Yesterday was a very long day in the midst of a very short week. Lots to do at work in the next few days - baking all the lasagnas and putting them in the freezer with directions on how to preheat the oven so my boss doesn't starve once I'm gone. He keeps looking sadly at me and shaking his head and going "I don't know what I'm going to do without you." For starters, he's going to have to learn to take notes, organize his calendar and his filing system, and hire an in-house nag to remind him when deadlines approach. Part of my job title should have been overpaid admin. I had one last "official business" related task, a strategy meeting for an event I helped plan but won't be around for. Somewhat surreal that I won't be here for it since I feel like this event is like my child that I've helped raise, and now I'm leaving the nest before it's even walking. Flattering that I was still at the table for this last meeting since I've otherwise entered total lameduck status. The meeting was productive, except that I had a full bladder the entire 2 hours and 47 minutes. A little tough to concentrate. At the table was with the rep from one of the grants that we have, from a large pharma company, and at the end of it, he was asking me about my future employment plans (a big fat question mark) and mentioned his company was hiring if I was interested. I'm not - interested in the company - but the finacials of the job are very sexy. Oof. And suddenly I've become that girl trying to decide if money > personal satisfaction. (Jessie, here's where I need you to be reading and convince me not to become a public health sellout.)

With just three weeks to go in DC, I've got a long list of DC-must-do's before I go. Apparently this included figuring out how to navigate the metrobus system. I don't know why, I had no fear tackling the metro, but plop me down at a bus stop and suddenly I become the suburban girl I am, anxiously clutching my purse, checking the schedule every three or four minutes to make sure I'm on the right route, and worrying that I won't have exact change and the bus driver is going to yell at me. My fears were ridiculous, the bus system was not only easier than the metro, it was cleaner, quieter, and had nicer upholstery. At least route 5B western did. And it saved me from sitting in stand-still traffic on I-66 out to McLean. Thank you, metrobus. Em is out there for dealer academy (car dealer) so that's what incited my Brave Irene adventure in public transportation. I can't believe it was that easy to get out there all along and I never made it out there. Probably a good thing, Tyson's Corner is a mecca of temptations that a poorly paid girl like myself just can't be visiting on a regular basis. It was great to see Em, although when we see each other it never feels like much time has elapsed given that the six of us (winos) email on our listserve so many times a day I know exactly what's going on in their lives down to the minute, including fights with bosses, cravings for sour patch kids, what outfit they're wearing and daily debates over to latte versus not to latte. So yeah - there's no "so how are you" catch up when we see each other.

Speaking of email, my cousin just turned 15 and is nearly impossible to have a conversation with. At family dinners, she mopes and fights with her Mom and picks at her food. In other words, she's a normal teenager. I was telling my mom how I wish I could figure out a way to connect with her, because she doesn't get along with her mom at all and I know when I was that age everything was tailspin-worthy drama and I always wished I had a big sister to talk to. Lightbulb went off - how did I (sadly) communicate with most of my friends when I was 15? On instant messenger. (Some things never change.) I found her on myspace and sent her a message, and now of all sudden I've found myself thrust into a world of deciding which prom dress to wear, Chad Michael Montgomery crushes and boyfriend drama. Yeah, how much did I not love being 15? Now she's asking me advice about boyfriends, and I'm trying to keep my brain in early high school mode (except that I was too scared to talk to boys at that age) and not think like the 24 year old I am and trying to keep up in this new world of high school relationships where you can break up with your significant other by changing your status on facebook to "it's complicated." Because when you're 15, it is.

Do not mix [Ambien] with Phenergan or else little green men may try to kidnap you, your dog may tell you to kill your wife, and you may hallucinate that your clothes are on fire causing immediate disrobing. Basically, it can get embarrassing. Especially if you are a Congressman. Even more so if you are a Kennedy.

Someone needs to look at the karotype of this fam. Something has gone totally haywire in this gene pool. How can one family produce so many prone-to-disaster offspring?

On a totally tasteless note, my daily commute home brings me right by First and C. I feel that little sparkle of importance that you can't help but feel when you're in near proximity to a celebrity/disaster/news event/Kennedy.

