Sunday, December 21, 2008

Even the worst circumstances, can't seem to curb it's appeal

"Let it be Christmas everywhere
Let heavenly music fill the air
Let every heart sing let every bell ring
The story of hope and joy and peace
And let it be Christmas everywhere
Let heavenly music fill the air
Let anger and fear and hate disappear
Let there be love that lasts through the year
And let it be Christmas
Christmas everywhere"

That song expresses exactly how I feel, after the weekend. (It's an Alan Jackson song, and even if you don't like him, you should check out that song.)

Although, there are a few things in my life that should turn me into a Scrooge, I just can't do it. Christmas is my favorite season, and even the worst circumstances, can't seem to curb it's appeal. My favorite people are not coming for Christmas, Adam's dad had a stroke on Wednesday and has been in the hospital since, and the economy simply sucks. But even still, with all that (and a lot of prayer), I want to jump in the snow and sing "Let it be Christmas everywhere!"

I feel grateful and happy and perfectly chipper, even with a headache. My body hurts from sledding and snowboarding, and still I feel happy. (Yeah I know, you are green with envy, but hey at least green is a christmas color.)

So, with that, if you are not feeling particularly chipper, go here.

Or this might cheer you up.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Like fuck all hard as rock hard

Well, can we say "I suck at blogging". Cuz I do. Seriously.

One month and four days ago, I blogged. Since then, nothin. Seriously, nothin.


I turned in my last final of my entire life, if I so choose! This comes one semester after the intended graduation date, and two years of online hell. Teaching yourself math for two semesters is hard. Like fuck all hard as rock hard.


I graduate on Saturday. Graduate from college graduate. Like bachelors degree, able to move into the real world, able to mark finished college as highest level of education, GRADUATE.

I left school half way through my junior year of college, to move home and take a job that I was sure would feed me well into my old age. Apparently it didn't occur to me how silly a woman with gray hair would look working in a skate shop. Anyway, I moved onto bigger and better things, and kept pluggin along on my bachelor's degree.

Well, the hard work paid off and somehow, by the grace of god, I FINISHED.

So, as I spend two hours as I listen to some man I don't know babble about the future, think of me! BECAUSE I'LL BE A COLLEGE GRADUATE!!!

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Keep 'em crossed. There is still hope.

This crap is almost over.

Thank the holy lord above. 

I know. Blah Blah Blah. It's history in the making... I'm not stoked. 

As much as I don't like this crap, my children will ask me about this someday. This is a change of an era... even though I may not feel one way or another. I voted. Yes, I did. But I had an anxiety attack in the booth. I didn't stick to the 15 minute limit. I stood there for at least twenty minutes staring at my options for president. The feeling that came over me? Disappointed. Disappointed in my peers for simply jumping on the bandwagon. Disappointed with our choices. Disappointed with the lack of effort. Disappointed in the smear tactics. 

Yep, simply put, disappointed. But I made a decision. 

And tonight, when all of the votes are in, I will still be disappointed. 

In the morning? Ecstatic! Simply because it is snowing, and they are big flakes. 

In this atmosphere of terrible campaigning... at least we can hope for snow. 

Thursday, October 30, 2008

my insecurities are screaming right now

My heart hurts today.

I'm feeling down and upset.

Adam and I got in a fight last night, the first one in a while. Raising a puppy has turned out to be my job only, and I'm terrified of having kids now. This is very strange for me, as kids are my world. I want kids so badly and I have never before been afraid of having them. But last night made me realize that maybe he isn't ready.

Just to admit this to myself is huge, and to admit it written down, is even bigger.

All I want to do is cry today.

I feel like all my planning and hard work will be turned upside down as soon as we get married. I know it's very pessimistic. I'm sure that in 24 hours this will just seem like some silly tiff. But I can't help but wonder if all those divorces and break ups are for real reasons... I can't help but wonder if the same thing will be my future. I have always sworn that divorce and the bullshit that comes with it is a cop out... but for the first time in my life I'm afraid it will happen to me.

I love him. I'm in love with him. And I'm terrified of getting hurt. I'm terrified that one day he will wake up and realize that he made a huge mistake.

I know, just by talking about this, everyone will say "well maybe you aren't right for each other" or "well maybe you shouldn't get married" ... but that's not the case. I want to marry him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. And yet, my insecurities are screaming right now. All I can think about is that maybe he isn't sure. I know, this is a personal issue, and that I have to be secure in order to fully love and be loved. But does this really ever happen? As a human, is it possible to be sure?

I guess it all comes down to faith. Faith in God. Faith in myself. Faith in him and his words. Faith in his actions. Faith in what my parents showed me in their marriage. Anything can be worked through.

Please, don't post advice. I don't need it. I have plenty of common sense in my head. I was raised by an amazing community of parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. I know what's right. I just needed to vent.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Prompt Tuesday from sandiegomomma

It's Tuesday... and I'm ready for Prompt Tuesday. No Tardiness for me. Woo!! (Lucky for me I had already done this exercise... )

From sandiegomomma:

"I think this started as a meme. I’ve read several outstanding versions of it over the last year, and I thought I’d like to offer it as a PROMPTuesday, so…

I am.

This week, tell us who you are, what’s inside, where you’re from. Share your memory fragments, those visions in your head, those figments that make you, you. What bits and pieces formed your whole? Are you whole? Tell us."

I am from snowmobiles, from nutty bars and burnt barbecue chicken.

I am from the steep driveway with bobsledding snow-plowed banks, from the smell of wood burning fireplaces and Mama’s French toast.

I am from the aspen trees, the cold reservoir water taking my breath away in early June. From mountain lions and hand built forts in the trees.

I am from advent calendars and cookie crisp cereal with Aunt Katie, from trips to Co-op with Papa.

I am from the always accepting arms of my daddy and the quiet, but always sincere love in the conversations in the Volvo with my beautiful mommy, queen of the world.

From “Make good decisions” and “No, Mama does not need to take you down the hill”.

I am from a subtle reminder that there is something bigger than me, but never a pressure to conform to what the world said it was.

I'm from war-torn Germany and Poland and the green, rolling hills of Ireland, from fried potatoes and chocolate cream pie.

From the spilled boiling hot dog water, the border crossing family vacations of my mother, and the annual hospital visit to see the fearless, but very breakable “little man”.

I am from the stacks of vintage photo albums and love notes scribbled on the inside covers of Aspen High School yearbooks, from the significance of a trail stomped through the woods, connecting me to my well-being.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Devil Dogs and Football

What a weekend!

