I can give you what you want, but you've got to come home with me

(The Black Crowes)

Today I am really grateful for small blessings. I had an amazing week-end in Myrtle Beach with four of my favorite people. Unfortunately, getting home yesterday took 14 hours, $100 in extra cash, and some divine intervention. I got in after 1:00am last night and I got up at 6:30 this morning decidedly not bright eyed and bushy tailed for work. I got some fantastic pictures and stories from the week-end and I fully plan on giving you the lowdown once I upload everything... but, for now, I want to say that I am really grateful for the following:

- Friends worth flying on a prop plane to go see.
- XM Satellite radio in rental cars.
- Paying off my credit cards so that when I really have an unforeseen emergency or situation, I can deal with it.
- Fantasy Football for being my only distraction from doing homework on the floor of an airport for six hours yesterday.
- J.
- Working somewhere that I can get a relatively healthy breakfast at for less than $5 in five minutes.
- Naked Juice. The Tropical Smoothie with Coconut Water tastes like a Pina Colada and has 380% of my Vitamin C for the day. It's about 10x better than that crappy Odwalla Juice I had on Friday morning.
- My parents. I talked to my Dad on the way into work this morning and it made my whole outlook on life better.
- Blessedly being one of only two people actually at work in the library today through some cosmic twist of fate.
- Actually pulling it together and making it to work, taking the stairs, eating breakfast, and keeping up with my food diary for a whole week.
- Concealer.

smoke a cigarette and lie some more

(Stone Temple Pilots. "Big Empty". My favorite. Came on right before I got out of the car at the airport this morning. It's both auspicious and comforting.)

Ah, the obligatory "I'm in the airport and I'm freaking out" post! You guys love these, right? (If for some reason, you're new here: I loathe flying with every fiber of my being. It combines my two worst fears... heights and being out of control.) I've been doing a lot of traveling lately (and have much more to do before the holidays) but this is the first time I've actually had to get on a plane since July. I actually owe you all a picture laden post about all the gorgeous views I've had recently, but I'm on my laptop and I don't have any pictures on it. Boo. I should be doing some work this morning but I'm too jittery to focus right now. So, free airport wifi! Yay! Someone's probably stealing my identity right now.

Oh, what's that? You want to know where I'm going? What could possibly drag me out of my bed at 4:30 this morning, hop on not one but two flights and rent a car to drive an additional hour all before noon on a Friday morning? I'm heading to Myrtle Beach for the week-end to meet Z, Teddi, and AEG for the week-end. We haven't all been in the same place at once since graduation (yeah, that would be the first one, in 2007). And, yes, I could have just gotten a direct flight there but it was an extra $300+.... and driving for 8 hours to turn around and come back 48 hours later just sounded less and less appealing the closer this trip has gotten.

I'm really looking forward to seeing the girls and even just the drive over to the coast. The past two weeks, since I started my new job, have been insanely busy and I don't feel like I've had thirty seconds to catch my breath. Work is great, it's just that between that and going out of town with J last week-end and having a whopping five assignments due in 8 days... I've been swamped. I actually have an assignment due on Sunday that I haven't really started yet. I never do this, I swear, but I literally just haven't had time to do it. I've been so exhausted (even my personal trainer said I looked really tired) and it's really complex and when I look at it right now, it might as well be calculus. I have several hours in the airport this morning and also, like, five on Sunday so it'll get done... much as I hate having it loom over my head.

In other news, the airport has already been a shitshow this morning. First of all, last time I flew it was Jetblue and they spoiled the heck out of me. Now I'm flying Delta who can't even be bothered to put gate information on their itinerary or boarding passes. So lovely. It's simply awesome to wander around the airport at 5:00 in the morning trying to figure out where I'm going on 4 hours of sleep. Thanks for that. And of course there's no one actually working here this early in the morning to direct you. Second, thank you to the girl in line at Starbuck's who decided to park her roll-y suitcase directly behind my legs. Trying to back out of your way and almost busting my ass this morning was totally on my agenda. And finally, do you have any idea how hard it is to get a healthy breakfast at the airport? I'm drinking one of those pre-bottled Odwalla smoothies and an apple bran cran muffin from Starbuck's. Between the two of them? 650 calories of mediocrity.

I'm more irritated than nervous this morning, though I think it's my brain trying to trick me into getting something done. My stress is manifesting itself in weird ways... Did I turn off the coffee pot? Did you double check the door? Did I leave my aleve on the counter? Will it be ok if Sam eats them? Because the cat is totally going to knock them off. I need something healthy for breakfast... Nervous idle chat with strangers. Maybe it's because it's a short flight? And the first one is just to Atlanta? The second one is on a plane the size of a Vespa, so I'm sure that will be sufficiently nerve wracking. And now I'm rambling.

In case I forgot to say it, or in case you ever doubt it. I love you.

