The Daily Drivel

A new start

2010-10-14T13:28:00.003-05:00

I've started a new (and hopefully improved) blog. Check it out: http://lorijwalker.wordpress.com/

The lady in red

2010-08-15T21:47:00.004-05:00

My awesome friend Lori B invited me to go a fundraiser for Arkansas Children's Hospital last week, and I was so excited... great cause, good company, and the chance to get dressed up... how fun is that?

The event is called the "Color of Hope Gala," and every year they pick a different color. This year was red.

I'm a brunette. I love wearing red!

For a few days I searched local stores for the perfect red dress to no avail. So I finally ordered one online and paid $20 for expedited shipping.

It arrived two days before the event, and I excitedly tried it on. Um, no.

Just like a 747, certain items have shifted during flight. I looked totally boobalicious. Not only were they hanging low, they were spilling out the side. And, let's face it, when you're in your late 30s, even if you're skinny and still perky, there's only a small amount of skin you can show in good taste.

So I frantically went shopping on Thursday and finally bought a red dress. It was one I'd tried on a week before and deemed mediocre. But 24 hours before an event, mediocre was acceptable.

I showed up to the gala and the first three dresses I saw were black, white and gold, respectively. Cheaters.

But we had a fabulous time. Lori B seemed to enjoy my snarky comments about all the women with their hooters on full display. I enjoyed the young girl sitting near us who had both bottles of wine on our table and proceeded to accidentally make a large donation (her husband was mad!). And I got to meet Herschel Walker, who was lovely. All in all, it was an awesome time!

I think I was born to be fancy. I do so enjoy it.

KISS it

2010-08-03T21:53:00.005-05:00

I have much to say about my trip to Texas last week, but not enough time to share it at the moment. So I'll leave you with the following things I learned on vacation:

1. Children are expensive and make a lot of laundry
2. They need a new word to describe Cowboys Stadium; "gargantuan" isn't big enough
3. "Schlitterbahn" is German for "total lack of body awareness"
4. The amount of time spent waiting in line is directly proportionate to how unhappy Lonnie will get
5. When men find out you can cook, they invite themselves over for dinner
6. It takes two hours to paint four little boys' faces like KISS, and ten minutes for them to tire of it
7. Twin beds weren't meant for sleeping a deaux
8. "Despicable Me" is a great flick
9. I'm really, really glad I didn't go to medical school
10. It is possible not to check work email for four days

More later. Rest of pics are here, here, and here.

Why I love Twitter

2010-07-26T09:57:00.005-05:00

As an eDisharmony dropout, I've long been skeptical of online dating. They claim to have an intense measurement of compatability, but I'm not so sure about that. Perhaps it would work if you could measure the critical element of attraction, but let's face it, attraction is an intangible force that moves acquaintance to friendship and friendship to romance.

So while online dating didn't work out so well for me (I'm talking to you, stalker), the internet has led to some pretty cool friendships. Social media has totally improved my social life.

In other words, I've gone from internet quitter to social Twitter.

I know many of you don't get the allure of Twitter. You don't understand the need to know my random thoughts in 140-character spurts, but I am addicted to it. It's how I get all of my news.

And it's also a great way to recognize the coolness of folks you might not normally get to know. It blurs the lines of friendship development, and allows you to feel comfortable around someone the first time you meet them if you've been following their tweets before you even know their deets.

So thank you, Twitter, for my new pals John and Mark and my not-so-new friend Krista. I'd write you a thank-you note, but my API is currently unavailable.

Falling "Flatt"

2010-07-24T08:28:00.003-05:00

Had a great time at the concert last night. Didn't get to go to the meet and greet because we got down there 90 seconds after it started and they wouldn't let us in. D felt bad, but I was pretty ok with it. If it had been Jon Bon Jovi, I would have been fighting the cranky security guard, but alas, we did get to see the two warm-up acts instead of standing in line.

Chris Young was good, and Kellie Pickler needs to stop eating donuts. I know... pot=kettle, but I'm not stomping out on stage in a tight dress every night. She was, however, wearing some fabulous Louboutins that I'm guessing most concert goers didn't appreciate.

Rascal Flatts put on a great show!

All of the pics are here.

Welcome to my crazy, busy, fabulous life!

2010-07-22T21:52:00.004-05:00

While I realize I need to update this thing more, and I have the best intentions of doing so, it never seems to happen. Although my life is going swimmingly, my marathon to-do list never seems to get down to "update blog."

I miss the days when preparing for vacation meant shopping for swimsuits and stocking up on film. These days I work like a mad woman to get as much done as possible prior to vacation so that I can actually enjoy my time off and not spend it working. The blessing and the curse of technology is that I'm always accessible, so vacation is relative I suppose. I may be two states away, but email gets delivered in Texas just like it does in Arkansas.

This week the fabulous Amanda has been staying with me and commuting to her new job in Rogers. I love it when she's here because she'll eat almost anything, so I get the chance to try out new recipes and dazzle her with my culinary skills when she stays here. Monday night we had three cheese pizza with atomic salad, Tuesday night we had brie pasta with fresh green beans, and Wednesday night we had grilled salmon and asparagus salad. And now my pants are too tight.

Tonight we had a going away party for my friend/sorority sister, Valerie, who's getting ready to leave for a two-year mission trip. We all met at Bonefish for bang bang shrimp and girl time. I never thought when I pledged a sorority that I'd make so many lifelong friends. All for the bargain price of $28 a month.

Tomorrow night I'm meeting my friend D in Tulsa to see Rascal Flatts. I had plans to go to a toga party at my friend Lela's, but when D called and said, "Hey, I have VIP/meet and greet tickets..." I blew off the toga party for the special treatment at the BOK Center. Luckily, Lela is a good enough friend that she's given me a free pass on skipping her party because I had a better offer. I've known D for over 20 years. He has a really cool job and has had the opportunity to meet a lot of amazing people, so my goal tomorrow night is to be as blase as he is about the experience. I swear, he's one of the least pretentious people I know, but when he randomly throws out phrases like, "One time when I was at the White House correspondents' dinner..." I find it hard to retain my dignity.

Did I tell you Usher was on my flight from Atlanta?

Saturday I'm picking up birthday cake for Memaw and Taylor and partying with the fam. Then on Sunday Chance and I are caravanning back to Texas with Lonnie and the boys.

Tuesday it's a tour of Cowboys Stadium, then Jen is taking two days off on Thursday and Friday, so we're all going to the beach.

Whew! I don't know when I'm going to work in a pedicure or a tanning appointment, but this diva is overbooked the next few days. Yes, it's crazy and busy, but very, very, cool.

Happy birthday, Taylor!

2010-07-19T21:55:00.002-05:00

Can't believe our sweet little Bug is 18. What a great young man he's become. I'm ready for him to move to NWA, even if that means doing his laundry.

Off the hook

2010-07-15T21:43:00.004-05:00

A few months ago there was an episode of "How I Met Your Mother" guest starring Carrie Underwood. Underwood played Tiffany, a pharma sales rep Ted was totally enamored with. She showed just enough interest in him to keep him chasing after her, leading his friends to tell him that she had him "on the hook."

In other words, she was keeping him dangling.

We've all been there. He doesn't necessarily want to take you on a date, but he wants to come to your house and hang out. He's dating other women and may even have a girlfriend, but he tells you his secrets and tells you how great you are. He calls all the time and seems just enough into you that you tell yourself it's just a matter of time before he sees how great you are.

The problem is, he already realizes you're great. You know, in that asexual kind of way. You're awesome, you have a lot in common, and you're good enough to keep around in case things don't work out with the other women he's dating.

But do any of us really want to be the one he settled for? Or do you want to be the one?

So do us a favor guys, and stop being a hooker.

Restoration Project

2010-07-13T20:12:00.002-05:00

I've been watching way too much HGTV which always leads to my overestimating my craftiness. On Sunday I got a wild hair to strip and repaint my antique buffet. I'm sure the purists out there will be mortified that I painted an antique, but it was in bad shape, and it's so much more fun now!

And it looks great with the new drawer pulls and the fabulous new flat screen TV I bought after my old one quit working this afternoon. I moved the old one in the guest room, and it magically started working again. So now I have four televisions in my house, three of which are flat screens. I might have a problem.

Turtles, roses and chocolate

2010-07-11T21:06:00.003-05:00

I had a great time dining on Dickson last night with my sorority sisters. It was great to see them all, some of whom I haven't seen in more than a decade! Three hours into dinner at Grub's our server said, "So, are you girls, like, college friends or something?" I can't imagine what gave her that idea... the scrapbook, the giggling, or the photos of us in bad 90s garb. Who let me go out in public dressed like that, anyway?

After dinner we hit Common Grounds for dessert. This is me with my 10 pounds of chocolate. It think it went to each thigh in 5-pound chunks.

So many words, so little to say

2010-07-07T21:44:00.003-05:00

Forgive the brevity, but I've been writing web content all day at work and am not feeling very creative. I only update due to the total lack of postings lately, not because I have anything riveting or relevant to say. But I figure the five whole people who read this thing on Sunday were sorely disappointed by my inactivity.

After my throat/ear/sinus aches last week, I am finally feeling better, and am back to excessively exercising. After the birthday 10K, I took about eight days off, and now my pants are too tight. Not that eating at Cheesecake Factory three meals in a row had anything to do with that...

Everything is going swimmingly at work, and for that I am grateful. Lots to do, but nothing to write about, kids. Hopefully Thursday will bring a renewal to the ol' creative juices! After all, I am dining with a published author tomorrow night.

Back in time

2010-07-05T22:43:00.004-05:00

The social media scene has been all a-Twitter today with news that Doc Brown set the DeLorean to enter the future on July 5, 2010 in the original "Back to the Future" 25 years ago. Turns out it's all a hoax, and someone had Photoshop and too much time on his hands.

So I guess Marty McFly didn't zip into today all those years ago. But it did get me to thinking about watching that movie 25 years ago. I was in junior high, and I saw it with my aunt Kathy and cousin Lonnie. I thought it was a great flick, if a bit farfetched. And I don't remember wondering what life would be like in 2010, but now I'm thinking that I would have had no idea how life would be right now.

For starters, I never imagined how my life would revolve around technology. That my iPhone would be permanently implanted in my hand. That I would incessantly check Facebook and Twitter for inane news from people I barely or don't even know.

I could not have imagined a life with DVR and satellite radio and iPods. A world full of laptops and iPads and on-demand movies.

Whatta ya know, Marty? The world is an interesting place in 2010. Wonder what gadgets we'll have by 2035?

I give up

2010-06-29T22:02:00.000-05:00

"Never make someone a priority in your life when you're merely an option in theirs."

I try to apply professional principles to personal relationships. If at first I don't get my way, I merely ask a different way, adjust my strategy, and eventually wear you down.

I don't like failure. I figure if I keep at something long enough I'll eventually master it. And I usually do.

Except when it comes to men. I continue to chase those who are running away quickly. I stay way too long at the party. I hold out hope for those who deleted me from their phones a long time ago.

It's been said--most likely by a woman--that the amount of time it takes to get over someone is about half the time you were with them. And even if you were never with them, the amount of time you pined for them feels like an investment on which you deserve a return.

Needless to say, it takes a lot for me to give up. And while men usually need the amount of time it takes to shower to forget the last girl, girls need time to grieve and be sad, time to obsess about what went wrong, and time for the love to turn into indifference.

Seldom does love die in flames. It usually simmers for a long time, until eventually the light is so dim that you forget why it shined so brightly in the first place.

And in that dim light, you find yourself wondering why you wasted your heart and your time on someone who wasn't worthy of your love or attention. You finally let go. And, if you're lucky, you have a perfectly timed message from another boy to show him just how over him you are. Because even if it's innocent, he doesn't need to know that.

Petty much?

The old flame extinguished

2010-06-28T22:24:00.000-05:00

Don't you just love it when you run into an ex and he's gained about 40 lbs? I guess that's how all of my old boyfriends felt, until the past year.

How you like me now, jerks?

LORIpalooza

2010-06-28T06:49:00.005-05:00

Had a fabulous weekend. Ran 6.2 miles on Saturday morning (ok, I walked part of it, but I still averaged a 12-minute mile, so hooray for me), and then got to spend the day with the awesome Jen and the rest of the fam.

I spent Friday morning setting up for the Cancer Challenge silent auction, had lunch with Krista, a work party, then dinner with Kelly.

Last night I had dinner followed by fro-yo with Lori B. I have a couple of more celebrations to come--including a Tulsa trip with Krista this weekend--then it's back to days on end that don't revolve around me. Any more than they usually do, that is.

So now I'm 38 and, amazingly, I still feel the same as I did at 37. Except I need to pop a lot more Aleve. But that could be related to the beating my poor body took Saturday morning. LORIpalooza is over. Bring it on, July!

Rest of the weekend pics are here.