Date:	2006-05-05 09:26
Subject:	Size Matters
Security:	Public
Mood:	contemplative

The downward evolution of sizes illustrates the extent to which retailers, apparel manufacturers, and designers are conforming to American women's obsession with wanting to be thin -- even if it's only in their minds.

I noticed that this was happening on my last shopping trip. I went into Banana with my friend Katie who was trying to sell me on a pair of jeans that she insisted would make my butt look amazing. She handed me a 4 and pointed me in the direction of the dressing room.

"Um, sweetheart. I appreciate the compliment, but I need a 6."

"Shut up and take the 4. Here, take a 2 also."

"I swear, I'm not being that girl, I just really wear a 6."

"You wear a 4."

I took the 4 to humor her and planned to shuffle out of the dressing room with the jeans stuck somewhere around mid-thigh in order to prove my point that 4's were for sophomore year of college when I thought I wanted to do dance team and ran everyday.

Lo and behold, they fit.

Loosely.

While I jumped back into my size 8 Gap low-rise, I wondered if this downsizing of tags was occuring universally, or if Banana was just catering to a demographic that had been in abudance at Wake: the skinny obsessed. I don't shop enough to know if this has been pervasive throughout the malls, but apparently the B. Globe confirms 'tis.

Meanwhile, if you happen to be going bridesmaids dress shopping, prepare for a tag shock of the reverse. Bridesmaid dresses are still sized based on 1950s dress patterns. My size 8 friend nearly cried when she marked a 16 down on her form, until she peeked over at mine and saw I was a size 12 in the eyes of the poofy taffeta beholders.

Why does the number matter so much to us? (I assume that this post will get a brief glance over from my male consituency, and only those with the double X will remain to read.) When I see women who look like they're squeezed into their pants like sausage, and I wonder if they have to hold their breath the entire day, I wish I could just tell them how much skinnier they would look if they just bought a bigger pair of pants that flattered their shape better. But apparently to some women wearing the right number is more important than, say, sufficient respiration.

One thing I can't help but wonder about with this downsizing - what are the real size 0's left to do? Yes, I realize everyone who weights over 120 pounds probably is thinking to themselves "screw them skinnyminnies," but really - if a size 0 is really the measurements of a size 4 now, what is the real size 0 wearing? A double 00? A negative 2? I assume I need not point out the irony of our clothing sizes headed towards the negative numbers as our waistlines head anywhere but there.

And, because I never fully take off my health promotion hat, what does this say about our willingess to accept personal responsiblity for our nation's bulging waistline? Rather than accept the fact that we don't fit in our clothes anymore and actually, gasp, doing something about it, we'll just let the clothing companies take out a few stitches and make things a little more roomier for us? Sounds like a plan.

Next up, elastic waistbands at Banana?

Date:	2006-05-04 20:57
Subject:	Board Meeting
Security:	Public
Mood:	amused
Music:	Phish - Stash

Observations from the Board Room

On bad puns:
Anna: so I just read your away message and I said to myself, "board? more like bored!!!" And then I proceeded to laugh at myself.....wow, i need to get out!

On kids growing up too fast:
Chair of the Policy Committee: We've been given a certain amount of funding to establish prioritization of clinical guidelines for chlamydia screening in the sexually active population, starting around age 6 and up...

On how to disagree like a gentleman:
Policy chair to founder of our company: Senator, with all due respect, I just want to say that you're completely and utterly wrong on this issue.

On inappropriate times to make a joke:
My boss to the chairman of the board: Chairman, given your role as the director of the LA County Department of Public Health, can you tell me what your interface with the LA Counter Terrorism Unit has been?

Date:	2006-05-03 12:44
Subject:	I'm 33% done accomplishing
Security:	Public
Mood:	satisfied
Music:	Josh Gracin - Favorite State of Mind

I came across this list in my journal, dated May 1, 2001, of all the things I wanted to do before I bite it. I'd forgotten about this, but nonetheless have managed to check about 30% of my "goals" off in the last 5 years.

