Queen of Random Crap

That's me!

Case in point: Yesterday, I got a bit of disappointing news by phone and needed to get out for some fresh air and perspective. I grabbed my chihuahua and cell phone and headed down the block. I didn't even make it a quarter of a mile from home and I'm bombarded by a swarm of....I don't know what!

Bees? Wasps? Japanese hornets? I still don't know for sure. All I remember is the large black swarm that came from the tall green swaying weeds, the loud buzzing that alerted me in the first place and then surrounded me, and the hovering black things that I was certain at any moment would sting the CRAP out of me. All of them!!!!! And little Pookie? Where was he? What would happen to him?

Did you know if you Google "insect swarm" you get a lot of World of Warcraft stuff? Weird....

Anyway, the chaos only lasted approximately 7 seconds. It felt like 4 years. But I survived. Neither of us had a sting on our body. I may or may not have seriously considered how fast of a sprinter I was and how quickly I could book it to the neighborhood pond (another half mile) and jump in to escape my flying friends. But I shudder to think of what may have lurked in the pond.

My sister and I have come to the conclusion that my next shopping trip will be to purchase a HazMat suit. Needless to say, I will be wearing my new "outfit" on ALL future nature walks. Observe...

So we meet again, lofty loft

So remember my tiny dilemma - to loft or not to loft? Well, once again, that is the question.

On complete and utter accident (note: I'm inherently random and kinda all over the place so I come across a lot of things by chance), I found some loft apartments above this adorable, small shopping area with little adorable boutiques and restaurants and wine bars, etc. The town is ranked one of the best places to live in the nation. This is the type of place I dream of. Where I look up at the balconies and sigh and say to myself, "Oh, wouldn't that be sah-weet?"

Well, I decided to be random once again and call the property manager and go take a look at one of the units. Just in case. It's not hurting anyone. Well, except me when I get excited and can't stop thinking about the place and lay awake at night planning out my living room furniture arrangement. Sigh... I guess it hurts a little.

Anyway, for where these apartments are and for what they are, it's a FAB price. They are running a special where you get 2 months free and I would prorate that, which makes it pretty affordable (affordable for those who have a clue what their commission checks will look like, and I don't. Yet.)

Friday after work, I sat outside of the loft leasing office for 45 minutes. No lie. I got an expense reimbursement check and had enough for the deposit. I could have put a deposit down to hold my fabulous little loft with a view. But I just couldn't make it work (financially) in my brain. So I prayed about it, called my mom, drove in circles, called my mom, went to Starbucks, texted my mom, drove around again, and finally left. I'm sure a few tenants have already decided that I'm a stalker. Whatev.

I just couldn't make it work on paper and it depressed me to no end. So, I decided I am going to continue to pray about taking that leap of faith. I have some brainstorming (and re-budgeting) to do and if the unit is still available once I make my decision, then I'll know I did the right thing.

I can't wait to see what lies ahead! (please be the loft, please be the loft, please be the loft...)

Meant to beeeeee

Sooo...my love (Happy Pants) and I have a few cute stories about times where we've either been "married" or "engaged" according to someone or something.

It's like the universe is trying to tell us something.

That or everyone is crazy.

That or we just look like an old married couple.

That or I have this giddy glow about me.

OR it's just in the cards that we're meant to be. (and I don't believe in cards, I believe in God, but I'm just sayin'...)

Anyhoo. The first time Happy Pants brought me home to his mom's was Christmas of 2008. It was too early by all my standards to be going to meet mom. And at Christmastime of all times! But I went anyway because I'm nuts. On Sunday morning at church, his grandfather (who already loved me, I just know it) announced to the whole church, "This is my grandson and his fiance." Granted, he was 78 at the time. He's allowed to have a brain fart. My boyfriend's brother turned to us and quietly joked, "When were you going to tell the rest of us?"

Recently, a magazine along with a few pamphlets showed up at my house from Sandals resorts. It was their wedding and honeymoon information. I don't know who or what caused these to arrive in my hands. I may or may not have thumbed through each of them. ;)

About a month ago, while in Arkansas for a wedding, my boyfriend and I were patiently waiting for an elevator in our hotel. While waiting, a charming little 8 or 9 year old with a huge grin on her face approached us. We smiled back at her and asked if she was going up. She just looked at both of us a little longer, analyzing. Then she finally spoke, "You've got a nice wife!" to which Happy Pants replied, "Thank you!" Then we got on the elevator (alone) and giggled at the little girl's odd remark. We didn't feel the need to explain to an 8 year old. Just go with the flow on that one.

And at work, there's my boss who constantly checks my ring finger and calls Happy Pants my "future husband to be."

