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! 

Skipped School? Check.

*Courtesy of Badmom.... she is good. I like her. 

( X ) Gone on a blind date
( X ) Skipped school (only in college when it really mattered because I my parents were paying for it)
( X ) Been to Canada 
( X ) Been to Mexico (Oh how I wish I was there now... since I live in a snow cave.)
( X ) Been to Florida
( X ) Been on a plane
( X ) Been lost 
( X ) Been on the opposite side of the country
( X ) Gone to Washington, DC
( X ) Swam in the ocean (I really hate it though... um. I don't like not knowing what is swimming around my feet. ew.)
( X ) Cried yourself to sleep
( X ) Paid for a meal with coins only (Hello... I'm a college student... still broke even with a full time job)
( X ) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't (I'm a Wheeler. Self control is not our thing.)
( X ) Made prank phone calls (Only in middle school, but believe me it happened... and we though of EVERYONE.)

(  ) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
( X ) Caught a snowflake on your tongue
( X ) Danced in the rain
( X ) Written a letter to Santa (Yes, and can't wait to have babies who can write letters too.)
(  ) Been kissed under the mistletoe
(  ) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about (Excuse me? The sunrise? Um no.)
( X ) Blown bubbles
( X ) Gone ice skating (Yes. I still use a cone.)
( ) Been skinny dipping outdoors (Definitely not, I would wear a swimsuit in the shower if it wasn't so wierd.)
( X ) Gone to the movies alone (Definitely... very liberating and only when mad at a boyfriend.)


1. Any nickname? JR, Jess, Jesse, Redheaded Step Child, Carrot Top, you name it... 
2. Mother's name? Stephanie... I love her. 
3. Favorite drink? Iced tea or club soda with lime... mmmm....
4. Tattoos? No, but I really would love to have a rib piece. 
5. Body piercings? Well... since I still have the holes even though I don't keep jewelry in them much anymore... nose, lip and the belly button (still has one in it) and my ears twice. Thus, why I am still called Pierced Niece. 
6. How much do you love your job? I love it. I get to hang out with my Daddy and my Grandpa all the time. 
7. Birthplace? Denver, Colorado
8. Favorite vacation spot? Mexico for a relaxing vacation, Europe for education and experience. 
9. Ever been to Africa? No, and probably won't as there are too many lions and tigers and bears oh my!
10. Ever eaten cookies for dinner? OMG yes, I am a Wheeler, remember? 
11. Ever been on TV? Not that I know of, thank god. 
12. Ever steal any traffic signs? Yep, in college, it's what you do... you have to put art on your wall somehow. 
13. Ever been in car accident? UGH. Two of them... one totaled my car.  Not fun. The state patrol said I pulled a Dukes of Hazzard move. 
14. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle? 4 door
15. Favorite salad dressing? Italian or a good vinaigrette
16. Favorite pie? Chocolate Cream Pie... again it comes with the last name. 
17. Favorite number? 13 and 7
18. Favorite movie? Right now, probably, I Am Legend.
19. Favorite holiday? My birthday... because it's all about meeeee.
20. Favorite dessert? Ice Cream. Yum. 
21. Favorite food? Mexican. Always. And. Forever. 
22. Favorite day of the week? Saturday. Sleeping in and going out. 
23. Favorite brand of body wash? Dial... right now.. Green Tea and Honey
24. Favorite toothpaste? Aquafresh
25. Favorite scent? Coconut and Victoria's Secret Very Sexy Now and Hollister Cologne on boys.
26. What do you do to relax? Listen to music, drive, and chat online. 
27. How do you see yourself in 10 years? Hopefully married to my amazing boyfriend with three little ones running around my feet. :)

Now... you go do it because I would love to know what your favorite scent is and whether you have gone skinny dipping. 

Not the same is not my thing

Growing up is hard. 