Here's the list:

Learn Swedish
Go to Sweden
√ Triathlon: August 11, 2002 & September 18, 2005
√ Marathon: October 29, 2002
√ Learn to cook well: a few years of living alone will do it
√ Learn to budget: thank you Quicken, best thing ever for my bank account
Learn how to pay my taxes
Invest
Learn how to change a tire
Make a quilt
Write a book
? Dance again: I think I meant in a studio, but I'd say meeting the winos put a good dent in this one...
Surf
Learn American Sign Language
Teach English abroad
Build a house
Rock climb
√ Become ACE certified: May 2003
√ Live alone: Durham Summer 2002, Baltimore August 2004-June 2005, soon to be WS June 06
Live in Colorado
√ Learn to Golf: I'm horrendous, but I took lessons - Summer 2004

Now I'd add to the list:

Visit the Greek Islands
Own my own business
Marry my best friend
Raise kids as well as my parents did

Hmm, I better get busy. Looks like I need to hire a Swedish tutor and lace my ballet shoes back up!

Date:	2006-05-01 20:39
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	content
Music:	Sox - Yankees game

Awkward (v.) Sitting in front of a crowd of middle-aged women, silent except for the clinking of spoons stirring splenda into ice tea glasses, tearing through presents, lifting casserole dishes and flatware from boxes, holding them aloft, reading off cards, passing present on to bystanding bridesmaid who stack and organize in leftover pottery barn bags, sweating under the glare of the waitstaff waiting to turn the tables over for dinner, wondering if this is really how it's supposed to be.

See also: bridal shower.

I'm not sure if it was the setting (snooty country club), the guests (mostly the bride's future mother's-in-law friends) or the time frame (2 hours to open 50+ presents) but that was certainly the most awkward bridal shower I've ever attended. Though I've only attended two, this one was so awkwardly awkward I can't imagine something else topping it. The bride-to-be kept muttering through gritted teeth at me "is this seriously how this is supposed to be?" while bridesmaid number #1 lifted tape to expedite the unwrapping process, I took notes on the person-gift pairs and made the bow bouquet, and bridesmaid #3 stacked boxes for the groom to schlep out to waiting cars. Awk.ward. However, they made out pretty well, so well that I'm pretty sure B's pantries won't hold everything she got and I graciously volunteered to "store" a few things for her, namely a few Crate and Barrel serving platters and a coffee maker with more features on it than my car's dashboard. Note to self: when getting married, invite a lot of rich old ladies to your shower. You don't even have to know them. They don't have to know you. They just have to have a bottomless cup of iced tea in front of them to clink-clink-clink while they gaze at you with a look so glassy you consider sending your maid of honor over to take a pulse.

The rest of the weekend was much more fun though. The weather was perfect in Pittsburgh. After our exhausting conveyor belt routine in the morning, we all went back to B's house and plopped out on patio furniture with a bottle of chilled Pinot Gris... and immediately fell asleep. There are few things more delicious than a nap in the sun. Then we ambled over to SouthSide Works, which is a relatively new area in Pittsburgh. It's one of those new urbanism communities, where they are building residential, retail and commerical properties all within one area to try and foster more community-like areas of a city. I like the concept, and this area is especially pretty. However, if I lived within walking distance of an Urban Outfitters, it'd be bad news bears for my wallet. Fortch, I have myself on a strict you're-about-to-be-unemployed budget, so despite the 2 hour wait at Cheesecake Factory that we spent wandering in and out of stores, I resisted temptations of the shopping kinds. Cheesecake Factory was, as usual, a stomachache waiting to happen.

I'm very excited for this wedding. I feel like two of my best friends are getting married. I met B the first the week of school, during orientation, when we were both completely cranky and wandering Old Salem around after the bad idea of orientation known as the bus tour of downtown WS. Our first conversation was about her long distance boyfriend at MIT and how much she missed him. I immediately thought there was no way we would ever be friends, because all this girl did was talk about her boyfriend. 6 years later, 4 rooms, 8 car trips back and forth to college, 7 formals, countless date functions, six trips to Myrtle Beach, one trip to Barcelona, one visit in Florence, numerous late nights eating too much, laughing too much, crying too much - and she still won't stop talking about her damn boyfriend. Warning: the moment someone begins uttering Corinthians at this wedding, I will most certainly be crying buckets. Boyfriend, you have permission to disown me for a few hours if need be.

