“The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure , the process is its own reward.”
~Amelia Earhart
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Best Line Ever
Josh use to work in a not so upscale sales establishment where everyone identified their "products" of choice by their own lingo. See if you can figure this one out...
I'll have a pistol and a pack of what I is!!!
Did you get it yet?
A pistol = Colt 45
A pack of what I is = a pack of Kools
Gotta love it!
I'll have a pistol and a pack of what I is!!!
Did you get it yet?
A pistol = Colt 45
A pack of what I is = a pack of Kools
Gotta love it!
Blues, Salsa and Chinese Acrobats
Have I mentioned life in Vanessa's St. Louis world is nothing short of splendid and one of those lives I thought only other people had. It is hard to pick one moment from this weekend as I literally feel like I've been on vacation all weekend! I don't even know that I can pull sarcasm into the picture...who am I kidding; there is always sarcasm to be had.
Of course my weekend o' fun began with breaking said boys heart (see previous post). I am sure a rapid and sure recovery will be had.
Let's start with the evening of the 4" inch heels. Now, we all know how I love to wear fabulous shoes. Well a spontaneous night of fun doesn't always coordinate well with the shoes. A part of 4 inch heels looked great as I "wore" my jeans (as it was point out to me that night) into Jazz at the Bistro to see one Ms. Kim Massie. What an amazing voice. She can sing Ella like I've never heard (www. Kimmassie.com). You have to see the woman in person to fully understand -- the facial expressions acting out each song.
Fabulous Amy and I stepped outside of the Bistro both not ready to pack it in and as Amy pointed out my "rack" looked great and it would be a waste to go home. My said ample bust for the night continued to be a theme between Amy and me. I have a good 3 inches on Amy with my feel flat on the ground. Add 4 inches and let's just say it is a good thing that she thought my rack looked great because she was eye-level with it all night.
Here comes the reason my chiropractor would shoot me. Throwing caution to the wind Amy and decided we owned St. Louis this weekend. Neither one of us knowing how, decided Salsa dancing was in order. Why I thought my feet would stand this pure form of torture I'll never know. Walking into Dante’s, the first oddity is the guy to girl ratio. There is like 10 guys literally to every girl. Now if we were going to a raining men, gay stripper bar this ratio would have made sense. We both ended up looking as white as we were but had a blast and just had to remember it's all in the hips!!! Top the evening off with waffles covered in hot fudge and ice cream at Uncle Bill's and you've got one heck of an evening.
Enter Saturday. I wandered off to the Missouri Botanical Gardens to enjoy the first non-rain day in some 2 weeks. The Missouri Botanical Gardens is one of the largest and longest running in the United States. They also were having Chinese Culture days and celebrating their Chinese Garden. Full on Chinese Acrobats and full on contortion of small children throwing straw hats was a highlight of the afternoon.
After soaking up the sun, it was time for a night out. I actually busted out a dress. While that may not see odd for a girl, it is odd for this girl. Dolled up, in a dress and MAC Velveteen Red lipstick we headed to Brandt's on Delmar (http://www.ucityloop.com/), quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of town. Meeting Cassey and Josh and listening to the Sydney Street Jazz Trio is good times. I quickly pointed out upon reapplication of said red lipstick, that exact tube of lipstick out lasted my marriage.
In true Thelma and Louise fashion the closing of Brandt's at midnight did not coordinate with our bad girl side! We strolled Delmar looking for some healthy fun and wandered into the Delmar Lounge. One of the bars open in the Loop until 3AM. We sat at the bar and contemplated the meaning of life (as any good bar patron does at 1AM) and laughed until our sides hurt. This particular evening ended in true, unscriptable fashion.
Stepping outside on the street, I asked this extremely tall gentleman if he had a light. Later finding out extremely tall = 6'7". His reply to this was I smoke pot but I don't smoke cigarettes. Alrighty then. Amy and I kindly pointed out that you still need fire to smoke pot. Ah, yes the quick retort -- but not in a bar. After chatting for a moment and exchanging hellos and an original do you come here often, the retort of said tall man was he owned the establishment. The 3 of us chatted, art, jazz, politics and lord knows what else until the sun was breaking and the birds annoyingly chirping. The annoyance comes when you lay your head on a pillow and it is all you can hear.