For some reason, I find it hard to just blog about my life. There is this pressure to be funny or clever or brilliant like the blogs I read.... Well, I have decided to let go of those pressures and made up expectations and just blog about my life. Today I feel immensely grateful.

My weekend was not far from ordinary, and yet it seemed to fill me with gratitude.

On Friday evening, I went to my little younger brother's last home football game. They lost, but it was incredible to just sit among the other community members and cheer for the longhorns anyway. I have been many other times this year, but this week I was part sad, and part incredibly happy. I went with my parents and my future husband. The seniors all had to go out in the middle of the field before the game started and their parents had to go out too. All of the boys had a rose for their moms. It was such a small gesture, and it meant so much.

It's weird to suddenly realize that you are grown up. But watching my baby brother play his last home football game EVER, made me realize it more than even wedding dress shopping.

I spent Saturday with Adam and his family. He helped his dad move the old wood stove into the basement so that the new pellet stove could be installed. It must be hard for a man to not be able to do the things he always did... Adam's dad had half of his foot amputated this summer, due to diabetes. He can no longer do the things he used to. He has to ask his boys to come over and help. That would be really hard. I realized that I'm so incredibly grateful to be marrying into a family that appreciates the bond of family as much as mine always has.

I spent Sunday watching football with Adam. We look forward to Sundays all week long. Football season is our excuse to sit on the couch all day long together.

Oh, and on top of all that gratitude, we bought our new puppy, Stella, a Halloween costume. This should just make you grateful you don't have a devil puppy.

Monday, October 13, 2008

You see, me and control are best friends

My best friend Erin is going on a trip to Thailand. She is leaving on Thursday and will be gone for SIX weeks! This is totally and absolutely exciting for her!

For me, it would be utterly terrifying. The thought of jumping on a plane headed for some peninsula in Asia with only hotel reservations for a few days FREAKS. ME. OUT. I am one of those people that has to have every single moment planned. Unless of course I'm sitting on a beach somewhere in Mexico. But even then, I have to have a plan for the sitting. How many hours I can be in the sun without reapplying the sunscreen. And then when we will eat lunch. And then how many hours I will be in the pool before I have to reapply the sunscreen again. Blah. Blah. Blah. Sounds enticing doesn't it? Um, No.

You see, me and control are best friends. We hold hands happily skipping down the street.

I can't let go of the urge to control every second of my life, let alone every one else's. Thank God, I have found a program to deal with that.

Anyway... Erin and her boyfriend Jon are off to Thailand on Thursday. They have the gist of their trip planned out, i.e. the places they will go, but not really how they will get there or what they will do when they are there. Erin, I admire your courage. I wish that I could just pick a place and go. I pray that you and Jon will be safe and happy all the way through your journey. I look forward to hearing from you via blogging and emailing. I can't wait to get postcards letting me know how marvelous your expedition has become. I will live vicariously through you, as I'm not sure I would ever have the guts to do what you are about to do. Think of me when you see spiders and beetles the size of my puppy. Try new food, because I'm not sure I would. Enjoy your time with Jon, as you will remember this voyage forever.

I can't wait to see your photos when you return. I am filled with anticipation to hear your stories and I wish you well as you embark on this adventure.

“It is only in adventure that some people succeed in knowing themselves - in finding themselves.”
André Gide

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

I feel sweaty and hot and feverish imagining what it must be like to run from place to place

I'm tired.

I'm exhausted for the political candidates. I'm worn out from watching them chip away at each other. My brain is drained from trying to comprehend all of the bullshit words that have been spewed from their mouths. My heart is fatigued for the families of the candidates that have smiled nicely through all of the attacks debates and campaign speeches. I feel sweaty and hot and feverish imagining what it must be like to run from place to place trying to raise millions of dollars. 

I don't feel inspired. I don't feel hopeful or optimistic or encouraged. I can't be giddy or stirred or moved while I watch these men brainwash lecture me.

I feel afraid. I feel confused. My brain feels jumbled and full. I am fearful for this country. I feel anxious for the future of my children. 

I don't want to hear their twisted language. I can't listen to them try to articulate my morals and ethics. I don't want to hear another man tell me what I should feel, think, and believe. 

Monday, September 29, 2008

I wanted to lay on the ground and spin around in circles on my back

So, I suck at blogging. Apparently with school, work, planning a wedding, and buying a house, I don't have time for it. But, I'm making time, because right now there is some crazy stuff going on.

I went and tried on wedding dresses on Saturday with my mom. Talk about making the whole thing reality. It's like I didn't really believe that I was getting married, but when I put on that dress and veil, it was like BAM! You're getting married! 


Yeah... this was the end of the hour I spent at David's Bridal... and when that saleslady put the veil on my head... the meltdown began. I panicked. I wanted to lay on the ground and spin around in circles on my back, throwing a tantrum. 

I am not completely sure why I got so overwhelmed, but instead of being excited, I became wrought with fear. Fear of not looking like the brides on the David's Bridal Website... Fear of the size that the lady told me the dresses were. Fear because, God Forbid, I might have to be a grown up. And grown ups wear veils and high heels, and they walk down that aisle. 

Don't get me wrong, I want to get married. I am abso-fricken-lutely positive that Adam is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I want babies and I want to grow old with him. But, holy hell, is it scary when it all becomes reality, and it's not just talk anymore. This thing is for real. I'm getting M-A-R-R-I-E-D. 

So, now that you all know what has been consuming my mind for the past two days, you can get on with your life. 

Oh and P.S. I'm going back to my natural red hair for my wedding. Just thought you would want to know Aunt Katydidnot.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Money vs. Peanut Butter Pretzel Mojo Bars.

Peanut Butter Pretzel Mojo Bar = my favoritest thing on the face of this planet

I'm not talking about love like you have for your family or friends, I'm talking pure blissful, lustful, entrancement with all things peanut butter pretzel. Seriously.

And today, when I checked my bank account to see how well I was doing at managing my money since we are closing on our house in approximately 144 hours (who's counting?), I had an epiphany.

Money is the arch nemesis of Peanut Butter Pretzel Mojo Bars.

Really, I'm not kidding. I'm just sure, somewhere in the universe, peanut butter pretzel mojo bars have light saber wars with money just like Luke and Darth Vader. It's happening.

I hate money. Hate, hate, hate it.