The invisible woman

2010-06-25T22:46:00.002-05:00

I had lunch with my friend Krista today and she gave me a coffee table book featuring "Cathedrals of the World." It's a stunning book, full of beautiful photographs. But it was quite a curious choice for a birthday gift for me. I was intrigued, to say the least.

Inside she wrote, "Nothing is invisible to our Lord and Savior," then she provided a link to a YouTube clip, promising me it would all make sense when I watched it.

It was a busy afternoon and I didn't watch the video until a few moments ago. And I'm humbled by it.

Tonight I was reminded that it doesn't matter who on Earth cares. God does. And as long as we're building something for Him, it will be beautiful!

10K on my Birthday

2010-06-24T22:26:00.003-05:00

It's time for the rubber to meet the road. In a mere 34 hours, I'll be running my first 10K.

If you'll recall, I couldn't even run a mile at Christmastime. And now, three races, one new pair of shoes and hundreds of miles later, I'm upping my game. On my birthday.

I'm not sure what possessed me to awaken at dawn on my natal anniversary. A saner person would sleep in on the rare year that her birthday falls on a Saturday. But not this chick. I've paid 25 bucks to sweat like a hog and punish myself on the hills of Washington County.

Don't get me wrong... I know I'm physically capable of this. But mentally? I'm not so sure.

Even my boss gave me Gatorade today and prayed for my safety and willpower. He knows it's only by the grace of God that I'll run the whole thing without CPR.

I wanted to peter out and register for the 5K instead, but I figure even if I have to walk a mile or two, it's time for me to suck it up and meet the next challenge.

After all, it's for a good cause. So when I want to give up, I'll think of my mom and all of the other people living with cancer and I'll try to keep running.

It didn't really register for me how very far I'll be running until my aunt Kathy said, "That would be like running from Hartford to Midland." Indeed it will be. Wowzers.

Give me strength. But at least I get to carb up with Kelly tomorrow night.

6.2 miles, you will be defeated.

The audacity of sloth

2010-06-22T19:47:00.003-05:00

Eh. I find myself suffering from overwhelming apathy these days.

I'm not sure if it's the excessive heat and humidity or just my general propensity toward laziness, but I can't seem to get excited about anything this week. Granted, I'm having a bit of trouble with the big 38 looming over the weekend. And while no one likes to be the center of attention more than I, I'm not having fun planning birthday parties and festivities and find myself wanting to just take a nap.

For the past three days I've slept through my running alarm. My afternoon meeting was canceled today, so I just now brushed my teeth for the first time today. I fell asleep around 4 o'clock this afternoon and slept for two hours, which meant that I had to work when I woke up.

Now I need to exercise and grocery shop, but I don't want to do either.

This does not bode well for my 10K on Saturday. Running 6.2 miles in the best of conditions is challenging for me. Doing it when it's a thousand degrees on my birthday? Yeah, I'm not so sure about that.

Oh, motivation, would you please show up? I need some energy, please. And birthday cake.

Happy birthday, Jen!

2010-06-22T07:21:00.002-05:00

Wishing a fabulous natal anniversary to the amazing Jen. Can't wait to celebrate with you on Saturday!

xo,
Lori

Shall we dance?

2010-06-21T22:07:00.003-05:00

Don't you miss the days when twirling was a perfectly acceptable activity?

The twirl girl

2010-06-20T21:29:00.003-05:00

Had a great time with the kids last week. Chance and Hope both won their games Thursday night, then we watched the NBA finals and I foolishly agreed to buy dinner should the Celtics lose. A 12-point swing later, I found myself driving to Taco Bell at midnight to eat tacos and crow.

Friday and Saturday brought work, meetings, a long-overdue dinner with Sorne and Vance, hanging out with my grandmother, and a very fun wedding. More on that later.

After the dance recital, Hope decided she needed "one of those stiff skirts" like the ballerinas. She loved it!

Here's to a fun birthday week!

You can stand under my umbrella

2010-06-16T17:10:00.007-05:00

"I'll have what she's having."
~When Harry Met Sally

Tonight's a late night at the office, and I find myself pretty grateful that I don't have to rush home and cook dinner or do laundry for a husband. I mean yeah, it would be nice for someone to give a crap how my day has been, but generally speaking, I have girlfriends for that (see yesterday's post).

Suffice it to say that it's not often I yearn for coupledom. There are only two certainties in life--death and taxes--and both of those would be easier as a Mrs. The latter for obvious reasons, and the former due to the apprehension I feel about having no one to care for me in my old age and inevitable loony bin intake.

So I'm happily single. Footloose and fancy free to work late and eat a power bar for dinner.

But as I gaze out my office window, I see my coworker Carol's husband, Larry, pulling up in front of the office in the torrential rain. He gets out of the vehicle, pops a golf umbrella emblazoned with the Missouri Tigers logo (her favorite team) and walks to the front door to escort her to the car so she won't get wet.

At that moment I realize that's what love is. It's not about the fancy gifts or tax breaks. It's about anticipating someone else's needs, and taking care of it before they even have to ask. It's about holding an umbrella. Ella, ella, ella.

Guess I'll just be getting wet.

This one's for the girls

2010-06-15T21:25:00.004-05:00

"I get by with a little help from my friends"
~Paul McCartney and John Lennon

I wonder how many problems have been solved over dinner and a cocktail.

It certainly always works for me, and I'm sure it does for others. Really, can't BP and the White House just sit down with crawfish and a hurricane and figure out this oil spill debacle?

Tonight, during one of my three-hour dinners with my pal Krista, we were discussing someone I knew whose husband cheated for decades and she never told a soul. I'm not certain if she didn't share because to do so would be to acknowledge the situation, or if she just didn't have any friends close enough with whom to discuss something so personal.

That just makes me sad.

Because even though I keep coming up empty-handed in the romance department, I've got friendship in spades. And I know that makes me so lucky. Because I don't just have an iPhone full of work-related contacts, I've got an address book full of women I can call to talk about important things or superficial things. Women I can cry with, women I can laugh with, women who will tease me mercilessly to my face yet stand up for me loyally behind my back.

And if I have to choose between one good man or all of the amazing women in my life, that choice is easy. So here's to all of you fantastically wonderful, delightfully amazing women who enrich my life and make it fun and fabulous. Thank you for the gift of your friendship.

If I ever did find Mr. Right and decide to have a wedding, I'd have to have 14 bridesmaids! That's how many close friendships I have. And I can't imagine my life without each and every one of you.

Great photo

2010-06-13T20:41:00.002-05:00

Behold a pic from today's NWA Dem-Gaz style section. This is me with some friends at a benefit for the NWA Women's Shelter last week. It's totally heartbreaking what those women and children have gone through!

I got nuttin'

2010-06-10T22:16:00.001-05:00

So it's Thursday... four days past Sunday, which was my last posting. I wish I had something relevant or thought-provoking to share, but I just don't.

Amazing grace

2010-06-06T19:40:00.004-05:00

I've always found it challenging to have tough conversations with kids. I never know exactly what to say, or how much to share in order to answer their questions without sharing too much. Poor Brady is probably still scarred from our Lady GaGa "disco stick" conversation around Christmas.

Last night I had a cool discussion with Hope that I won't soon forget. We were driving to Clarksville for a dance recital, and passed the cross on the hill near Ozark.

Hope: That's like the cross Jesus died on.
Me: Where'd you hear about that?
Hope: In a book.
Me: What book?
Hope: Um, I think it's called a Bible.
Me: Do you know why Jesus died on a cross?
Hope: No.
Me: So if we believe in Him, we can go to heaven when we die.
Hope: I believe in Him.
Me: Me too.
Hope: When it gets dark tonight, I'm going to make a wish on the wishing star that Jesus would live in my heart.
Me: You don't have to wish on a star, sweetie. You just have to ask Him, and He'll live there.
Hope (yelling): HEY, JESUS. WILL YOU COME LIVE IN MY HEART?

Now, I know she doesn't really understand how it works, nor does she understand why we need eternal salvation, but I love the simplicity of her acceptance of it. Because, really, we try to make grace too tough.

After that talk, she decided we needed to sing some Taylor Swift. Hope's philosophy: if you don't know the words, just sing really loudly.

The Fabio principle

2010-06-03T22:21:00.003-05:00

I blame it on the Harlequin romance novels.

My mom did a great job in fostering a love of reading in me. She took me to the library every summer and allowed me to read things I wanted to read, rather than try to force me to read things I had no interest in. So I can't quote "War and Peace," but my bookshelf held all 72 volumes of the "Sweet Valley High" series by the time I was in sixth grade. Oh, those Wakefield twins... they could get into some hijinks.

During high school, about the time I started dating, I graduated from tween novels that ended with innocent kisses to books with more adult content. And by adult content, I mean the romance novel genre. With chiseled men on the front cover who had names like Dirk and Gage. They were usually misunderstood fellows, who either (a) had a solitary job like cattle herding, or (b) were rich playboys who'd yet to settle down with the right woman.

There'd be a meet-cute, like reaching for the same carton of milk at the supermarket. Sparks would fly, and soon there would be heaving bosoms and hanky panky in the barn.

I was hooked. And it wasn't about the new glimpse into forbidden topics around my house. Because I knew stuff. We got cable when I was in fourth grade, and my brother watched "The Van" 432 times one summer. I looked up the words I didn't know in the family dictionary.

But the books were more about the romance. The perfect man. Because no matter how flawed he seemed at the beginning of a novel, by the end it was discovered that he was merely afraid of falling in love. Or he was protecting his woman from danger. It only took the love of a good woman to turn him onto romance.

There were flowers and dinners and easy confessions. The men talked about their feelings.

But, let's face it, that's mostly fantasy. Men really don't act that way. They don't always say the right thing or buy the right gift or even consider the grand gesture.

So I figure I have two choices: (a) stay happily single; or (b) accept that reality isn't anything like novels or romantic comedies. In real life, Harry might meet Sally, but he'd never realize she was the one. Oh, he'd still spend the night with her and then say something stupid the next morning. But that would be the end of their story.

John Cusack won't be holding up a boom box outside of my house anytime soon. Jake Ryan won't be leaning on his Porsche on my birthday. And we won't all live happily ever after. Unless we accept that happiness is relative. And we can't depend on anyone else--male or female--to make us happy.

I asked for it

2010-06-02T20:47:00.004-05:00

How do people with jobs have kids and social lives? I can barely remember to pay my bills, much less pay attention to something/one breathing. (And yeah, sometimes I forget, Cox Communications!)

I should have known today would be crazy when I saw a snake and nearly got run over by a wayward school bus on my early morning run. But no, I ventured back out into the world after my heart rate declined. Then I went to my one scheduled meeting for today, which turned into two more, which led to crashing a brunch, followed by another meeting... so I finally headed to my office at noon.

Meetings are truly the bane of my existence, but this morning's were super productive. I left with my brain filled with ideas and 23 new things on my to-do list. I accomplished four of 'em by the time I left my office at 6:45. When did my life become so crazy?

Luckily for all of you, I'm never too busy to to tell you how busy I am.

I had an epiphany driving home tonight while putting things on my calendar and simultaneously making social plans via text: my life is crazy because that's the way I like it. I love to be busy, feel needed, and be motivated. I asked for a full calendar, lack of sleep, and work stress. Because, in the past, I've had jobs with little responsibility. I've had days when I finished my tasks seven hours before quitting time. And I've experienced being able to leave the office and turn off my brain.

And I loathed it. So I'll take the craziness, the never-ending to-do list, and all the other trappings of my busy, stressful life. Fill up my calendar, kids. It makes me feel needed.

Still wonder why I'm single?

Before the Morning

2010-06-01T19:16:00.004-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, we sponsored "Faith and Family" night at Arvest Ballpark. The artist was Josh Wilson, and I admit to never having heard one of his songs. Until I stumbled upon his song "Before the Morning" today on a friend's blog.

Isn't it like God to give you something just when you need to hear it?

Do you wonder why you have to,
feel the things that hurt you,
if there's a God who loves you,
where is He now?

Maybe, there are things you can't see
and all those things are happening
to bring a better ending
some day, some how, you'll see, you'll see

Would dare you, would you dare, to believe,
that you still have a reason to sing,
'cause the pain you've been feeling,
can't compare to the joy that's coming

So hold on, you got to wait for the light
press on, just fight the good fight
because the pain you've been feeling,
it's just the dark before the morning

There's a super cool story behind this song. Watch it if you dare, but grab your Kleenex. My favorite quote of the interview: "If we trust God with our eternity, why don't we trust Him with our now?" Indeed.

Rundown

2010-05-30T21:01:00.004-05:00

I guess the past few weeks (read:months) finally caught up with me. I've been too cheap to buy my $50 prescription allergy medication, and have instead been using my own cocktail of Sudafed and Zyrtec to lessen my ever-present sinus headache. Usually one or two weekends a month the convergence of too little sleep, too much stress, and way too much pollen keep me in bed, but I haven't had the chance to do that in awhile. And since work's been wearing me out and I decided to train for a 10K, I crashed. Hard.