Here we are Sunday morning...correction going to bed at 6AM means that when I got out of bed the classification was not morning. But it was coffee, eggs, ragtime albums and laughs.
I have done it...Vanessa Got her groove back!
Of course my weekend o' fun began with breaking said boys heart (see previous post). I am sure a rapid and sure recovery will be had.
Let's start with the evening of the 4" inch heels. Now, we all know how I love to wear fabulous shoes. Well a spontaneous night of fun doesn't always coordinate well with the shoes. A part of 4 inch heels looked great as I "wore" my jeans (as it was point out to me that night) into Jazz at the Bistro to see one Ms. Kim Massie. What an amazing voice. She can sing Ella like I've never heard (www. Kimmassie.com). You have to see the woman in person to fully understand -- the facial expressions acting out each song.
Fabulous Amy and I stepped outside of the Bistro both not ready to pack it in and as Amy pointed out my "rack" looked great and it would be a waste to go home. My said ample bust for the night continued to be a theme between Amy and me. I have a good 3 inches on Amy with my feel flat on the ground. Add 4 inches and let's just say it is a good thing that she thought my rack looked great because she was eye-level with it all night.
Here comes the reason my chiropractor would shoot me. Throwing caution to the wind Amy and decided we owned St. Louis this weekend. Neither one of us knowing how, decided Salsa dancing was in order. Why I thought my feet would stand this pure form of torture I'll never know. Walking into Dante’s, the first oddity is the guy to girl ratio. There is like 10 guys literally to every girl. Now if we were going to a raining men, gay stripper bar this ratio would have made sense. We both ended up looking as white as we were but had a blast and just had to remember it's all in the hips!!! Top the evening off with waffles covered in hot fudge and ice cream at Uncle Bill's and you've got one heck of an evening.
Enter Saturday. I wandered off to the Missouri Botanical Gardens to enjoy the first non-rain day in some 2 weeks. The Missouri Botanical Gardens is one of the largest and longest running in the United States. They also were having Chinese Culture days and celebrating their Chinese Garden. Full on Chinese Acrobats and full on contortion of small children throwing straw hats was a highlight of the afternoon.
After soaking up the sun, it was time for a night out. I actually busted out a dress. While that may not see odd for a girl, it is odd for this girl. Dolled up, in a dress and MAC Velveteen Red lipstick we headed to Brandt's on Delmar (http://www.ucityloop.com/), quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of town. Meeting Cassey and Josh and listening to the Sydney Street Jazz Trio is good times. I quickly pointed out upon reapplication of said red lipstick, that exact tube of lipstick out lasted my marriage.
In true Thelma and Louise fashion the closing of Brandt's at midnight did not coordinate with our bad girl side! We strolled Delmar looking for some healthy fun and wandered into the Delmar Lounge. One of the bars open in the Loop until 3AM. We sat at the bar and contemplated the meaning of life (as any good bar patron does at 1AM) and laughed until our sides hurt. This particular evening ended in true, unscriptable fashion.
Stepping outside on the street, I asked this extremely tall gentleman if he had a light. Later finding out extremely tall = 6'7". His reply to this was I smoke pot but I don't smoke cigarettes. Alrighty then. Amy and I kindly pointed out that you still need fire to smoke pot. Ah, yes the quick retort -- but not in a bar. After chatting for a moment and exchanging hellos and an original do you come here often, the retort of said tall man was he owned the establishment. The 3 of us chatted, art, jazz, politics and lord knows what else until the sun was breaking and the birds annoyingly chirping. The annoyance comes when you lay your head on a pillow and it is all you can hear.
Here we are Sunday morning...correction going to bed at 6AM means that when I got out of bed the classification was not morning. But it was coffee, eggs, ragtime albums and laughs.
I have done it...Vanessa Got her groove back!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Rejection a.k.a Why I LOVE My Roommate
So here is WHY I LOVE my roommate (no not in that way...get your minds out of the gutter). I am having problems telling J. that I am interested. So here is how FABULOUS Amy has proposed I communicate this to said boy!!!