Goldfoot machine, creates another fiend. So beautiful, it'll make you kill.

(Rob Zombie. "Living Dead Girl".) Fact: I love Rob Zombie. J met him once and said he was really nice. His music is the best thing ever to work out to. And, if I was a stripper (I get the feeling I say that way too often), I would totally have a shtick where I only danced to Rob Zombie, with black lipstick, and I would call myself Sheri.- And if you get that reference without googling it, I am seriously impressed. Ahem. All of which has nothing to do with the following post. It's just that it's fall, it's almost Halloween, and there is never a more socially acceptable time to admit that you maybe irrationally love Rob Zombie.

So, the wedding. Is coming. I made my next appointment with my personal trainer for next Friday, which is October 1st. And my first thought was, "Good grief, how did it get to be October already?" And my second thought was, "Wow. That's exactly a year until our wedding." I'm so glad that I got a ton of stuff done before I started work last week. We have the venue, the emcee, the day of coordinator, the bridesmaid dresses designer and color, a tentative menu from the caterer, the preliminary guest list, and the photographers. It's been somewhat stressful and also a lot of fun. The worst part thus far? Finding the dress. Partially because I'm picky, partially because no one has had what I wanted (minus a $9000 Monique Lhullier that is beyond out of my budget), partially because there is so much pressure to have this "experience". You want the memories of going shopping with your Mom or your best friend and it being fun and you falling in love with "THE DRESS" and it just being so motherfucking magical.

It's a ton of pressure and it's also bullshit. Here's why, there are several things that are totally messed up about the process of buying a wedding dress:

- The fact that there is so much pressure to "have fun". It's effing stressful. Or, at least it has been for me. You're in there, you're looking at 1,001 different things, you've seen the dresses on girls that are gorgeous and a size zero, and you're forced to strip naked in front of a stranger, chat lightly about your fiance and wedding and whatnot, and then love the fourth thing you put on. It's just not realistic. Maybe some girls have that experience and if so, that's amazing and wonderful and I'm jealous. And, like, it is fun. But it would be more fun to play dress up if you weren't also trying to decide on the dress that you're going to where on one of the most important days of your life.

- The way that dress shop workers try to "jack you up" with veils and jewelry and shoes. (Veils are absurdly expensive. You think it's stupid to spend thousands of dollars on a dress? How about hundreds on a few layers of tulle and lace?) Despite this, I want a birdcage veil. (Which I will probably buy from Etsy.) A chiffon birdcage veil, not french netting. All sorts of veils are beautiful on other girls, but this is what I want. And yet, every single store wants to put me in a cathedral length veil. Well. When you put me in a veil, that I don't want, and you ask me how I feel, I am going to respond honestly. Like a cake topper. A beautiful cake topper, mind you. But, nothing like myself.

- The way that dress shop workers pray on your emotions. I will say that I have worked with some great people when I've gone to try on dresses. If you're getting married in Orlando and you want some honest opinions on salons here- regarding the experience, quality of selection, price, and helpfulness of staff... I am your gal. But I also went to one place that forced me into a veil and earring and shoes and a bouquet and made me walk down an imaginary aisle. I had to fake a panic attack to get us out of the store. True story.

- The fact that people expect you to try on four dresses and make a decision. If you shop around or try on more than 10 dresses, they assume that you are indecisive instead of wondering whether or not they actually have what you are actually looking for. I am admittedly, very picky. I know what I like and what I don't. And if you don't have anything that I like, I'm not going to tell you that. I have a problem with feeling like I'm wasting people's time. I also don't want to offend anyone. So, I'm going to try on the two dresses from the line that you carry that I like because I am here and I made an appointment and who knows? This does not make me crazy or indecisive. It makes me a very informed shopper.

- The fact that you can't take any pictures. Yeah. High end bridal salons won't let you take pictures in dresses that you haven't purchased. Which makes it mildly difficult to remember the specifics of the dresses you are debating. I combat this by printing out pictures of all the dresses I want to try on/have tried on. Still. Being able to take pictures and remember how YOU look in something would be helpful.

- The fact that about 50% of bridal salons don't put the prices on the dresses or don't adhere strictly to your budget. I never would have tried on that Monique Lhullier dress if I had known how much it was. Yes, I low ball people with my budget for my dress. But, I don't low ball by several thousand dollars. I purposely didn't try on the Sunday Rose ML dress because of how expensive it was. I don't want to try something on, love it, and then realize that it's over my budget. What hell. (I loved that dress. Totally got the emotional, wide grin, holy crap face on. Of course, it was the first time that I've been able to try on a dress that was what I wanted. How hard is it to find an A-Line dress, not super poofy, with an embellished skirt that isn't lace, crystals or beading? Freaking hard people. Don't even start me on the off the shoulder sleeves. Non-existent.)

