1. Frustration is something you let happen. I'm getting pretty awesome at not letting frustration win. Well at work anyways, my somewhat disasterous personal life is a different story.
2. Mint skinny cows are the best ones.
3. Letting go is hard.
4. I am a horrible horrible money manager. HORRIBLE
5. I think I'm ready for an answer to this long distance relationship question. I should be careful what I ask/wish for. Because, honestly, I'm not prepared for a 'No' answer. I have such a hard time being patient and LOVING being content with where it is now. It's really really good where it is now. But oh no. I have to push to a finite. I want him to move home, but I want out of Tulsa. There's tons of talk of long term-ness but making it work between 370 miles is easy and hard. It's hard because when the day has been too strong, he's not here to give me a hug. It's easy because I get total control of the remote, the covers, and the bathroom in the morning. I didn't really mean for this tangent to drag out this long. I just wish I knew the secret behind this magic trick, but then I suppose it wouldn't be as magical.
6. I hate writing papers. Critiques of Journal Articles are for the birds.
7. The ICD9 for a humerus fracture (just a general one, you can get specific with tuberosities and what not if you need to do so, but in a pinch this one works) is 812.00
Friday, February 18, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
sugar.cookie.
TWO POSTS TWO DAYS IN A ROW?!?! I'm bored. I'm not going to attempt to lie. This one is kinda ooey gooey. I hate ooey gooey. BLECH. But I gotta chat it out. Gotta put it down on the world wide interwebs so that when I'm sad and blue, I can look back at this post (and this atrocious punctuation/grammar combination) and know that I'm capable of an upside down frown. So here goes. Abandon all hope ye who enter here. Everyone else, come on in. The water is completely fine.
So the story starts out, I'm ummm 22-ish and at football practice. In the rain (I'm not sure if it was actually raining or not, but go with it) and completely twitterpated with the TU quarterback. Cliche. I know. But he's tall, dark, and dreamy, and it's raining. Maybe. So it's Sunday afternoon-evening, and they are just running through mock plays and kind of just screwing around. And Jacob* (names have been changed to protect the guilty) starts calling verbals from the line like this...... SUGAR. COOKIE. and GREEN. BEAN. and ORANGE. JUICE. and COTTON. CANDY. and RUBBER. BALL and while we are all kinda laughing, I'm sort of intrigued in why he's choosing to call fake plays in a very precise manner (most plays are a random number and a random color. Football players are simple creatures). So I ask. Because I needed a reason to talk to the dreamy, wet dog smelling, quarterback and I honestly really wanted to know. So the convo goes like this. AHEM:
Me: Sugar cookie?
J: Yep
Me: Right. Why?
J: Because they go together.
Me: Well, sort of I guess. But you can have one without the other.
J: But why would you want to?
*** DISCLAIMER *** This is the kiss of death I'm pretty sure. I don't think he'll ever see this unless I unveil it to him, but I've learned that once you start writing it down, it goes south. Fast. *shrugs shoulders* Eh. Sie la vie. I'm too icky sticky happy to care right now.
The sugar to my cookie. The bean to my green. The cotton to my candy. Get it? I thought so. He makes me laugh before I say 'hello'. He lets my melancholy stew simmer. He calls in the middle of the night to tell me a joke. He quotes 'Friday' and 'Super Troopers' at all appropriate and inappropriate times. He loves Red Dirt. Music. Not the actual dirt. He plays Modern Warfare. He can change a tire in Rock 'n Repbulics and an Armani button down. He would be slightly irritated if he knew that I wrote that as a thing I like but he would secretly like it that I like it. He's not afraid to let me order for him. He two steps better than me. A LOT better. He buys things because they are on sale. Errr, I mean because they are a bargain (everyone that lives in a three story six plex needs a thirty foot ladder. Creeper.) He youtube fights with me. He drinks pomegranate vodka (I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!?) He's a Cowboy in an Oklahoma State kinda way. He's more addicted to How I Met Your Mother and A&E than I am. His love affair with Sriracha is a thing of beauty. He's a red wing voter. Slightly left wing liver. He's a tech nerd. BIG tech nerd. He owns guns, a bow, and takes his hat off when the National Anthem plays. His designer jean collection is a thing of reverence. He holds my hand. Even when it's just us. His OCD is out.of.control. But not in a psycho way. He always agrees to "TAKE A PICTURE" and then on the 901th one, he covers my face up. And it's funny.
I hope your face lights up like Christmas when you talk about me. I hope you get up in the morning and wish that my shampoo/conditioner/shower gel/shaving cream/body scrub/girl paraphenalia et. al. was in your way. I hope you eat at Oceano's and get the mussels. I hope your tickets are next to mine. I hope someone walks by you with D&G's Light Blue on. And you look twice. I hope someone orders a tall fat tire and a shot of rumple. I hope a KOL song comes on the radio. I hope you know how much you color my gray skies blue.
I'll take today over yesterday anyday.
So the story starts out, I'm ummm 22-ish and at football practice. In the rain (I'm not sure if it was actually raining or not, but go with it) and completely twitterpated with the TU quarterback. Cliche. I know. But he's tall, dark, and dreamy, and it's raining. Maybe. So it's Sunday afternoon-evening, and they are just running through mock plays and kind of just screwing around. And Jacob* (names have been changed to protect the guilty) starts calling verbals from the line like this...... SUGAR. COOKIE. and GREEN. BEAN. and ORANGE. JUICE. and COTTON. CANDY. and RUBBER. BALL and while we are all kinda laughing, I'm sort of intrigued in why he's choosing to call fake plays in a very precise manner (most plays are a random number and a random color. Football players are simple creatures). So I ask. Because I needed a reason to talk to the dreamy, wet dog smelling, quarterback and I honestly really wanted to know. So the convo goes like this. AHEM:
Me: Sugar cookie?