This is the actual email (with full name removed) I just received at work. Needless to say my co-workers think I've made that last step over the edge!
Too true, rejecting people = not fun... so to help ease your unpleasant task... I've included some stock "let down" lines for your viewing pleasure (and possible use):
1. "J, I... uh... I may have failed to inform you that I have been diagnosed with split personality disorder. Vanessa didn't take into account that this weekend is Sheena's scheduled weekend, and she has other plans. Vanessa will catch up with you next week."
2. "J., I'd love to get together with you, but unfortunately my IBS is flaring up and I'd rather spare you the unpleasantness that entails."
3. "J.... the thing is... well... this just isn't working for me. Thanks for playing and better luck next time."
And lastly, a poem.
For J-dog
No one likes to be rejected
But sometimes life can be unkind
I hope you won't be too affected
When I point out you're unrefined
This is the actual email (with full name removed) I just received at work. Needless to say my co-workers think I've made that last step over the edge!
Too true, rejecting people = not fun... so to help ease your unpleasant task... I've included some stock "let down" lines for your viewing pleasure (and possible use):
1. "J, I... uh... I may have failed to inform you that I have been diagnosed with split personality disorder. Vanessa didn't take into account that this weekend is Sheena's scheduled weekend, and she has other plans. Vanessa will catch up with you next week."
2. "J., I'd love to get together with you, but unfortunately my IBS is flaring up and I'd rather spare you the unpleasantness that entails."
3. "J.... the thing is... well... this just isn't working for me. Thanks for playing and better luck next time."
And lastly, a poem.
For J-dog
No one likes to be rejected
But sometimes life can be unkind
I hope you won't be too affected
When I point out you're unrefined
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Unmatch-ed
So this morning I get the pleasure of reading Jenn's blog. She is truly an amazing writer fostering a talent the rest of the world needs to experience. Said blog, is full of wonderful stories about Saint Rob whom she met on match. Funny she should mention that because one of my catch-up blogs was going to be about my recent gaggle of first dates. *read -- first dates*
Many of you are familiar with the date that is now doing 2 years in prison for real estate fraud. However, this is no longer my best story to come out of match. Moving to a new city can be intimating and finding new friends let alone a date can be a full-time job. Well, thankfully Fabulous Amy has helped in the friends department. Being another single, fun-loving female in her 30s, I am not sure she is going to be so willing to share the men -- hence the, albeit brief, return of my match profile.
There is an extensive song and dance associated with the match world that I will leave for another post. After chatting on and off line with a man that approached me on match, we decided on coffee -- harmless enough, public place and lots of exits. We chatted for a good couple of hours. About half way through the evening I sensed this wasn't really a match but the conversation was friendly enough. He seemed taken back by my candor -- I know...shocking!
After discussing the fact that I was probably too straightforward, etc. My world continued to move along at lightening pace -- art exhibits, Irish Pub band, little out of the way coffee shops. No second thoughts really on the dating scene as I had decided my time was better spent getting to know my new city.
I get a phone call that weekend from the coffee date. He wants to tell me he thinks I am grand -- of course, who doesn't? He also explained that he did check out 1/2 way through the date because there were some things about his life he wasn't comfortable discussing in public. I understood, not all of us air our dirty laundry on Front Street. He called to tell me what that "something" was and we could go from there.
My tendency is to be very open-minded and not searching for my soul-mate, I figured what was the harm in chatting about it. Then came the silence, and then came the "something". I am still not sure I was ready to hear..."I am a cross-dresser". Huh? Wait? Rinse and repeat. (Casey, wipe the coffee off the computer screen).
Now I am not thoughtless or careless and I understand everyone has there "thing". However, when you start talking gender reassignment, etc. with a stranger I have to wonder. I did fail to see the possible benefit of shoe sharing, as it was pointed out to me, but for now I think I’ll stick to my own wardrobe.
Needless to say, this only sealed the deal that I am taking the summer off dating!
Many of you are familiar with the date that is now doing 2 years in prison for real estate fraud. However, this is no longer my best story to come out of match. Moving to a new city can be intimating and finding new friends let alone a date can be a full-time job. Well, thankfully Fabulous Amy has helped in the friends department. Being another single, fun-loving female in her 30s, I am not sure she is going to be so willing to share the men -- hence the, albeit brief, return of my match profile.