I went to bed early Thursday night, woke up just long enough to declare Friday a sick day, and finally got out of bed last night after sleeping 40 hours out of 48.

This morning I was feeling some better, so I attempted my scheduled four-mile run, but only made it two miles before walking the other two. My Nike+ run tracker not only is a cool gadget, but serves to motivate me. So I ran another 2.5 miles tonight.

I'm gearing up to run the Cancer Challenge 10K which is, quite coincidentally, on my 38th birthday. Two years ago I couldn't even run the 5K, and now I'm working my way up to the 10K. Who would've thunk it? And yet, my pants aren't getting bigger.

But I did convince my boss to let me work an alternate schedule in June so that I can run at 6 a.m. before it gets too hot and I drink too many diet cokes. He's a runner, therefore he understands my weird obsession. I swear, I never thought I'd be the girl who gets addicted to running, but it's happening. Oh, I still hate it every day. But I love plugging in my Nike+ USB into my laptop and logging my results. I love that I can feel my abs tightening as I run. And I love that the hail damage on my thighs is nearly gone.

Only 3,090 more miles to go before I attain Nike+ "black" status. That ought to take me about 10 years or so.

Grrrrr

2010-05-27T20:41:00.000-05:00

People wear me out. The end.

Love and loss

2010-05-26T19:22:00.003-05:00

My heart is breaking for a sweet friend who lost her mom this week. Her mom's been critically ill for quite some time, so it wasn't exactly a surprise, but you're never ready to say goodbye to someone you love. And since she lost her dad suddenly several years ago, she now finds herself an orphan, which is something you never expect to be in your 30s.

Needless to say, I know exactly what she's going through.

I know how it feels to be constantly asked how you're feeling when all you're feeling is numb. I know how it feels to wonder if it's worse when it's a surprise or when you can see it coming. In many ways, it's tougher to watch someone you love suffer even though you get to say goodbye. But then again, when you don't expect it, there are things you left unsaid and times when you forget they're gone and have to pause and feel the loss all over again.

And since I'm not the only one who gets the parallels of our situations, I found myself answering the question today, "How did you deal with it?"

The simple answer: with faith and friends.

I'm lucky enough to have a network of friends who know when to leave me alone and when to listen. Who let me cry, let me complain, and let me be myself. Who tell me it's okay to feel whatever crazy way I feel at any given moment.

I don't know how people deal with loss without a great support system. And I especially don't know how people deal with loss when they don't have faith and know where their loved one is.

For it's only in knowing that your lost loved one is cradled in the arms of Jesus that you find comfort, and in knowing that you'll someday be reunited.

Driving home tonight, overcome with sadness, I found myself I praying for some comfort. There are more than 6,000 songs on my iPod, and randomly this song by Third Day came on:

To everyone who's lost someone they love
Long before it was their time
You feel like the days you had were not enough
when you said goodbye

And to all of the people with burdens and pains
Keeping you back from your life
You believe that there's nothing and there is no one
Who can make it right

For the marriage that's struggling just to hang on
They lost all of their faith and love
They've done all they can to make it right again
Still it's not enough

For the ones who can't break the addictions and chains
You try to give up but you come back again
Just remember that you're not alone in your shame
And your suffering

There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary
Love for the broken heart
There is grace and forgiveness
Mercy and healing
He'll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus

Sen10r moment

2010-05-23T22:28:00.003-05:00

We had a great night at Taylor's graduation, except the flames of hell couldn't be hotter than it was in that gym. As third in his class, he was named historian and therefore delivered the "historical facts of the class of 2010" speech at graduation. If you don't mind motion sickness and blurred vision, feel free to check it out below.

Or, you can watch him receive his diploma.

Growing older but not up

2010-05-23T21:51:00.006-05:00

Had a great trip to Dallas this weekend. Saw Jimmy Buffett in Frisco last night with my friend Krista. The concert was fun--if not a total sea of humanity--but I'm not looking forward to the catalog of tickets I amassed while running through toll booths on the way back and forth to Pizza Hut Park. Seriously, Texas, you should be able to finance a secession from the union with the sheer volume of tolls you collect around Dallas.

This morning we slept in, ate breakfast, then stimulated the economy at the outlet mall in Allen. Believe it or not, I actually wore out a pair of running shoes (file under: sentences you never thought I'd write), so I bought new Shox and a watch today to keep up with my runs. It measures my pace, distance, and time, and then uploads to a website via the USB port in my watch. How seriously cool is that?

It was awesome planning on my part to schedule a vacation day tomorrow. I'm crashing after a super busy week, so I hope I can sleep in tomorrow, then nap excessively. Hello, four-day work week!

Contrary to popular belief, I only had one margarita last night. I was driving, and since they were $14 each, I was one of the more sober people in the audience. The weather is here... wish you were beautiful! (Love that I'm holding some singles here... that doesn't look trashy AT ALL.)

A mani-pedi we'll never forget-y

2010-05-23T21:34:00.004-05:00

Turns out Hope's mani-pedi was the first one she's had at the salon. I'm honored to have developed her diva ways even more. It's funny; she usually won't shut up, but she was quite mesmerized by the whole experience.

After dipping her toes into the water and leaning back into the massage chair, she looked at me and said, "Man, this is relaxing!"

I think I've created a monster. But I'm truly honored to have taken her to her inaugural mani-pedi. I think it's a memory we'll have for a lifetime.

Pampered Princesses

2010-05-20T22:05:00.003-05:00

Meet the two biggest divas in my family: my niece, Hope, and my grandmother.

At 85, my grandmother still drives 80 miles every Friday to have her hair done. And Hope has been all girl since the day she was born.

So I volunteered to take them both for mani-pedis tomorrow afternoon. This should be interesting. Hope's already informed me she'll be getting pink fingernails and red toenails.

Give me patience.

Jesus was a chick?

2010-05-19T22:50:00.006-05:00

Had a crazy day at work, then drove down for Taylor's baccalaureate service tonight. They had some students pray, and the girl doing the invocation said, "... most of all, we're thankful for Your Son, who was born as a woman... I mean, born from a woman..." Hahahaha! Is it irreverent to laugh out loud during a prayer?

Tomorrow I'm going to hang out with Alisa, Shauna and Amy for a bit at ATU, then head to NLR for a meeting. Hope the tornadoes stay far, far away from my hotel room tonight.

Oh, and a disclaimer about my blog: it's purely for entertainment. Most of it is accurate, but I have been known to embellish the truth a bit for both humor and story flow. So please stop taking me so seriously, k? I am my mother's daughter. If a true story is funny, adding details that didn't happen might make it funnier.

Rest of the pics from tonight are here.

Beautiful boy

2010-05-18T19:18:00.004-05:00

In so many ways this pic seems like just yesterday. Taylor's dreamed of being a Razorback since he was a small child. And this fall he'll realize that dream.

I can't believe our baby boy is graduating from high school! Baccalaureate is tomorrow night, then I'm headed to Little Rock for work. Friday night is commencement. This will be an emotional week, for sure. And while I'm sure some may find my attachment to my nieces and nephews to be a bit odd, they're my babies. I didn't give birth to them. Thankfully I don't have to pay for college. But I changed diapers and wiped tears and rocked 'em to sleep.

So this moment is so bittersweet! What an amazing young man Taylor's turned out to be. He inherited Lonnie's best quality: a great sense of self and of remaining likable but not influenced by what's cool. Rather, he's just himself, and always does the right thing, regardless of what others think. Our sweet, beautiful baby boy has turned into a great young man.

I'm thrilled he'll be close to me this fall. I asked him the other day if he knew how to do laundry, and he responded, "Nah. But I just figured I'd bring it to you." That sounds about right.

Emotions in motion

2010-05-17T22:49:00.003-05:00

I'm often accused of being unemotional. And that's usually true. I can endure a family funeral and not shed a tear. And it's not because I didn't love them or that I'm the world's strongest person, but rather that I'm well versed in the art of control. I don't like for people to see me flustered. Heck, I don't even like to BE flustered. It does happen to me occasionally--alright, often--but I deal with it like any well-adjusted person: I either (a) run it off; or (b) lie in bed like a slug and ignore phone calls until I feel better.

My good pal Krista recently accused me of being Sue Sylvester from "Glee," who said, "While they were in there I had them remove my tear ducts. I wasn't using them."

Yeah, I'm not warm and fuzzy. I don't cry. I don't get emotional. My heart is made of tin.

But this weekend I found myself crying three times. Once while having lunch with my friend Becky on Friday, and twice on Saturday. Now granted, "Pomp and Circumstance" always makes me cry, so I tear up at commencement every single time (and that's at least twice a year). Then as I was working on my nephew's graduation video, looking at photos of him as a child and listening to "Find Your Wings," I bawled like a baby. For 30 minutes. Until my face swelled up.

What is this moisture falling from my eyes? I'm unfamiliar with that sensation.

Then today I found myself frustrated, apprehensive, and paranoid. Not to mention exhausted.

Before you ask, no, it's not my time of the month.

When did I turn into a girl? Next thing you know I'll be cooing at babies and hugging strangers with no regard to personal space.

Hopefully I can keep my emotions in check. At least until this Friday night, when Taylor graduates from high school. Uh oh. "Pomp and Circumstance" and my baby boy in a cap and gown? Get out your cameras, folks. This chick will sob. How much Kleenex can I stuff into a clutch?

Second chances

2010-05-17T22:17:00.002-05:00

Lately I've been spending a lot of time sifting through the ex files.

When your world is small and most the men your age are either married or gay, it stands to reason that perhaps you have to start recycling dates. Especially when you can't remember why things didn't work out the first time. And maybe you've both grown up and decided what you want. Maybe the things that seemed like such a big deal at the time no longer are.

Or maybe the reasons it didn't last before are the same reasons it never will. Maybe it's best not to stroll down that block of memory lane.

When is it okay to give him a second chance, and when do you slam the door? Because the things we say when we think someone's taken aren't necessarily the things we'd say if we knew he wasn't. The possibility of romance complicates everything... makes us second-guess the nuances of conversations and stress over intent whereas simple friendship lends itself to casual conversations without regard to where it's headed.

And maybe I'm obsessing over nothing and it's not about second chances at all, but rather about reaching out to someone you once cared about to commiserate about failed love. Who better to make you feel good about yourself than someone who once thought about you all the time? And who better to understand your shortcomings that someone who once found them a reason to no longer be with you?

Hmmm...

What's wrong with you?

2010-05-16T21:39:00.002-05:00

Just spent an hour on the phone commiserating with the other half of LoriSquared. We have so much in common besides our name. The excessive height. The sarcasm. The ambition. The sad singleness.

But, unlike me, she still possesses hope. She's still out there, going on tons of dates in the off-chance that the next one might be the right one. She still believes in love.

And I guess I believe in love, too. I just think it's elusive.

You can't be single for nearly four decades without developing a hatred for the inevitable questions about your sexual orientation, standards, or childbirth goals. I, for one, am sick of it.

Because, really, are my standards excessively high because I'd like a man who doesn't collect figurines? Because I don't need a man to protect me or pay my bills? If I say "no" to a date with a guy who's been married four times and beaten all of of his wives, does that really make me impossible to please?

But I guess we're all conditioned to question those who don't adhere to society's expectations. Just two days ago I had lunch with a pal who tried to set me up with Mr. Golf Injury. Turns out he's never been married. My first thought: "What's wrong with him?"

Eeek! What's wrong with me? Why do I automatically assume he's inherently flawed because he's never said "I do?" Maybe he, like me, never intended to still be sleeping alone. But life has a funny way of being impossible to predict.

And, just in case you're wondering, I don't have cats, I still like boys, and I'm not that picky. It's a dating jungle out there and I forgot my bug spray, so I'm hanging out in the tent for awhile. Maybe that makes me lazy or cynical or realistic, but I'm tired. In the meantime, if you find Mr. Wonderful wondering the streets of NWA, send him my way. But not if he's wondering what's wrong with me.

5 mph

2010-05-14T21:43:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure how I did it, but I managed to run five miles in an hour tonight. Outside. And I felt like a million bucks.

I caught myself grinning like a Cheshire cat as I finished. I am amazed that this former fat girl, who was unable to jog a half-mile six months ago, is now able to run for an entire hour.

Proud of myself, I texted Lonnie to tell him the news. His response: "What were you chasing? A donut or a handbag?"

Jerk. But every day he doubts me is one more day of motivation.

And I just agreed to run a 10K on my birthday. I feel absolutely fierce and invincible tonight. I just hope I can get out of bed tomorrow.

+1 {fail}

2010-05-13T20:34:00.003-05:00

I seldom suffer from a lack of confidence. Put me in a meeting and I'm not afraid to speak up. Because most of the time, I think I have something important to add. I am (semi-) well educated, well traveled, and have a lot of amazing friends.

