Thursday, March 03, 2005


I was just reminded that although I am turning 29 tomorrow, I am, in fact, entering my 30th year.

Where's My Ring?

Remember that commercial? The Lifesaver's one? The little boy and girl sitting there, one proposes to the other one, and the other one says, "Well where's my ring?" and he or she really drags out the "where's" part, like "whaaares my ring?" I know Will remembers. It's cute. Anyway, I'm going at lunch to get my ring back. I miss it.

My company is auctioning off all this hardware -- monitors, computers, laptops, handheld PC's, etc. and all money goes to the YMCA. Although I already pay the YMCA about fifty bucks a month for nothing (since I rarely get to go to the gym anymore, and when I do, the yoga class sucks), I think I'm going to buy some stuff. You know, more stuff I won't use.

Tomorrow is my birthday. And I will be 29 years old. And I'm a little freaked out about that. Hellooooo, thirty.

Last night at Youth Group, we were playing this really fun game called CatchPhrase. It's a lot like the game Taboo -- where you're trying to get your team to guess a word without saying the word or certain clues. With this one, you can say anything except the word or "sounds like" or "starts with". You're up against a timer -- both teams switching off, and whomever is holding the disc that holds the words when the timer goes off, their team loses. So it's fast and furious -- people yelling out words and trying to pass it off as fast as possible. And the timer is loud, and the pace is picking's crazy. Not to mention, this group is INSANELY competitive. Last night, in response to a clue given by her teammate, one of the kids yelled out the worst possible racial slur you can imagine. I know she didn't mean to, but it was just so damned funny at a church youth group meeting that I could not contain my laughter. My stomach was hurting afterwards. (Did I mention I'm knockin' on 30's door?) Poor thing, I know she was embarrassed. But that never stops me from laughing. But it begs the question -- is that word often-used in her home? There are so many other factors that contribute to the funniness of this story -- the girl, the family, etc. You just had to be there, I guess.

Perhaps, "you had to be there" stories aren't good for the blog?

I'm meeting my mister for lunch today. We never get to do that. I'm so excited. Have I ever mentioned how handsome he is? He's so dreamy.

It's almost Friday, and sunshine makes me high.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005


I've always been a vivid dreamer, meaning I have very detailed, crazy dreams that I remember almost every morning. I used to keep a dream journal. Heck, I used to keep a real journal that the whole world didn't look at, but I don't have time for that anymore, either. Lately, the dreams have been crazy. I like it when they are. They're quite entertaining. I just wish I had some insight into why I dream what I do. It fascinates me.

There was the dream about riding roller coasters with the androgynous Pope, last night I was riding on top of my car, lying on my stomach, while Todd was driving. We were out looking for houses. I was getting some sun, barely escaping decapitation by the exit signs. When I got back into the car, Todd and I were sitting chest-deep in water. He had no idea why the car was flooded. Then my cousins were growing marijuana in their home, and I counseled them on doing such a heinous thing in the presence of their teen-aged daughter and gladly took it off their hands. Also in my dream last night, I ran into a co-worker who had his shirt off at a sporting event, and instead of painting his body the color his favorite team, he had a very intricately drawn butterfly drawn on his torso. Strange.

I just wish I had a neighbor or loved one who was a dream analyst. That way I could find out what's going on in my crazy head.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

New blog, kids.

Welcome to the new blog. It's one of those default designs provided by Blogger. Heh, good enough. Nothing as fancy schmancy as what the rest of you have. But it'll work. :)

I have the best fiance on the planet. Since the day I told him he couldn't surprise me, he keeps trying. And it's always good stuff, thankfully. Today, tickets to the James Taylor concert. I mean, does it get any better than that?

I bought my wedding dress this weekend. I like it. It's good.

Did you know that your typical good china is made from animal bones? For the life of me, I can't figure out why PETA's not all over this. As soon as the guy told us that while we were registering this weekend, Todd said, "Well we're not getting any of that." Once again, I was reminded of why I love him so much. That, and he wanted this ice cream scoop.
So we registered for it. Anyway, I'm still a little rattled by the bone china thing. There's got to be more to it.

That's it for now. I've got some work to do.