There is an extensive song and dance associated with the match world that I will leave for another post. After chatting on and off line with a man that approached me on match, we decided on coffee -- harmless enough, public place and lots of exits. We chatted for a good couple of hours. About half way through the evening I sensed this wasn't really a match but the conversation was friendly enough. He seemed taken back by my candor -- I know...shocking!
After discussing the fact that I was probably too straightforward, etc. My world continued to move along at lightening pace -- art exhibits, Irish Pub band, little out of the way coffee shops. No second thoughts really on the dating scene as I had decided my time was better spent getting to know my new city.
I get a phone call that weekend from the coffee date. He wants to tell me he thinks I am grand -- of course, who doesn't? He also explained that he did check out 1/2 way through the date because there were some things about his life he wasn't comfortable discussing in public. I understood, not all of us air our dirty laundry on Front Street. He called to tell me what that "something" was and we could go from there.
My tendency is to be very open-minded and not searching for my soul-mate, I figured what was the harm in chatting about it. Then came the silence, and then came the "something". I am still not sure I was ready to hear..."I am a cross-dresser". Huh? Wait? Rinse and repeat. (Casey, wipe the coffee off the computer screen).
Now I am not thoughtless or careless and I understand everyone has there "thing". However, when you start talking gender reassignment, etc. with a stranger I have to wonder. I did fail to see the possible benefit of shoe sharing, as it was pointed out to me, but for now I think I’ll stick to my own wardrobe.
Needless to say, this only sealed the deal that I am taking the summer off dating!
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Vanessa the Tsunami
My life in St. Louis has been a whirlwind. I couldn't even document the ramblings that have been my existence in the last three months if I tried. I am going to attempt to get back to documenting my certifiable insanity going forward. After all it will make it easier for the courts to document and the voices say it will be good for me.
The best statement I have heard over the best few months was from a poor, naive, unsuspecting co-worker that had no idea that Vanessa Vaughn is actually code for the strange and unexplainable -- "Vanessa those things just don't happen to people in real life." Anyone who has known me for any amount of time can see the complete irony in this statement and how fits of laughter immediately followed and oxygen was on order before I stopped turning blue.
I'd say my most notable experience to the positive has been meeting my roommate Amy. The girl is Fabulous, yes with a capital "F". If anyone believes in living life to the absolute fullest it is this amazing woman. The funny thing is we are very similar and very different all at the same time. Although her one negative quality is her domestic goddessness which is a constant reminder of my current handicap. It is true, I have officially self diagnosed that I AM domestically disabled. I know this comes as a shocked to all those that have been invited to my 6-course, home cooked meals. Feeling left out? *Hint: not everything you read is true*
As I post over the next couple of weeks I will attempt to bring all up to speed on my craziness. This is one of those things that is best done in small doses. I am not responsible for any permanent damage done if anyone sits down and tries to read more than one entry at a time. Even I have to do this baby steps.
The best statement I have heard over the best few months was from a poor, naive, unsuspecting co-worker that had no idea that Vanessa Vaughn is actually code for the strange and unexplainable -- "Vanessa those things just don't happen to people in real life." Anyone who has known me for any amount of time can see the complete irony in this statement and how fits of laughter immediately followed and oxygen was on order before I stopped turning blue.
I'd say my most notable experience to the positive has been meeting my roommate Amy. The girl is Fabulous, yes with a capital "F". If anyone believes in living life to the absolute fullest it is this amazing woman. The funny thing is we are very similar and very different all at the same time. Although her one negative quality is her domestic goddessness which is a constant reminder of my current handicap. It is true, I have officially self diagnosed that I AM domestically disabled. I know this comes as a shocked to all those that have been invited to my 6-course, home cooked meals. Feeling left out? *Hint: not everything you read is true*
As I post over the next couple of weeks I will attempt to bring all up to speed on my craziness. This is one of those things that is best done in small doses. I am not responsible for any permanent damage done if anyone sits down and tries to read more than one entry at a time. Even I have to do this baby steps.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Unpublicized St. Louis Coffee Crisis
This was originally to be solely about the apparent and little publicized coffee crisis in St. Louis. So if you count how many places you could get coffee on your way to work and include driving a 1/2 mile out of your way, how many would there be? Well multiple that number by zero and that equals the number on my way on a 19 mile drive. I attempted to go 1/2 mile out of my way for coffee the other day. What a nightmare!
