What I Remember

To me it seems like a lot of my childhood is a division of two parts. Pre and post divorce. My parents' that is. My memories from my youth are all very happy. Surrounded by a wonderful family, supportive parents, great childhood friends, and grandparents that spoiled me. To say that I had a great childhood would be an enormous understatement.

Although my parents divorced when I was six, I don't hold one single bad memory of their marriage. I don't hold any memories of it. Their marriage. At all. I cannot remember a time when the three of us were together, when they were actually married.

I don't remember anything, pre divorce. I remember the house we lived in, the three of us, and my friend who lived next door with a pool. I remember my childhood bedroom, and the cardboard ice cream stand that i would play in every day. I remember this little camera that I had that I thought was the coolest thing in the world. I remember what the house looked like, the rooms and a lot of how they were decorated.
But if you ask me to tell you my first memory of my family, together, the three of us, them married, us a traditional family, I could not do it. And that sometimes makes me sad.

Post divorce, many memories are very vivid. I remember my mom living with my grandparents shortly after it happened. I remember her and I sharing a bedroom, each of us in twin beds. I remember my dad moving to a new house. Wednesday nights with him, early Thursday mornings driving back to my mother's. Weeks shared, divided, back and forth, to each house. Car rides with my dad, to my mom's. Friday and Saturday nights at my dad's, driving to my mom's at 12pm on the dot each Sunday. Shared holidays. Christmas Eve's at my dad's, late Christmas morning going to my mom's. Thanksgiving one year at my mom's, the next with my dad.

I remember specific times with each parent, post divorce. I remember one Easter, taking a walk with my mom. I was in new patent leather shoes and an Easter hat. She was in a dress; I'm pretty sure. I remember that day, in my grandparent's neighborhood. I can feel the spring weather on my skin right now, the breeze in my hair. I can smell the grass, and see the pavement with the many cracks that I tried to avoid. I remember taking that walk together, my mom and I, before it was time to go to my dad's for the remainder of the holiday. All of this is so very vivid.

With my dad, I remember a specific time of us driving in the car, and O was upset, at something. Probably something silly and little, but that seemed like the hugest deal to the ten year old me. Life is a Highway was my favorite song at the time, and I remember that song coming on the radio and my dad trying to cheer me up, raising the volume and saying, "it's your favorite song!" I remember being angry. Not caring, or eat least trying to seem like I didn't. And getting teary. I remember trying to not enjoy the song because I was trying to appear angry with him, but wanting to sing anyway.

The pre divorce years, and how I cannot remember them, makes me sad when I really think about it. I try and try to just remember, just a spec of an ounce of something with the three of us, pre divorce. Us three at dinner, a holiday together, a car ride. Try as I might, I just can't seem to get a visual. I can totally imagine, conjure up an image in my mind of what it must have been like. But the real thing, I just can't place it. Freudians would eat this up. Analyze how I must have had some awful childhood, that I'm trying to repress something. That my id, ego, and superego are working to help me rationalize something. Protect me.

But that couldn't be further from the truth. It was never bad. Not at all, in any way. I don't remember any fighting, no yelling, no arguments. I don't remember any tears, no bad times at all. I don't remember much of anything. Pre divorce.

Post divorce I remember so much. The smell in my dad's new house. My mom's new apartment after she moved out of her parent's house. How when I was younger, right after the divorce, my dad would lay out an outfit for me on a Thursday morning. socks, underwear, pants, and a shirt. I'd put these clothes on, eat some breakfast, and we'd go to my mom's. I remember getting there, and finding an outfit. Laid out. On my bed, for me. From my mom. The same thing. Socks. Underwear. Pants. And a shirt.

I remember wearing two pairs of underwear to school because I felt guilty not. To choose just one pair, would be to pick between my dad and mom. And how could I possibly choose, between the two? I couldn't. I wouldn't and I didn't.

Soon after, i didn't have to. I imagine I must have told my mom one time about how I did this, the underwear thing. And I imagine she must have had a talk with my dad, because thereafter, the double outfit thing was no longer an issue. I will always remember this. My mom and I joke about it to this day, yet thinking about it sometimes makes me sad. Of me as a little girl, not wanting to choose.