No matter how hard I try to keep it in my bank account. It disappears. I swear that I'm doing so good not spending any of that green shit and then it disappears some more. Like, poof! Gone! I think there is a little green money monster that lives in my checking account and his main source of nutrition is MY MONEY!

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Games of Deception

I'm doing it on the right day even!

This week is PROMPTuesday #15: One Word Says It All is from San Diego Momma

Deb's selected topic this week: Write about deception. Whatever that means to you. Can be fact or fiction.

Deb's PROMPTuesday rules:

* You must write your entry in 10 minutes. This encourages top-of-mind, primal thinking before the ego and judgmental brain kick in.
* Keep to 250 words or less.
* Please have fun. Don’t put pressure on yourself. Together, let’s rediscover the simple joy in the writing process.
* Post your submission in Deb's comments OR post in your blog and leave a link to your blog in Deb's comments.

So... here is my entry for the week... and then you should read yesterday's post from my Creative Writing class! I'm on a role this week!

Eating at my soul, the lies I
Scream, silent and unwilling to surface.
Words, laced with counterfeit
Intentions, leading you on, and
Keeping you at bay.
Artificial smile, you believe my thoughts
Are genuine. They are not and
Never will be. Tainted with
Deceit and trickery, I have scammed you
With my ploy. To hurt you and impair your
Judgment has been my real objective all along.
False hope fed into your heart, like IV
Liquid, dripping from above. Happily
Ever after will never be, teasing you,
Tempting you with unattainable
Ideals. You are my pawn and I will
Play until boredom takes
Over. Guilt and shame attack my
Insides, yet I cannot quit

These games of deception

Monday, July 28, 2008

Final for Creative Writing

So this is a little long, but if you are genuinely interested, you will read til the end. You may have read the first few paragraphs before, but our assignment was to keep going with the character study, so here you are...

The first time she heard “Cadillac Ranch”, she was riding in a Jeep with her dad and they were going to the cabin in the woods. They were singing loudly, as they busted through the tree branches hanging low over the dirt road. That was her earliest memory and one of her happiest. It was always the one she thought of when she was standing in the fluorescent light of the fridge. Makenzie slammed the refrigerator door and shut her eyes tightly. She shook her head a little, almost as if she were literally shaking the memory from her mind. Like an etch-a-sketch, she always hoped that she could just shake it with both hands and she could start over new on a fresh, blank screen.

Somehow she always went through this battle, trying so hard to refuse that bottle, but always giving in to the urges. Her hands shook as she attempted to smooth the furrows between her eyebrows. Tears filled the corners of her eyes and the back of her throat ached. She rested her head against the fridge door and prayed to God. Prayed for everything she could think of. Prayed for some sort of release. She knew it might never come.

As she stepped back from the refrigerator, the phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. It was her mother, again. She was always calling, making sure she was ok, always asking too many questions, pushing too many buttons. After the first few questions, she would just turn off and stop listening, just mumble some “mmhmms” and “yeahs”. Eventually her mother would get the hint and say goodbye followed by an “I love you”. And Makenzie would always respond with a “you too”. The L word never made it across her lips, except to her Daddy.

She almost made it to the living room after the answering machine finally picked up. And then she stopped, listening to her mother’s message, and she walked back to the kitchen. She ran her fingers through her chestnut brown hair and reached for the fridge handle. She yanked open the door and quickly grappled for the bottle of red wine, popping the cork and gulping down the sweet liquid without even taking a breath. Every motion was hasty and fumbling, as if someone might be watching. The more she gulped, the faster the numbness would come.

Mackenzie stepped back from the fridge and shut the door slowly, bottle in hand. Tiptoeing out of the kitchen, into the living room, she slumped into her Pottery Barn couch. This was how her nights regularly went, home from the office, bottle of wine, no dinner, and pass out on the couch. Tonight was no different. In fact, tonight may have been worse because she knew what tomorrow entailed. Tomorrow, she knew, was going to be more than she could handle. At 9 am she was supposed to sign the papers to make her divorce final. She would have to come face to face with the one man that she hated most, and worst of all she had to go sober. There would be no defense mechanism, no fog to keep her from bursting into tears, or even more possibly, bursting into a fury of rage.

Her rage had surrounded her from as far back as she could remember. There was always a bubble that surrounded her, keeping her from showing her true self. There was a side to her that not many people had seen. A side that was absolutely out of her control and something she wanted no one to witness, not even her self.

As she sunk deeper into the couch, her stupor intensified. Her thoughts faded into the night as the second bottle emptied quickly. Her eyelids became heavy and rolled back into her head. Her hands and body finally relaxed after a day filled with tenseness and anxiety. Her red wine was the only thing she had found that could bring this sort of relief. She gave in to the alcohol and passed out, forgetting what she had to face tomorrow.


“Cadillac, cadillac, Long and dark, shiny and black, Open up your engines let `em roar Tearing up the highway like a big old dinosaur”. Mackenzie jumped as her cell phone alarm went off, vibrating on the coffee table in front of her. The song brought her back to her childhood with her dad, but she was quickly brought back to reality and what today entailed. There was no way around it. She had to face the present in order to get on with the rest of her life. She knew this, but couldn’t quite convince herself it was the right decision.

Slowly rising from the couch, she rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands. She yawned and gripped the table in front of her for balance, feeling the lingering effect of the bottle. Her feet dragged on the carpet. Her head throbbed, pounding directly behind her eyes. She stripped down to bare skin and stumbled into the shower. The scalding water served as relief from the hangover taking over her body.

After her usual routine, she stepped out of the shower, grabbing her towel from the hook. Slowly, she dried her face and then her body, leaving her long brown hair for last. Her twenty minute routine of clothes, makeup, and scrunching her curly hair seemed longer than usual. She knew she needed food so she ventured into the kitchen.

Mackenzie grabbed for the cereal in the cabinet and then opened the fridge. In front of the skim milk, was the empty spot where the bottle had been the night before. It was always there, the next morning, reminding her of her problem. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and carefully poured just enough milk to cover the frosted flakes. She hated drinking the leftover milk afterwards so she was always careful to pour just the right amount. Her mother had yelled at her about this when she was young, so she was always aware of it now.

When she was done with her cereal she walked slowly to the front door. She paused for a minute as she grabbed her hoodie from the back of the door, where the empty hook was. That was where his always hung before, and she could never get past it when she was on her way out, especially today, when everything seemed to echo his name and his habits and the void of him not being there. She grabbed for the doorknob with one hand, and clutched her car keys in the other.