The majority of people that I've worked with regarding the wedding have been fantastic and no one treats a bride better than a bridal salon. Most especially, I have been working with Bella Bridesmaid on the bridesmaid dresses (LulaKate, silk dupioni, mustard color) and it has been a total joy. I'm going to take my Mom there for her Mother-of-the-Bride dress and I am also purchasing my rehearsal dinner dress through them. I have gotten to go shopping with my Mom, my best friend, and my future sister in law... and it's all been a great experience. But stressful like you wouldn't believe. So, kids, cross your fingers that this dress in Atlanta that I can't stop thinking about really is the one. Because otherwise I'm going to need a fairy godmother to make the perfect dress happen.

put your lovin' hands out darlin'

(Madcon)

Commuting to and from work every day has given me a lot of extra time to think, to sing in the car and listen to music, to come up with ideas for the blog… Some days it’s really the only chance I have all day to just be. Work has been great in some ways, besides just the fact that I’m getting paid. It’s nice to be doing something all day where I can sit and not be disturbed and there is tangible evidence of me getting something done. You catalog a book, it moves from unavailable to available, you find the right spot for it in the collection (and, no, that doesn’t mean shelving it). It sounds trite, but I do feel like in some small way I’m helping people. It’s also nice to be out of the house and feeling productive. In some ways, it’s made me more motivated to do other things to- but I haven’t really had the time to put the motivation into practice. Talk about a catch-22, huh? It’s not just not physically having the time to do things because I’m at work or on my way there… it’s also that I am really tired. I don’t know how all you people in the real world do this for 40 hours a week.

I’ve had to buy new clothes for work. Most of the stuff that I bought for my internship in DC either doesn’t fit anymore or is way too warm to wear here. (Sweater dresses? Not so much… it’s still in the upper 80s here and will be till, oh, December.) Buying clothes for work is not so much fun. I have gone up a size since last fall and in spite of my best efforts to not let it get to me, it really is. I know that no one else can see the difference, but to me it feels like the start of the long spiral down into old age. (My newly acquired gray hairs aren’t helping this either.) It’s not just the knowledge that I will never be 23 and a size 0 again. It’s the knowledge that I will also never be 26 again, right here, with still perky boobs and mostly not gray hair. Like, is this as good as it gets? I sure as hell hope that some of this is reversible or at least pause-ible. And then I stress that all this stress is giving me more gray hairs. Awesome.

Going to the personal trainer has been somewhat helpful. I always feel like I get a great workout and I’m insanely sore for a few days afterward. The problem is trying to get into the gym when I don’t have a meeting with my trainer. I just need to find a way to adjust my schedule to make it work. Another plus to my job, I park in the farthest parking garage away from my building… it’s probably a mile? So I’m walking again at least as much as I did when I lived in DC. I also make it a point to drink more water, eat more veggies, etc. I know that I’m healthier now than I was a year ago, or the year before that. And my chronic bouts of random sickness have largely dissipated. So why doesn’t that translate into me feeling better about the extra weight?

I guess there are plenty of other things to be feeling good about. School is going really well, even though I’ve been swamped with work. It’s hard to believe that a year from now I’ll be all done. And J and I will be getting ready to tie the knot. Isn’t crazy how quickly life can change? I always wonder where I’ll be when this time comes around next year. It hits even harder with the seasons changing. Even though the weather here is still ridiculously hot, I can tell that it’s fall again. The light has changed, the air in the morning is decidedly cooler, and October is just around the bend. How did it get to be the end of September already? The past few months have been so action packed, so full of stuff to do and people to see, that it’s totally flown by.

I'm lost and I'm found and I can't touch the ground

(Sponge)

That TV show “The League”? I love it. I watched most of last season with J when it was on, but there were only a few measly episodes. I don’t particularly like “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”, maybe it’s one of those things that you have to have been watching since the beginning to truly appreciate it but I love love love “The League”. It’s all about this group of friends and their fantasy football league and I found it pretty hilarious before when I barely watched football so I’m sure this year, now that I’m playing in two leagues, I’ll really love it.

Z, you're probably going to want to stop reading now.

So yeah. Fantasy Football. It’s one of those things that I did for two reasons. A, I have to listen to J wax poetic about stuff like football and Magic: The Gathering (don’t ask, don’t judge, and I’ll spare you the details of how he got my Dad to start playing) and various other guy things… which is fine, I mean, we do have similar interests, but I don’t expect or want us to like all the same things (and he did sit through “Spring Awakening” for me last year, so…) but there are some times, particularly when we’re out with other couple friends or when he’s constantly checking his iPhone during football season that I would like to know what’s going on. Plus, football is just one of those things that I’ve always associated with fall and cool weather and sweaters and, like, being American. I love college ball but seeing as how my own alma maters (UCF and FSU) aren’t doing so well lately (to put it kindly) and I end up rooting for Alabama (Roll Tide!) and UGA (because that bulldog is darn cute), I end up just not watching it. So. To the Pros it is. B, I actually have some female friends now (namely S, JB’s girlfriend) that were also interested in playing so it worked into a nice friendly competition with the boys. Or, at least it started that way.