I still don't want to choose. Now I don't have to. I am an adult now. My father lives on the West Coast, my mom here in the same state as me. Holidays are no longer split between two parents. No more running around, back and forth, car rides to and from their houses on the same day. No more choosing who I will stay with for Christmas Eve. No more leaving a holiday dinner early to go to the other families house. I am who I am today because of my childhood. I don't look back with any regrets. I had a great childhood, and if the tone of this seems melancholy that's not all it should be. I feel sad for the memories that I cannot produce, but I feel utterly filled with appreciation for the ones I have. I would not change a thing of my childhood if I could. I have an amazing relationship with both of my parents, which I believe is somewhat directly related to the individual time I was afforded with both of them given the circumstances.

I have a picture in a safe place. It's of my mom and my dad on their wedding day. I am wearing a diamond necklace today. It was given to me by my mom two Christmas' ago. It is a gorgeous piece of jewelry. But it's so much more than just that. The necklace was made from the diamond that my father gave to my mother when he proposed to her. Her engagement ring. Something that they shared, just the two of them, is now mine. This is one of the most treasured things I own. So special to me and so meaningful. a little piece of both of them that I can always carry around with me.

The Secret

I'm reading this book; Oprah loves it so it, so naturally I hold it in high regard as well. It's a best seller and sold out everywhere, and my father sent it to me two weeks ago. When he asked me last week if I had started reading it yet I told him how I was finishing up with something else and would get to it soon.

I should have gotten to it sooner.

The book is everything positive that it claims to be. It's all about the law of attraction, positive thinking, all that jazz. You know, envisioning what you want (the perfect man), picturing yourself actually having it (not sleeping in the middle of the bed anymore), and then being ready to receive it (because the book guarantees it will happen).

I'm all for positive thinking. I think there is so much to be said for it. I once dated a guy who was pretty much the definition of the glass half empty. Everything was woe is him. His job. His apartment. His mother. His body. His finances. Cry me a freaking river. And I felt bad, I did. And I would try to cheer him up. "Look on the bright side of things," I'd say, all of the time. Telling him if he thought more positively about things, more good would happen in his life. ("Get a freaking grip," was what I often thought.) But I was supportive. In the best most tolerable way you can be with someone who is a downer so.much.of.the.time. Man, it takes a toll dating someone like that. He comes to mind as I've been reading this book. I think it would do him wonders.

It talks about the idea that when you think a thought, you are attracting similar thoughts to you. So if you say, "I'll never meet a good guy," you are in essence, attracting not meeting good guys to you. You'll then end up meeting losers, because that's all your focus is on- how you keep meeting losers. The author talks about how your thoughts become things. Using examples such as imagining you are going to get a good parking spot, picturing yourself in the spot, and then it actually happening. The Law of Attraction.

Being a pretty positive thinker myself, a lot of the ideas in this book I already kind of knew about. I'm kind of a self help book fiend, so many of the ideas have been touched upon in other stuff I have read.

Nevertheless, it's a good book and I recommend it. Who can't go for a little positivity in their lives?

how come?

I hate these reminders of you. There's so many freaking reminders. You know, for the longest time, I felt good that I was in a new place. A new apartment, somewhere you'd never been in, we'd never been us in. There was never an us here. No shared moments in the kitchen, cooking a meal together. Nothing shared on the couch in this place, my head in your lap as we watched a movie together. We shared my bed, but not in this new place. No shared bed memories here.

And so for a while, the no shared moments, together, here, that was all good. With the newness, there was no you, no us. I didn't have to worry about looking outside at my driveway and remembering us kissing there. Didn't have to see the upstairs shower and remember what we did there.

So the newness, it was all pretty good. Because it didn't evoke memories of you. But then, the newness, the fucking newness, reminded that it was lacking you. Devoid of you. Never once was there a memory here of us together.

And sometimes it's everywhere. Sometimes you are still everywhere. You are in the way that my body falls asleep at night. The way I still bring a glass of water to bed. It's in the way that I leave the door ajar in the bathroom while brushing my teeth. It's in the way I put my hand on the passenger seat of the car.

I used to do all of these things, in the anticipation of you being there. The bed. The water for you. Expecting you to join me to brush our teeth together. Me putting my hand on your leg when I drove us somewhere.

The thing is, you're not here. You never were. Which makes it so weird, for me to still be doing these things, as if you were. As if it's going to ever be this way again. Why still, all these memories? Why still, can I feel your presence here, when you were never here to begin with? How can you miss something that you never had?

Why must you keep turning up all over the place? In places you don't belong. That you weren't ever before?