Mackenzie tiptoed down the stairs, hoping no one would hear her, and wishing she wasn’t about to go to her lawyer’s office. It was the day she had been dreading for weeks. There was no turning back after today, and it seemed as though there was no tomorrow. She felt as if this might be the last day of the rest of her life. She feared that she would never have anyone again. She yearned to go back in time and erase all the decisions she had made and the ones he made for her, most of them being made without her consent.

That was a lie she told herself, that the decisions were made without her consent. The truth was that she was never sober long enough to make them, so he did.

“Jesus, Kenz, we talked about this. I can’t rehash every decision we make four times because you either blackout or passout.” Taylor muttered.

“I don’t always blackout! You come home late, and I’m already asleep. How am I supposed to make any decisions with you if you’re never home!” Mackenzie said. She was always making excuses or justifying her drinking, never admitting to even herself that it was the only thing that got her through the day.

“I’m not doing this with you again. The decision has already been made. I’m moving out and you can keep the apartment. If I don’t let you have it, you’ll end up on the streets or something. Your money never makes it to the bank anymore, only to the register at the liquor store. I can’t live like this.” Taylor said, his voice trembling a little.

“Live like what, Taylor? This is normal, but obviously you need perfection. I’ll never be perfect. Not for you anyway.”

“I’m not the one demanding perfection Kenz, you are. Until you’re happy with yourself, I’ll never be what you want or need. Here’s the papers. I’ll be out by Friday.”

She blinked, snapping herself out of the trance that had taken over her thoughts. She looked around, getting her bearings in the downtown streets. She had been driving for almost a half an hour and hadn’t paid attention to anything but her own thoughts. It was the conversation she had gone over a million times in her head, trying to figure out what she could have done to make him stay.

“Nothing.” Mackenzie said out loud.

Her spoken words startled her in the silence of her Jetta. Her voice always startled her a little, as she kept quiet most of the time, even when she was around other people. He was gone, she realized and there was nothing she could do about it. She reminded herself that she was on her way to the final hearing for her divorce.

Parking her car next to a BMW, she took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Her knuckles whitened as she willed herself to get out of the car. Finally, with a deep sigh, she opened the car door. Her heels clicked against the concrete of the parking garage and she got out of the car. Mackenzie made her way to the elevator and went back down to the ground floor. The elevator door opened and she straightened her skirt.

She made her way down the sidewalk towards the huge concrete building ahead of her. She breathed deeply as she walked up the courthouse steps and resolved, for the millionth time, to not drink tonight. The promise was genuine but was, as always, another lie.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

we were willing to live on peanut butter and jelly's and ramen for the next umpteen years

Oh. My. God.

Literally. I am now fully convinced there is a higher power up there in those clouds somewhere. Whether God is man or woman, the jury is still out.

So remember when I was scouring classifieds for Aunt Mildred's apartment? Well, the next best thing fell into our laps.

Three weeks ago, we put in our application for employee housing in Aspen. We hounded down all of our personal information and turned it in to the housing nazis office. There was a two bedroom townhouse for sale for next to nothing free $192,000. I know, in the real world, this might seem ridiculous for a two bedroom, but in this bubble valley, it's a STEAL. It was part of a lottery. Yes, a real lottery, where they put all the applications into a hat and pull ONE out. And that person has the opportunity to buy the place. (Only in Aspen).

We proceeded to completely forget the entire idea of this place, even though we had fallen head over heels in love with it when we went to the open house. Then, we continued scouring the classifieds and diligently coming up with alternative plans. We found an awesome house approximately 52 miles from work and justified the commute and the very large would-be mortgage payment with the idea of living in a HOUSE. Not a studio bunkhouse bughouse. Crazy right? But we were willing to live on peanut butter and jelly's and ramen for the next umpteen years in order to be a slave to our mortgage live in a beautiful house. My parents told us we were crazy, along with every other person in the universe. Everyone had something to say about how stupid it was to buy a house so far away and for so much money. (I guess we might have been).

So, as I was looking for the steal of the day from Aunt Mildred, I started praying. I knew the lottery was on Monday at noon, and I was only thinking about the other house 52 miles away. There were 44 entries in the lottery, so really, we had pushed it out of our minds. So I prayed and prayed for God's will. I tried to just let go of the obsession about the giant mortgage beautiful house.

And then! At 12:15 pm on Monday! I got a phone call! From the housing office!


So, we have now signed a contract on the perfect house at the perfect price for us to start our perfect life!

And we went out and bought $100 worth of real lottery tickets compliments of my grandpa's faith in my luck (or God if you believe it).

And God, if you read my blog, thank you! Thank you! Your will, is my will.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Not-Bridezilla vs. Divorcezilla

Shut up all of you!

I. am. not. a. blushing. bride.

Vomit, vomit, clean it up with comet.

After you clean it up, go read my guest post at Katydidnot.



Sunday, July 20, 2008

that fabulous deal from someone's Aunt Mildred who needs someone to occupy her four bedroom luxury apartment for free

Apparently this whole getting married and being a grown up thing is not as fun as everyone makes it out to be. 

I'm not stoked about it.

You see, we live in a small little valley near Aspen where a studio apartment rents for (at the very least) $1000. A three bedroom house rents for nearly $4000. Ridiculous right? That's what I thought too...

So here we are, my fiance and I, trying to figure out what we are going to do when the snow starts falling and we have to move out of the bunkhouse bughouse. We won't have to, of course, but living in a 100 square foot cabin surrounded by walls of snow that are taller than the roof, does not sound particularly appealing to either of us. 

I have scoured the classifieds... searching for that fabulous deal from someone's Aunt Mildred who needs someone to occupy her four bedroom luxury apartment for free because, she is off to a nursing home and just doesn't see the point of making any money off the place. I haven't found it yet. 

So, here we sit, pondering whether it is worth it to try to buy a townhouse, (that will be a stretch for the first six months), or just rough it for another year in some studio apartment where we can reach every light switch while sitting on our bed while basically throwing away our money to the rent god. The rent god being equivalent to just whipping out a thousand dollars in cash, putting it down the drain, and turning on the garbage disposal. Which would you choose? 

Of course, everyone I know has their own take on things and knows exactly what decisions we shouldn't make by ourselves. They claim to know that this market is a buyer's market! Or they claim to know that there is no possible way we will ever be able to afford that place in the next century. Or they think that we should just save our pennies and live in the bunkhouse for as long as humanly possible. I think that for the first time in my life, I should think for myself. And I just can't do it. 

