Anticipation.

Know what's pretty sweet? The fact that I'm going on two trips within the next 2 months, and needed to pay all of $10 for them. That's two flights, one this weekend to NY to see my beloved almost sister, and one to Nevada in April to see my dear Daddo.

So that's all so exciting, but right up there with jump up and down excitement is the trip I've booked to Myrtle Beach with the lovely ladies who I intend to still be friends with 35 years from now.

I always say, I've always thought, that half the fun of a trip is the anticipation of it. Like when I went to Miami this past October. Although the intended dates of departure needed to be shifted due to circumstances beyond our control, I got to stew with excitement, times two. Unfortunate that it didn't work out as originally planned in August, but none the less, I got to experience what I like to call pre-trip foreplay, twice. So even though I didn't actually vaca, in August, I pre-trip foreplayed for it. Oh, and it was amazing. Kind of along the same lines as mixed drinks + flirting, making out + pawing at each other, pre-trip foreplay is totally my thing. Lest it seem here that the analogy I'm trying to make means that I see actual foreplay as always mandatory, let me just state the fact that I sometimes prefer getting right down to business. Anyway, I'm getting away from the subject at hand.

The point is, I love the pre-trip foreplay. The booking of the trip. The planning process of it all. Looking for the perfect hotel, the right flight, departure times, car rental. What gets me off even more (I'm talking about the trip still), is the excitement that is the planning of the outfits. The shopping pre-trip. Looking for that special bikini, although perhaps not as fun early March in unfortunate lighting illuminating ghostly white skin. But finding the perfect dress. That fits just right and you just feel amazing in. Maybe you'll never wear it again, but you have it for the upcoming trip and you're damn amused as you strut into your apartment trying it all on. The strappy sandals with the new halter and skirt. You rub a little Banana Boat sunscreen on your arm and you close your eyes and picture Jimmy Buffet and you and your girlfriend's sipping a beach cocktail with the waves crashing ahead of you.

And as the time nears closer, you get more and more antsy, fidgety, just waiting for it to come. The trip that is.

You can't control yourself. You count the days, x them off in your work agenda. Get your out of office reply ready, gather the magazines and books you've been wanting to read for forever, and probably get the highlights you've been putting off for a month or so. You book your mani/pedi and it's only one more day, and you can barely sleep. So you don't sleep. You stay up that night before, blasting the stereo in your living room as you and your roommate pack, doing fashion shows of what you should wear the next day to the beach. It's probably late now, and you're probably drinking a celebratory martini, because, well, you can. And it's almost here. Finally, you decide you should at least try to rest, just a little. So you're in your bed and you're awake, thinking, likely giggling out loud imagining the next several days of GLORY.

It's finally here and the excitement is at an all time high. You're heart is racing and you are envisioning the blue ocean, the pretty drinks you will throw back too many of, the smell of a far off hotel room, the balcony that you can only imagine will overlook a serene scene. You arrive at your destination and the pre-trip foreplay has brought you to an amazing climax. And for the next several days you are in heaven. Oh this feels so good.

Man, how I love a vacation.

I want to photograph you with my mind, To feel how I feel now all the time

Gentle. Compassionate. Loving.

The fact that I am 25 years old, and you still slip me money when no one is looking, speaks volumes to the amazing man that you are. When I was 16 it was for movies with friends, nights after football games at Applebees, accessories at teenage stores like Claire's. In college, at 20, it was for laundry, money to put on my card, for the coffee shop and for midnight snacks, sometimes for dollar drafts. Now, at 25, living on my own, making my own money, it's for gas, for a weekend away with friends, for groceries and rent, sometimes a martini or three.

Thoughtful. Tolerant. Affectionate.

When I look at you, inevitably, at some point during our visit, my eyes will fill up. I am completely overtaken with emotion. With love. So much that I cannot hold it in sometimes. You are, the most precious, genuine, kindest man I have ever known.

Patient. Cherished. Adored.

You are an amazing husband. I see the way that you look at her, the way you smile and listen to her, even though sometimes I know you can't always make out exactly what it is she's saying. She speaks softly, and you can't always hear her. I see the way you pull out her chair for her, then tuck her into the table. How you hold the arm of her coat as she slides her arm in, adjusting her just right. The way you pour her coffee and prepare it just so, and how you tell her to take more food on her plate, that she should eat all she wants. The support you give her, the encouragement. The admiration that is so very evident in your blue eyes for her. Your care and concern that she is protected and well taken care of. Your amazing, overflowing love for your precious wife.

