Lonely World

Disclaimer: I realize that the next few posts won't be in chronological order. But I started writing a couple detailing our trip, but I want to get the stuff that's on my mind out of the way first. Thanks.

Despite the good time I had on R&R in Atlanta, I kind of missed being in Germany. I mean, I missed my house, I missed Taz and I felt like I was missing out on a lot of the business I usually tend to. But leaving Woodstock this time was different. The night before, we were in bed talking and I could sense that we were both thinking about how much fun we'd had and how our time together was coming to a close. When we hugged goodbye at the terminal for me to catch my flight, it was almost overwhelming for me. I'm glad I got on the plane first. To wait with him at the gate, the loved ones of other soldiers saying goodbye, I think would have been too much for me. Once I got on the plane, I couldn't think about him, I had to think about other things. What was going on in the new Cosmo, what I had to do in Germany, whatever.

When I got to Baltimore, the waiting for my space A flight began. A little of my anxiety subsided when I realized another person from Schweinfurt that I know was on the flight. So, I had a ride home. Woodstock and I got a chance to chat online before his flight boarded and it felt like old times, like normal, like we weren't even apart. Talking to the other Schweinfurt resident and the lesbian who had a crush on her (sorry, thats for another post) passed the time quickly. The flight started boarding at 915 and for technical reasons we didn't take off until after midnight. I fell asleep waiting, and by the time we left, I was ready to be home. But on the ride home from Ramstein, I felt like, what am I rushing home TO. I went by RR#2 house to get Taz so I wouldn't be home alone, but even so, it's like this loneliness enveloped me when I walked into the house. The crazy part is I LIKE being by myself. Or else I think I do. Maybe I've just grown accustomed to it, and have mistaken that for liking it. Whatever the case, I didn't like it. So I started calling people. Of course, no one was home. I chatted online with Cindy ( I haven't come up with a psuedonym for her yet) and then fell asleep.

So you know what happened next, right? Woodstock called. Before I left, I'd set the answering machine to pick up at 2 rings instead of 6, so I awoke to hear him on the machine. He said he'd call the cell. So, when the cell phone rang, I ran to it, picked it up, and .... nothing. I know we just left each other, but for some reason, just to hear his voice on the machine made me feel better though, I wish, and am still wishing and waiting at 1 a.m., that he will get a chance to call back. That he gets the chance to know that I miss him already and although we were in this house (apt?) only a month before he had to leave, it just doesn't feel the same without him. I know that in a few days I'll be back to what I now consider normal life. I'll be busy, I'll have things to do, and I will be begging for days when I can just come home and hope that I can watch TV in peace or go 2 hours without getting a telephone call or having something to do. But right now, all I can do is watch TV and think how funny Woodstock would find this Lt. Dangle and Deputy Junior interview on this late night TV show. All I can think of is, how very alone I feel in this house.

And I want him to know that no matter my moods or my silent periods or the times I don't really want to hear another person talk, I wish he was here.

When I think of Home

You know how sometimes you like something, I don’t know what, just anything. And it’s like the best thing you’ve ever had, because you have nothing else. You have nothing to compare it to. But then you try something else and then it makes you question the thing you had before; makes you wonder if it was as great as you thought it was.

Being in the states, being around family has made me do that. I wondered aloud on many occasions why people would return to the states jus because of a deployment. The duty station was their new home now, the home they shared with their husband and kids, if they have any. Don’t get me wrong, I do have friends in Germany. I have plans, I have things to do. But being here, it makes me wonder what’s the point? The majority of my friends in Germany, I will never talk to again. Being there sometimes is like being in a play. Except the stage is my life. And I have to be this person, and do these things, because it’s what’s expected. But is that really me? It’s very easy to blur the lines between doing what I like, doing what’s right, and just doing what’s expected of me.

Being here also reminds of what it’s like to have a family. I haven’t lived in the same vicinity as my family for many, many years. And even though they get on my nerves, I like it. I like having people around me that I know have my back no matter what, no matter what stupid thing I may say or do. I can just be myself, whether that be good or bad. Whether I’m feeling charitable or bitchy, they will ignore me, or possibly get mad, but regardless, they will love me after I’m out of my funk. Here, there’s always something. There’s always some kind of drama or a situation that needs smoothing over or someone’s hurt feelings or ego that needs to be stroked. And I’m tired. I’m tired of having to be so strong all the time, I’m tired of not being able to let my guard down, and of having to tread softly, always holding back a piece of myself in order not to offend someone.