I have always been one of those kids who wanted to be independent ALL of the time. Really, ask Aunt Katydidnot. Even if I really needed help, there was no way I was going to ask for it, admit I needed it, nor accept it. There were no compromises, no giving in to anyone's gestures, and definitely no helping me. 

Not much has changed.

Well, I guess a little has changed. Actually, pretty much everything has changed accept for the way I deal with change. I'm not good at it. I don't like it. Change and I are like worst enemies actually. 

And lately, everything has changed. 

First you have to understand that growing up was like this dream come true for most kids. I lived down the trail from my grandparents. My grandparents lived on, owned, and ran an outfitting business. Horses, cats, dogs, and more dogs. There was no shortage of fun, just down the trail from my house. I was the second of nine (I think) grandchildren, so there were always tons of kids around. All of my aunts and uncles and cousins lived in the state except for one and those who didn't live here, came to visit all the time. Needless to say, I grew up in a fantasy. Most kids could only dream of the childhood I had. 

My memories of my childhood consist of holidays filled with family. My grandma's house was always bustling with people pinching, tickling, and yelling (Jesus, Mary and Joseph!) at each other during the holidays. I remember, once we all tried to get together to do a family picture. Lost cause. Waste of time. But an event I will always remember. 

You see, when I was a kid, I was sure that my family would be like that forever. I had this idea in my head that no one would ever move and no one would ever grow up. 

Boy was I wrong. Suddenly I realized, I am grown up. I can legally drink; I can have babies; I can get married; I can have my own house. 

And now all I want to do is move back in with my parents (or maybe just near them) and have everyone back together again. 

With Easter coming up, it has dawned on me how much things have changed (remember how I said I don't deal with this well?). 

My grandma is visiting my Aunt Katydidnot in California and won't be here for Easter, my Aunt Katydidnot and the kindergartner and the adolescent boy (who in my mind can't possibly be having the s-e-x talk) and the girl are stiiiiiilllll in California (I try to pretend they are just on vacation), and the total number for the reservation on Sunday is eleven. That is like half the normal number. 

I'm just not sure how to grow up. I think I want to. I think I want to have my own life, and I surely love my boyfriend's family who have totally accepted me as one of their own, but it's just not the same. 

And not the same is not my thing. 

Go Look. Now.

Simply because this quilt would look perfect in my new bunkhouse. The walls are blue and yellow. Don't you agree??!!

Go look... it's simply amazing and you will do the same as I did. 

Lemon cayenne pepper and maple syrup

OK so since I have been so sick lately I have been trying to come up with all the ways to make me healthy again. Of course, everyone has their own opinion and think they know what's best. And since I come from a family who is quite opinionated (ask Aunt katydidnot), it is quite easy to get caught up in the opinion drama hole. Everyone has their own remedy or suggestion. 

But first I will brag for a couple minutes about all the things that I'm doing to keep myself healthy: 

1. Flossing my teeth daily (Really I am! This time I may not have to lie to the dentist).

2. Working out (Well I'm really trying to, and that has to count for something).

3. Taking vitamins (I'm not a big believer in vitamins, in fact I think they are totally overrated and made for people who believe in voo doo shit but since I have a cross now hanging from my rear view mirror, I suppose I can try taking vitamins too). 

4. Eating healthy (I swear I still have like six boxes of girl scout cookies and I actually bought fruit at the grocery store).

5. Going to bed early (At least I was until daylight savings showed up and ruined my life). 

Well I guess that is it. But seriously, who can honestly say they do more than that on a daily basis?!

Don't lie. I know you were trying to convince yourself that you do more than that. 

So, after going through all the things I could do, my friend, Lacey, who works at a fancy holistic spa told me that I could do a cleanse. 

To anyone in the real world, that means something like not eating for a couple days and drinking a lot of water and only eating celery and seeing how much of that Wendy's hamburger you just ate can really come out of your body.

To someone who works at a holistic spa it means something completely different!