Go away. Please?

something so small

sometimes? someone totally random will do something totally uncharacteristic, something out of the blue, and it will have a way of adding a little needed sunshine to your day.

and if you're real lucky? this will happen when you need it most, and often.

when this happens to me, i can't help but feel very grateful and appreciative. on a bad day, where things just don't seem to get off on the right foot, from the get go, and continue to spiral down a shit path throughout the day. it's during these days, when nothing is going right, you are feeling your ugliest, your fattest, your most undesirable. you're overwhelmed, stressed, emotional, and all together feeling just off. wrong. shitty. when someone dishes a compliment on one of these off days? doesn't it then feel like things are all just a little bit better?

at least it does for me.

and when this happens on a really good day? the type where the morning starts off good, it's a friday even, your hair actually does what you want it to, it's finally warm out, you're feeling like you look good, well that's just wicked great. your day is already pretty much a 10, and a compliment comes your way, and it only gets that much better.

but then i start to think. imagine the people that have the latter of the days mentioned, most days? or people who don't have work colleagues who are very nice. who don't have special friends who dish compliments just because. don't even have family that they can depend on. no special someones in their lives at all. and, maybe they don't have much money, or motivation, or means to look and feel good about themselves as often as they'd like. imagine how a compliment, a random act of kindness would change their day?

i think about this notion, often. how much a random act of kindness really can affect a person. change someone's day. just a smile even. how much of a tremendous impact that can make on someone's day. how it can change their outlook.

and imagine if that's directed towards someone who never experiences that kind of thing? a smile. something so small, but isn't it something that we sometimes take for granted?

after thinking about this recently, and a lot today, i have decided to really go even more out of my way to extend those random acts of kindness to people. a compliment. getting the door for someone. leaving an extra tip. smiling at a stranger. sending a thinking of you card for no reason. telling a friend that i'm there for them if they need to talk. paying a little more than your share. surprising someone with a coffee. for something that can take such little effort, it can hugely impact someone in unthinkable ways.

at least it did for me.

signals

I'm not good always, at feeling out whether a guy is interested or not. I used to be better at it. Now, sometimes, I just don't know. I don't read these signals well. Sometimes I misread them, thinking that when he asked for my number he really wanted to get to know me, was genuinely interested, and didn't just want to sleep together. Other times I'll misunderstand and be totally aloof and not even fathom that a guy like that, could be into a girl like me.

Because I have not done so well at reading the signals lately. Therefore, lately, I don't always know what the right move is. And it makes me more reserved, and I hate that. It's partly because of the guy that I went out with a couple weeks ago. I met him the night of the speed dating, not at the event but after. I should have known when I joked with him that he probably regularly attends these events to pick up the girls at the end of the night who haven't left or coupled off, that that actually was the case. His sly little laugh and smirk should have told me better. When I met him for drinks and appetizers the following week, I should have known that he wasn't what I was looking for based on his incessant grilling of me to come back to his place to "watch a movie" after only spending about an hour together. No thank you.

I should have read those signs. But the date was one of the best I've ever had. There was laughing, flirting, kissing. It was really good, and fun. And promising, I thought. At least of something fun, a dating thing, which is what I was looking for from this. Not necessarily anything serious. I would have considered a second date.

Well apparently that's not what this guy wanted either. Which I learned the following week, when he and his three friends met us at the same place as the week before, and a group of ended up going back to his house with everyone for a little gathering. Words that shouldn't be mentioned outside of a serious relationship and the comfort zone that I may or may not get in with someone, were whispered, in sketchy, skeevy, whiskey laden tones in my ear. He didn't want to date. He wanted sex. And want to have me do things to him, in his upstairs guestroom. Just real quick, they'll never know. I'm no Charlotte, and I'm not freaked at the occasional dirty talk, in the right situation. But this was obscene. Gross, really. Inappropriate and such.a.turnoff.

And here I am, thinking things could be fun, dating like fun. A cool guy, funny and friendly and sexy. No, wrong. Again, me, wrong. With the signals. What gives? Am I just not able to read them? I'm usually good at that kind of thing.

So this is the issue. How do you know when a guy is looking for just sex, or something more? When he asks you out to eat, how do you know what kind of eating out he may have in mind? Do you just go with it, and see what happens? And that's how you learn? Then why did he even bother with the drinks, the appetizers, the family talk, acting like he gives a shit about that stuff?