I just want to go back to a time where I was free to just be myself, free to be sad sometimes. Free to want to be by myself sometimes, free to do things I want to do and when there is something I don’t want to do but have to, free to say that. I’m hoping that when I get back to the states for good, it will be a place of freedom for me. The freedom that I now long for.

I just hope I’m not disappointed.

Coming Home

This week, I've come to the states for a vacation after a year of being gone. The main reason for the trip is because Woodstock wanted to go to Atlanta for his R&R. So I decided to get here a little early and visit my fam in Mississippi. As I cleaned, packed and otherwise got ready for my trip, I had mixed feelings. I was excited about seeing Jamil and getting a break from all of my, um, volunteering, but at the same time it didn't feel like I was going home, it felt like I was leaving home. Since I've been on my own, I've never been away from my new home more than 2 weeks. And that 2 weeks only happened last year for Christmas. I was leaving my new "family" behind, my friends, my "work", my commitments, and Taz (I couldnt' bring him on a space A flight).
But since I’ve been here, it’s like everything I’ve missed in the past year has been experienced in the past 4 days. So what have I learned?

1) How to have a dad: I flew into Baltimore and to make sure I didn’t miss my flight, I scheduled my connection for the following day. RR #2 arranged for me to be able to stay with her parents for a couple of nights. For a day and a half, it was like having a “real’ family, one with a mom and a dad. We talked; about the weather, crime in the city, just normal stuff. Her dad dropped me off at the mall. We watched “judge” shows together – you know, Judge Mathis, Judge Joe Brown, People’s Court – and laughed at how stupid people could be and what we thought the verdicts would be. I asked for a slice of cake, and like dads do, he offered extras; ice cream, strawberries and chocolate syrup. When it was time for my early morning flight, her dad gave me a ride to the airport. But what he also gave me was some adult memories of a father.

2) How to be a big sister: I haven’t really lived in the house with my little sister since she’s been old enough to understand who was who. When I went to undergrad, she was only 5 years old. So, to get here and find a teenager on the verge of adulthood blew my mind. We went shopping together (she helped me pick out Woodstock’s anniversary gift) and we cooked together. We made Super Bowl snacks and mocktails, and I even taught her how to make shrimp curry. Though I doubt she will remember how to make any of it, I hope she will remember the fun we had doing it.

3) How to have a family: Since Woodstock has been gone, I’ve gone back to my old ways. I am used to be alone. I’m used to following my own schedule, and doing things when I want to. I prefer to have a couple of hours of silence after I wake up. I like to read books and newspapers and surf the ‘net without being disturbed. I like to watch TV in silence. Since I’ve been here, none of that has happened. I wake up at 6 a.m. because that’s what time the rest of the house wakes up. I go pick up my grandma when she needs a ride when I borrow mom’s car. I am constantly interrupted while doing things that I’d rather do silently. I cook and wash dishes without complaining. I laugh at grandma’s jokes, and hold back my laughter when she says something I find hilarious. And even though some things may get on my nerves, I’ve had a good time here, and I feel like part of a family again.

I’ll be leaving Gulfport Friday morning to meet up with Woodstock to start his 2 weeks of R&R. So my last lesson to remember will be how to be a good wife. Wish me luck.

Catch up

Ok, my 5 friends have increased to 6, and half of you are putting pressure on me to post more. So, ta da! Two posts in one day. Although this one is kind of cheating, since it's on my myspace page. However, since my dinosaur friends HAVE no myspace pages, it's almost like being brand new right? I also think I've done something like this before, but it's OK. You can never know too much about me :) (Note to self: the world does not revolve around you, the world does not revolve around you ....) There are a couple changes from myspace because you 6 aren't "super" military and my little sister's on myspace. Enough said.

There! Enjoy!

List 4 favorite colors:1. black2. Green3. pink4. that's it

Today have you...