So I walk around with my head held high, secure in my place in the world and my contributions to it. I am woman, hear me roar.

But on the random days I prance to the mailbox and find a social invitation, my confidence plummets. There, in what I interpret as a mocking tone, I read the words that strike fear into my heart: "Lori and Guest."

I hate the plus one. I vacillate between an RSVP of regret and securing a pity date. I wonder which poor guy friend I can drag to a wedding or cocktail party or black tie dinner. I question if I have the guts to walk in alone or whether to become the third or fifth wheel to one of my married girlfriends.

Yeah, here's my dirty little secret: "and guest" makes me feel like a big fat failure.

Because, let's face it, from the moment we're born we're conditioned to be part of a pair. No one wants to invite the single gal to a dinner party. No one likes to go to the theatre alone. And even though I'm sure the bride's parents aren't sad about one serving of chicken instead of two, slow dances weren't meant to be solo.

So forgive me if I seem off my game, because this week I've been invited to a wedding, a charity fundraiser, and a birthday party. All three invites said "Lori and Guest." And even though marriage would certainly have tax benefits, more than anything else, it would be great not to stress about my plus one.

But when I discussed this with a married pal earlier this evening, she responded: "I would love to not have a permadate for every event and instead just go with a friend and have fun." Hmmm... the grass is always greener on the other side of the bed.

Groovy

2010-05-12T19:33:00.003-05:00

I've been scanning in hundreds of photos for a project, and I came across some great pics of my time working at my alma mater. Those were some awesome times. I miss the people. Don't miss the poverty.

That's my former coworkers (and still good friends) Amy and Alisa on each side of me. Harold, our former boss, is in the back... and yes, his pants are split. We won $100 for this!

Exhaustion

2010-05-12T19:28:00.004-05:00

It's only 7:30 and I'm already thinking about bedtime.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. I'm working a lot of hours at the office, and between commuting, exercising, and working on a personal project, I barely have time to think, much less write a coherent blog post. I really wish I were in the mood to be pithy and amusing, but I just don't have it in me right now.

Every morning this week my alarm has gone off at 5:15 so that I could get up and run, and every morning this week I've reset my alarm for an hour later when I really have to get up to get to work on time.

I'm really, really tired. So to the three of you waiting on a post, I apologize for the lack of quality. Hopefully I'll be back to normal soon. For now, I'm headed to bed while it's still daylight.

Happy Mom's day!

2010-05-09T22:22:00.002-05:00

Was looking through some photos today and found this picture. It was taken on Mother's Day in 2001, at my mom's house. Aren't they adorable?

Boxing Day

2010-05-06T21:45:00.005-05:00

It seems I should have packed my boxing gloves to get through this week.

I mean, it's not like I start out the day gunning for fights, but they seem to have a way of finding me. Especially this week. And, believe it or not, I'm not really confrontational. It's the Walker family way.

So I avoid conflict if at all possible, waiting for people to figure out their mistakes on their own. But they seldom do. Because the world is full of excuses and deflections, and seldom does anyone blame themselves for their problems.

If people are self-reflective, they choose to wallow in guilt and self-pity instead of learning the lesson and moving on. Quit apologizing! Show me you're sorry by changing your behavior and not repeating your mistakes.

And, while we're on the subject, please follow through on what you say you'll do. The road to destruction is paved with good intentions, and intent doesn't necessarily equal execution. If I mean to pay my light bill but forget to, does that keep my electricity on?

We'd all be better off if people would simply do their jobs, not hold others to standards that they're not willing to live up to, and always ask themselves if what they're doing is the right thing to do. The Golden Rule applies in most every situation.

For now, I vow to stop fighting the battles I cannot win, and to stop participating in problems that will never be solved. I promise to not let others steal my joy with their negative energy. I will control what I can control, and not waste energy on the things I can't. I give myself permission to say no to things that don't benefit me or my work. But I will never stop asking why. Because "that's the way we've always done it" isn't good enough.

Ok. Off my soapbox. Go back to work, people!

Cinco de Celebration

2010-05-05T21:37:00.003-05:00

Tonight I went to Abuelo's to have dinner with some girlfriends and commemorate Cinco de Mayo which, let's face it, is merely an excuse for Americans to drink tequila. So the Mexican restaurant was packed.. surprise, surprise... but my friend Krista got there early and secured a good table.

For the holiday, margaritas were $3, and diet cokes were $2.50. So it was simple economics that I had two margaritas. At least that's what I told the police officer.

I'm totally kidding.

Happy 5th of May! Party like it's the 4th of July.

I'm off to bed since I have to leave before 6 a.m. for a prayer breakfast. Seems appropriate.

10 years ago

2010-05-04T09:18:00.003-05:00

Happy birthday to our Buddha Bear! He's learned to talk since then, but chooses not to most of the time. Love you, Chance!

5K #2

2010-05-02T21:41:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I dragged Joe out to run a 5K at 8 a.m. I was super tired and the course was hilly, so it took us an even 37:00 to finish, but we both managed to run the whole thing, so I'm proud of both of us.

It's been a great weekend in Mountain Home. Friday night was full of crazy weather, so it took us almost 90 minutes to get from Harrison to Mountain Home. But I did manage to work in three naps and a lot of good food. I feel a little less guilty about my gluttony since I ran yesterday and walked today, but man, I have eaten way too much.

Estella made crab cake salad tonight for dinner and it was fabulous!

Shall we brunch?

2010-04-29T21:38:00.004-05:00

While I don't love my job every second of every day, I'm one of the lucky few who loves her job the great majority of the time. I work with a lot of awesome people. I do something that matters. Or, at the very least, I do things to help others do things that matter. So my work is fun, it's rewarding, and on the occasional Thursday afternoon I get to sneak out and get a massage.

One of the major reasons my job rocks is because I have an awesome boss. Seriously. He doesn't read this, so I have no need to suck up. But he is encouraging, supportive, and the nicest man in America. Or any other country.

And since he's celebrating his 25th year on the job, we threw him a little brunch soiree this morning, complete with returning staff and a fun video shot and edited by yours truly. It was more of a roast than a serious tribute, but it was fun, and I think everyone enjoyed it. So all of my basket arranging, pastry making, movie editing skills were on full display. And now I'm tired.

Thankfully tomorrow is Friday. And I'm headed out of town again.

There's another 5K on Saturday, which I will sprint at my lightening 10-minute mile pace. Not that Lon will believe me.

In case you're interested, pics of today are here.

Little Susie Homemaker

2010-04-28T22:40:00.004-05:00

I've been Martha friggin' Stewart tonight. I made these yummy (and easy) chocolate croissants and some iced sugar cookies. Plus I made a card basket and a treat basket. And in my spare time, finished a DVD.

All for a surprise party tomorrow. So excited! Should be a good time.

Mars vs. Venus: boys think with their {you-know-what}

2010-04-28T21:45:00.006-05:00

There are many books out there concerning how differently men communicate from women. One of my favorite titles is "Men Are Like Waffles, Women Are Like Spaghetti," which has the fun yet accurate premise that men can compartmentalize their lives while, with women, everything is interwoven. I do admit to having read a bit of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" a few years ago. There are a lot of spot-on observations in that book. But, at the heart, this fact remains: when it comes to communication, men and women really are on different planets.

On planet Mars, there are three major thoughts: sports, sex and sleep. Perhaps not always in that order, but those are consistently the top three things on men's minds. Plus there seems to be this whole black hole of the brain that allows men to think about nothing. Seriously.

Women, on the other hand, are always thinking about something, and often multiple things at once. We never have nothing on our minds. So we're mystified when we ask a man what he's thinking and he says "nothing." But it's probably true. And we're thinking about a project at work, needing to go to the gym so that we can fit into our new shorts, and we need to buy new shoes to wear with the shorts, which means we need a pedicure, which reminds us of the time we got a pedicure with our best friend and she picked out red polish even though it clashed with her dress.

So when he asks what we're thinking (assume you just started dating and he's still pretending to care) and we take him through the process, he's wondering what the score is of the baseball game and what you look like naked.

I know all this. I know men think differently and react differently and have distinctly different brains. But I still marvel at how differently we process information.

Take last week for example. I was thrilled that LB and I have found our way back to some sense of normalcy. Don't get me wrong; there's no hint of romance there. But we finally became comfortable enough with each other again to not obsess over everything we say and how it will be heard. And we spent all last week harassing each other with emails, texts and calls. It was great. I was relieved. The weirdness was gone.

Until I accidentally forwarded him an email that was completely insensitive and mean. I didn't realize it for a few moments, then I frantically tried to figure out a way to retrieve it. I imagined him opening it and getting mad. Or worse, being hurt. I obsessed about it all weekend. I laid awake two nights thinking about it. I sent him a follow-up "oops" e-mail, then a text, and never got a response.

I spent hours trying to figure out what to do. Finally yesterday I bought a card that said, "Sorry I'm a jerk." I apologized for what I said. I told him I hoped he knew me well enough to know that I'm moronic but not malicious.

Tonight he called to thank me for the card. But he was confused about the apology. Because he never opened my e-mail.

I don't know when I'll learn. Men really aren't that complicated. And unless you insult their manhood, it's hard to hurt their feelings. Which can sometimes be a good thing. Because if you can be insensitive like me, it's awesome that half of the population isn't smart enough to realize it.

3 little monkeys, sittin' on a bed

2010-04-26T21:42:00.002-05:00

You think these three are related?

The proof

2010-04-26T13:30:00.005-05:00

Official chip time: 30:56.

Race registration: $35
Cute t-shirt: $30
Realizing goal of a 10-minute mile AND beating Lonnie's time: PRICELESS

Wahoo!

You think I can't? Then I will.

2010-04-25T21:29:00.005-05:00

For the past five years, I've had a New Year's resolution to run a 5K. And for five years I've failed to accomplish that feat.

Oh, I've started training multiple times. Then I'd get injured or lazy or busy and give up. I like the idea of being a runner, but the application of it is always painful.

And even though I didn't actually make resolutions this year, I still wanted to check a 5K off my bucket list. So I started training in January to run the Komen Race for the Cure in Waco on April 24. As in yesterday.

To backtrack, nearly two years ago I ran in the Cancer Challenge with Jennifer and Lonnie. Jennifer the track star finished in less than 26 minutes (without training). Lonnie finished in just over 33 minutes. I lagged behind at over 44 minutes, being passed by a lady with an oxygen tank, an 85-year-old man, and multiple women pushing strollers. And that's not bad considering I actually ran less than a mile of the race.

Last April Jen and I did the Waco Komen race with plans to run the whole thing. I made it just over a mile before pooping out and walking most of the rest. In November, at the Austin Komen race, we didn't walk a step. And just after that race, Lonnie told me that I'd never be able to run 3 miles.

Game on.

So in January I started training. Using Hal Higdon's workout, I worked my way up to three miles on the treadmill. Then I moved outside, running three or four times a week. I started noticing that my body was reshaping. I was feeling more in condition. I was gaining endurance.

When I was in Temple three weeks ago for Easter, Lonnie and I took all four boys to the trails to run. I made it a mile or so before giving up. Two weeks ago I puked on mile marker #2 during the JBU fun run.

To say I was skeptical of my chances yesterday was an understatement.

But we arrived in Waco yesterday to pick up our chips. The race started 40 minutes late. We started in the back of the pack with the old ladies and a man with a mullet.

Not wanting to start too fast, I begged Jennifer to run off and leave me, but she refused. We slowly jogged for a few seconds, then she said, "You just set the pace." I replied, "This IS the pace."

It took us about 12 minutes to finish the first mile, which is pretty good for me, considering it usually takes me about 40 minutes to do three miles. We jogged on, passing a few recreational runners along the way. We passed the water station and began overtaking the walkers who started 40 minutes before we did. I looked at my watch about 25 minutes in and wondered if we'd ever get to the two-mile marker.

I began to doubt my ability to finish the race without walking. I was feeling okay at that point, but a bit discouraged at the fact that we hadn't finished the second mile.

At just under 30 minutes, Jen finally spotted the mile marker. For mile #3.

We turned onto the bridge to finish the race, looked up at the clock, and realized that we made amazing time. We crossed the finish line simultaneously, me in victory of finally running an entire 5K, and Jennifer being a supportive friend and foregoing her great time to hang out with me in the slow lane.

Final time: 31:06. Granted, that's five minutes slower than Jennifer's last time, but it's a full two minutes faster than Lonnie's. Ha!

But my feeling of victory is tainted due to the fact that Lonnie thinks we're lying. He says I'm incapable of running three miles, so we either: (a) gave my chip to someone else to wear; or (b) took a short cut.

Jen and I know the truth. I finished. I rock. I feel fantastic.

So thanks to Lonnie for the unintended motivation. My jeans fit better. I am in better health. And I proved you wrong, sucka.

Girls, girls, girls

2010-04-20T23:58:00.003-05:00

I'll never understand women.