Gracious. Happy. Sincere.

You are a wonderful father. I see the way your eyes light up when your three daughters are with you. I hear how you talk to their significant others, accepting them unconditionally. I see how you have tremendous pride in them. I catch you looking at them, when they are not looking at you. And I see the way your face lights up at that moment. The joy and genuine concern you take in their lives. The way you embrace them, not just physically, but emotionally, and in all ways really, unconditionally and always.

Cheerful. Exceptional. Funny.

You are, simply the best grandfather ever. I cannot imagine my childhood, and now my adult life, without you being a part of it. The way you slip me that money. How you tell me that I will always be your girl as you squeeze my hand. How you say to me, that you like my shoes, and comment that I'm a "hot ticket." How you show genuine interest in my life, my friends, my job, and anything that I'm pursuing. How you ask if I will always be your Valentine. The way you make me feel like the most special person ever when I'm with you. The love that I feel when I'm with you and around you, near you and beside you.

I am so lucky.

You are the most giving, kindest, most genuine, humble man that I will ever know. Your love for your family and your friends just fill my heart to the brim. You are amazing. And wonderful. And really any word in the thesaurus for extraordinary and special and sweet and caring and charismatic, it's all you. I cannot even write this without tears filling up, because I have an uncontrollable abundance of love, admiration, and honor for you. And I just can't keep it all in.

I think of you all the time. When I'm with you and when I'm not even, I think of you. I think of you as I have known you throughout my lifetime. I think of you and who you were when I never even knew you. What you were like at my age. How you were as you courted my grandmother. What kind of a son and brother you must have been. What you are doing on a Friday night while I am sipping wine, out to dinner with friends. What you did today. What you're eating for dinner tonight. What you and she are doing, right now. What you're watching on tv, and what book you are currently reading. What you are wearing and how sharp you look. Yes, I said sharp. How you have a way of touching every single person's life who you encounter, and how truly profound that is.

And I don't know if you realize this. How completely and truly wonderful you are. You have to know you are loved, because I have a feeling my words here, would be nodded and echoed by those whose lives you have touched. You are an amazing man. I feel I cannot say it enough. I think that if I repeat that, these words and these thoughts, over and over, how much I love you, how much you mean to me, how purely genuine and special you are, that maybe, just maybe, that will just keep you around here forever.

You need to be around forever. A life without you is completely unimaginable, unfathomable really.




You need to be around forever. And ever. Forever, and ever and ever.

questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart

there were times when i clearly remember thinking that i would never ever be the same without you. and that scared me. i didnt want to be me, without you. there were days that i would walk around in a bit of a fog, because of nights spent kept awake reaching for your body that was no longer there, searching for your lingering smell on my pillow that was now gone. weekends we once spent together, were now filled with coffee shops, girlfriends, cocktails, and many tears. the journal that i started when i first felt the pangs of uncertainty about us, was being scribbled in on a daily basis now. to read it now would show a script of a very tumultuous time.

months went by and things did seem to get a little better. then a slip up. a picture would fall from the pile on my nightstand. looking through email archives id find the lyrics to love songs you used to send me. and for the next several days, it was rough. tears again, and fears. fear that, shit, no way, really? again? im going backwards? and i thought i was doing so good. ive been here before but it was months ago. why am i back here? this pattern would happen. things would be okay, then another damn slip up. and then the tears. and fears. and questioning.

then more time would go by. and weeks turned into months with no real missing you pangs. well not that brought full on tears anymore at least. i still missed you. id be kidding you if i said it was a quick and easy thing, to get over you. over us. it wasnt. it still isnt.

i dont think about you too much anymore. and when i do, at first its your smell and your arms that i miss, or your hands. then its your yelling and anger that i dont miss, and your meanness.

and i realize how far i have come.

i used to not be able to imagine me, without you. i used to not want to be me, without you. now, almost a year later, i cant imagine me with you. i cant imagine someone like me, who i have become, who i have changed into, being with someone like you.

and that's progress.

To Text or Not to Text, what the hell?

The fact that we even refer to it as a slang already, is pretty unfortunate.

A "text" or "TM"... "I'll text you" or, "Didn't you get my text?"