When does the time come when you can finally make a decision without asking your parents what they think and how they did it? When does it finally happen when I can just go out into the real world and do something for me without anyone else's opinion popping into my head? When?!

Monday, July 14, 2008

Character study results

So... this week for Creative Writing we moved on to Fiction. Awesome right? Not... So, after I procrastinated for a week, I started writing my character study. There were like a gajillion questions I had to answer about some made up character. And then we had to write the first few paragraphs of the story about the character... soo this is what i came up with...

The first time she heard “Cadillac Ranch”, she was riding in a Jeep with her dad and they were going to the cabin in the woods. They were singing loudly, as they busted through the tree branches hanging low over the dirt road. That was her earliest memory and one of her happiest. It was always the one she thought of when she was standing in the fluorescent light of the fridge. Makenzie slammed the refrigerator door and shut her eyes tightly. She shook her head a little, almost as if she were literally  shaking the memory from her mind. Like an etch-a-sketch, she always hoped that she could just shake it with both hands and she could start over new on a fresh, blank screen.

Somehow she always went through the battle, trying so hard to refuse that bottle, but always giving in to the urges. Her hands shook as she attempted to smooth the furrows between her eyebrows. Tears filled the corners of her eyes and the back of her throat ached. She rested her head against the fridge door and prayed to God. Prayed for everything she could think of. Prayed for some sort of release. She knew it might never come.

       As she stepped back from the refrigerator, the phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. It was her mother, again. She was always calling, making sure she was ok. Always asking too many questions, pushing too many buttons. After the first few questions, she would just turn off and stop listening, just mumble some “mmhmms” and “yeahs”. Eventually her mother would get the hint and say goodbye followed by an “I love you”. And Makenzie would always respond with a “you too”. The L word never made it across her lips, except to her Daddy.

       She almost made it to the living room after the answering machine finally picked up. And then she stopped, listening to her mother’s message, and she walked back to the kitchen. She ran her fingers through her chestnut brown hair and reached for the fridge handle. She yanked open the door and quickly grappled for the bottle of red wine, popping the cork and gulping down the sweet liquid without even taking a breath. Every motion hasty and fumbling, as if someone might be watching. The more she gulped, the faster the numbness would come. 

Tuesday, July 1, 2008


I'm just sure that all of you have been waiting for these... Right? Right?

Monday, June 30, 2008

We are not romantic people


Yay! My amazing boyfriend fiancee proposed tonight and it was more perfect than I could have ever imagined.

You see, we are not romantic people, I think romanticism is usually fake. So I generally don't believe in it. I feel like, if someone really loves you they shouldn't have to go over the top, their ways should just be romantic in themselves. And his, they totally are.

Of course, I have been a total brat for the last week, because I didn't think that he had taken care of the ring issue... Well he noticed the brat thing and boy did he make me pay. 

Apparently, he was going to propose last Monday, but I was mad at him because he hadn't texted me back all day. Then, he was going to propose on Saturday night but I would not come upstairs because I was being a brat... See a theme here?

So, tonight, when I least expected it, he caught me off guard while I was on my computer and watching tv and all of a sudden, I turned around and there he was on one knee with a little blue velvet box! I could not believe it!

He had tears in his eyes when he asked "Will you marry me?". And... so did I.

And it was so utterly not cliche or over the top or silly romantic and so totally perfect!

So... I'm a retard and left my camera at my office so now all you people out in the blogosphere will have to wait patiently, just as I did, for pictures of the perfect rock.

And so, *drumroll please* I am officially engaged! I cannot believe that it actually happened and I'm so excited to start planning! Suggestions please!

Friday, June 27, 2008

Creative Writing Prompt #6

So here is the prompt so you understand the poem:

So your assignment is to write a poem to God.  Make it untraditional: a tirade, an outburst, a slanderous harangue.  Let yourself go.  The television series The West Wing did a great job of this in the season finale from the 00/01 season, when President Jed Bartlett talks to God in the Cathedral, and in Latin, no less.  Other options, if you've got an issue with an assignment like this: write a poem in God's voice, explaining, refuting, denying, defending, complaining, whatever.  Make it a monologue or a conversation, whatever you want.  Make God a manicurist, a traffic cop, a rock star, anything.  The sky's the limit.  Whatever you do, remember that this is a persona poem, so there has to be character there, specific character with specific voice.  And one more rule: use at least one cliche, but turn it around so that it's got a fresh spin.  For example, Sheryl Crow sings "I'm standing in the desert, waiting for my ship to come in."  That's a fresh take on an old line.  Try it. 

No More Conscientious Objectors

What the hell do you mean it’s your will? My will 
Is smarter, better, faster, and much more powerful. 
I can lure these sin-eating mortals with my devious ways. 
You say, Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but not if those eyes 
Are ugly. Like mine. 
Red and wicked. My horns will get them. They will 
Give in. Succumb to my powerful ways. Your silly 
No-fun nonsense will never keep them around. Do 
Good. Be kind. Love others, you say. Can’t you see, they don’t 
Want to. They want it my way. It’s your way 
Or the highway, you say. The highway to hell. Well, they won’t listen. 
The highway to the fiery pits is paved with 
Fool’s gold. Temptations and deceit will entice those mortals into 
My arms. Sins of the flesh, sins of the 
Godless. They will march down the highway in droves. 
The saints go marching in. Hurrah! Hurrah! 
Your golden rule: Do unto others, as you would want them to 
Do unto you. They don’t believe that shit. You get nowhere in life 
Living by those standards. 
Immorality rules in my world and in theirs. You can’t 
Convince them of anything else. Keep trying 
You self-righteous good ol’ boy! Your ten commandments put ideas 
In their heads. You have given them imaginings of 
Sugar and spice and everything nice but I will show them 
What real little girls are made of. 
My harangues from tongues of snakes will charm and 
beguile them into malevolence. 
What goes around comes around, and it’s comin for you old man. The 
Militia of heathens is going to devour your angels. Have their cake and 
Eat it too. The sadistic war is approaching and your cherubs are 
Enlisting. They won’t be conscientious objectors. 

Do you get who my character was? Do ya? Do ya? 

Yeah, the example that the professor gave was of a mother talking to god, I think mine is much more clever.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Creative Writing Prompt #5

Another Creative Writing prompt... lucky for me, I don't actually have to think to do these posts! Supposed to be just a poem about what you believe. One more week of poetry and then I get to write fiction!!!! YAY!