Made a new friend -No
Laughed until you cried – No
Went behind your parents back - Of course not
Found out who your true friends were – No, I already know who they are
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF:1. George Bush: I find it hard to watch him speak and not burst out laughing - or crying
2. Gay Marriage?: I don't very much care. If everyone worried about their own marriages and not the potential marriages of others, perhaps the divorce rate would be lower
3. Lowering the drinking age?: I don't think so ...
4. Straight, Gay, Bi?: Straight
5. Who is the best hugger that you know?: The last hug I got was from Taz. But does it count if I did the hugging?
6. Do you believe in love at first sight: No
7. Is there something you want to tell someone: Yes, Woodstock ... 2 weeks!!!!
8. What brand of shirt are you wearing?: I don't know, some cheap tank top
9. How many kids do you want to have?: + /- 2
10. Do you have a good relationship with your parents?: Yes, with my mom
11. Do you wanna change your name?: No1
12. What did you do for your last birthday?: Probably sat at home with Taz and eventually went to RR #2's house
13. What time did you wake up today?: around 7:30. Taz came out of the room, like WHAT?
14. What were you doing at midnight last night?: Watching the shield, waiting to see if Woodstock come off patrol
15. Name something you CANNOT wait to do: R&R!!!
18. Missing anyone?: Yeah, Wood
19. What do you want to be when your older?: Journalism professor
20. Who Do You Want to Be with at this time?: Woodstock
21.What are you listening to right now?: "Have you forgotten" - Avril Lavigne
22. Have you ever donated money to a good cause?: Does it count if I spend my own money on stuff for church, FRG, girl scouts, sorority?
24. Have you ever talked about someone behind their back: Hm, probably. But I go back and tell them what I said.
25. What's the last piece of clothing you borrowed from anyone?: I don't know, but on Sunday I wore some perfume someone left at my house back in Tally
26. Who's getting on your nerves right now: Mean Girl Scout moms
27. Most visited webpage?: Yahoo Mail
28. Coke or Pepsi?: Rum
30. Do you have a crush on someone: no
31. Have you kissed or been kissed by anyone in the past week? Sis Ej
32. Have you had sex in the past week?: no
32. Do you enjoy your friendships with your friends?: Yes

Hope you've learned something more about me. I know you were wondering, lol.

No more drama

There's this R. Kelly song where he says, "Everywhere I go, trouble follows me."

I'm beginning to think I've got whatever he has. Well, despite the child molestation of course. (Alleged! I know!) Sometimes, I admit I bring the drama upon myself, but more times than not, it seems to seek me out.

Case in point: About a month after meeting someone - a fellow military spouse - I somehow found myself sitting outside her house, both of us wearing wigs and sweating in the summer heat, while staking out the husband she thought was cheating. We sat there a couple of hours, and when he didn't leave the house, she went inside. And that's just one example.

Things in my life that I think should be simple turn out to be mind-numbingly dramatic. The things I do to "give back" to the community seem to be wrought with contoversy and confusion. I wanted to start up the church step team. Not even a week passes before I get an angry phone call (albeit a controlled anger) from a parent demanding why her child wasnt on it. I want to be in a play - some equipment gets stolen and the cast is put in the middle of some feud between the director and a castmate. I volunteer to be a Girl Scout leader, and I seem to walk into a situation where some of the parents seem hell bent on making me and the other co-leader fail. Maybe it's the fact that we're the only two black leaders in the council. Or maybe it's this bad juju I apparently have that causes all the possible negative consequences of any given situation be thrust upon me.

Seriously, I sometimes think that if I could step outside of myself, my life would be like a movie. Well, not a very good movie. Because the dramatic turns would never make any sense.

"Wait a minute, she wakes up one morning and the car doesn't start? And the week before the neighbors called the police on her because the dog was barking? That's stupid. "

Stupid, but true. Even when I get sick, it does nothing to add to the dramatic arc.
"Woah, now she has TMJ!" or "I'm so scared for her. What if the toxoplasmosis acts up?"

And sometimes the situation is just plain uncanny. When Jamil and I were dating, a friend of mine and I went to Tampa to visit a high school friend. We ended up at a higher end black club and were having a good time. Being the broke-ster (and hustler) that I am, I got this dude to buy me a drink (apple martini if you're curious) and gave him a fake name and number. So, around 3 months or so later, me and Woodstock went to Tampa and hung out with the high school friend at the same club. Friend and I are chatting while Woodstock hits the bathroom when this guy sits beside us and starts smoking. We're not even paying him any attention when he starts talking to us. He rambles on for a minute, says something about some hoes, when I realize: this is the SAME dude from months ago! Seriously, how does this stuff happen to me?!?

Of course maybe I'm just being paranoid and I somehow unwittingly create all of this drama in my life because of a subconcious need for drama in my life.

Who knows. But what I do know is if you're hanging around me, watch yourself. Apparently I'm contagious. And I can't be held responsible for any drama I may bring into you life.