Then you count the multiple people and multiple times Happy Pants has heard "When are you going to put a ring on her finger?" and "Never mind how the weekend went, did you propose?" Poor guy. He gets it from his co-workers too. Even ones I've never met. It's awesome.

I guess he doesn't need any pressure from this girl. He's got all the "hints" he could have ever asked for. Personally, I can't wait. Each weekend I spend with him I feel we grow closer.

I can, however, wait to plan a wedding [shudder]. Talk about stress.

A Rant (or twelve)

I try to stay positive for the most part, but sometimes you just have to gripe about stuff. Let's just call it venting. Positive thinking is healthy, but isn't venting healthy too?

Today (and every day for the past few months) I have been extremely irritated about where I live. One might call this the boonies/sticks/podunkville/BFE. Whatever you want to call it, I do not live where anything is convenient.

This wears on me (and that is an understatement).

For instance, everything you do is an EVENT. Today I have a Dr. appointment (for another injection for my super cool Ernest Syndrome). It will take me an hour and a half to get there and probably half a tank of (not cheap) gas round-trip. This is what started my whole rant today. Here are a few more examples of such EVENTs:

- Let's run up to the mall!

Reality check: Oh wait, that's at least an hour drive for the closest mall. Any other mall is right around 2 hours.

- Maybe I'll just get gas on my way to work.

Reality check: Nope, you have to drive 25 miles before reaching the ONLY station on your way to work. Good luck with that.

- Let's meet for lunch!

Realilty check: I'll leave at 10:30 (technically still breakfast time) to get there by noon.

- I need a few things from Target.

Reality check: That'll be 40 miles due north. Oh you want a Super Target? That'll be 60 miles.

- Hey Cupcake, we're all going to a movie tonight after work. Wanna come?

Reality check: Sure, I'll leave at 5 and get home at midnight (for a 2 hour movie).

Hopefully you see my point now. If you know me at all, you would know that I would never choose to live this far away from civilization. Not at age 26. Perhaps at age 60 when I'm over the whole city thing. But I'm still not convinced of that either.

Granted, there are many good things about where I live. (Always trying to see the silver lining!) You get to see wildlife that you wouldn't see otherwise. I do love that. And you really don't have any neighbors, so there is a sense of privacy. You also have scenery (rolling hills, river valleys, wild flowers). You also get to see amazing storms blow in like no other. For a photographer, this place is a dream! And it really is dreamy.

On the flip side, because of the country-ness, I have a few more worries. I have a dog that weighs less than most bunnies, therefore he is prey for large birds, coyotes, bobcats, and (gasp!) mountain lions. Also, more open land equals more snakes and spiders most city-folk have never seen. I'm not a fan of spiders and snakes are really not the most pleasant thing to come across. There have been a few scorpions too, and to me, those are just as creepy if not more creepy than spiders. ...Arachnids... [shudder]

What do I want, you ask? I'd like an apartment again. In the suburbs. NEAR a city. I'd like a gas station less than 10 miles away, a decent grocery store within 15 miles, some sort of shopping within 20 miles, and a few more than 2 restaurant choices. I'd also like a Freebirds and a liquor store, but let's not get carried away.

I know exactly where I want to be. In fact, I have the apartments picked out. The question is when can I get there?

The Trouble With Stubble

I should have posted this blog story a week ago, but since I am a bad blogger, I am just now getting around to it. Been trying to reach my inner blogginess. Yup, attempting to harness my "blog chi." You catch my drift.

Anyhoo, I wanted to explain a completely normal (for me) Friday at work. It involves a hint of stupidness, a dash of annoying, a pinch of spontaneity, and a dollop of touchy feeliness.

I started with my usual driving around and getting permits signed. I had an appointment first thing in the morning at a very lovely retirement home. I couldn't help but notice what a nice place this was. Heck, maybe when I'm 80, I'll move in too! After ten minutes (of speaking verrry loudly to a nice old man who could hardly hear me), I got my signed permit and I was off to go take on the rest of the world with a new spring in my step. I'm thinking "Alright, it's Friday, I got a permit, it's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, I love my new car...blah blah blah.."

Then I drive around and have zero luck at any other place until I get a phone call from someone I had been "stalking" for a permit. Hooray! I love when people return my calls.

"How funny, I'm in your area right now, may I swing by?"

"Well I'm leaving the house now, but will be back later this afternoon." [I hate hearing this]

"Oh, okay. What time should I come by then?"

"Oooohhh I guess I'll be back at 4:00"

Crap!! This is what goes through my head when this kind of thing happens:

a) I'm an hour and a half away from the mother ship (my office).

b) I'm ALSO an hour and a half away from home.

c) It is now 11:00 a.m.

d) I could just swing by anyway and have him sign it, but that would be rude because we just made an appointment for 4 and I risk him not being there anyway.

e) I could give up for today, but I need this one for tomorrow morning. There's no way around this....I must wait. Criminy!