I guess I'm just not sure. Some guys, they just have a vibe about them. You know that they aren't looking for dating, or a relationship, and sometimes you're still interested, and that can all be well and good. Some guys, appear to want the dating thing, yet surprise you like this one did. Others, you just fall into a relationship with, it's easy and fun and you both want the same thing, things just seem to go along so nicely, it's no work at all and you're just consumed by the goodness of it all; it almost feels too good to be true. Or maybe that's just a daydream of mine.

And maybe lately my signal reading has been a little off. And maybe this is most definitely one to add to the come on list.

Oh well.

St. Patty's Day

I'm Irish and I love this day. Taken from City Wendy, here are some of the cool things I like about St. Patrick's Day:

-An excuse to drink during the day (as if I needed a holiday to do that)
-Because I love kelly green, and any green really
-And why not drink Irish car bombs?
-Or drink Guiness, even though it's really not my favorite, I will do so with a smile today
-I've learned that they really don't wear anything under those kilts
-Bag pipes, Danny Boy, and the Irish Blessing
-Today, maybe I really will have the luck of the Irish
-Green beer
-My nails, painted green today, and today only
-And the green eye liner and shadow that I will bust out today and people will feel is so appropriate, when any other day they just wonder, "is she wearing green eye makeup?"
-Because I am Irish, the phrase does apply to me, so come on...Kiss Me already
-Being with friends, and family, celebrating being Irish, even if they aren't at all.


Happy St. Patty's Day!

because all the cool kids are doing it...

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come on!

as opposed to this and what i'm a sucker for, i say..

COME ON to:

dry contacts, running out of contact solution at a bad time. getting something in your eye.
the light just turning yellow, and the person in front of you actually slowing down for it.
running late for work, and realizing your gas light is on. shit.
cd wrappers, so annoying. and dvd wrappers too.
and things in that plastic kind of packaging, the kind you really can't get into, and end up with severe cuts on your hands when you finally do.
bringing your digital camera with you to a special event, and it dying on contact with no battery left.
craving a glass of milk and finding less than a sip left. an empty ice cube tray on a hot day.
forgetting to put my ipod in my gym bag. or worse, my headphones. forgetting the combination to my lock.
how easily i bruise; i look abused half the time.
my hair breezing into my lipgloss. and chapped lips. running out of my favorite shampoo.
getting snuggled into bed, and realizing i forgot to take my pill. being in bed, and obsessing about whether i bolted the door or not.
only having thongs to choose from, or worse, period undies (yes, i went there; it's not gross, it's the facts), when you just want a fucking comfy pair of regular ones.
thinking you paid a bill only to get a double whammy the following month. budget billing for the gas bill almost doubling.
not having a disposal anymore. how much trash accumulates because of it.
checking my home email from work, and then getting home and still receiving them all as "new"
forgetting to wear one of my rings. forgetting mascara. i feel naked without either.
when the bottom of pants get wet half way up your calf in the rain or snow. stepping in something wet, with socks on.
music that's too loud, even if i like it, and it's my favorite band.
chipping nail polish, it's gross and i hate it on myself, and more on others.
dry skin in the winter. oily sunscreen.
overflowing trash.
someone beeping at you when you're at a red light that clearly states, "no turn on red."
being at a store, with a sale, and realizing i left my gift card at home. losing my dunkin donuts gift card.
unreturned phone calls. or texts, when a phone call is more appropriate.
pink, the singer.
reruns when you just want a new episode. the summer when all shows are on hiatus.
blogs not refreshing to the current post.
hearing the word cunt.
late fees.
too much heat, in a car. or not enough.
too ripe bananas. waiting for a one to get just ripe enough.
getting a piece of the shell in the pan from an egg.
no more sex and the city. or felicity. or party of five. and 90210, yeah.
needing a new battery, for whatever, and being all out.

speechless, at the right time

I remember when you first told me you loved me. We were in your car, we had just gotten back to your house and we both had our seats back. Some song was playing, I can't remember what. We were holding hands. As I leaned over to kiss you, hug you, touch your face, I remember us laughing that the damn e brake got in the way. It was quiet for a minute, and that's when it happened. You had me in your arms and you said it. That you were in love with me.

How long is too long, to sit with the silence, before it seems awkward that one hasn't responded to a first "I love you?" Ten seconds? Thirty? It wasn't as if I didn't hear you. I did, you knew that as I looked up at you and kissed you, squeezed you tighter, breathed you into me more.