J and I are actually in two leagues. The “Couples” League that we’re in with S and JB and Dan&Jen. We tried relentlessly to recruit more “couples” or even just another guy and girl but everyone bailed on us, so it’s just the six of us. It actually made it really interesting, because with only six people drafting you end up with true “fantasy” teams that are stacked. I have Peyton Manning and Tony Romo and Antonio Gates and the Jets Defense, and the number one kicker, and Dallas Whats-His-Name the number two tight end, etc. etc. Where was I going with this? Oh. Anyway, the other league we’re in is one that Jimmy cooked up and so it’s a mix of guys and girls, couples and non, people that know what they’re doing and those of us that… don’t. I want to state here that J was totally unhelpful before the couples league draft and he is responsible for drafting my Laser team (I have no idea how Jimmy came up with that name. J is in a whopping and utterly ridiculous SIX leagues, but some of them having really cool themes like Battle of the Bands or the Eighties- I really wanted his team to be “Reaganomics” or the “Fraggle Rockstars” or the “Brat Packers” but he was having none of it. Anyway…) Where was I going with this? Oh. So anyway, the Laser Tag team is not nearly as high scoring as the one in the Couples League and J did draft me some great players, but anyone he drafted that sucks (Ahem, Pierre Garcon) I can blame on him.

Basically though, before and during the draft, J didn’t really help me or explain to me how things worked, or why it was a good idea to pick up so many damn wide receivers or running backs… But now, he has all kinds of advice and opinions. Convenient, huh? Which is funny considering that I won my match-ups in BOTH leagues last week. J says that I’m too competitive. Which is also funny because I think that with girls you can’t be nearly as competitive as I would be if I were playing with all guys, especially since I’m friends with some of these girls. You just can’t smack talk your female friends. They’ll take it too personally. I took it personally when someone said I was too competitive last week. My response to someone thinking I'm too competitive? No one likes a sore loser.

broken glass, broke and hungry, broken hearts and broken bones

(Barenaked Ladies. "The Old Apartment".)

This is the only Barenaked Ladies song that I like. Senior year of High School, JLM "borrowed" the CD for me out of his Mom's boyfriend's truck and I still have it. I've always liked this song. I like the somewhat soft very 1998 rock sound of it and I like that it sounds like the band isn't trying too hard (for once) and I like the whole story of the song... anyone who's moved out of a house where they were really happy or that held a lot of memories for them and then driven back by it to see someone else living in your "home" can relate. It's about more than that, of course, it's about the larger regret of days gone by, but I love the way the singer addresses them in such a round about way.

So, yeah. I haven't been here. But I have literally been everywhere else. I started my new job on Monday, which is going well. For those of you keeping track, yeah, I have two jobs. Both library related, so yay for that. I'm also keeping my internship in reference (though I'm only doing it one afternoon a week and one week-end a month). I really love the people here in Reference and shockingly, I actually get a ton of personal stuff done when I'm in here (like updating this here blog) so I don't want to give it up unless I really have to. Although I will say that two days in to two jobs, an internship, school and life and I'm already so exhausted. How do you people do this for 40+ hours a week, every week?

Also a contributing factor in me being tired? I broke down and got myself a personal trainer. It's just through my gym, although it costs enough that it might as well be private, and it is a little frivolous... but clearly trying to work out myself hasn't really been getting me very far. I don't think it's in any way necessary for everyone (especially if you have a significant other that knows their way around the gym) but so far, for me, it's been awesome. I physically feel like someone kicked the shit out of me for the next day and a half after I go, but I also feel like I actually got a workout. And I need someone to correct my positioning and heft my free weights for me and write down all my reps and to encourage me to finish. Because I obviously wasn't doing it for myself.

Besides that (and school- which is tough this semester, but which I also love for the most part) it's just life. It's worshipping at the alter of my new coffee maker, it's trying to convince J to change his alarm tone to something other than that Ke$ha song, it's the battle to find a wedding dress, and walking the dog every morning and feeling the ever so slight changes in the seasons (it's getting cooler, I swear), it's week-end trips with J and with the girls, it's phone calls from long thought to be lost friends, it's new make-up and old books, the season finale of True Blood, playing fantasy football, and trying to find time to fit it all in. I have a constant running dialog in my head of things I want to mention or stuff I'm contemplating and about 15 half started blog entries. And the truth is that I'm too busy out there actually living my life to stop and talk about it whenever I want to. But as tired or overwhelmed as I am a lot of the time, I do think it's a crazy lucky ride...