I believe in wearing short shorts only when your legs fit in them,

In skate shoes with black laces and unsweetened iced tea.

I believe that romanticism is overrated and usually doesn’t have good intentions,

I believe in strong men crying and young women fighting with everything that they have.

I believe in painted toe nails and hot pink gerbera daisies,

In prime rib cooked well done and strong hand shakes.

I believe in using paper plates and plastic cups without recycling them,

I believe that most people know others better than they know themselves.

I believe in driving in a car full of people with no music on,

In breve lattes with extra foam and expensive jeans.

I believe in swimming in water so cold it takes your breath away,

I believe in chocolate cream pie and fried potatoes with onions.

I believe that lies are sometimes ok if they make people feel better,

In clean toilets and brushing your teeth.

I believe in a good stick of chapstick and mean little brothers,

I believe that video games don’t make kids dangerous, bad parenting does.

I believe in brown hair with blue eyes and faith but not religion,

In coffee ice cream milkshakes and ponytails.

I believe in young love lasting forever, the twelve steps and black mascara,

I believe that although our parent’s example is what we follow, it may not always be right. 

PMS: Please Make me cry Syndrome

So, I don't remember on whose blog that I was stalking reading, but I saw Mama Milton comment that June was a funk month. 

Wow. I could not agree more. I feel like I have had PMS the ENTIRE month. Maybe that should stand for something different. Like Pissy Me Syndrome. Or Please Make me cry Syndrome. I don't know. But Premenstrual Syndrome just doesn't do it the justice it deserves. 

Here are my symptoms this month:

-I cry at the drop of the hat. Or not. It really doesn't even take the drop of the hat.
-I yell and scream at everyone for no damn reason (Even if I thought there was a reason, there wasn't).
-My throat aches.
-My body throbs.
-My nose is congested and my tonsils feel like they might pop out of my neck.
-I make up reasons in my head about why I should be my mad at my boyfriend/soon-to-be fiance, who still has not proposed even though he asked my dad over a month ago!  (It's just a Fucking Fish, Stuart!). That's about how I feel about that issue.
-I'm hungry all the time, which leads to a vicious circle of hunger and anger. Awesome right?

Yeah, poor Adam. 

Maybe I'm having a mid-life crisis. Yeah, just crisis, probably. 

Possible reasons for these symptoms:

-Adam's dad is in the hospital with an infection in his foot, which couldn't heal because he has diabetes, so they had to amputate his toes... and now Adam had to drive to Denver again because now the stitches aren't healing... so they might have to take more of his foot.
-I still don't have a fucking ring on my finger, and I am the most impatient person in the entire universe.
-We entered our application for employee housing, which means we have to sit and wait patiently for two weeks to find out that oh, I guess your name didn't get pulled out of the FIFTY FOUR fucking person lottery. (I'm going to live in one of those bouncy houses, I've decided. At least we would always be in a good mood).
-Umm... well... there must be some other reason...

OK so I'm really just a big whiner. And really all I need is a big does of patience. 

I don't think they prescribe those at the doctor....

Or do you know one who does?

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Creative Writing Prompt #4

One More Hit

His eyes glimmered in the sunlight the deep

Blue that only I seemed to notice. The kind that

Kept you watching, waiting for more. Expecting

To be sucked in. But always left out to dry. There I was

Standing with him, but feeling completely solitary, as if I was the

Only person left in the entire universe. My heart

Throbbed as if it would never feel right again. Like a headache that

Took over your entire face, made you

Blind to the world, to all reality. That’s what those eyes did to

Me. And yet all I ever wanted was more. Addicted.

Aching, yearning, craving, more of

Him. He took my hand and stared into my eyes.

I felt it

Again. Except this time, I could tell it was the last. His words

Wanted to seem genuine, like he might really be coming

Back. But I knew, in my core that he was not. Not

This time. I sensed the love in those deep sapphire

Eyes, but it was not the same. He was

Gone, the man I once knew, was gone. My addiction

Stolen by false highs and obsession, embezzled by the

Hunger for one more hit. And just like that, my heart

Dropped, as he flicked his Marlboro on the ground

Stamping the red ember into the dirt. The flame was

Out and so were my emotions. As he walked away, I blinked,

Expecting tears to carry me away, but they didn’t


Wednesday, June 18, 2008

A stolen prompt from Cheri

I just found out what all the PromptTuesday blogs were about. And found the prompt.

Yay for me.

Here's this week's prompt from Deb and Cheri:

Today’s PROMPTuesday keeps it simple.

Read this poem (one of [San Diego Momma's] favorites):

Disillusionment of Ten O’Clock
by Wallace Stevens

The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches Tigers
In red weather.

Meditate on it for a minute. Then write whatever comes to mind.

Here are PROMPTuesday’s rules:

* You must write your entry in 10 minutes. This encourages top-of-mind, primal thinking before the ego and judgmental brain kicks in. Just set a timer, make your kid count to 600 slowly, whatever. It’s an honor system. And I trust you.
* Keep to 250 words or less.
* Please have fun. Don’t put pressure on yourself. Together, let’s rediscover the simple joy in the writing process.
* Post your submission in the comments OR post in your blog and leave a link to your blog in the comments.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine something pretty. Something happy. Anything. All she wanted was sleep. She wanted to spend an hour, maybe two, thinking about nothing. Clear her mind of all the bullshit. The fucking bullshit that had engulfed her, her entire life. She imagined herself lying in bed at home when she was six years old. Trying to please him. Keep him off of her. Anything to keep his mind off of what he always so desperately wanted. Touching her, gratifying himself. She always wished the tigers that were on her little red footsy pajamas would jump off the fabric and bite him. Rip his face to shreds, or even worse, rip apart the thing that he thought made him man. She would quietly slip away to her room, praying that he would not hear her and follow her in. But he always did. He would stomp down the hall, and the hair on her neck would stand straight. The shakes would start and she would begin the prayers for morning.