And I'm not talking about how we give directions as "turn right" or "turn left" instead of "head west" or "head east," but rather how we function physiologically.

From the time we hit puberty until time for hormone replacement, our bodies are not our own. One minute we're happy, the next we're sad. And don't even get me started on water retention.

How is it possible for the scales not to move for an entire month, and seven pounds be gone in 48 hours?

What causes the Ice Queen to get emotional at work? In front of about 30 people. Including my boss. And students.

Ugh. It's a good thing I like my boobs. Being a gal isn't always fun. Want me to bite your head off?

Rollie Pollie, walls are holey

2010-04-19T22:28:00.003-05:00

I don't know why I bother taking vacation days. Not only do I not enjoy them because of the guilt of being away from the office, but I pay for it when I get back. When did I get a job that no one will do while I'm out? Oh, wait... that was ALWAYS. With a couple of exceptions.

When my mom passed away I was working in an office and was out for six weeks on FMLA, and it only took me about six minutes to get caught up when I returned. Now, I know God blessed me by putting me in a job where I was able to be out a month and a half with no guilt, but seriously, how important does that make one feel? Yeah, I was a vital cog in that wheel, let me tell you. When I quit, they didn't replace me. Shocking.

And when I took this job, I wanted a challenge. I wanted to feel needed. I wanted to be busy. Be careful what you wish for.

So I stayed late tonight to put out the big fires and saved the small ones for tomorrow.

And when I got home I christened my newly assembled treadmill with a very slow and painful 3.5 miles. I only burned 600 calories. So I'll have to stop eating or run three times a day.

But I seem to be developing more pronounced fat rolls. My muffin top seemed especially robust today. Granted, it could have been the excessive grease consumption this weekend, but geez.

I did make the decision to put my treadmill in my living room so that I'd actually use it. And yeah, you never see a house with exercise equipment near a sofa in "Architectural Digest," but since I live at the end of the Earth and I can actually count on seven fingers the number of people who've visited me in the past two years, I figure smaller thighs are worth bad decor.

So I lugged the treadmill through the hallway, around the chair, and knocked a hole in the wall. In my entry way. Lovely.

Oh well. It's not like anyone will see it. And I'll run my way through Kate Gosselin's torturous turn on "Dancing with the Stars." As Jen would say, it's like watching Granny dance. Only less amusing.

Overall, it was a productive day. I crossed a lot off the ol' to-do list. We hired a new staff member (hooray). I ran and tanned and did a load of laundry. And I even managed to find the time to buy new shoes and screw with LB. Figuratively, not literally.

And he totally started it.

Back to reality

2010-04-18T19:15:00.004-05:00

Since I ended up working about half of my stay-cation, I made the most of my weekend. My pal Krista came over and we ate a lot and watched a lot of movies. On Friday we watched "Love Happens" (mediocre) and "Mamma Mia!" (so, so fun).

Yesterday, after a quick run (ok, a slow run) in the drizzle, I made breakfast, then we watched "Footloose" (classic), "Saturday Night Fever" (I napped through most of it), "The Time Traveler's Wife" (very weird), "The Blind Side" (awesome) and "Serendipity" (which I'd never seen, and now I really can't wait for NYC).

This morning I made pancakes and bacon, then we watched "The Women" before putting together my treadmill that's been in the box for three months. We finished up the movie marathon with "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil."

In case you're wondering, there was no date on Friday, blind or otherwise. He allegedly has a golf injury, and didn't come into town, so I was able to forego makeup all weekend and eat my weight in grease.

I've had a sinus headache all day, so I'm getting ready to dope up on Nyquil and hit the hay early. Then it's back to work for real (boo).

Stay-cation

2010-04-14T19:31:00.004-05:00

I'm lucky enough to have a job that affords me four weeks' vacation annually. The problem is that there's seldom a good time to take it, and I can't carry it over, so I've found myself losing days the past couple of years.

Yesterday--April 13, 2010--has been circled in red on my calendar for months. Because it was Bon Jovi. In Tulsa. On the 14th row. It's weird how you can look forward to something for months, and then when it finally happens, it's almost surreal. And I worried that it couldn't live up to my expectations, but it totally did. What a great night. What an amazing concert. The reason they've thrived as a band for so long is because they love what they do, they appreciate their fans, and whether they're in NYC or Tulsa, Oklahoma, they give 100% to the entire performance. Even though they've done "Livin' on a Prayer" about 9,000 times, it's like the first time they performed it every time. Sigh. It was such a great time.

So instead of taking two days off this week, I decided to schedule the entire week. But I've been working the whole time. And not just checking my emails, but going to meetings. Because I feel guilty for declining important meetings just so I can hang out in my pajamas.

Tomorrow I'm going to try to chill for a bit, but then I've just canceled my Friday vacation day since I have six meetings. So much for my relaxing stay-cation.

But I got to see Bon Jovi and spend time with some awesome friends. And I'm grateful to have a job I love, even if that means I can't let go.

I must write "get a life" on my to-do list.

Pics from Tulsa are here.

At least I have a Texas trip to look forward to next week. Oh, and Friday's blind date. My life is a constant whirlwind, and I LOVE IT!

Inch by inch

2010-04-11T22:41:00.003-05:00

After working out excessively for weeks, the scale hasn't moved a bit. Oh sure, I haven't changed my diet much, but seriously, as much as I've sweated, I would expect to weigh less. But no. I am obsessive about weighing--sometimes daily--and I've gained and lost the same two pounds for the past six weeks.

Luckily I did my measurements nearly a month ago, and yesterday, after the great race debacle and subsequent depression, I decided to re-do them to see if there was any progress.

Turns out I'm six inches smaller. In a month. So maybe I weight the same, but my thighs, butt, abs and arms are showing progress.

So yay me! Bring it on, summer.

Run:fail

2010-04-10T09:53:00.003-05:00

Everybody loves a good Cinderella story. Movies like "The Blind Side" and "Hoosiers" were so popular because we all enjoy seeing athletes overcome the odds to achieve their dreams. They push through, defy the odds, and finish strong.

This is not one of those stories.

After two months of training for a 5K at the end of this month, I decided to participate in a fun run on campus this morning to gear up for the big race in two weeks. I've been running about 3.5 miles on the treadmill a few times a week at 6 mph. I've been running outside when possible to acclimate to pounding the pavement. I gave myself two days off from exercise so that I wouldn't be over-tired. I didn't drink my morning Diet Coke today, instead opting for lots of water to eliminate the lactic acid in my muscles.

In short, I was rested, relaxed, and ready.

I was a bit intimidated when I realized that I was the oldest racer by at least 15 years. But when the run began and I passed three girls who are too young to legally purchase alcohol, I began to feel more confident in my training and preparation.

I finished the first mile in a mere 9 minutes, passing on the water station and planning my Facebook status to celebrate my victory over a 30-minute 5K. I felt invincible. I felt confident.

Wait a minute... I feel sick.

As the course began winding through the woods, I found myself in solitude with just my breath and iPod for company. I'm used to the second mile being the most challenging, but usually I can push through and get past it. At 1.5 miles I began to get stomach cramps. At 1.75 miles I began to feel dizzy. Then I puked on the 2-mile marker.

Luckily no one was around to witness my running failure. Defeated, I removed my runner's bib and snuck back to my car without finishing the race.

Then I drove to the downtown coffee house to buy a double chocolate muffin. Because that's what fat girls do.

I'm not sure why I failed. Likely I started off too fast, got too cocky, and tried too hard to pretend I'm 20 years younger. After all, it takes a lot of energy to lift my massive thighs. Perhaps I should have eaten this morning, but if I had, I'd have thrown up more than just water.

What can I say? I have the soul of a runner and the thighs of a wrestler. But I shall not give up. This fat girl will finally finish a 5K. Someday.

Fame and fortune

2010-04-08T21:59:00.004-05:00

While I realize horoscopes and fortunes are hooey most of the time, I do admit to finding them amusing. I don't change my lifestyle based on anyone's random predictions concerning 1/12th of the world's population, but I find it intriguing that they sometimes can be correct.

I just had dinner with Joe at Pei Wei, and this was my fortune.

I am going to be with Jon Bon Jovi on the 13th. Perhaps that's my passionate love affair?

Footloose and totally free

2010-04-07T20:40:00.002-05:00

My good pal Krista scored some free-to-us tickets to see Kenny Loggins in Fayetteville last night. Before yesterday, only two of the 6,000+ songs on my iPod were Loggins tunes, and one of 'em was an obscure song from "One Fine Day." So I wouldn't call myself a super-fan, but I was excited about the concert anyway.

Turns out Kenny is a great show. Granted, I didn't enjoy myself as much as the drunk people all around us (free booze at the VIP reception), but I knew all but one song. And when he did "Footloose" during the encore, even the uptight blue-haired ladies in the audience sashayed and clapped along.

We also enjoyed a fabulous pre-show dinner at Bordino's in what was my first--but certainly not my last--visit to that great restaurant. Overall, it was an awesome night!

My apologies for neglecting the ol' blog lately. I've become so high maintenance that I don't have a lot of time to write. Between all the running and tanning and looking fantastic all the time, my pithy self-reflection and random observations have been suffering.

I am packing to head to Hot Springs in the morning for a student meeting, then it's on to Little Rock for more work stuff mixed in with dinner with Joe at Pei Wei and lunch with the Tullgren's on Friday. And then I have... praise Jesus... nine days off in a row! Ok, so I'm doing some random work in there, but I've scheduled a whole week off. Need to burn some time. Need to de-stress. Need to be still.

Dating blind

2010-04-05T21:47:00.004-05:00

If I were to win the lottery (which is doubtful, given that I've never purchased a ticket), one of the first things I'd get is laser eye surgery. Since grade school, I've had major vision challenges. As in, I can't see the "E" on the top of the eye chart. Yeah, I know that's what it is, but without my contacts or glasses, it's just a big black blur to me.

And while that's annoying, I am grateful for my 20/20 vision via assistance. My glasses may look like coke bottles (those of you under 25, Google what a coke bottle is), but I can see well while wearing them. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to truly be blind. But I'm guessing it's a frustrating world, trying to determine how something looks with no frame of reference. And even if your other senses are heightened, being able to smell, touch, taste, and hear something doesn't always equal knowing what it looks like.

I suppose that's how the term "blind date" came about. You agree to meet someone you've never seen. You put your faith in someone you trust or the internet and hope for the best. And even if you've had a phone conversation, exchanged e-mails, or cyber stalked him on Facebook, until you're in his presence, it's hard to know if there's a connection.

But instead of "blind," perhaps it should be termed a "pre-vision" date. You're going to see them on it. We once were blind, but now we see.

Before the dating scales are removed, I am impressed by wit and spelling prowess. If the dude doesn't know the difference between "you're" and "your" in a Facebook message, I'm less attracted. But if he has impeccable grammar and truly gets my sarcasm, he scores some points. Men who are funny and smart and have great jobs cause me to enter the night with optimism.

But the tough thing is when he's perfect on paper, but there's no spark. And I don't find it shallow to admit that I'm just not attracted to a guy. Because attraction is arbitrary and personal and can't be forced. Granted, guys can become more or less attractive over time, but if there's nothing there in the beginning, there's never going to be anything there for me.

I've had fabulous blind dates and terrible, unicorn-filled blind dates, but somehow I keep agreeing to them. Because you just never know. Maybe the next one will be the one when I meet "the One."

Happy Easter!

2010-04-05T13:03:00.004-05:00

Just returned from my great trip to Texas. The boys had so much fun, and it was great to get to spend some time with Lonnie and Jen as well.

I hope all of you had time with family yesterday and that you took a moment to remember the reason for Easter: the resurrection of our Lord and Savior. He lives!

The rest of the pics from this weekend are here.

Obsessed

2010-03-30T09:10:00.005-05:00

As anyone who's seen my closet can attest, I am more than a bit compulsive. My entire master bedroom closet is arranged via the ROYGBV color scheme. My clothes are all facing the same way. I can find any piece of clothing I need within three seconds.

While you may find that to be textbook OCD behavior, I argue that I'm just hyper organized. It is difficult, however, to excuse my behavior as merely pragmatic when I find myself freaking out if an errant sweater somehow gets hung in the wrong place. The nervous tic begins, and I have to straighten everything before I can move on to another task.

I'm not quite sure how I choose what to obsess over and what to merely allow. I wish, for example, I were more serious about my savings account. I should be more concerned with balancing my checkbook, but I seldom worry over it until just before payday, when I have to make sure it actually has a positive balance.

So it's not always the things that are good for me that become fixations. But lately, I have succumbed to an obsession I never thought I'd experience: I have become an exercise fanatic.

It started innocently enough. My vanity and need to fit into skinny jeans begat treadmill time. My cousin Lonnie's mocking and saying I'd never be able to run a 5K led to my pushing past my shin splints and training for a race. But it was never fun. I never liked it; I just found it to be a necessary evil.