A Change is Gonna Come

It's time for an intervention.

Over the past two weeks, I've become a sort of shell of my usual self, sitting at home, watching back-to-back episodes of Lost (the 1st season) and eating from one of those big tubs of 3 flavor popcorn for most meals of the day (why are there even 3 flavors in there? No one eats the butter flavor). My utter pathetic-ness of my psuedo-depression is even becoming annoying to myself. I think my wake up call came last week when it was 6 p.m. and I was hungry. I'd neglected to go to the grocery store, and I was too lazy to leave the house. Hence, the dinner of 2 out of 3-flavor popcorn. Not to mention Friday's lunch debacle when I was so weak I had to eat an orange before I could leave the house to go get Popeye's. Even that was a struggle; why can't they deliver it to my house?

So, I've decided to do something about it. I'll call it a self intervention. Armed with a newfound sense of determination, and the echoes of yesterday's sermon on procrastination - (yes, he seriously preached on procrastination. And unlike last week's extra speech on asking for people's opinions , this admonishment was NOT because of me) - I decided that Sunday would be my last day of the pure laziness that I've been disguising as depression.

The result? I'm sitting at the computer amidst a pile of papers that I've begun to organize, getting this blog out of the way, mentally preparing my "10 things I can do to change my life today" per our Pastor's instruction, and reformatting Chrissy's iPod. And despite the pile of papers, and my failure to exercise today, I really did get something done. I cooked and ate breakfast, started cleaning the office, cleaned the kitchen, vacummed the living room, folded clothes, cleaned off the kitchen table and made some soup for dinner. I also started running errands, but couldn't do much since today was a "holiday." I think I should also be able count mowing the yard, even though I did it Saturday.
I also completely finished part 1 of the new member's handbook I'm making for my church. And you know, it actually feels good to be doing something again.

And my calendar for this week is filled up too. Hair appointment tomorrow, Coffee on Wednesday, Spouses club meeting at 11 on Thursday and a Girl Scout meeting at 2 (did I mention I'm a Girl Scout leader now?); wine party Friday (it's not what it sounds like).

So, I've decided to take my life back, to take this time to just do what I want to, even though this what I want to do won't make me any money. And that OK. I figured all this out, and I haven't even done my homework assignment for church yet, so I know there's more work to be done.

Now that I've got my life all figured out, you answer the question. What are 10 things YOU can do today to change your life?

Pieces of Me

Ok, it's official. There is some kind of glass curse on me. Seriously.

I tried to ignore it, but everytime I turn around something's breaking. It started at the old apartment - Woodstock and I both broke glasses within a week's time - but now it's starting to spiral out of control.

Last month, I broke a wine glass and a champagne flute, this week it was a martini glass (and before you try to put two and two together, believe me, these things are not occurring during drunken moments; most of the time the glasses aren't even being used!).

Oh, and it's not just limited to me, visitors are also susceptible. When mom was visiting, she broke a heavy ceramic plant holder while trying to open the window. Last week, while a friend was over fixing my computer, his child went to the bathroom and broke the soap dispenser. And five minutes ago, a glass piece chipped off as I was taking the glass out of the dishwasher, and another glass already on the shelf, was cracked! Seriously, what is going on? I'm switching to plastic, tacky though it might be. And I saw the cutest Lenox balloon set at the PX, but I'm terrified to buy it though, because I'm afraid they'll break. I also have goblets in the storage room that I'm hesitant to bring out. Is this some type of a sign? A case of symbolism - the glass representing my life shattering into tiny pieces until I'm completely broken? I don't know, but I don't like it.

I'm supposed to have a wine tasting/party next week, which of course requires wine glasses, of which I now have only 6. Since buying more just seems like delaying the inevitable, I may be forced to come up with an alternative, but I still have one question:

Does wine taste the same if you drink it out of those red plastic cups? I think next week we may find out.

Scared

Well, if you live here, you know that I am in the midst of the worst-week-ever. Since I've been here, I've marveled at how safe Germany is. No need to lock car doors! I can leave the back door open for Taz! That type of thing. For me, it was like being back home in Gulfport where we felt safe, even knowing that we had a window that couldn't be locked. Even so, I still locked the car doors, per Woodstock's instruction. But apparently, the other night, I wasn't careful enough. When I got up the next morning, I started my day by going to pick up a friend to go downtown. Instinctively, I got ready to rake through the change Jamil keeps in the front console. Except it wasn't there. Panicked, I looked through the car ... what else was missing? It was mostly random stuff, pin-on rank without the backs, the Pink Panther costume the pastor's wife let me borrow (don't ask. Just ... don't), Jamil's sunglasses and my iPod. Thank goodness it was a shuffle, because if not, I would have really been tripping. When I went to the MP station to fill out a report, I was pissed. How DARE someone do this to me? And it wasn't about what was taken, but the principle: someone was in my car!