“No!” She screamed. She sat straight up in bed, the goosebumps taking over her body. She glanced at the clock. One in the morning. It had been two hours of sleep. Sleep that was always haunted by his eyes.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Creative Writing Prompt #3

The Unseen Beauty of Five o’clock

Stop, go, stop, go
The cars, in their straight lines, begin the dance
Of five o’clock
Brake lights flash in a repetitious fashion
The rhythm makes me want to tap my fingers
Upon the plastic of my steering wheel
I attempt to create a song in my head
Lights singing a disjointed song
Of silly beats
Red, green, red, green
Yellow, yellow, yellow
Slow down?
Or speed up and run the light?
All cars deciphering meaning through colors
The woman next to me sings with her radio
Her lips moving
But I hear no sound
She’s smiling and laughing at herself
And I laugh also
Flipping fingers at fellow drivers
Out of anger and frustration
It’s like a silent movie
The cars all moving in between speeds
Cop ahead!
All brake lights turn red
As the actors realize they are in danger of
A speeding ticket (God forbid!)
Windows down, and windows up
Or in between
The cars weaving in and out
Of eachother
Like a braid on a little girls head
Blonde hair woven together
To create a complex length of rhythm
Red, green, yellow, red
Stop, go, stop, go
Slow, slow, slow
The dance of five o’clock boogies on.

Friday, June 13, 2008

The Past is Only Ashes

Creative writing prompt #2... Write a poem that compares two usually very different situations using concrete images.

Don't you wish your blogging was as easy as copying and pasting your assignments from some silly college course?

Yes you do. Don't lie.

The Past Is Only Ashes

My heart pitter patters as I see you
Coming near
Your hand touches me at the small of my back
The breath sucked out of me
Like a back draft of a fire
The story I read in the paper said
A cigarette in a flower pot
On the deck of the first floor
Left still smoldering
The wind blustering through the railings
Igniting the miniature ember
Bursting into a ball of blistering flames
And with no one’s knowledge
Creeping into the building
Stalking the wood, ready for detonation
At any moment
Destruction, complete and utter devastation
To all things that went before
The women and children rushing
Scurrying along, fearing for life
Paying no attention to the direction they were headed
Only trying to get out
Absence filled with a new flame
A new beginning only starts from a bitter end
And suddenly nothing matters anymore
Burnt to the ground
Your love
Amidst the ashes of past flames
Flourishes a new blossom
With roots firmly planted in the fertilized ground
My heart pitter patters
As you get down on one knee
My mind jolts to the future that is upon us
Grown out of a fury of flames and ashes
Where nothing is left.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Every. Single. Day.

Apparently in my two weeks off from the wonderful world of college classes, I thought it was unnecessary to post any new blog entries. Oh well, I highly doubt anyone noticed. It's not like I have a huge following like katydidnot  

So, here you are... the first Intro To Creative Writing prompt. Write a poem about driving to a place that you love or hate. You have to start, end, or both with a question. You have to make reference to at least two road signs. And you must have a list of concrete items. Sounds fun right?

Please if you feel so inclined, do it too. Now. 

Every. Single. Day.

Is Frying Pan two words ma’am?

Yes, two words.

Just like the pan you fry fish in.

Frying Pan Road


Driving home. Every. Single. Day.

Twenty three miles from town

From reality

Fills my car with things

One flip flop, jumper cables,

Spare coffee mug

Three sweatshirts, a jug of water

“You can never be too prepared”

My mother always claimed.

Twenty three miles

Fills my head with thoughts

Thoughts wandering

With the river

Meandering down the valley

My car traveling against the flow

The engine struggling against

Little oxygen and steep hills

Strawberry rock to my right

The waves crashing against the red dirt

Freezing lungs gasping for air

As we hurdle into the river

Frying Pan River


Falling Rock

The yellow sign claims

As I turn my my tires around

The red sharp rocks

That have fallen in the road

Cliffs slowly eroding

Only to pop my rubber tire

Just a minor stall in my drive

Seven Castles jutting overhead

Firey orange in color

Sharply contrasting the blue sky

Hidden Driveway

Another yellow sign

It must be magic, since it’s hidden.

“Watch that corner, black ice”

My mother muttered as I learned to drive

The thought that always crossed my mind

Around. That. Corner.

Slowly accelerating up the dam

Coming around the corner

Sparkling sun rays on the lake

Nothing like that first view.

Spiraling around the reservoir

My eyes droop with exhaustion

Almost home,

I tell myself

Thinking all the way

Anything to keep my mind

On the road

Frying Pan Road


The blue mail box

With creamy yellow stars and moons

Painted on the side


Relief from driving,

The long day,

Too many thoughts

Relief from reality

Ma’am, is Frying Pan two words?


Two Words

Many memories

One home.


Friday, May 16, 2008

And suddenly, from the heavens...

I can hear it! Can you?

There is a heavenly choir of angels singing loudly from the clouds! 


I would put the rest of the lyrics, but I think that's it, just sung repeatedly. And, plus, if there is more, it really doesn't matter. 

My fricken brain is fried. Like an egg. Like an egg on a sidewalk in Vegas in the middle of July, at noon. 

I just finished my last final of the semester, and I'm pretty sure all I wrote was Blah Blah Blah. But that tactic has gotten me A's in the past. And really who cares about A's? Other than my first grade teacher during spelling tests. I JUST DONT CARE. 

*A long drawn sigh of relief* came from my chest as I pressed the submit for grade button. I'm not sure how I got through that semester, but it is finally over. THANK GOD. It seriously was an act from the heavens that I even survived. Let's all get down on our knees now. 

On the even brighter side, today was a good day in retrospect. Aunt Katydidnot arrived safely home from her four day business conference. After eternities days of trying so very hard to keep my patience with the kindergartner, she landed in California *insert another Hallelujah here*. 

Today, the kindergartner made me, the twenty two year old adult, cry. Yes, that's right, real tears. I just didn't understand why in the holy hell he kept telling me no! You would think after being dragged sent to his room three times, he would get his act together. But no, the kindergartner is a whole different breed. He is from the knockus lampius offus the tableus genus. He comes from the screamius tillus the lungus go dryus species. Seriously, you would never know this monkey child could possibly be the same person when he quietly comes out of his room and slides onto your lap and kisses your shoulder. It's really beyond me. 

Love & Logic? Yeah, no. I haven't mastered that art quite yet. Today it was more like Irate & Irrational.

Birth Control Much?

Monday, May 12, 2008

Five down, two to go...

Soon, soon, soon... five finals down, and two to go.

It dawned on me today that I spend my life looking forward to the next best thing.

Is that bad??

I'm not really sure... but today, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

I'm in California visiting my Aunt Katydidnot and the little people, and today, my heart feels full.

The comfort I feel when I'm with my Aunt Katie is something I don't get with anyone else. It's like when you walk outside the morning after a night of rain and you can smell fresh worms on the sidewalk. It's like when you are driving in your car, after a bad day at work, and that one song comes on that makes your heart laugh. It's like a sour apple jolly rancher, and the stabbing in your cheeks happens, that hurts, but makes you smile. It's like that. It just feels right.