Date:	2006-04-28 21:59
Subject:	Two Weeks Notice
Security:	Public
Mood:	relieved
Music:	The Boy Least Likely To - Paper Cuts

I gave my official two week notice today at work. It went much better than I expected. I'm not sure what I anticipated, perhaps a defenestration or something equally venegeful, but it was a very amicable split. I was able to deliver my "it's not you, it's me" line with sincerity (when I'm nervous I tend to get a little teary eyed - usually this makes for awkward situations, here it was quite advantageous). My boss actually began ticking off contacts he had in NC, and promised me he'd circulate my resume. I'm still keeping that orange apron on the back burner just in case, but it's refreshing to know there's a few more people in health promotion down there who I haven't already nagged to death. It was quite a relief to finally tell them all and get it out in the open. Our president, who I told first, was very surprised and seemed very bummed (which was hard - I hate letting people down), but my direct boss's response was a flippant "yeah, I kinda figured." Apparently his wife a few weeks ago clued him in... serious boyfriend in another state plus upcoming graduation equals very probable move. Women know these things. Now it feels official, but it also feels a little bit surreal. Two weeks til unemployment time. Four weeks til I'm a southerner again. Wow.

Date:	2006-04-28 09:20
Subject:	The only problem is ...
Security:	Public
Mood:	excited
Music:	Third Eye Blind - Jumper

Recently, one of my best friends went on her first date post v. traumatic break up with boyfriend of a year. I was a smidge nervous for her, as the first date after a break up can always be a little tumultuous. A few glasses of wine, and suddenly you're weeping into your bruschetta and telling the poor lad all about that wretched bastard, and he's signaling the waiter and ushering you quickly into his car to take you home, but not to his home, just to your home, because tears = man repellent.

Not that I'd know. I'm just assuming these things can happen.

The first date after a break up rarely goes well, but it's an important first step in the enlightening process of realizing your ex might not have been the greatest thing since sliced bread and canned beer and, yes Virginia, there are other guys out there.

I didn't hear from her at all last night, until 8:30 this morning when we all received this email from her.

From: X
To: the girls
Subject: Re: deeeeeeeeets!
Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2006 08:39:27 -0400

wow...thats about all i have to say. i had the most fun i've had in a while, the date lasted 7 hours, we TOTALLY hit it off, so that made it even more fun. he is just so interesting and interested in me, and we're going out again next week. he's very attractive and basically hes still single b/c his job always made him travel the world (darn), but hes ready to settle down and get a normal schedule. oh yes, and his manners were impeccable.

the only problem is that i can tell hes loaded.

Yes, all girls just hate when they go out on dates with attractive, interesting, rich men.

Sigh. Too bad I don't think this one will be going anywhere. ;-)

Date:	2006-04-27 18:30
Subject:	No Such Thing as a Free Lunch
Security:	Public
Mood:	chipper
Music:	Tim McGraw - Something Like That

Lately, I've been missing my metro stop. I'm approaching my one year anniversary as a Metro rider (and expecting that on that celebrated day when I step up to the Metro platform not only will the door perfectly line up with me but balloons, confetti and clowns will spring forth when the doors open), so one would not expect with this near-veteran status I'd have that whole tourist-glancing-up-at-every-stop routine still going on. Why this sudden onset of cluelessness?

I got a library card.

I had kind of forgotten about the library, at least in that whole "checking out books to read" functionality of a library. Sure I was quite acquainted with the library system for my four years of higher education activities, in fact it was quite the hub of social activity on our campus, but in those days I did everything in power to not have to remove any articles from the library. The library, in the last few years, has been no more to me than a building where one drags their laptops to work on a monstrosity of a paper, ambles around looking for a internet connection, finds one, plugs in, pull out a bag of bulk candy and begins checking away messages.