I have also found that it is perfectly expected to wait 5-7 minutes for someone to make a freakin Latte…no 1/2 and 1/2, no fancy anything…straight up espresso and milk! I mean for real, is coffee more expensive here? It taste like swill and you can't even buy one if you want to! What's a girl to do?
Other random coffee moments go something like this…requesting a quad latte gets a look from the guy behind the counter like I just asked him to sell me crack and a look of utter confusion on why someone would consume this crack loaded coffee.
Coffee to-go…now there is a concept. Even McDonald’s can handle that request. Then even warn you it is going to be hot. Go into a coffee joint in St. Louis and request a 20 ounce coffee to go is met by a blank stare and the guy behind the counter had to go check if they had to-go cups. At this point, I am missing Crusin’ Coffee. He produces a lone cup and says we only have this size. I said, “fine, I’ll take a 12 oz with 2 shots please.” I swear if I don’t have to waste a ½ hour in the morning on a mission for coffee. (The first one to leave a comment on my blog about making it myself will be put on my list…don’t even think about it!) My helpful co-worker did tell me they have plenty of coffee to-go in St. Louis, it is called gas stations. I will forward her address for get well cards shortly.
Now the reason this is not solely about the coffee crisis is this wonderful creation I have discovered called St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake. This little cake of wonderful butter and sweet goodness! Melts in your mouth and sticks straight to my hips! It does offset my annoyance with the coffee crisis. Lucky for St. Louis they didn’t call it Gooey Coffee Cake. You can’t get a coffee to go with it so this would have caused postal reactions of catastrophic proportions.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gooey_butter_cake
I have also found that it is perfectly expected to wait 5-7 minutes for someone to make a freakin Latte…no 1/2 and 1/2, no fancy anything…straight up espresso and milk! I mean for real, is coffee more expensive here? It taste like swill and you can't even buy one if you want to! What's a girl to do?
Other random coffee moments go something like this…requesting a quad latte gets a look from the guy behind the counter like I just asked him to sell me crack and a look of utter confusion on why someone would consume this crack loaded coffee.
Coffee to-go…now there is a concept. Even McDonald’s can handle that request. Then even warn you it is going to be hot. Go into a coffee joint in St. Louis and request a 20 ounce coffee to go is met by a blank stare and the guy behind the counter had to go check if they had to-go cups. At this point, I am missing Crusin’ Coffee. He produces a lone cup and says we only have this size. I said, “fine, I’ll take a 12 oz with 2 shots please.” I swear if I don’t have to waste a ½ hour in the morning on a mission for coffee. (The first one to leave a comment on my blog about making it myself will be put on my list…don’t even think about it!) My helpful co-worker did tell me they have plenty of coffee to-go in St. Louis, it is called gas stations. I will forward her address for get well cards shortly.
Now the reason this is not solely about the coffee crisis is this wonderful creation I have discovered called St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake. This little cake of wonderful butter and sweet goodness! Melts in your mouth and sticks straight to my hips! It does offset my annoyance with the coffee crisis. Lucky for St. Louis they didn’t call it Gooey Coffee Cake. You can’t get a coffee to go with it so this would have caused postal reactions of catastrophic proportions.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gooey_butter_cake
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Not So Friendly Skies
First off, Chris, the fact that you called me at 3:15AM, 3:30AM and 5:21AM and had not met Britney Spears on YOUR way to rehab, pisses me off! 3 hours of sleep to move across the country, not nearly enough. I have managed to pretty much stay numb for the last 2 weeks on my move and I am relishing the fact that I ran into so many assholes on the way out to St. Louis or I would have been a quivering mess in the "waiting area" at Bellingham airport -- too small to be called a terminal. After asking me how many bags I was checking, the not so pleasant ticket agent told me I'd have to pay $25 for the 8 pounds my suitcase was over weight. 8 pounds, which is $3.125 a pound. That is a little excessive don't you think? I was offered the option of moving stuff into my other checked bag. One look at the zipper pulling at the sides, let me know that wasn't an option. Too tired to make a fuss, I simply handed her the credit card. While already paying more money to the airline, I tried to purchase an upgrade. I wanted the comfort and PEACE of first class. She told me I'd have to do that in Seattle. F-i-n-e! So far the flight was early enough that I didn't see anyone under 3 feet tall lurking about. Now security. I was feeling like this would be my easiest trip through security in years. Checked baggage meant beauty products were safely tucked in my suitcase, 3 ounces or less be damned! Try again, apparently a bottle of hand lotion and 2 lip glosses hiding in the bottom my purse pissed off the security Nazis. The fact that I didn't have a plastic, zip-lock baggie pissed me off because I threw $40 worth of crap in the garbage. This is when the angry was secured and any impending tears avoided.