And, the little people and I read books before they went to bed. That was after I took the adolescent boy on a trip to Coldstone and Barnes & Noble, just the two of us. It was after I introduced the adolescent boy to cake batter ice cream and he quietly looked up at me with the spoon half way out of his mouth and said, "that's my new favorite". That was before I went to the grocery store with the adolescent boy and bought doughnuts for the little people in the morning, simply because their mother wouldn't normally let them.

It's the little things in my life that I seem to be in such a hurry to get past. I seem to be in such a rush, looking forward to the next thing in my life, that I'm missing the things that mean the most. It's the quiet conversation with Aunt Katie in the car on the way to the mall. It's the totally comfortable silence on the phone with my amazing boyfriend who I miss so much.

I realized today that, whatever I'm looking forward to, will come with time. I just have to open my heart to the moment I'm in right now.

But... one more thing I'm looking forward to.... my stimulus check that should be in the bank tomorrow! Thank you George Bush... (I never, ever though I would say that).

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Just another snowy day...

Frickety Frick!
My heart feels like a brick.
It's snowing again. 
Please tell me this snow will stop when?
Isn't it the first of May?? 
Shouldn't it be a beautiful day?
I guess we will live without the sun
And pretend like we are having fun.
A smile on my face, there is no more.
Into a million pieces, my heart is tore. 
Someone please, I need saving
All I'm doing is ranting and raving.
The ground is wet
The weather is set
There will be no summer
What a bummer.
This rhyme is lame
and so am I
So please don't read on
I'll just sit and cry.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Today. Is. My. Birthday.

And yes, I pull the birthday card.

When it is my birthday, I make sure everyone knows. If I want something and I don't get it, I pull out the puppy dog eyes, and whine, "But whyyyyy notttt? It's my birthday!". And I did that today. I pulled that card so many times, I think my boyfriend lost count and possibly his mind.

So, after I took an awful final in Spanish, tried to forget that I had an awful cold *again*, got my eyebrows waxed for free *because it's my birthday* and proceeded to have a meltdown in the car because I had homework that I shouldn't have to do *because it's my birthday*, I read my Aunt Katydidnot's blog.

And then... I proceeded to bawl my eyes out. Big, fat, tears, with slow, choking sobs, because I can't share my seven layer cake with her, and damnit, *it's my birthday*.

But, I will be there on the ninth of May and I will make sure to pick up that piece of my heart that I left at the "You are now leaving California" sign on the way home in November.

Aunt Katie, you are my hero, and my role model, and my other mommy, and my big sister, and my best friend, and you too, have a hole in my soul, in which only you fit.

I love you.

*And it's my birthday*. (In case you forgot).

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Pesties are making me testy

I have officially decided that with twenty three credits, a full time job, moving, dealing with talk of a ring *Yes! Yes! Yes!! A ring!!!* (Try not to faint or vomit Aunt Katydidnot), and trying to keep my head on straight, really makes it impossible to blog on a regular basis. But since there are only three weeks left of the semester, I may be able to survive the remainder. 

Here is an update on my life: 

The bugs have taken over. Mice are no problem any more. Small worm like bugs have been ending up in my bed. Yes, my bed. Disgusting. So we tried to set off a bug bomb. Little did we know, this ends up killing many of the bugs but they just end up all over your house. I thought it might help to try to figure out what the bugs were so I could do a better job of getting rid of them. Bad decision. I now know that carpet beetles and their larvae are living in the ceiling above our bed. Um. That is disgusting. We have been living at my parents house for the past week until Mountain Pest Control comes to take care of the issue. Needless to say, these pesties are making me a little testy. 

Other than that, nothing much has changed. Soon, though, I will be free! free! free! of school, bugs, and my parents house! 

Maybe my next blog will just be the lyrics to Hallelujah!

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Dream big. If you miss, you can always end up in mouse poop.

About three weeks ago, I decided my boyfriend and I needed to find a new place to live. 

You see, I was living in a sort of extremely small studio apartment when I started dating my first assistant at work (long story kind of). We had to keep it secret at work, obviously, so he came to my house a lot so that we could actually act like a couple in the privacy of my house. Eventually it became obvious that it was silly for him not to just move in with me. That was about eight months ago. 

Now let me just explain how it works to live in a small studio apartment with your boyfriend. It's awesome when you are getting along and flirting and tickling each other. But when the tickling gets taken too far and I get angry, let's just say it's not so fun. To where are you supposed to walk out of the room? What doors are you supposed to slam other than the bathroom? It seems silly to slam the bathroom door and then have to pout on the toilet. How pathetic, right?

So, when I decided to look for a new place, I had big dreams. Literally big. I was fantasizing about a wall between the couch and the bed. Imagining slamming multiple doors to different rooms. Scanning the classifieds for maybe even a house with TWO bedrooms. So that maybe, just maybe, I could slam two doors, instead of just one. Or slam one, and when ignored, walk out pouting with my arms crossed and slam the next one. 

And then someone pinched me. 

In this valley you can't find a place with a wall between the bed and the couch for less than $1200. Twelve hundred dollars??? And by twelve hundred dollars, they really mean thirty six hundred because in this world, they need first, last and deposit. I really was living in a fantasy world. 

So, we decided to move into a little miniscule bunkhouse on my grandparents ranch. I'm talking small. We were going from a 30 gallon play swimming pool to a five gallon bucket. No walls between the couch and bed, only one door, etc...  Only advantage over the other place: for some reason, my grandpa put a lock on the outside of the bathroom door.  For a city slicker like my boyfriend, this five gallon bucket was quite a shock. It's thirty minutes from town, cell service, and a grocery store. But the idea behind it is that we can save money for a good six months (notice the word "idea" here). Oh, the price we will pay to pay off credit card debt at twenty two years old. 

After some serious conning cajoling, I got Adam to agree. We moved in on Saturday and presumed to clean up all the mouse poop, bleach everything, and run the water for three hours so the rotten egg smell would go away (and by away I mean soak into the whole house instead of just the water, sounds fun right?). Then, at about ten pm that night we found a nice surprise left in the toilet that looked and smelled like it was from eons ago. YUCK. How was I supposed to pout on a dirty toilet?? I, once again spontaneously combusted into a pile of tears and went to sleep at my parents house like a scared ten year old little girl. 

Who knew I lived in the mountains up there my entire life

And I thought Adam was going to be shell shocked!