I did feel it then, but too many seconds had passed and I felt like the moment had gone. Too late to say it. It slipped into the heater vents as I deeply exhaled it out. But no words came. I could have said it. At any time, really. When we went back inside and cozied up on the couch with each other and a movie; I could have said it then, I just didn't. Not because I didn't feel it. I did. I let the moment pass me by. That moment, when I should have said it, was gone.

But then? As I'm writing this now, I feel like that was a cop out. I must have not said it fora good reason. I also think, when you love someone, you should tell them, right then, right there, in the moment. Given the moment is appropriate and all. No amount of seconds or minutes or hours that pass should equal the time frame of a missed chance. I felt it, but I just didn't say it. I don't know if what I'm feeling is described as regret.

I remember though, feeling it, earlier that weekend. We were at the mall and I had dragged you into girly accessory stores, and you didn't complain, not a bit. At least not that I remember now. You were adorable the way you were, with me, that day. I just wanted to eat you up. I remember it was crowded and after a while, we both just needed out of the place. We couldn't find we where parked, looked on every floor, not remembering where we had been just a couple hours earlier. This made us laugh. We said "screw it" and decided to go get something to eat and have some beers and figure it all out after. And we did, and I remember our way of walking to the car, finally finding it, me giggling, tipsy and warmer from the alcohol. It was cold that day and you took my hand and we headed for no direction really, to look for your car, somewhere. I remember, then, at that moment, was when I started to feel it. It was at that moment. It came over me in a huge wave and I remember thinking, God, I am in love this guy. I hadn't felt that, well, ever. Not like that, so sure of it. Not before you.

When we finally found the car, there was traffic, tons of it, getting out of the garage. And I was flustered and hot. And some song, I don't remember what now, was on the radio. I remember us turning it up, and we blasted that sucker. You opened the windows, all of them including the sunroof, and we blared that rap shit, and I wore your hat. We were both laughing, hysterically really. It was at that moment, that I wanted to say it. Scream it. Over the music I wanted to scream out, "I love you!!" And I didn't. Although the timing seemed so right, something held me back.

And something held me back that night in the car. In one instance the timing didn't feel totally right, the other couldn't have been more perfect. In neither situation did I have the nerve to say it.

All along though, I felt it. Maybe I should have said it, in those times. For the first time, then, that night back to you, or the next day to you, first. I didn't.

And I don't really know what all this means. I know what I feel; I just couldn't seem to get it out.

I carried a watermelon

The other night, I carried a watermelon. Well, not literally. My girlfriends and I use the "I carried a watermelon" phrase to describe a situation where we probably didn't say the best thing. A foot in mouth kind of thing. Where you say something, quickly, either in response to a question or even as a conversation starter. But what you say isn't smooth. And really not suave, not in the very least. Actually, you end up feeling like an idiot, and probably sound like one. It's that, did I really just say that, outloud? feeling of embarrassment. You know what I'm talking about.

Ok, maybe you don't know what I'm talking about. So I'll setup the scene of the phrases origination, and even post a little visual aid as well. It's about 4:00 minutes in. But watch the whole scene, because who doesn't love Dirty Dancing?

Baby goes into the staff quarters with Johnny's cousin. To get in there she well, carries a watermelon. Johnny's cousin is juggling two up the walkway, when Baby walks by, sees him struggling, and offers to help. Cousin tells Baby she can't go with him, she talks him into it, and they enter the staff quarters where everyone is, well, dirty dancing. Johnny notices cousin and Baby standing on the side of the dance floor, and is all, "Yo, cuz, what's she doin' here?" Cuz says she's with him, and Baby says the first thing that comes to mind, blurting out, "I carried a watermelon." Johnny just looks at her, in his too many unbuttons undone white shirt, and says nothing, and walks (dances?) away. Then we see Baby, mocking herself saying, "I carried a watermelon?" In complete disbelief that she actually just said that, to him, out loud.

Now go ahead, watch for yourself:

That's the scene in the movie. Baby thinks Johnny is cute, she gets nervous, and says the first thing that comes to mind. Which is exactly what I did the other night.

If you haven't heard of Jim Bianco, you must. Google him. Download him. Make him your screensaver or wallpaper. I did. If I had to say my "type" of guy, it's him. His clothing, his hair, his whole way. His body and his vibe. Man, and his voice. His sweet, raspy voice. And he plays the guitar. Lord knows I'm a complete sucker for a guy who can play the guitar.

He has toured with the likes of Joshua Radin, Joe Purdy, Rachel Yamagata, Kate Havnevik, Cary Brothers, Schuyler Fisk, Imogen Heap, and Gary Jules. I saw him this fall at the Hotel Café tour and when I saw he was in the area again I couldn't miss the opportunity.