Growing up, however, my mom used to schlep us off to the library every other Saturday morning or so. She'd take her huge L.L. Bean canvas bag - the one that was so big both Katie and I probably could have crawled inside it- and we'd be allowed to take home as many books as the bag could hold. Mom, you want to know why you have back problems? Here's where it started. 25plus hardcover books = heavy. Sad thing was though, I read every single book I took out of the library, sometimes three or four times. As I got older and graduated into the YA section, I decided it would become my new mission to read every single book on the shelves there. (There were only 4 shelves for the YA section, but I still contend that this was fairly ambitious for a 12 year old.) I started up at the top and would take home about 6 books at a time, and I became extremely disgruntled when I'd return back to my shelves and find that I hadn't gotten through the first 6, because someone had had one of the A books, one of my books home with them. I made through about the C's before middle school set in, and suddenly I was going to activity nights with Alexis, Krissy and Jenn instead of cuddling up on my bed with Blume, Spinelli and Lowry. I still read avidly, throughout high school and college, but avid soon became one book every few months instead of every few days, and books were bought on trips to B&N with Mom, waiting in airports, or borrowed from girlfriends.

A few months ago I was leaving CVS and I decided to go home a different route. I turned left instead of right outside CVS and before I knew it was standing in front of the library. It'd been awhile since I've been in a town library, but I seemed to recall that getting a library card was obscenely easy so I ambled in. An hour later, I staggered out, new library card in hand, five books shoved in my gym bag.

Mom, keep that doctor's number on speed dial please.

Here's the beautiful thing about the library. It's free! I swear this to you. My AP Econ teacher used to drill into us "there is no such thing as a free lunch." This same man promised our class a trip to Hooter's once we finished our AP exam and was known to pause class to comment on the fine looks of his female students. In sum, perhaps not the man whose words you want to live and die by. Nonetheless, I've found that this aphorism has been more or less true throughout my short life. Literally, free lunches at Hopkins meant sitting through a meeting on community-based participatory research on needle-sharing in East Baltimore. "Lovely Greek salad you featured today Professor, but the conversation was a mood killer." Free alcohol? Bad first date. Free dinner? Working late at the office. Free insurance quote? Your verizon minutes sabotaged by insurance companies for the next 18 days. (Yep, still bitter.) Free month subscription? Buy the other 11. You catch my drift. For all intents and purposes, I can't figure out how the library free book system is somehow secertly biting me in the arse, the way all other freebies do. Sure there's library fines - but that's only if you're a slacker. I mean, you can go online and renew your books. If you're reading this blog, then you know how to renew your books. I guess one could contend that my taxes pay for the library, but I feel as if that's a weak arguement - my paycheck is going to be taxed for something regardless, and I'd rather have it be the libes than like, um, I dunno, a pointless war. So yeah... free books. Free freaking books! When you're little kid, you don't quite grasp the beauty of this. When you're 8 years old, everything is free. Sure maybe you have to buy that little ice cream cup with the wood stick spoon for 25 cents, but let's be serious - you don't appreciate the value of free stuff basically until the day you stand in the doorway of your dorm and hug Mom and Dad goodbye, and they press 50 bucks in your hand, and you realize with a panicky awakening, that that 50 bucks has to last you until Christmas break. Then you get into the real world and it gets even worse. There's thing little thing called rent, and suddenly your swipe card from the cafeteria won't put food on the table, and wait, you mean if I leave all the lights on, I have to pay more? Never is free appreciated more than your first few year out of college.

In sum, I've already overemphasized what a bookworm I am, so the fact that I have just re-awoken to the idea that my favorite hobby is actually quite wallet friendly has been a beautiful, beautiful revelation. A revelation that has, in the last 3 months, taken me two stops past Capitol South about four times. As my Amazon wishlist continues to go longer, I imagine my walks home will as well.

Date:	2006-04-26 16:58
Subject:	a little bit pride, a little bit shame
Security:	Public
Mood:	amused
Music:	Kenny Chesney - Summertime

I sound a little bit like a fraternity boy mid-power hour bragging about how many beers I can drink, but considering this is in reference to a group that was more than half comprised of those closer to social security than social life, it's pretty amusing.

mom: guess how many cases of beer were bought last week by our clan?
megs: how many?
mom: cmon guess
megs: who stopped drinking long enough to count?
megs: umm, 12
mom: well the 2 is right
mom: 22
megs: good night
megs: did we get a personal thank you note from anaheuser-busch company last week?
mom: should have!!
mom: no wonder none of them have a functioning liver!
megs: hey speak for yourself, jennifer's is just fine, remember? and while you're remembering, can you open her bottle of pinot for her?
mom: all in all, for that many relatives, it was a pretty good week!
megs: i know, lord know how we do that every year and always want to come back

Yep, I do love my fam.