And while I don't claim to have experienced a runner's high or spend the day looking forward to working out, I have become obsessed with the results. I woke up at 4:30 a.m. today and, instead of going back to bed like a normal person, got up and went to the gym to spend an hour on the elliptical machine. Then I went for a run tonight after work.

When I skip a day, I find myself feeling guilty. I want to be burning calories at all times. I mentally plan running routes in the shower. I find myself doing crunches while watching TV. I do yoga in the middle of the day at my office.

In other words, I've officially gone crazy. Somebody pass me a piece of cheesecake and tell me to chill.

Gym Dandy

2010-03-29T21:55:00.003-05:00

After months of elusiveness, it finally happened: I saw my belly button.

Long hidden between my first and second belly fat rolls, I looked down tonight after an hour at the gym to find my muffin top has been reduced from massive to merely normal sized. There's been sweat, tears, and a little blood, but perhaps the excessive exercise is starting to pay off. And yes, I still have hail damage on my thighs, but it's not as wide-spread as before. I'm also happy to report that when I put on my sports bra, little or no back fat spills out the sides.

Ah, exercise, thou art a necessary evil.

No worries. Even though I can now look down and see my navel, I won't be showing it to you anytime soon. No matter how flat my ab muscles may become, I'm way too old to be baring my midriff. You're welcome.

My mind is an empty vessel

2010-03-28T21:48:00.002-05:00

I've started to write an entry three or four times this weekend, but I'm totally uninspired. I've spent the past two days eating and sleeping and running and sweating, so I have little to say except that I'm tired and ready for bed. Thankfully it's a short work week and then I'm off to Texas on Thursday. Wahoo! I'm so excited!

Yeah, I got nothing.

The fluke puke

2010-03-24T20:21:00.003-05:00

If I had to choose an eating disorder, I would choose anorexia. While the physical act of chewing brings me joy and I have an unnatural love for food, I absolutely hate to throw up. So I'd rather do without than to binge and purge.

Unfortunately I've had my share of stomach bugs and once had severe food poisoning, but I've always managed to find an appropriate place to vomit. Growing up, our family had the "puke pan," a porcelain bowl my mom kept under the sink for bouts of sickness that she'd drag out when one of us was sick. We'd throw up, then she'd sterilize it and store it for the next family flu.

For three decades, I've managed to restrict my purging to private places. I'm not the girl who puked at a frat party in college or in a club during a date.

This afternoon, however, while driving down an innocuous Rogers street, my streak ended. I felt a bit nauseous, which I attributed to cramping, and then it happened. Projectile vomiting. While driving.

Have you ever had a puddle of puke on your brand new pants and on your steering wheel? Have you ever driven with your left hand because your right hand was streaked with vomit from trying to catch it before it was too late?

Much too little and much too late.

Thankfully I was only a few miles from my office, and luckily I'd done yoga at lunch and still had my workout gear in a bag in the backseat.

But I still had to pull up in front of our very glass building and walk into my office, which is next door to a vendor's glass-walled office, with puke from my neck to my shins. I had to visit the cleaning closet to secure Lysol and a trash bag to stash my (thankfully washable) clothes after stripping down in the bathroom.

Sadly, I had to cancel my Ruth's Chris dinner with Lori B, which I was really looking forward to. But that was less traumatic than sitting in vomit for my 45 commute.

Once home, I threw my clothes in the washing machine, liberally sprayed my car with carpet cleaner, scrubbed out the puke stains, and walked in the house to throw up again.

In case you're wondering, I had leftover cheese dip for lunch. No dairy for this gal for a few days, because I eventually got hungry again tonight and seem to be over whatever died in my stomach.

Granted, it could have been worse. Someone else could have puked on me.

Tool academy

2010-03-23T20:23:00.002-05:00

In the 30+ minutes it takes me these days to run 3.1 miles, I have ample time to plan and ponder. Thankfully I have a great music mix on my iPod to keep pace and motivation, but I get a little bored sometimes on the treadmill, even with Lady GaGa for company. I try to watch TV, but even when it's a rerun of "The Office," reading closed captions requires too much concentration at 5 mph. So instead, I find myself people watching. And judging. And mocking.

See, when I exercise, I don't try to be cute. I exercise so that I can look cute later, after I've taken a shower and my face stops looking like a tomato. I don't perspire; I sweat. Under my hairline and my armpits. Between my fat rolls. And especially where my two cheeks meet. There ain't nothing pretty about that.

So I don't understand why folks come to the gym dressed to the nines or generally avoiding exercise. It's call a WORK out, people. If it were easy, everyone would look like Gisele. (Coincidentally, I saw a pic of her leaving the gym the other day and guess what... she was sweaty! Coincidence?)

Tonight some dude who resembled Dax Shepherd jumped on the adjoining treadmill about one mile into my run. He was dressed head to toe in tight black and red Nike gear, like Lance Armstrong sans the bike. He was carrying an aluminum water bottle, iPod, BlackBerry, magazine, and Seth Godin novel.

Anyone who knows me would agree that I have a serious addiction to my iPhone. It's within three feet of me at all times, except when I'm working out. Partly because I barely have enough breath to run, much less carry on a conversation, but also because that's the one hour a day when I'm not sleeping that I have peace. And really, who can ponder Tribes when you're on the treadmill?

After six minutes of stretching and arranging his wares on the treadmill, he turned on the fan to blow his frosted-tip mane in the breeze, and then proceeded to run 2.5 miles per hour. For four minutes. Then he walked two or three minutes more before resuming his slow jog. Interval training, dude? For what, the senior Olympics? There was an 80 YO woman who got on the bike behind me and smoked his pansy butt.

Sampson finished his leisurely jog without messing up his hair, while I mopped sweat from parts of my body no one should see, and we left the gym at the same time. He climbed into his Element with the bumper sticker reading "Give Peace a Chance," and I rolled my eyes.

Go ahead and drink from your aluminum bottle, Granola Boy. I'll sweat my way to smaller pants. And I shall mock you.

The best things in life aren't free

2010-03-22T20:38:00.005-05:00

Yes we can, indeed. And if you drank the Obama Kool-aid, there's no need to read further.

I openly acknowledge my high maintenance lifestyle. I consider pedicures and massages to be necessities in my monthly budget. I don't color my own hair or mow my own lawn. I insist on nice hotels, great meals, and fabulous handbags.

In other words, my life ain't cheap.

Luckily, I went to college and despite all the partying, managed to graduate and go on to earn a master's degree. My job is stressful and often it's more than 40 hours a week. But I don't mind because I'm fortunate to have a job I love, and because I am well compensated for thinking about work 24/7.

With a nice salary comes some nice perks, like a nice home and a dependable (albeit recalled) vehicle, cosmetics from a department store counter, and the opportunity to travel. See, I'm obsessed with weekend shopping trips and concerts and nice dinners. I find myself planning months full of weekends to Dallas and Kansas City. Right now I'm saving to buy my nephew a laptop for his high school graduation. I have 20th row tickets to see Bon Jovi in Tulsa next month. I'm headed to Temple twice in April, once for a race and once just because I miss Jen. I'm currently trying to talk Scott and Alisa into Dallas in May to see Jimmy Buffett, and I want to schedule girls' weekend with Sorne, Kelly and Amanda to see SATC2 Memorial Day weekend.

Ruth's Chris for dinner? That's just a Wednesday night for me and my pal Lori B. And in December, Krista and I will be happily ensconced in our Times Square hotel suite in NYC.

If you're going somewhere, I want to go. If a great band is playing, I want to see the concert. I like stuff. I like places. I love spending time with my friends.

But often, I find myself having to stop planning things. Not only do my weekends fill, but I run out of funds. And when you don't have money, you have to stop spending it.

Unless you're Congress. Then you can continue to spend money you don't have on people who don't need it.

See, when I use credit to pay for things, I have to pay it back with interest. Where's my blank check?

But you know what? If someone gave me a beautiful new red patent leather Louis Vuitton bag with the understanding that it was totally free to me, but someday my niece and nephews would have to pay for it, I'd say no. Because I believe in paying for my lifestyle, even if it means doing without.

You listening, Nancy Pelosi?

Let's make plans for July, when I might be solvent again!

Oscar is a man

2010-03-17T20:57:00.006-05:00

Is there some sort of Academy Award marriage curse? Most of the women who've won the Best Actress statue lately have headed to divorce court right after Oscar was placed on the mantle. Reece Witherspoon, Julia Roberts, Halle Berry, Hillary Swank, and Kate Winslet all found themselves single after winning as a wife. And now, just days after Sandra Bullock won the (well deserved) Best Actress trophy, rumors of her husband's infedelity have the gossip sites buzzing with marital discord.

In addition to Oscar recognition, the other common thread among these women is that they have seemingly overshadowed their husbands, and most men can't deal with that. Ryan Phillippe may have some killer abs, but he's never won an Oscar. Sam Mendes directed Winslet in "Revolutionary Road," but she got the glory. At least when Uma Thurman and Ethan Hawke divorced, he was man enough to say, "It's tough when your spouse is more successful than you." And then he traded her in for the nanny.

Perhaps it's more prominent in a town where the spotlight shines brightly on a few and thousands of others clamor around it, but when your wife is famous and you are less so, I guess it can be tough to take. Unless you're cameraman Danny Moder.

But I know there are men out there who happily allow their wives to shine. There are women out there who don't dream smaller dreams to accommodate their husbands' egos. Wives shouldn't have to be less just so their husbands feel like more.

Just the other day a guy I know called to tell me how amazing his wife was. And he wasn't talking about in the kitchen or in the bedroom, but at her job. You could tell how proud he was. More men should be like that. (I won't reveal who it was, but I will tell you he's related to me.)

Consider this: when Jack fell down and broke his crown, maybe Jill shouldn't have come tumbling after. Perhaps she should have helped him up, fixed his crown, and made the kids dinner, with no apologies for her success.

Rock out with your clock out

2010-03-15T21:30:00.004-05:00

Daylight Savings Time never fails to make me think of my mom. Each year, from "fall back" until "spring forward," she complained about the lack of daylight, constantly exclaiming "I hate this time!" Every. Single. Day.

And while my brother and I constantly mocked her incessant time change catch phrase, I never set my clocks up or back without thinking of her. And granted, I don't love the winter either. I hate it being dark when I leave the office. I stay tired. I don't, however, suffer from seasonal affective disorder. I don't suffer from deep depression and need light therapy. But it does mess with my psyche a bit.

So even though we lost an hour yesterday, I'm happy we're back on DST. Today, after returning from yet another trip to Hot Springs, I put on my running shoes and headed outside to run. And wow, even though I've been doing three miles on the treadmill four times a week, my 2.5 miles outside about killed me. Just in case you're wondering, a cold sweat doesn't just happen when you're nervous; it also happens when you're jogging in 50 degree weather.

But I did manage to get in 2.5 miles jogging and 1.5 miles of walking. Let's see if I manage to get out of bed in the morning.

Close; no cigar

2010-03-13T21:14:00.002-06:00

After a phenomenal season, the Hornets finally lost their second game of the year in the state finals. It was tough to lose by only three points and be so close to the pinnacle, but the boys should be proud of their season and making it that far. It's the most successful team Hackett's ever had. My grandfather coached a team that lost in the state finals in the 1940s, and people still talk about that team!

Taylor played great; I'm so proud of him. I think he's ready to move on and get started with the rest of his life.

161-11 ain't a bad career.

(Photo credit: Rick Altes)

For richer, for poorer

2010-03-11T20:58:00.004-06:00

Forget living in sin; living in singleness is too expensive a luxury.

As a very happy Ms., I'm seldom in a hurry to rush down the aisle. Granted, I look forward to registering at Pottery Barn and buying fabulous strappy sandals, but the idea of sharing a bed and closet space isn't so appealing. I don't mind saying "I do," but I do mind agreeing to be submissive. I refuse to be seen but not heard.

I have considered taking a husband in the event that I need a bug squashed or a convenient plus one for parties, but when thinking past the honeymoon phase to the part of marriage when men no longer feel the need to close the bathroom door and women no longer feel the need to shave, the idea of being a Mrs. loses a lot of luster. Sometime before the top tier of the wedding cake is removed from the freezer and subsequently finds its way into the trash, the trashy lingerie is somehow replaced by flannel pajamas, and Crappily Ever After begins.

But in these tough times of increased taxes and growing government, I'm seriously thinking about a 1040 marriage. I don't necessarily want to set up house with a hubby, but I would like to celebrate wedded bliss via a joint tax filing. I would love to get a big tax refund to split into our separate bank accounts.

Think about it... all of the benefits of a marriage and none of the inconveniences! A closet and a bed all to myself. An emergency contact but no need to explain why I'm running late or need another pair of black shoes. Wedding gifts but no wedding night. Cash from family and friends for the nuptials; cash from the government for legal bondage.

A marriage of convenience, so to speak.