Much as I couldn't miss the opportunity, after his amazing set, to scope him out in the back of the lounge, and go up to him, to say something. I had no idea what. Nothing that came to mind seemed even the least bit appropriate. I don't usually get nervous, generally, around guys. About what to say or do or whatever. But this was different. He is so talented, and so incredibly good looking. I was totally into his performance and HIM, so I had to take this chance to at least say... something.

You were good. That is what I said as I "pretended" to walk to the ladies room and accidentally "noticed" him on the way there. Yeah. I carried a fucking watermelon. Who says "you're good?" And that's pretty much all I said. He smiled, nodded. I got fidgety and put my hands in my pocket and touched my hair too much. I quickly went on to tell him that I had seen him at the other tour, and that they were good then too. He smiled, but didn't say anything. I was Baby and he was Johnny. Then he looked up, asked my name, and extended his hand. Yes! We touched. I introduced myself to his band member buddy, and told them, for the third time, that they did a really good job.

And I carried a watermelon. Sure, I sounded completely dumb and nervous and I looked fidgety. Maybe that's just me. Around someone like that. I couldn't help myself. But at least I got to meet Jim Bianco. Even if I was a Baby about it.

weekend in review

Oh, my weekend. Ruby reminded me that an update was due. Well I had just the most wonderful time ever. My Almost Sister and her hubby are two of the greatest people in the world; if only we lived closer. Not that an hour flight is really that far at all. But for a girl who is so much on the same wavelength as myself, who at the drop of a hat would do anything for anyone, with whom I am constantly laughing with, and really, how we just get each other, who makes me constantly smile... well, it would be nice if she lived say, an hour DRIVE away. It is a great trip to make though- quick and easy to get to, and always worth it.

Friday Almost Sister and I did some shopping and saw Music and Lyrics. I really like Drew Barrymore. I forget that every time, until I see her in a movie where I am reminded of it. And Hugh Grant. I'm not my mom, who has a HUGE thing for him, but the guy does have an accent, a good body, and isn't bad looking, at all. I enjoyed him in this movie. Saturday we picked up Almost Sister's brother. He came in to spend the night and we got on the same flight for the next day. Anyway, the rest of the weekend was spent drinking lots of Sangria (homemade even), and eating, lots of eating, and laughing.

Now I'm not a big meat eater. Not at all. I pretty much stick to chicken as a staple. Now and then I'll make some meatballs, oh and I love tacos. Infrequently I'll eat an occasional burger. That's mainly only enjoyed on a trip to Reno at this place that has the best burgers ever. And I'm not a big steak eater. I love it, when I have it. But I don't order it. Or make it. Steak tips I love, but other than here, which is probably the last place I had them, I seldom eat tips. Well that all changed this weekend. I ate, more meat than I have ever eaten in a sitting, ever. We went to this really great Brazilian place. It's a set price for the meal, pricey, but sooo so worth it. You put these coaster type things, with one side that's red, and one green in front of you. Green means keep the meat coming. Red= you need a break. They come around to the table with the hunks of meat ("hunk of meat" doesn't make it sound all that very appetizing but it SO is), and they cut it right there in front of you. And it's so fresh. And juicy. And altogether delish. For someone who hardly ever eats meat, I was in total heaven. Mmmm....

And the weekend just goes by so quickly when I'm visiting them. I was there three days and it was over before I knew it. I was hoping to meet up with Kristen while I was there, but the time just got away from us. I had a wonderful time though, surrounded by wonderful friends, with new, wonderful memories.

long weekend

Tomorrow I leave for NY for the weekend to see my almost sister, and her wonderful hubby. Sucks we're getting some snow, and knock on wood that it won't f-up the flight. I'll try and take some pictures and maybe will post some here next week. I'm very much looking forward to a little getaway.

American Idol results show is on tonight. My favorites so far are: Blake Lewis, Chris Richardson, and Lakisha Jones. I think Sanjaya is outa there this week. And what's her name- the one who sang the Celine Dion one with the 70's number on last night, who has posed nude or something.

Oh, and Anna Nicole's "Final Journey Home" is on tomorrow. Just in case you care.
I cannot WAIT until this coverage is done with.

Hope everyone has a happy Friday and a great weekend.


**UPDATE**
Uh oh. Guy from Mass just got booted off. So much for representing.