There is no greater joy then when the Metro comes to a stop with the doors perfectly in front of you.

Date:	2006-04-25 16:45
Subject:	an' i got ta thinkin', girl, you're interferin' with my drinkin'
Security:	Public
Mood:	happy
Music:	Blake Shelton - Playsboys of the Southwestern World

Country Music I Am Loving Right Now and You Should Be Too:

SheDaisy - I'm Taking the Wheel
Blake Shelton - Playboys of the Southwestern World
Tim McGraw - Stars Go Blue (Ryan Adams cover)
Rascal Flatts - Pieces, What Hurts the Most, Me & My Gang
Trent Tomlinson - Drunker than Me
Brad Paisley - The World
Little Big Town - Bring It On Home
Dixie Chicks - Not Ready to Make Nice, I Hope
Jamie O'Neal - I Love My Life
Kenny Chesney - Summertime

edit... how did I forget these?
Joe Nichols - Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off
Trace Adkins - HonkyTonk Badonkadonk, Rough & Ready

Date:	2006-04-25 15:10
Subject:	Alan Jackson don't need no stinkin health care
Security:	Public
Mood:	annoyed
Music:	SheDaisy - I'm Taking the Wheel

As many of you may know I will soon be joining the ranks of the "unemployed" and with that will swiftly and stingily come the title "uninsured." I have been doing abundant research to try and remedy this scenario, and although I have thus been denied by more health insurance companies than a Theta Chi at a Kappa party, I remain persistent. Last week, my stunningly brilliant boyfriend used his doctor prowess to search on this beautiful machine called "google" and came up with a health insurance provider that does not preclude people from getting a rate quote the second you utter the words "pre-existing condition." (Apparently the kryptonite for health insurance applications. Damn you, wretched immune system/colon.) I filled out all the necessary drop down menus (which took me nearly 20 minutes as "DC" was listed right above West Virgina in the state drop-down box) and no sooner had I hit send that my cell phone started buzzing merrily away. With my new friend Leon's help, I filled up two pages of the memo pad I stole from the Marriot last weekend taking notes and scrutizning every angle of this so-called medical discount program. Now I'm a fairly well educated person when it comes to health care, some may even say that I've mastered health care, but I have to say these plans simply boggle my mind. Thus, Leon and I played 20 questions until he cried Uncle! and I felt that I had sufficiently determined that I was not going to be signing my life away to a worthless plan. I signed on the dotted line, with the understanding that I should I find employment before my current insurance runs out, I'm under no obligation. Feels a bit like a TV infomercial sales pitch, but whatevs. It's got prescription benefits and a PPO and I didn't qualify for Medicaid (I checked) so it's gonna have to fly for now. Since signing my life away to my good friends at 1-800-health-insurance, I've now received approximately 8-13 phone calls a day from the same provider. The first three times I was genial, as I was told that the system had not yet updated to say that Leon had indeed made his tidy commission off me and every Sam, Dick and Harry Health Insurance Sales Dude could stop calling. The system apparently updates every 24 hours. To me, this is not efficient, but I think I have learned through "experience" and by "experience" I mean my current job, that there are plenty of businesses that manage to stay afloat despite what I may politely label as very stupid business policies. By the next day, and the fourth or fifth call, I was no longer genial and was asking through gritted teeth to be removed from whatever list I was on and I was assured I would be. By day three, I was ignoring said calls. By day four, I was feeling my blood pressure sky rocket every time I saw an unknown number pop up on my caller id. By day 5, I was opening my cell phone up, and holding it next to my speakers and allowing my friends at 1-800-you're-annoying me to enjoy some lovely Toby Keith for as long as they could stand it. I don't care that it's wasting my Verizon minutes, this is war. STOP. CALLING. ME.