More unfortunate is the fact that people are seriously using this form of communication to replace a phone call nowadays. Okay, there are certain situations for which I think a text is appropriate. Let's deal with these first.

When a "text" is okay:

-I'm on my way home. We're all out of milk. Did my roommate get it or should I stop?
Appropriate text: "Do we need milk?"

-You're on a date. Or we can't talk, but you have info. We obviously can't have an update over the phone that will really cover much, and clearly a text won't say much either, but we can get the point across. I wonder how your date or your night is going.
Appropriate text: "It's going well. 7/10. Good enough to miss Grey's for."

-I miss you. Yes, we just talked on the phone ten minutes ago. But your voice sounded so sweet, and I miss you in my bed. And I want you to know this.
Appropriate text: "I miss you in my bed."

-A funny one liner needs to be relayed. It doesn't require a whole phone call. In fact, it will be funnier if it's in a text which can be saved and referred to for a laugh at a later date.
Appropriate text: "I'm sitting next to a guy wearing tapered leg jeans and socks with sandals."

-American Idol is on and you want to vote for your favorite male vocalist.
Appropriate text: "

-Lastly, I would put anything in this category that is something short, to the point, quick, and that doesn't need a phone call for. If you know someone isn't near email, or can't talk on the phone, but have something quick to say. A nice comment, an "I miss you," a "hello friend," a compliment.
These are acceptable.


When a "text" is not okay:

-I'm at the bar. You're cute and you give me your number. First of all, ask for my number buddy, and call me. But giving me your number and suggesting I text you? Not mature.
Inappropriate text: "Have a good night. Here is my number. Text me if you want."
That's a turnoff. And inappropriate. And a zillion other things that do not equal a date on the horizon.

-Making plans over texts. I'm talking big plans. It's a stretch if it's something small even, but fine. Switching a time for meeting up for drinks, saying you're running late and asking if that's okay. All fine.
Inappropriate text: "Do you have plans Saturday night?"
Wrong. Don't make date plans with me over a text. And I'm really expected to engage in this back and forthness? I will probably throw my phone. This is not how to woo a girl. Pick up the phone and call me. Show some decency and take the time and effort to actually engage in a conversation. If you call me you appear interested; if you text me you appear lazy. Recognize the difference.

-Texting, binging back and forth with God knows who, constantly.
There's really no further explanation here. If I'm out to dinner with a girlfriend, I will not be texting someone else all night. If we're on a date, I don't expect you to be texting someone else all night. A little appropriate text, fine, two at the most, explained above, can slide. More than that is getting into rude territory. You appear uninterested in the one you're with, and that's also unattractive.

-You need to say something to someone. It's important. It's news. Or maybe it's not important but you want to keep in touch. You have things to say; you want to catch up.
Inappropriate text: "Hey, how are you? I hope your week is going well. Want to do something Sunday? Did I leave my sneakers at your apartment? Hope your week is going well. I have been so busy with work and everything else."
This is too much. Too long, too much info for one text. In fact, it will probably be rejected because it's too long. Or separated into two texts, and who wants to get two, choppy texts? Email me with this. Or call me. Or stop by my place and tell me. Remember, I'm getting charged for your text. Thank you very much.

I'm not totally opposed to texting. I think, like anything else, there is a time and place. There are clearly some very appropriate situations where it's called for. Probably many, many more instances where it is not. I will admit, I have probably been in the inappropriate category before. I have learned my lesson. Maybe it sounds picky, but it's the facts.

I firmly vow, here and now, to follow these above outlined rules from here on out.

This is my list. Do you have some additions?

What do you do for fun?

Well, I alluded to my slight interest in it, and last night was the night.

Speed dating.

That's right. I did it. With one of my dearest friends, my red headed beauty. We got to the event, donned our name tags with our names and "number" and ordered our first rum and diet. Scoping the room, it looked as though it could be promising. Maybe. Who knows, but we were up for whatever the night had to bring, and we were keeping an open mind.

I had six dates. Each person is "supposed" to have eight, but three guys, apparently ducked out early, leaving each round with three ladies, speed-dateless. Leaving me, sipping another drink, chatting with the bartender, for two speed dates worth, sixteen minutes. He was nice, and something about him kind of intrigued me, from the get go. Like you can imagine though, a bartender at an event like this... well, it seemed like lots of the girls there were into him, and he seemed pretty into himself.