Given that I now have 5 hours to blow (sigh!), I weigh my options:

a) Go home, hang out for 1 hour, and drive alllllll the way back?

b) Go shopping? (my inner voice, and financial guru Dave Ramsey's screams "No!")

c) Drive around and find things to do (total waste of gas!)

So I drive across town to the local teen and 20-something resale store (where they'll buy your old designer clothing from you) and sell a pair of my Joe's jeans. (my inner voice says, "Cool! I'll make a little money while I kill time. Then maybe I'll spend a little and not feel so bad. How resourceful am I!!")

They end up giving me a whopping $22 for my $170 jeans. Total gyp.

I get back in my car contemplating my next step. It's 12:00 now. Great. Four hours to go. And I'm $22 richer. Neato.

So I back out of the parking lot to get some lunch and nearly run over a couple of teenagers. Sheesh! What is my problem? I like to think of myself as a good driver. Thank God they were around 15 and had enough (not too much, but enough) common sense to dodge me. A few minutes in a retirement home today and I'm driving like a 90 year old!

After lunch I had a BRILLIANT idea. I will get a massage. There is this local chain of massage places and if you're a first time customer, you get a sweet deal. A full body massage for only $39! Ok, so that will blow one more hour! I mean, the jeans really paid for most of it, right? So I schedule my appointment. I'm excited now. This massage is much needed.

About 15 minutes later as I'm getting gas, a thought crossed my mind. "CRAP!" I suddenly realized how I ran around that morning like a bat out of hell and hardly did my hair let alone anything else. So obviously I didn't shave my legs. If I'm wearing jeans and running late, I don't necessarily consider shaving a priority (yeah yeah, judge away!). So I hike up my jeans and do the feel test. I can definitely tell that I need to shave. Dammit. Now this poor lady who has to massage me will also feel it. She is going to think I'm some kind of amazon woman who doesn't shave. Or a hippie. Or that I'm just gross and she'll probably think I don't shower either. Ew.

What am I supposed to do now? I can't cancel the appointment because she specifically stated over the phone that if I don't show, I still pay the fee.

So I sit in my car and contemplate my options at this point. I could:

a) Get a hotel room and shower and shave? (way too expensive and not worth it)

b) Just be hairy? Eeew.

c) Go buy a razor and find a place to shave? But where? And how?

I'm seriously annoyed by now. As if I didn't already get screwed out of the true value of my awesome jeans and nearly steamroll two teenagers. Ugh.

So I get to Chevron and attempt to purchase a razor blade without looking creepy. You know, just in case I choose option C above.

Of course, being inconspicuous is impossible! The cashier had to scream at me upon my arrival, "Can I help ya find somethin' hun?" Me, being the honest person I am tell her yes, a razor blade. She doesn't need to know why. After I purchase my only option, a three-pack of cheap blue men's razor blades, I ask where her restroom is. She proceeds to scream, "You aren't gonna shave are you?"

Nope. Not anymore. Thanks.

So I leave.

I have now decided I need my toes painted for an upcoming wedding that weekend. So I make my way across town to a nail salon. My master plan was to figure something out in their restroom. After my toes dry, I make my way to the restroom. I decide not to use water, but to just hike up my jeans and dry shave as quickly as possible (a trick I learned 10 years ago in Mexico on a church mission trip. Don't ask). I hurry because I don't want them to think I'm doing anything weird in there. Haha. Right.

So I make it to my massage appointment, and my legs feel semi smooth. Don't think she'll notice. I think I've done all I can do. My massage felt great. And I didn't even think about my burning dry shaven legs. Nope, I got into a zen place and had a very relaxing and wonderful hour-long massage. Plus, I never have to see this girl again, so who cares what she thinks of me?

Finally, 4:00 rolled around and I had my long awaited appointment with a nice man who signed my permit. By that time I was so relaxed that I couldn't hold it against him that I had a long, interesting, somewhat frustrating 5 hours spent solely for his convenience.

As he greeted me, he cheerfully asked, "How has your day been?"

And I simply replied with "Great!"

Enough said.

All you can do on days like this is just keep a sense of humor. I was pretty annoyed, but once I realized how humorous my day kept getting, I just had to laugh. (I was by myself, so I probably looked like a complete fool, but I laughed anyhow).

I haven't cleaned out my purse since that day, so every time I go digging around, I come across a cheap blue gas station razor blade and just giggle.

Who does that? Who carries a razor blade in their purse? I better remove that before I have to go to an airport or something.