The bitch that was named Cathy is what awaited me at SEATAC. First off all, when I ask top purchase a first class upgrade, telling me none are available could have saved us both a freakin' headache. Sans the obvious explanation, I call my mom to get on-line to see if she can do this seemingly easy task. Nope, no easy button here. Toll free number? Finally, a pleasant human on the other end of the phone told me first class was sold out. Was that difficult? Did the lady working at the gate not have this information.
Had the first class fiasco been my last interaction with Cathy I might not be so bitter. However, looking at the seat next to me I realized the man that was sitting there charging his laptop, left with the cord but not the laptop. Like a good citizen that didn't take note of what the non-descript man sitting next to her looked like, I politely walk over to Cathy and tell her that someone left there laptop sitting on the bench. I have seen this type of disclosure of an empty plastic bag in an airport lead to 7 burly security guards running and diving on an empty bag. The electronic equipment merely had Cathy snipe at me, not my problem if someone steals it. Ah, O.K. Good thing my lip gloss was too dangerous to make it into the gate but an abandoned laptop is not her problem.
Back to why I wanted first class to begin with...kids. Don't get me wrong, I like kids but my experience tells me that a plane and kids mix like water and electricity. I get on the plane and realize I have a bulk head, window seat and let out a sigh of relieve that I may get some rest. I should know better! Let's just say I found out on the Seattle to St. Louis plane ride the child constantly slapping the tray up and down against the seat is worse than one continually kicking the seat.
Stay tuned for the next installment for the fun that has been the car rental and hotel stay...
The bitch that was named Cathy is what awaited me at SEATAC. First off all, when I ask top purchase a first class upgrade, telling me none are available could have saved us both a freakin' headache. Sans the obvious explanation, I call my mom to get on-line to see if she can do this seemingly easy task. Nope, no easy button here. Toll free number? Finally, a pleasant human on the other end of the phone told me first class was sold out. Was that difficult? Did the lady working at the gate not have this information.
Had the first class fiasco been my last interaction with Cathy I might not be so bitter. However, looking at the seat next to me I realized the man that was sitting there charging his laptop, left with the cord but not the laptop. Like a good citizen that didn't take note of what the non-descript man sitting next to her looked like, I politely walk over to Cathy and tell her that someone left there laptop sitting on the bench. I have seen this type of disclosure of an empty plastic bag in an airport lead to 7 burly security guards running and diving on an empty bag. The electronic equipment merely had Cathy snipe at me, not my problem if someone steals it. Ah, O.K. Good thing my lip gloss was too dangerous to make it into the gate but an abandoned laptop is not her problem.
Back to why I wanted first class to begin with...kids. Don't get me wrong, I like kids but my experience tells me that a plane and kids mix like water and electricity. I get on the plane and realize I have a bulk head, window seat and let out a sigh of relieve that I may get some rest. I should know better! Let's just say I found out on the Seattle to St. Louis plane ride the child constantly slapping the tray up and down against the seat is worse than one continually kicking the seat.
Stay tuned for the next installment for the fun that has been the car rental and hotel stay...