The six men I did meet were interesting. All, in their own ways. I guess, maybe, I'll check "second date" for one. After a while, repeating what I do for work, what I like to do for fun, etc., got a little old. However, I would rate the night a... 6/10. I had a good time, it was a fun, different, unique way to meet new people. I just didn't leave feeling all too enthusiastic about anyone in particular. Hmm. Maybe I just have very high expectations. I don't know.

I have the bartender's number. He wants me to text him. Yes, he actually suggested that I text him. That's a whole other subject which I clearly need to address soon. Men lately and their damn texting. What the hell is that all about? Ask for a girl's number and freaking call her, damnit.

So there you have it. All in all, a fun night. Would I do it again? Sure. In no real rush though. It was amusing and interesting, but nothing too spectacular. My red headed beauty did meet two potential second dates though, lucky her.

these thoughts are not foolish

In this one you are contemplating something. You have to be, right? Your eyes are telling a story here. I just don't know what the theme is, exactly. I can't pinpoint it. I am sure that you are happy though; I can sense that. You look very comfortable, and content. Your body language is saying that you are at ease. You are sitting beside your best friend. Your eyes in this picture... you look like you've got a story to tell. What is it?

I wish I was there when this picture was taken. What were you doing at the time it was taken, or right before? You aren't flashing a full smile, but you look so happy. And pretty. Do you know that you have that capability? To just sit there, and maybe without noticing that a picture is being taken of you, or without a big grin even, you look remarkably beautiful, just being there?

Your eyes tell a story and I wonder what it is. I can sense all that I have mentioned, but I have so many questions, still. Where was this taken? Who took it? I think that I own that same exact jacket, another similarity we share among a thousand others. Where did you get it? How did you feel when that picture was taken?

You mailed this picture to me. In the real mail, with a letter you had handwritten me. Since then, I've seen many other pictures of you. It is this picture though, my friend, that sticks out in my mind. When I think of you, this is the image that comes to my mind. It is the first picture I ever saw of you. It's what I "picture," when I get a letter from you in the mail, an email, a text message, or a phone call.

There's a saying, "a picture is worth a thousand words." Well this picture is no exception. Seeing this picture, after corresponding with you for several months, gave me such a good feeling inside. I can't even really describe it in the words that would be able to capture the emotion that I feel when I look at it. When I first saw that picture, I could tell that you were kind, and warm. Happy and intelligent. Fashion savvy and confident. Humorous and easygoing. Content and at ease. You seemed, back then, like someone I would be friends with, in real life. We started out as penpals, but I honestly believe we have developed a friendship that will last a lifetime. Although we have never met in real life, I wait in eager anticipation for that day. We will have the best time together. I just know this. I can tell, based on that one picture of you. We were destined to be friends.

I'm a sucker for...

Stolen from my friend Brooke, who stole it from Ari (who I was going to steal it from anyway).

I'm a sucker for...

-My mom's voice, and her hugs.
-Falling asleep in someone's arms. Cuddling. Maybe in bed, on a rainy afternoon. Maybe on a summer afternoon, in the middle of the park, reading a book together, on a blanket.
-A man in a button down, blue shirt. With a nice pair of shoes, and appropriate socks. An old spice scent or otherwise yummy/clean smell. This is a turn on.
-Kissing the top of a baby's head.
-Making out.
-Maine.
-Having my hair played with, or brushed.
-The ache after a good workout.
-Unhealthy pub food. Beer battered mozzarella sticks. Nachos. Spinach and artichoke dip. Jalapeno poppers. This, on a chilly day, tucked into a corner booth in a towny bar. With pitchers of beer and good friends.
-Strappy slingbacks. Sandals. Flip flops. Knee high boots.
-Shoes in general.
-The smell of fresh cut grass.
-A crisp, professional outfit with a spec of sass. An understated lacy cami under a cardigan, or a blazer. A crisp shirt, a skirt, and knee high boots. A bold color mixed in with black. A tiny touch of bling.
-Autumn.
-Banana Boat sunscreen, that coconut smell mmmmmm.
-That spot on a boy. In that under chin/neck/collar bone area. The nook. The spot.
-My morning coffee at Dunkin Donuts, and the employees there. They barely speak a sentence of English but they are the friendliest people in the world, and they are genuine. They make my morning, every morning.
-Taking pictures. Black and white, for certain ones.
-Candles. Yummy ones, from Yankee Candle, or Bath and Body Works even. And aromatherapy ones.
-Nice lighting.
-Spinach, feta, and egg white omelets.
-Thongs from Victoria's Secret. And those IPEX bras, you know the ones. Way too expensive, but so good for the girls.
-Doritos, really, either kind. I seldom eat them, but when I do, I can rip through a bag like none other.
-Full house re-runs.
-Any, and all accessories.
-Chick flicks. Lifetime movies.
-And ohmygod, Jason Lewis.
-My alone time in the car, 45 minutes to and from work each day.
-Moisturizing.
-Willard Scott and his Smucker's birthdays.
-Handwritten letters and cards.
-Pumpkin seeds. Pirates booty.
-Sex and the City, obviously.
-Lip gloss. I will never have enough.
-A man with a good head of hair. That I can touch and play with. With not too much product, at all, gross.
-Unexpected phone calls, or texts.
-The ocean.
-A big glass of chocolate milk.
-Joshua Radin.
-My best friends, their smiles, and laughter.