J: Yep
Me: Right. Why?
J: Because they go together.
Me: Well, sort of I guess. But you can have one without the other.
J: But why would you want to?
*** DISCLAIMER *** This is the kiss of death I'm pretty sure. I don't think he'll ever see this unless I unveil it to him, but I've learned that once you start writing it down, it goes south. Fast. *shrugs shoulders* Eh. Sie la vie. I'm too icky sticky happy to care right now.
The sugar to my cookie. The bean to my green. The cotton to my candy. Get it? I thought so. He makes me laugh before I say 'hello'. He lets my melancholy stew simmer. He calls in the middle of the night to tell me a joke. He quotes 'Friday' and 'Super Troopers' at all appropriate and inappropriate times. He loves Red Dirt. Music. Not the actual dirt. He plays Modern Warfare. He can change a tire in Rock 'n Repbulics and an Armani button down. He would be slightly irritated if he knew that I wrote that as a thing I like but he would secretly like it that I like it. He's not afraid to let me order for him. He two steps better than me. A LOT better. He buys things because they are on sale. Errr, I mean because they are a bargain (everyone that lives in a three story six plex needs a thirty foot ladder. Creeper.) He youtube fights with me. He drinks pomegranate vodka (I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!?) He's a Cowboy in an Oklahoma State kinda way. He's more addicted to How I Met Your Mother and A&E than I am. His love affair with Sriracha is a thing of beauty. He's a red wing voter. Slightly left wing liver. He's a tech nerd. BIG tech nerd. He owns guns, a bow, and takes his hat off when the National Anthem plays. His designer jean collection is a thing of reverence. He holds my hand. Even when it's just us. His OCD is out.of.control. But not in a psycho way. He always agrees to "TAKE A PICTURE" and then on the 901th one, he covers my face up. And it's funny.
I hope your face lights up like Christmas when you talk about me. I hope you get up in the morning and wish that my shampoo/conditioner/shower gel/shaving cream/body scrub/girl paraphenalia et. al. was in your way. I hope you eat at Oceano's and get the mussels. I hope your tickets are next to mine. I hope someone walks by you with D&G's Light Blue on. And you look twice. I hope someone orders a tall fat tire and a shot of rumple. I hope a KOL song comes on the radio. I hope you know how much you color my gray skies blue.
I'll take today over yesterday anyday.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
snowed in
It's cold. And by cold I mean unless your house is literally on fire, it is impossible to be warm. I currently have on some Uggs and a big North Face (thank you E) and I'm still cold. There's a fire in the fireplace, and I've turned up both heaters more than once now. All of this complaining to say that I am thankful that I have power. And water. I know people in Texas who have no heat and their septic is frozen. This means well... Let your 1890's imagination run wild here. Ick.
My boss has been so excited for a snow day, and now that they have just called off day THREE of work, I'm going to have to remind him to be more cautious of what he wishes for. Which brings me back again to the current life dilemma. I can't put forth anymore effort to discuss it, so I'm not going to do so. What I AM going to do is share what I learned today from everyone's dear friend Walt Disney. I have forgotten what great life lessons Mr. Disney had/has by imparting the plain things are the main things. I watched the Princess and the Frog today. GREAT MOVIE. It's set in 1950's-ish New Orleans (or NAHLANNS if you are actually from there) and the short stint that my family did there, makes me wish for some good gumbo and a heaping helping of bread pudding with a side of bananas foster. Anyhow, so the story is based loosely on the 'princess kisses a frog and he turns into a prince' tale, and as life doesn't go the way that everyone hopes and dreams for.... the leading lady starts to realize that it's not striving for what we want that is imperative. It's loving what we need.
I need my family. My dad and his hilarious personification of southpark characters (and his magical ability to change flat tires). My mother and her kind spirit and her contagious laugh. My sister with her opinioniated compassion. My brother with his wit and his edge. My precious sister in law who will speed knit with a book light to make sure I have a warm beanie.
I need my friends. My college roomie RY RY who can sit and watch TLC with me for hours, who can make me laugh no matter what, and will always go get yogurt with me. Shanwow who is my cheerleader when I flunk out and is honest with me about what REAL is. AAQ who proves that succeeding is not a destination, but an ongoing struggle to stay ahead of ones humanistic failure self. ChristinaMariaConsuelaGonzalesBananahammockPicassoSernaFarley who proves that just because it's not a cookie cutter fairy tale doesn't mean that it isn't one. My Morige Porgie Puddin Pie, who loves everyone for who they are. My JohnnaKay who will tell the story again, with the Brooklyn accent and everything for the simple reason that I asked, and who reminds me that it's okay to be sad but it's not okay to live in the pit of dispair.
It's okay to dream. It's okay to reach for the stars. But to realize that you don't need the dream, you need the love, the laughter, and the support of those people in your life who make it worth getting out of bed in the morning. Knowing that you have a strong army to take on whatever the day brings your way is better than anything I could ever dream of.
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