Top chef, Johnson

As my friend Sorne would say, I love to eat more than I hate to exercise. But lately, I've been doing too much of the former and too little of the latter.

Tonight the folks from our advertising agency took me out to dinner to celebrate our big enrollment week (80 new students... wahoo!). It was my maiden voyage to James at the Mill and trust me, friends, it lived up to all the hype.

Dinner was an event. We met at 5:30 and finished around 8 p.m. But hey... it was work related, right?

Crab cake



Yummy steak



Dessert: warm chocolate cake



Alas, I did not meet Stacy London today. The sweet student did call and invite me to her office for a private meet and greet, but I'd already scheduled meetings, so work once again got in the way of my celebrity stalking. When she called, the student did tell me that Stacy was very tiny in person, and very sweet and funny. I'm glad she wasn't disappointed in her like I usually am when I meet famous people.

I think I've got a sinus infection coming on. Sore throat, sniffles, headache, sinus pressure... yuck. I do not want to get sick. But I have only one meeting in the morning, so if there's a good day to rest, tomorrow would be it.

I'm still stuffed. Need to walk 10 miles but have too many files to sort through and too many GPAs to figure. My life is so glamorous.

(There will be pics, but stupid Gmail is down. Grrr.)

What not to wear, how not to feel

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! I've been obsessed with "What Not to Wear" for months. I watch it faithfully as I walk on the treadmill. Sometimes two or three episodes a day. So I am indebted to Stacy and Clinton for not only making my thighs smaller, but for taking my fashion knowledge from so-so to "hello!" S & C taught me that accessories should not match but "go" with your outfit. I learned all about proportion. That jackets help tie your outfit together and always make you look better. That your purse shouldn't match your shoes. And that said shoes should always be pointed toes.

Tonight I went to the first night of class for a new group and, bored while the teacher was talking, checked my Twitter feed to discover that Stacy London's coming to NWA tomorrow. During break I asked the Sam's peeps what time she'd be at the store. Turns out one of our students works for the company she's coming to represent. And she's going to ask if I can stop by their office tomorrow for a private meet and greet. OMG! I am giddy. Can you imagine? What in the world do I wear to meet such a fashionista (shut up, Amanda, the gray streak makes her look distinguished!)?

Other than excitement, my other emotions of the day included exasperation, impatience, and puzzlement. Plus, a first-rate case of jealousy. I hate feeling jealous. See, I love my life and most days I wouldn't trade places with anyone (save Giselle and Stacy London, who gets to tell people they dress like crap). But something happened today that brought out a serious case of the green monster.

So driving home tonight, I called Jen to make me feel less guilty about my petty feelings (and she did, 'cause she's awesome that way). But I'm still obsessing about it. And thinking that the boy ought to feel special that I care enough about him to be jealous. Because that's what jealousy is about, right? Being so into someone that you don't want them spending time with anyone else, or putting something before you?

Halfway home my iPod shuffled to a new song by the David Crowder Band, "How He Loves." And the opening line is "He is jealous for me. Loves like a hurricane. I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy."

I'm ashamed. Not just because I'm so petty, but because I don't consider often enough how very lucky I am that the incomparable God is jealous for me.

"I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about... How He loves us..."