If the INS investigates so-called "green card marriages," I wonder who would check out a 1040 union for legitimacy. I can see it now... an IRS official deeming my nuptials bogus because we both seem too happy in our separate households. "Ma'am, you don't look mad enough, and sir, you're in too good of shape to be actually married. You're being deported back to the highest tax bracket."

And really, how much would my 1040 marriage change my life, other than possibly a name hyphenation and checking the "married" box on the occasional form? Granted, that would be a really awkward first date conversation to have with someone. And I'd have to change my Facebook status to "in an open relationship," but 1040 hubby and I would never have to argue about whose family to visit during the holidays.

Besides, I could buy so many more handbags with my marriage tax refund.

So if you know any single men looking for a marriage of taxation convenience, send 'em my way. I think this could be the new relationship trend.

Sore loser

2010-03-09T20:52:00.003-06:00

After nearly two weeks of super travel, I finally succumbed to exhaustion. I literally stayed in bed all day yesterday, sleeping until 5 p.m. I'm still worn out today, but I did manage to get in two meetings, innumerable e-mails, and--most importantly--a cut and color. I also ran three miles tonight to shake off my sloth.

But it's not like my tiredness wasn't worth it. I managed to make all of the state tournament games last week in Carlisle to witness an overtime, a last-second miracle shot, and an intense semi-final game. All were wins. All took years off my life.

Last Friday night the Hornets took on East Poinsett County, which features a blue-chip junior who's being heavily recruited by the SEC and beyond. I admit he's very talented. His attitude? Not so enviable.

After getting a charge call with about eight seconds to go (which, to be fair, could've gone either way), he allowed one of our players to drive down the floor, into the lane, and throw up a bank shot at the buzzer.

As it went in, our fans screamed. He collapsed on the floor, refusing help by two of our players. Then he knocked over the water cooler and stormed the stands with his fists blazing.

I understand that athletes are sometimes given a free pass when their talent is great, but seriously, no team needs that attitude on their roster. I'm seriously hoping Pelphrey decides he has enough punks on the court and withdraws his scholarship offer.

At least the media hasn't shied away from telling the whole story. I pray this young man has an attitude adjustment, and soon. No one likes a sore loser.

The buzz

2010-03-05T22:56:00.005-06:00

So proud of Taylor! The Hornets managed to pull out a win at the buzzer and will play in the state semi-finals tomorrow night. I think I screamed myself hoarse. My cousin Kendra said I jumped higher than the players when that shot went in.

Man, I have heart palpitations. Is there a defibrillator nearby?

Here's some proof that not all boys suck.

Taylor made

2010-03-04T21:12:00.006-06:00

Rick Altes took this pic of Taylor Tuesday night in Carlisle. Check out the acrobatic move. And check out Arney up there in the stands holding a sleeping Hope.

I'm still tired, but I made it back to NLR. I need to go to bed.

I did manage to run three miles tonight on the hotel treadmill. The unfortunate part is that it was the grand opening of this hotel, so they kept parading Chamber folks through the gym to watch me sweat. It is very motivating to run in front of a mirror. Two miles in and my thighs still looked huge, so I kept running.

Hopefully there's time for a nap tomorrow before the game. If not, it's going to be a long Saturday.

Broken odometer

2010-03-03T20:27:00.005-06:00

I've always been blessed (cursed?) with wanderlust. I love to travel. I spend half of my time living out of a suitcase, and most days I'm okay with that.

But right now I'm really, really exhausted. I took a three-hour nap this afternoon and am already ready to go back to bed.

After my three days in Atlanta, I was in Hector on Saturday, Hartford on Sunday, jury duty yesterday, and Carlisle last night. I got home this afternoon in time for a couple of meetings on campus prior to my nap, and now I'm doing laundry and getting ready to unpack and repack my suitcase for tomorrow.

I have a luncheon in the Fort and then I'm headed back to NLR tomorrow afternoon for a Friday morning meeting and another jaunt to Carlisle Friday night for Taylor's state Elite 8 game.

So. Very. Tired. Thankfully I'm in Benton County all week next week. I hope.

This is how I currently feel.

Miracle on the Hardwood

2010-03-03T08:09:00.003-06:00

The Hornets managed to pull out a win in overtime last night. They were about 10 points behind when Blake fouled out in the third quarter. I thought they were going to get trounced by a quicker, smothering defense. But they didn't give up. Taylor determindly drove into the lane for a short jumper, then later had a key steal and the end of regulation. All of the boys stepped up big time to continue their season. It was a little nerve-wracking, but a great game. Elite 8 on Friday night.

He's such a playa

2010-03-01T21:09:00.003-06:00

Taylor and the Hornets begin play in the state tournament in Carlisle tomorrow night, which was going to work out great since I had a college fair scheduled in NLR tomorrow morning. That was, until I was waiting for my car to be serviced before going to Little Rock and got a call from the county clerk.

Stupid jury duty.

Luckily my good pal Krista (AKA glutton for punishment) is game to play hooky with me tomorrow afternoon and drive four hours to watch the ball game.

Speaking of, guess who was the player of the week? That's right... our sweet little Tator Bug.

(Br)Usher with Greatness

2010-03-01T20:07:00.003-06:00

Last Friday, on our way home from Atlanta, I found myself one of the last people to get on the plane. As I was standing on the sky bridge, dispassionately preparing to board, I gazed at two guys who walked up at the last minute. One of them looked very familiar.

So I went through my usual "how do I know this guy/girl" routine, where I check my mental rolodex of work acquaintances, college classmates, and random people who are friends of friends. I came up with nothing, but thought certain I'd seen him someplace before.

Suddenly it occured to me who it was. And the place I'd seen him was the Grammy's, magazine covers, and on my iPod. It was USHER.

Oh, friends, that boy is even prettier in person.

I guess he felt me staring, because he looked up at me and realized I recognized him. We had a few seconds of nonverbal communication, with him wondering if the crazy white girl was going to start singing, taking pictures, or just generally busting him on his attempt at flying incognito and me trying to keep from drooling or making a fool of myself.

After a moment of considering whether or not to whip out my camera, I decided that he was entitled to his privacy. So I just smiled. Understanding that I was going to leave him alone and allow him some peace, he flashed that trademark beautiful grin and winked at me.

So yeah, I came home from Atlanta without a picture of Usher and me. Instead I granted him a papparazzi-free flight, and he granted me a private and grateful smile.

I hummed "Confessions" all the way home.

3peat

2010-02-28T22:15:00.003-06:00

Congrats to my sweet Tator Bug and the Hackett Hornets for winning their third regional championship in a row. During his six years at Hackett, they're 158-10 (that's a .940 winning percentage)... not too shabby!

Off to Little Rock tomorrow for work, then I'll stay for Taylor's game in Carlisle Tuesday evening.

Rest of the pics from the game are here.

Be still and chill

2010-02-26T10:42:00.002-06:00

Like many of you, I’m sure, I’ve been suffering from exhaustion lately. It’s so easy to get bogged down in the mundane tasks with life and forget our life's purpose. I wanted to share with you what I learned this morning from our conference devotional speaker, Tim Elmore. The profound statements are his; the less sophisticated ones are mine.

A company that makes drill bits hired a new president who challenged the management team to realize that people aren’t paying for the drill bit… they’re paying for the holes. In other words, they were a solution to a problem until a better solution came along.

We must be diligent not to mistake the method for the mission.

When Elisha proclaimed God’s message in 2 Kings 3:16-19, he said, “…Thus says the LORD, ‘Make this valley full of trenches.’ For thus says the LORD, ‘You shall not see wind nor shall you see rain; yet that valley shall be filled with water, so that you shall drink, both you and your cattle and your beasts. And this is but a slight thing in the sight of the LORD; He shall also give the Moabites into your hand. Then you shall strike every fortified city and every choice city, and fell every good tree and stop all springs of water, and mar every good piece of land with stones.’ ”

So the challenge for me this morning is, am I asking God for water, or am I asking Him for victory in the battle? We spend so much time as Christians praying for the immediate and not enough time asking for the ultimate. Let us not just been concerned with the logistical, but with the strategic. After all, great Generals don’t spend a lot of time asking how they’re going to win a battle; they spend a lot of time planning how to win a war.

What we ask God for reflects our heart. Are we asking for the right things? We are called to seek first the Kingdom of God and all its righteousness, and all the other things will be added unto us…

God has laid upon my heart and challenged me with this these past few days: am I spending enough time “being still” before Him and seeking His will, or am I going headstrong into my own plans? How arrogant am I that I think I can do anything on my own! Yet, I spend my days plotting and planning and making spreadsheets instead of making time for spending quiet time with Him.

Life is full of the do vs. be challenge. We’re overscheduled, over planned, and overextended. Am I planning time to rest in Him? Am I being still and knowing, really knowing, that He is God?

How big is our God? How I pray that we’re asking God for hearts like His… that what breaks His heart would break ours.. I don’t think He cares if we make a million dollars or are great at our jobs and get accolades. He cares if we’re seeking Him first. He cares if others are being impacted for the Kingdom.

Christy Nockels has been our worship leader this week and we’ve been singing a song she wrote called “A Mighty Fortress.” I am humbled and challenged by its lyrics. When you have time, listen to it if you haven’t heard it.

Have a great weekend. Find time to rest in God and be still…

I'm sorry, Atlanta

2010-02-25T19:19:00.005-06:00

I totally owe the ATL a big apology. Obviously my aversion to this town was the result of ignorance. She's a gorgeous city at night. I'm not saying I want to move here, but she's a great lady to visit.

After all-day meetings (more on that later) we headed to the world famous Varsity for burgers and fries. It was a bit disappointing, but at least four of us ate for a mere 23 bucks.

We then headed to Atlantic Station for dessert at Copeland's Cheesecake Bistro, where we capped off dinner with $45 worth of dessert. :)

I'm off to bed kids. I've ignored the treadmill on this trip, but I'm too pooped to run. I did walk about three miles to the bookstore earlier today so I'm not a total slug, but I figure I consumed at least 3,000 calories in the past 24 hours.

As Georgian Scarlett O'Hara would say, "I'll think about that tomorrow."

The blessing and the challenge

2010-02-24T21:08:00.006-06:00

Almost against my will, my boss drug me to a Christian college conference in Atlanta. I'm not particularly fond of the capital of Georgia (no offense, Amanda!) and I'm less fond of attending meetings I think won't benefit me, so I had a lousy attitude about being here. And when you add in the fact that I had to get up at 3 a.m. and change planes to arrive in time for a 3 p.m. meeting about research findings, I was one grumpy gus.

The Lord indeed works in mysterious ways.

I've been in a spiritual holding pattern lately. Oh, I know I'm going to heaven, but the spiritual growth part of Christianity always evades me. I want to be more like Christ, but I always find myself more like the Pharisees: full of judgement and short on grace. In other words, most of the time I totally miss the point.

As you can imagine, that's particularly challenging given my profession. I feel blessed to have what is, in essence, a ministry position. I know what I do impacts the Kingdom in a small way, and it's not a calling I take lightly most of the time.

Instead, I find myself bogged down in the mundane, making time for making spreadsheets and giving up quiet time for Bible study and prayer. And I know better. Just as I know chocolate temps me and going to the gym is necessary, I know that my journey toward becoming more like Christ will never be complete. Yes, salvation is finished. Supplication is not. But oh how I take my Lord for granted.

But thankfully he still seeks a relationship with me. And he still reaches out to me.

Tonight I found myself sitting in a room with 1,200 people who work at Christian colleges. And during that time the band Watermark led worship, singing one of my favorite songs, "Hosanna." After that we heard from Rich Stearns, president of Worldvision, who reminded us that Christians are called to be salt and light. And we are called to preach the Gospel to all nations, including those who are ravaged by poverty and disease and hunger.

2.5 billion people live on less than $2 a day. I have so many blessings in my life and I take so much for granted. Like medical care and food and shelter.

I am challenged to think of others. And I am blessed to be a child of God.

Captivate us, Lord Jesus
Set our eyes on You
Devastate us with Your presence
Falling down
And rushing river, draw us nearer
Holy fountain consume us with You
Captivate us Lord Jesus, with You
- "Captivate Us" by Watermark

Can we talk?

2010-02-21T18:26:00.003-06:00

It’s been said that youth is wasted on the young. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s certainly true that the millennials have changed the landscape of just about everything, from technology to consumerism to dating.

Take, for example, my awesome nephew. As a high school senior, his college selection process has been frustrating for me as a higher education marketer. I spend hours crafting well-worded e-mails to get my point across in as few words as possible. He hasn’t opened a single e-mail from a college, choosing instead to save them in a folder in case he wants to read them later.

He’s also recently gained a girlfriend, a designation I discovered via Facebook when his status changed to “in a relationship.”