But later that night, as I prepared for bed, I had another feeling. Fear. I've never really been scared of many things - not genuinely scared I mean. And this feeling I had, I don't know. I thought back to last week when the wind blew over the mat in my backyard. What if the wind didn't blow it over? What if someone was checking for the key that I usually keep there and thank God, put away. I tiptoed outside in my slippers, just to make sure I'd locked the car door. Everytime I heard voices or a car door slam, I glanced out of the window suspiciously. And when I heard a door slam twice, but never heard footsteps, I went outside to investigate, arms folded with a frown on my face. Hmmm... a green Mercedes SUV, that looks unfamiliar. That night I stayed up as late as possible and then went to sleep on the couch.

I've always thought of myself as a strong, black woman. Although I've never been in a fight, I have no doubt that after surveying the scene for weapons, I could totally dole out a pretty good a-- whoopin'. I'm the one who picked bugs off of screaming women and children, and flicked them away. So this fear, this feeling that perhaps someone could come into the house and get me ... I don't know how to describe it. The pastor's wife told me to recite a scripture, "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." And I tried to recite it, but of course I can never remember the entire thing.

But I tried. And I told myself that I wouldn't be afraid. I've prayed about it, and I have received peace about the whole situation.

Even so, one little thing still looms in the back of mind, something that I will have to repent for if the time comes:

If I see Pink Panther walking down the street, I'm punching him in the face.

And then I'll ask for forgiveness.

This Too Shall Pass

Well, the day has finally come. Woodstock left last week.

And it was more difficult than I thought it would be. The actual leaving – the hour we get for family time, and watching the bus leave – wasn’t so bad. Our pastors and their family and another minister came out to support us and another brother that left that day. We laughed and joked and prayed during that hour. It wasn’t sad at all; I didn’t cry. But maybe that’s because I’d already had my time a week prior at church. Everyone who was deploying was asked to come to the front for prayer and I just lost it. I mean, I didn’t fall out or anything like that, I just quietly excused myself. I think that’s when reality really set in for me. I’m hoping the first night apart is the hardest. I held on the entire day – alternately reading O magazine and Cosmo; talking to friends and family on the phone; watching the 1st season of Grey’s Anatomy. But in the end, all those distractions – along with an apple martini or two – still didn’t do anything to numb the pain that he won’t be around every day. I’ll look at the grass growing higher, but he won’t be here to do anything about it. Or when my car’s acting funny, I’ll be the one to actually set things up. When I’ve had a bad day, and come home, only Taz will be here to hear it. The worst part for me right now is that I've always thought I was a pretty strong person, but this situation has me feeling differently, like maybe I'm not as strong as I thought. I don't know.

A week later, I'm feeling a little bit better. I gave myself from the day he left until today to get my s%%t together. So today I finally got up and mowed the grass. Then Taz locked me out of the house (don't ask) so I had to jump the fence, go to a neighbor's house, call my friend with the extra key and wait on my doorstep like an idiot. But that little bit actually showed me that I'll be OK, even in a difficult situation and has made me grateful for my neighbors (OK, we really just met today) and friends. I even went to the gym, ran some errands and made an appointment for a job. (FYI, my old job was temporary and despite my boss's best intentions, my extension and rehiring were denied)

I've also received to date one phone call and several e-mails from Woodstock so it feels good have some contact. I even called and chatted with mom-in-law. I know this is random because I wrote it over the whole week - I wasn't playing about not doing anything for a week. So during this time, I still have a lot to stay busy. Hopefully a new job (part-time), I'll start sending out some queries about writing freelance, and I'm in a play.

Plus, I have to spend some of this month mentally preparing for my mom's trip here next month.

But that's a whole 'nother post.

p.s. I totally can't figure out how to post pictures anymore, so from now on any new pics we take are on the flickr thing on the left.

What about your friends

So, I'm back finally, after being without phone or internet since I moved 2 1/2 weeks ago. For starters, I love the new place! We are decorating, getting things together, and finally settled again enough last week to invite people over.