I could go on forever, and ever. Are you a sucker for anything?

The Sounds of Silence

"I got grossed out, danced some more, some guy poked me with his boner for an entire song, got grossed out, gave a fake number to some guy who asked me, his name was Boston, left this bar around 7 in the morning."

This is why I love this girl. B may be oceans away, six hours apart, and while she's sitting in a cafe for lunch eating fruit, and cheese, and a baguette, I'm hitting snooze and coming up with an excuse to skip the gym. But this, emails that contain contents such as the sample above, are why I know that no matter how far apart, how long I don't see this girl, how many weeks we go without talking, that she is one of my very best friends, and will be, forever.

mail (and male) news

This week has been busy. I like having plans, and being busy, but it seems like lately I haven't had any after work time to do much relaxing. That's usually okay, because I enjoy being busy and everything, having things to do. This week I was wishing for some extra time that I just didn't have. Between the new class I'm taking, dinner plans with friends, running around to the post office, appointments and meetings, I've gotten myself a cold. So, I plan to do a Friday night thing like e.b. has, this evening. It's what I need. I have Grey's to catch up on and Stephanie Klein is going to be on 20/20 and I missed her the first time. Sweet.

A girlfriend and I have signed up for a speed dating event. And by signed up, I mean we are on some waiting list, pending the confirmation of at least eight men and eight women. It's at a bar in Faneuil Hall, and it looks like it will be an interesting time... to say the least. If it all works out, it's in a couple weeks on a Wednesday night. I'm sure that will be good blogging material.

And through that little endeavor, we were encouraged to sign up for some dating site associated with the event (which I have since canceled my membership to). It was something random and seemed like it would at least be amusing. Through the several 40+ men who have emailed me through the site, stating that "I know I'm out of ur age range but 'ur hott,' just thought I'd tell ya," (who talks like that?) I have found one potential interest. (Is that the lingo I'd use? Interest?) Anyway, I'll call him Gym Guy, because he actually teaches phys ed to first through eighth graders (how cute, right?), and does some personal training on the side. We've exchanged a few emails back and forth and he seems friendly, and like someone I'd want to get to know better. So, we're in the talks of setting up a rendezvous soon. Other than that, I'm done with the website as I just wasn't finding anyone really interesting.

So there's Gym Guy, and one other new friend on the scene. I met him through one of my best friends. He's The Co-Worker. I met him last week for the first time, after several apple martinis, on an empty stomach. Right. Great first impression. So we made plans for a second meeting, which was last night. He seems very nice, but I don't know if that might end up taking more of a friend turn? I'd be interested, but I couldn't read much more than just a friend vibe from him. And that would be totally okay if that's all it was. I guess it's too early to really know much more. I guess we'll just see what happens.

That's about it here. I'm so ready to be home, out of my heels, in my slippers, on the couch, just vegging. It's what I need.
Happy Friday.

I got lost in the sounds I hear in my mind

It's been almost a year since you and him broke up. Since the last straw, the final end. You made that end decision quickly, at least that's what it seemed like. You came home that day, walked in and sat on the couch, with tears coming down your face. You didn't need to say the words, I just knew. You told me that you couldn't do it anymore. You were crying, and I put my arms around you, and you put your head on my shoulder. I didn't know what to say. I knew, with my whole heart that you had made the right decision, but I could see the pain that you felt. I could feel it on you, on me while I held you. I just wanted to take all of that pain away, make it be all over. I couldn't do it.