Date:	2006-04-24 08:55
Subject:	Weekend Update
Security:	Public
Mood:	cheerful
Music:	Dixie Chicks - I Hope

This weekend was the perfect mixture of laziness/fun/productivity. Friday night I drove up to Suburbia, MD through the monsoon that hit the eastern seaboard to dine at the fine Mexican establishment, Don Pablos, with one of my Hopkins buddies. I wish I could bring a tape recorder with me and record him. Part redneck vernacular, part warped twisted mind, I generally have a stomachache from laughing after about 5 minutes of hanging out with him.
Example:
Me: "Hey Jared, we're having a southern sendoff before I leave, we wanted to know if you can make fried chicken."
Jared: "Claff, I've never made fried chicken without some girl taking her clothes off."
Umm, consider yourself forewarned, female attendees of the southern sendoff. (On a related topic, if anyone knows where I can get a lifesized cardboard cut-out of Junior, we need to talk. And if you just said "Junior who?", we also need to talk.)

As I mentioned earlier, Saturday night was the last party at The Club. It was a bittersweet occassion, but our host went all out for it as usual, complete with a red carpet entrance, apple pie shots featured in The Shot Closet, a designated corner for "the champagne room." And of course, what club night would be complete without many, many rounds of jello shooters? (From which I abstained, after last time too many jello shooters left me inexplicably crying, which then lead to my roommate crying because I was crying. Man, I love drunk people.) The last night at the club wrapped up as many others have... a little Enrique, a little Kelly Clarkson, a little Weezer, and whole lot of inebriated dance moves and singing that would put most American Idol auditions to shame. The rest of the crew ventured out into the DC nightlife, I bailed and went home to bed like the Grandma I am.

Saturday I had part deux of a coaching class which was AWESOME. I came out of it so pumped up, and was telling Matt all about it and he's like "you have to do this, I can hear it your voice, this is what you're called to do." (Have I mentioned my boyfriend is the best?!) And I feel like there's a little bit of conspiracy in the universe right now, the stars lining up for me - I don't have a job right now, nor do I have any major expenses (mortage, car payments *knockonwooddon'tdierhondaplease*, youngins who need food and college tuition, etc)... what better time for me to try and pursue this? The only drawbacks are that the training is about 4-8 months (similar to counseling, you have to take some classes and then do supervised sessions) and it is a bit of an investment. Lots to think about - I feel like I JUST got done with school, and I don't know that I want to launch into another round of basically, well, more school. But for some reason, I keep coming back to this idea of coaching and have been intrigued by it ever since I first heard about it when I was working at Duke and that was almost 5 years ago. (For a quick summary of coaching, wikipedia does a pretty decent job here.) There's all kinds of coaching - life coaching, relationship coaching, career coaching, and health coaching (which is getting huge in worksite health promotion, lots of companies are hiring health coaches). I obv want to do health coaching. In the class, she had us name the types of audiences we'd like to work with and then helped us boil that down to succinctly summarize them so that we'd have our elevator speech. The audiences I said I'd like to work with were stay at home moms, teenage girls and women in unhealthy/abusive relationships. She was trying to get us to tie together our audiences and itt was like this light bulb went off when we were talking about it, that they were all women who don't put themselves first, which were my favorite type of women to work with when I was personal training because the improvements you see in their life when they start taking care of themselves are so inspiring. I'm super pumped about it but have a lot to figure out about it. I have a tendency to dive headfirst into about 80 different projects at once, and this is a big time/money commitment so I want to make sure if I do this, I really am ready to commit to it.

So that was my weekend - everything else was just alternating between extreme laziness (multiple naps) and getting things done on the to-do-before-I-move list. I have tons of packing and cleaning out to do before I move. I look around my room going holy shit, why do I own so much stuff?? Anyone want to come over and have a sidewalk sale with me? I swear I could fill an entire moving box of just travel coffee mugs alone. Seriously - what's with all my STUFF? All I really need in life is a few wine glasses, a good pair of flip flops/jeans/pearls, my mascara, my ipod and my photo albums. That'd make packing easy. I spent a good chunk of Sunday nailing down all the deets for Britta's bachelorette party - I'm pretty psyched about it, it's the first grown-up-esque party I've ever really organized, and a three day one at that. I just want it to go well, and for our bride-to-be to feel like queen for a weekend. NTS, must find bride-to-be tiara. The list grows!