First, you have to understand, my family needs food. I'm not talking about how we really like it (even though we do), I'm talking about an animalistic need. Like if we don't get it you better lock us up and not come anywhere near us for six days. Some call it hypoglycemia, but we call it stay the f**k away if we don't have food in our system or feel the wrath. 

It's so bad that I remember my mom always had a granola bar in her purse and we called it the "emergency break glass" food. Because it was an emergency if one of us was hungry and there was no food. My little brother is so bad that when he is hungry, he doesn't even admit that he's hungry, refuses to eat, and turns into Damien's child. You think I'm kidding. 

So now that you understand how we are without food, let me just tell you this "cleanse" that Lacey suggested to me. She said that you couldn't eat for ten days (TEN DAYS!!!????) and you had to drink a quart of sea salt water (UM. Excuse me. What?) and every day you had to drink eight bottles of water mixed with lemon cayenne pepper and maple syrup (you want me to put what in my water?! I don't even like maple syrup on french toast!). 

I had to laugh at this suggestion. Actually it was more of a scoff. Are you fucking kidding me?! Lemon cayenne pepper in my water? I don't think so. I don't even put that shit on my chicken.

Then, I asked her how I was supposed to have any energy living on sea salt water and lemon cayenne pepper. Um. Gross. She calmly told me, like I was an idiot for not understanding, "Um. Jess. It's a cleanse. It's not supposed to give you energy."

Shortly thereafter I ate a box of girl scout cookies and gave up on all thoughts of healthy cleanses. 

Making Patients Feel Uncomfortable 101 class

I am not a sickly person. 

Really, I'm not. 

But, because I'm scared shitless a little afraid of doctors, I tend to obsessively think about the doctor's office whenever I have an appointment within the next year month. 

I go through all the possibilities in my head of what they are going to say when I get there. How they will probably tell me that I need to lose weight and eat healthier. How they will probably tell me that I need to work on my posture and stop coloring my hair. How I need to completely cut out fatty foods since I do not have my gallbladder. How I should probably stop picking at my nails because it's really not attractive. Blah. Blah. blah.

And every time I go, the same thing happens. 

For example, today I woke up and the lymphnode in my neck that has been swollen for a couple weeks, suddenly hurt to the touch. 

Now, for someone who is scared shitless a little afraid of doctors, this can be a petrifying realization. But, I tried not to think about it. Until I talked to my mom when I wasn't feeling well, and she told me I should probably go to the doctor. 

So, to shorten the anxiety waiting period, I set up an appointment for this afternoon. And of course the thoughts started pouring like a leaking hoover dam into my brain. Obviously, not a slow and peaceful process. 

I went into the doctor, who like all doctors was some wierd stuttering male (I can't ever find any female doctors) who probably sat in the back row at his Making Patients Feel Uncomfortable 101 class. I mean seriously, his name could have been Dr. Clammy Hands and Stuttering Nonsense. Wierd. 

So this is how the conversation went:

Dr. Clammy Hands: OK Jessica what are you here for today?

(Really? Why does he think I'm in there? I don't know, I just felt like spending my afternoon in your cold stuffy office reading your "How to tell if your mole changes" posters. I mean come on.)

Me: I don't feel good, and I have a swollen lymphnode. I think it's infected. 

Dr. Clammy Hands: OK let me take a look.

I just sit there as he pokes and prods and feels around on my neck for a gabizillion minutes. 

Dr. Clammy Hands: Ok say ahhh...

Me: Ahhh....

Dr. Clammy Hands: Take a few deep breaths... (while he has his hand up the back of my shirt trying to figure out how the hell a tanktop with a built in bra works and wondering why the hell I'm wearing a bra too.)

Me: *Deep Breath* *Deep Breath*

Dr. Clammy Hands: Ok it looks like you have an infected lymphnode. 

Seriously?! Are you effing kidding me? Same thing every time. I walk in and tell them what is wrong, and they poke and prod, and tell me exactly what I told them when I walked in. Seriously?! I could have been a doctor. I mean minus making patients feel uncomfortable and stuttering and being a complete and utter waste of everyone's time and money. 