You tried to smile and said that you thought you had made the right decision. You talked about how hard it was, to tell him that it was over. You had been through so much in just these past several months. You said it felt like a lifetime.

A few months later, you would tell me how you still thought of him. How it was the hardest decision you ever had to make, to leave him. That you left him, still in love. You would tell me how you still thought of him, all of the time. Still felt him there with you in the middle of the night. Craved his touch, his smell. How things didn't seem to be getting any better. Not at all. You asked me if I thought you would ever be able to fully get over him. I told you that it would take some time, that I was always there for you. You apologized for feeling like a downer. For still talking about him, over beers and soft lighting, months later. You said you were embarrassed because you should be over him by now. But that you didn't know how to do it.

I remember that afternoon, in Barnes and Noble, when you told me you thought the guy drinking his coffee in the corner was attractive. And I felt so happy for you. You said it was the first time you felt something, for someone else. You actually got excited about this guy. When he asked for your number, you looked so pretty, graciously giving it to him, sweeping your long hair behind you ear.

At times like these, it began to seem like you were doing better. I told you this, how much happier you seemed now. After several martinis one night, we were in the kitchen, making scrambled eggs. Your eyes filled up. You confessed that you were trying with all of your heart to put up the strength that we all saw. You said how much you still missed him, how hard it still continued to be. You said your heart still ached.

I wanted so badly to make everything all better for you. I could feel your pain again, that night, and I remember how frustrated I was with myself because I didn't know how to make it all better for you. You hurting, it was so awful for me to see you go through. You didn't deserve it.

And here we are; it's been several months since the eggs and tears. It's been almost a year since the end and the couch that afternoon you came home and told me. You haven't dated much since then. You seem happier now. I check in now and then with you, to see how you're doing, about him. You say you don't think of him much anymore. But that you are getting nervous for the upcoming holiday, and the one after that. Most of us hope that part of your life is way in the past by now, that it doesn't cross your mind anymore. Because you seem interested in other people, other things. You don't mention anymore how that song reminds you of him, how your bed seems so big, how you miss his presence, and his hands. You always told me how you missed his hands.

What you went through was really shitty. But you have grown so much. You are a stronger person from what you went through. I know that you don't always see it. You brush it off. It's what you do. But I know you. And I know how much he meant to you. And it's okay to still think about him. It's okay to dream about him, and wonder. It's normal, and it's okay. He was your first true love.

It doesn't go away that easily.

random Friday musings

-Today I realized, that I can only eat an apple holding it so that my thumb is at the bottom and my other fingers are at the stem. It's like this, for either hand. Try it, you'll see what I mean. Any other way feels oddly, unbearably uncomfortable.

-This season is really, really no good for my skin. No matter how much lotion I keep applying to my face, it's still dry.

-The Gap has some really cheap perfume, body splash, and lotion on clearance- the older scents like "Grass" and "Om." I bought the Om a few weeks ago and it's one of my new staples.

-Speaking of staples/staplers, I rarely ever use one. At work, I'm more apt to go for a paperclip or a folder.

-I miss cuddling with someone. And that spot. That little spot on a man's neck between their chin and collar bone. I love that there. I think Carrie Bradshaw called it the "nook" on Aiden. I actually remember feeling cool at the time that Carrie Bradshaw liked that spot too. I miss going there, and cuddling.

-I love milk so much that I sometimes wake up thinking of it. This morning I made myself a tall glass of chocolate milk before getting ready.

-I'm all out of contacts. I'm supposed to wear mine for a month, and obviously everyone goes past the month mark. I think I'm on month three. And my right contact has a little tear. And I'm still wearing it. It doesn't bother me... yet, but I know it will, soon. I need to order new ones, but I've been avoiding it, because I just don't want to spend the money. I have glasses, and I guess I could bust them out if need be.

-I really wish I was going home to a kitten sleeping on my bed tonight.

-I think that Thursday nights are one of my most favorite times. Grey's Anatomy, I know that Friday is coming, one more work day, and the weekend.

-I'm very critical of myself. I hardly am satisfied with a picture taken of me.

-I look forward to happy hour today.

Happy Friday blog buddies.