Facebook has forever altered the landscape of relationship definition. No longer is one required to have “the talk” to determine coupledom. Rather, you simply search for the username of your beloved, and Facebook sends him a message to confirm that you are, in fact, in a relationship. That’s much less awkward than having your girlfriends track down the guy you’re dating during lunch to ask him if he’s into you. Now you know when all of his 500+ so-called friends know.

On the way to Fayetteville last night after the game, I asked Taylor about his new girlfriend. Evidently they were talking as friends and then they were “talking” and now she’s his girlfriend.

Huh? What’s the difference between talking and “talking”?

A lot evidently. No longer do teens “go together” like we did when I was in high school. Now they “talk.” But they talk as friends before the “talking” designation indicates their pre-relationship status.

Is there some sort of handout for this? I’m afraid I might be talking to someone and end up inadvertantly married.

The gist of it is this: you may start talking as friends, but then “the talk” leads to “talking.” Got that?

All the pics from the district championship are here.

Tough on the outside, soft on the inside

2010-02-18T22:30:00.005-06:00

Many women struggle to master the delicate balance between strength and vulnerability. How do we maintain our femininity and softness in a world that has pushed us to the wall and forced many to fight our own battles? ... No man or woman is an island. Giving and taking, sharing life experiences and lessons learned, is invaluable.

My pal Krista gave me a new desk calendar about a month ago about being a spiritual diva. I have no idea why she found it appropriate for me. :)

Nevertheless, I've found it to be both encouraging and applicable most days. It reminds me to not look for happiness in a mere mortal man, but in the One who is the source of joy. And today's post about balancing strength and vulnerability was especially relevant; Krista and I talked about it just yesterday during lunch.

Because that's one of the most challenging things in my life. Everyone views me as this strong, confident woman. Hardened. Edgy. And most of the time I am. I seldom cry. It's tough to hurt my feelings. It's tough to get past the tough exterior into my heart.

But there are a certain number of people with whom I let down my guard and allow them to see my softer side. It's tough to be vulnerable. It requires a certain trust.

If you're one of those rare people to whom I bare my soul, thanks for listening to me. For being patient with my moods and compulsiveness. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't share.

So here's to vulnerability, to friendship, and to being lucky to have people in your life who love you when you're strong as well as when you're weak. What a lucky gal I am. And someday I hope there's a boy who is tough enough to stick around to get to the good stuff.

There's no place like home

2010-02-15T22:14:00.003-06:00

It occurred to me today, after being in the car for seven hours, that I pay about $30 a day to own a house I seldom see. Granted, it's cheaper than a hotel (at least one that I'd sleep in), but that's some pretty expensive furniture storage.

Now don't get me wrong, I have a major sense of wanderlust and had a fabulous time in Mountain Home this weekend with friends, but I've spent a grand total of two nights out of the past eight sleeping in my own bed.

I am tired. And I want to spend a few days at my house. After all, my name's on the mortgage and they don't pro-rate for the nights you actually stay there.

The good news is that I managed to start running again tonight after an injury and travel-plagued couple of weeks. It's not a coincidence that I have a massage appointment in the morning. I hope I can actually get out of bed. But if not, at least it's my bed. Home sweet home.

Melancholy Folly

2010-02-14T22:13:00.002-06:00

Just in case you've forgotten my recent rants, I am not a fan of February 14. There's just something about the big love day that makes me feel like a big loser. The red roses mock me. The singing cards ring a chorus of my rampant singleness.

If love is indeed all around, how come none of it has gotten on me?

Oh well. Believe it or not, I managed to make it through another V-Day without suicidal thoughts.

Two years ago, I was driving through Little Rock on February 14 after having dinner with Lon, Jen and the boys at Mi Burrito, feeling quite sorry for myself, and I got the strongest sense that God was telling me 2008 was my last Valentine's Day alone. I interpreted that epiphany to mean that I'd be meeting Mr. Right before 2/14/09, which obviously didn't happen. Nor has it happened by 2/14/10.

Amazingly, I'm okay with that. So I don't have a Valentine and I'm still paying taxes at a single rate. I don't feel alone. I have the best friends anyone could ask for. I have eternal salvation. I love my job and have great fashion sense (if I do say so myself).

And that's enough for now. So here's hoping if you're going to bed alone like me or with someone else, you're content with where you are and who you are. Because, after all, that's the secret of life. It's not in having what you want, but wanting what you have.

Love, pain, and the whole crazy thing

2010-02-11T23:07:00.003-06:00

Sometimes I wish I were more like a man when it comes to relationships.

I'm not saying I'd like to juggle multiple dates on the same night. I'm not even saying I'd forget their names. I'm just wishing I could treat relationships like men do. Disposable. Forgettable. Interchangeable.

In season 7 of "Friends," Rachel is trying to decide if she should tell her assistant Tag she's attracted to him since he's just broken up with his girlfriend. She asks her friends how long one should wait before asking out someone who's just broken up with a significant other.

"A month," Phoebe says. "I'd say three or four," Monica says.

"A half hour," responds Joey.

Because really, shouldn't you wait out a relationship the same amount of time it takes to wait to swim after eating?

Sometimes men seem to have the answers. Let's move on, forget it, and prepare for something new.

Why should we pine for men who aren't pining for us?

I'm tired of being the girl with the broken heart. I'm ready to start testing the relationship waters.

And yeah, there are sharks there, but aren't the sharks you expect kind of better than the sweet fish you don't?

White Out

2010-02-10T20:57:00.004-06:00

Whew! It's been a crazy week. After getting snowed in and finally making it home, I was stuck in bed all day fighting off a sinus infection. Thankfully I got lots of rest today and I think I'll be back to normal tomorrow.

I had such a fun time on Nebo this week. It was the most gorgeous snow I've ever seen. Enjoy all the pics from the big snow storm.

Scaredy cat

2010-02-09T20:36:00.003-06:00

I have a really bad habit of leaving my back door unlocked. Usually it's an accident, but often when I go out of town I do it just in case I get locked out. After all, there's a privacy fence back there, and what's the likelihood that someone would wander into my back yard and check my back door?

I know, I know. It's not smart. And today I learned my lesson.

After being trapped by 8"+ of snow on Mount Nebo for the past two days, Scott drove my car down the mountain so that I could return home. I grabbed a load of luggage and entered my house around 5 p.m. this afternoon.

I was instantly struck by how cold it was inside, but remembered I'd turned down my heat before leaving. Then I noticed my back door was standing wide open.

After a moment of panic, I realized nothing was missing from my house. My flat screen TV was still in the living room. My china was still in the cabinet.

Relaxed once again, I closed and locked the door, turned up my heat and entered my bedroom. And promptly screamed like a banshee.

There, regally lounging on my bed, was a black and white cat.

My shrill scream scared said cat, which promptly scurried under my bed.

I tried to figure out how to get the stupid feline out of my house. Understandably, my calls of "here, kitty kitty" didn't work. So I opened all of my outside doors and starting poking a broom under my bed. The cat ran into the kitchen and propped itself on a dining room chair. Then I chased it outside.

It's a world full of crime, but I'm petrified of a house cat. I'll be double-checking my locks from now on, lest any more animals wander in my house. After all, I live just a few mere miles from the wild wilderness safari. Next time it could be a cheetah.

I don't know if that cat used up any of its lives today, but I certainly was scared within an inch of mine.

The Great Mount Nebo Blizzard of '10

2010-02-08T11:49:00.002-06:00

I made it safely to Nebo and had a blast watching the Super Bowl. But now I'm snowed in. We just returned from sledding and are now awaiting Alisa's soup and cornbread for lunch.

Hey... if you gotta be stranded, I picked a great place. Plenty of food, beverages, and friends to last for days!

Desperation Samba

2010-02-07T00:51:00.005-06:00

Just returned from the birthday party. We actually had a lot of fun, and the night went about as well as it could have. Awkwardness over. Friendship train back on track.

I knew most of the folks there, save a few, including one particular divorcee who set her sights on LB about 30 seconds after we arrived. To be fair, I'm not always great at the flirting, but I'm embarrassed for this poor girl. It was both blatant and ridiculous.

She asked him what he did. Then where he lived. He told her the town, but she wanted to know the subdivision.

She'd known him for four minutes at this point.

She asked him his birthday and then his astrological sign. She whipped out her iPhone so that she could use her horoscope app to test their compatibility.

Honey, Studio 54 called, and they want their pick-up line back.

God bless my friend Lela, who said (out loud), "Are you going to run his credit report too?"

Poor girl. I'm sure all she wanted was a new baby daddy for her three kids, but honestly, does that work on men? It certainly didn't on this one. She left the club alone and LB went home with me.

On the way Lela informed him that he needed to date a girl who hadn't been married and had no kids. He replied those were hard to find. She told him she knew a great one who happened to be in the car. Subtle, Lela.

He didn't take the bait, but I'm happy that we're back to being friends. If he doesn't realize how great I am, that's his loss, right?

Pics from this week are here.

So much to say, so little time

2010-02-06T16:29:00.003-06:00

Just realized I haven't updated in days. My life has been crazy busy and I have five nights' worth of TV on my DVR.

I got home about an hour ago from a trip to Tulsa with my friend Krista. We went over last night for dinner and shopping and had a great time.

Right now I'm about to jump in the shower to get ready for a friend's birthday party. Going with LB (yeah, you read that right), my friend Lela and her husband.

Stop looking so shocked. Much has happened these past few days. More later.

Home improvement

2010-02-02T23:40:00.003-06:00

Since I spent much of my four-day snow-induced seclusion watching HGTV, I've been motivated to redecorate my house. After all, those shows like "Design to Sell" paint a few walls and voila, the house sells for thousands above asking price, right?

The major problem with my current casa is that it's a spec house, which means that it has no personality. The walls are beige, the landscaping is non-existent, and the fireplace isn't finished. Frankly, I didn't want to spend money on a house I plan to sell soon, but since it's been six months and nary a nibble, I figure if I can make this a place I want to live, someone else might want to live here.

Enter my redesign frenzy, beginning with my bathroom and bedroom. My master bedroom now has a purple accent wall. My master bath will have a new rug and dark red toilet room. I rearranged the furniture and put up curtains in my bedroom (not just for looks, but to keep the light out and sleep longer).

And, like all of my previous bouts with home improvement, I'm tired of it and want it done. Plus, my taste exceeds my budget.

Wonder if HGTV would like to make over my house to sell?

It ain't easy being green

2010-02-01T17:43:00.005-06:00

I hate Valentine's Day.

There are two nights out of the entire year that it really sucks to be single. One is New Year's Eve. The other, Valentine's Day.

The other 363 I don't mind being alone. Right now I'm watching a cheesy show on the CW in my flannel pajamas, wearing glasses and Crest white strips. My legs aren't shaved. My hair's in a clip. My top and bottoms don't match. Ah, the fabulous life of the single gal.

I just painted a purple accent wall in my bedroom. No man would let me do that.

Glamour aside, my life is going pretty well right now. I have plans with great friends three nights in a row this weekend. My job is good (and I'm grateful to have one). But Valentine's Day looms. That Hallmark, red rose and haiku festival of love. In 13 days. With no man on the horizon.

Without a doubt, the worst part of this stupid holiday is the pity others seem to think I deserve. Last year one of my coworkers felt bad that I didn't get flowers, so she left one of the 18 she received from her husband on my desk. Yeah, thanks for the pity rose, pal.

I usually get some cursory gifts from friends, with comments of "Well we didn't want you to not get anything today...." Seriously. I'm okay with that. It's much less painful than others wrapping stuff up because they feel sorry for me.

My pal Lori B, who's also single (and amazing, which makes me realize boys are really stupid) sent me an email today from a local restaurant, detailing their Valentine's Day plans. This is a first-rate joint, with servers and assistant servers and reservations and bottle service. They also have a great bar area that they're trying to establish as the permier Happy Hour locale of NWA.

So, on Thursday, February 11, they'll be featuring a fabulous mixer after work, and are encouraging patrons to color code themselves for easy identification. If you're taken, you're to wear red. If you're in a relationship but it's not serious, you're supposed to wear yellow. Single? Wear green.

What the heck is the significance of green? Red is the official color of Valentine's Day, so I suppose that makes green the color of mold? Not the bloom from the rose, but the extra leaves that get cut off. Why don't we all just stamp our forehead with a big "L" for loser and call it a night?

I can tell you one gal who won't be wearing green for Valentine's Day. I'll be in black in protest of this stupid holiday.

And no, I'm not online dating. Shut up.

Show some class, cover your_____

2010-01-30T21:38:00.003-06:00

Unlike some chicks, I actually go to the gym to exercise. Seriously, if you want to be scantily clad and flirt with random men, why don't you head to a bar?

Today I braved the elements and headed to the gym to walk off some of the extra calories consumed during this blizzard. I found myself walking on the track behind a woman whose shorts were probably all of three inches long. To be fair, she was in great shape. But she was also older than me and holding hands with a man old enough to be her father.

Lady, nobody wants to see your butt cheeks. Cover 'em up and take Daddy home for a private workout.