So, after a kidney infection, a gallbladder removal, and RSV, I now have a swollen lymphnode. I mean really I could just be a walking medical school case study.

Crocodiles and piranas circling my feet in the muck

So I'm beginning to realize I actually can't do it all. Today it dawned on me while I was sitting at my desk in the midst of piles of paperwork, tile samples, and textbooks that maybe, just maybe I was doing too much. 

And then, slouching in my office chair, staring at my brand new love affair macbook, I spontaneously combusted into a swamp of tears. I am quite sure there were crocodiles and piranas circling my feet in the muck. 

Now, I am already struggling with getting clients to take me seriously as a twenty one year old female working in the construction industry. How I thought sobbing at my desk would help the situation, is beyond me. But believe me, it was absolutely necessary at the time. 

But it has been one of those weeks. You know what I'm talking about. Those weeks where everyone needs something from you, including your second cousin, twice removed, who lives in Vermont. The weeks when someone cuts you off in traffic and you are sure your head just spun around and you have to literally count to ten while you are driving just so that you don't rear end that f**king f**k nice old lady in the car in front of you.

*Deep Breath* One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. *Another deep breath*

Yeah one of those weeks. 

Everyone says that twenty three credits is a lot for someone in college. I guess I thought that possibly it wasn't too much for someone who is in college and working a full time job. Um, hello? Apparently someone knocked me unconscious and gave me temporary amnesia when I registered for classes. 

This public service announcement is brought to you by the American Try To Remind College Students They Are Still Human Even After Three Years Of Keg Stands And All Nighters Association. Twenty three credits and forty plus hours a week is too much. 

A Business Letter To My Body

To whom it may concern--

 

It has come to my attention, that you are not as pleased with my performance as you should be. I have heard through the grapevine that you are not fond of my many parts, that you are not excited, per say, about the way things are turning out over time. This letter is meant to clear some things up and advise you on your actions in the future.

 

To begin, though I am not a trash can, you can splurge some days and ingest some of those girl scout cookies you just spent the equivalent of two hours of work on. They were worth the money and they won’t affect your veneer the way you worry they will. In fact, one who looks a little softer around the edges, tends to rub off better on others. Don’t feel guilty. 

 About your toes, most people would die to have toes that can pick things up. It’s much easier than wasting the energy to bend over. Think of the time you will save when you are pregnant! Toes that look like gorilla hands may come in handy when trying to give a lesson in evolution. You always said you wanted to be a teacher. 

 

Those freckles on your knees... they are much better than the alternative... cellulite. Who wants cellulite on your knees? That mole right above your bikini line is considered a beauty mark, treasure it because some day it could get lost in the wrinkles and stretch marks. Try to remember how your lips feel when pressed against someone’s you love even though to you, they may not be plump enough. 

 When you are driving and your hands move just like your mothers, remember how you admired hers when you were young. Oh, and your butt, even though you don’t like it in the buff, nobody’s is quite as cute in that expensive pair of jeans. I told you that hundred bucks was worth it. 

 

Although a few girl scout cookies are ok once a year, try to remember that we just lost a valuable member of our organ brethren. It really is harder to digest all that crap from the yellow arches without one of our vital siblings. You try to absorb lard from a pig’s rump without a gallbladder. 

 

Finally, stop worrying so much about what is going to happen tomorrow. Listen, to the man that played a part in your arrival here, your daddy. Remember he said, “Don’t waste today worrying about tomorrow.” He’s right you know. You just keep taking care of yourself, and I will take care of the rest. 

 

Sincerely,

 

Your Body

P.S. STOP SPENDING SO MUCH TIME OBSESSING ABOUT YOUR BELLY, IT WILL LOOK BEAUTIFUL PREGNANT, AND YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD WHAT YOU HAVE NOW, LATER.