The Benefit of Assholes
IHOP breakfast: $12.44
Check-in suitcase that is 8 pounds over weight: $25.00
Latte at SeaTac: $4.56
Running into assholes all the way to St. Louis to keep me from balling like a baby: PRICELESS
Check-in suitcase that is 8 pounds over weight: $25.00
Latte at SeaTac: $4.56
Running into assholes all the way to St. Louis to keep me from balling like a baby: PRICELESS
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Madness -- The Beginning or is it The End
The move update and so begins the life of the blog. Jenn has set the bar pretty high. I'll start with the disclaimer that my spelling sucks and I did everything I could to avoid English classes in college. So if the comments you want to leave having anything to do with my grammar or spelling, see my complaints’ department. If you don't know where to find my complaints’ department, please ask, I'll tell ya!
I am on pins and needles with feelings of being obsessively anxious, neurotic, frantic, excited, in a frenzy and then rinsing and repeating when the second hand changes. If I had more money, by now my mom would have me in a 51-50 lockdown next to Britney and filing to be conservator of my estate. Correction...if I had any money!
During one of my epiphanies I surmised I had my move all figured out -- short stay in a hotel and move into an apartment in Central West End of St. Louis. During my next trip into lunacy I figured I'd never get everything together -- and how do I ship my car and where do I put my cats and how do I move my belongings and what in my apartment can I throw away and oh my how was I thinking I could pull this off?
Ok, which friend gets to talk me off the ledge this time? Dial cell phone and hope for the right words on the other end. I guess to get the words I need to hear, I have to be able to explain my current crisis in words and not tears. This drill has become familiar and after a few brief overwhelming minutes, I am again dancing on the ledge and feeling as if I know what I am doing.
I am currently having a glimpse of sanity, sans the drama and tears in this current posting. I am sure the roller coaster is only at a temporary stop to load more passengers. We pause for a moment to thank my sponsors, those who keep sitting in the front car of the roller coaster, even though the bar doesn't look like it locks into place anymore....and now back to my irregularly scheduled meltdown.
So as of today here is where we stand...my last day at Olympic/Sterling on 2/15. I leave Bellingham on 2/16 and start work in St. Louis on 2/18! I will be staying in a hotel until the 27th and flying back to Bellingham to get thy affairs in order and back to St. Louis on 3/1. Where I am staying when I go back is still up in the air. I am thinking 2 more weeks in a hotel while I prowl the city for a place to live and wait for my car to be delivered.
Note: This has been edited to prevent shock and horror in anyone who is not a truck driver or had more than a two minute conversation with my mother.
I am on pins and needles with feelings of being obsessively anxious, neurotic, frantic, excited, in a frenzy and then rinsing and repeating when the second hand changes. If I had more money, by now my mom would have me in a 51-50 lockdown next to Britney and filing to be conservator of my estate. Correction...if I had any money!
During one of my epiphanies I surmised I had my move all figured out -- short stay in a hotel and move into an apartment in Central West End of St. Louis. During my next trip into lunacy I figured I'd never get everything together -- and how do I ship my car and where do I put my cats and how do I move my belongings and what in my apartment can I throw away and oh my how was I thinking I could pull this off?
Ok, which friend gets to talk me off the ledge this time? Dial cell phone and hope for the right words on the other end. I guess to get the words I need to hear, I have to be able to explain my current crisis in words and not tears. This drill has become familiar and after a few brief overwhelming minutes, I am again dancing on the ledge and feeling as if I know what I am doing.
I am currently having a glimpse of sanity, sans the drama and tears in this current posting. I am sure the roller coaster is only at a temporary stop to load more passengers. We pause for a moment to thank my sponsors, those who keep sitting in the front car of the roller coaster, even though the bar doesn't look like it locks into place anymore....and now back to my irregularly scheduled meltdown.
So as of today here is where we stand...my last day at Olympic/Sterling on 2/15. I leave Bellingham on 2/16 and start work in St. Louis on 2/18! I will be staying in a hotel until the 27th and flying back to Bellingham to get thy affairs in order and back to St. Louis on 3/1. Where I am staying when I go back is still up in the air. I am thinking 2 more weeks in a hotel while I prowl the city for a place to live and wait for my car to be delivered.
Note: This has been edited to prevent shock and horror in anyone who is not a truck driver or had more than a two minute conversation with my mother.
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