The move, however, also marked another new beginning in my life. A situation happened this week that made me really think about some things. I won't get into details (in case some people are reading, I don't want to add fuel to an already blazing fire that I'm still unsure as to how it all went down) but I will say that it made me grateful for all of my real friends. Grateful to the point where I actually thanked God for sending me those friends, and for allowing those who aren't true friends revealing their true selves before I, and many other wives, begin what is sure to be a stressful time. I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with, but never before this week has any of the core facets of my being been attacked. The main one: honesty. I feel that I am an honest person, and often to a fault. I will tell it like it is, and will give criticisms to anyone's face, whether they like it or not. Even so, I'm fiercely loyal. My friends, and even those who aren't, can call me in a time of need or crisis, and I"ll be there. Now, I may not necessarily be happy as I drag myself out of be at 2 a.m. to 1) bail a boyfriend out of jail 2) beat that b***h down 3) be a shoulder to cry on 4) make a pitcher of Cosmos for a man-bashing meeting (just kidding Woodstock) 5)Deliver a baby or any of the other things I have been called on to do in the past (or future), but have no doubt about it; I will do it. It's not even a question. So my welcome back post is dedicated to those friends, listed in no particular order.

1) Ms. King (like your new alias?) - We were friends before we even met for the first time. I don't recall how I got in touch with you, but I thank God that I did. You are a great friend, and I feel that I can share anything with you. Don't ever hesitate to ask me for anything - it's done. I'll even babysit. For free. And I won't complain about having to change diapers.

2) Tif - I think that you are one of the few (new) people that I can totally be myself around. Meaning I can come to your house, eat your food, watch your satellite TV and not even have to talk if I don't want to because I'm in a crappy mood. I appreciate that. Now when are you coming to Germany?

3) Riddler - You are the meanest nice person I know. Thanks for getting me through those tough times, and making me be nice to people. Even when I don't want to. And for letting me vent to you while you're at work when I know that you actually have a job where you're expecte to work!

4) Gulfport Crew (Apple Jacks, Jeffy and Kenny)- Oh, my dear friends, even though I know none of you will read this, thanks for everything. For being there, for keeping it real, for not letting me walk out the house/go to the club/ go to school - while looking a mess. I know that I will hear the truth from you three whether I want to or not. AJ will fight for me, Jeffy will play the peacemaker, and Kenny will let me know whether or not that 10-inch ponytail will come out during the fight. Of course, you are all more than that and more. And I thank you.

5) Taz - Cause you're so cute! And even when I've had a crappy day and yell at you, you still jump up in my lap and lick my hand, and make me feel like I'm the only one in the world you want to scratch your ears.

Lastly, Woodstock, because you are my friend when no one else is around, you have seen me at my worst and still love me, and you let me rant, rave and curse. For 10 minutes. Before giving me a hug and telling me to get over it.

Of course there are more friends out there who have done lots, but this is my list for now because these are the folks who I've actually spoken with recently and you all know that my memory is bad. So anyone I left out: forgive me. Don't curse me out. Don't talk about me behind my back. Don't call so-and-so and say "I can't believe that heffa left me out."

But then again, if you say any of those things, perhaps we weren't friends anyway.

That's Amore'

So, I'm finally getting off my lazy, temporarily unemployed ass and blog about our trip to Italy. My first mistake was trying to be cheap. My second mistake was ignoring the signs. Instead of staying at a REAL hotel, I figure, why don't we stay on a military base? The place where I wanted to go was booked (Vecinza, an hour from Venice) so I opted for Aviano, which is an Air Force Base. If you know anything about the military, you know that Air Force stuff is hella better than Army stuff. However, I got a little worried when the day before we were to leave, a storm with hurricane force winds hit Aviano. But we ignore the signs and go anyway.

The place has absolutely no public transportation. Like people literally stopped and have to give us rides to where we wanted to go. So we pretty much 1) shopped at AAFES 2) ate at Popeyes 3) went to the commissary. In other words, the same s#$t we do here. Although we did get a ride to a restaurant where we had something yummy called a grappina or something like that. But then we had to bum a ride to get back on post, at which point we both said forget this let's leave for somewhere else in the morning. And thus begins our adventure ...

First stop: the Perdonene train station to get us the hell out of Italian hick town.

Not sure if you can tell from the pic, but this is on the MFing ground. Seriously. There's a handle on the side. You hold onto the handle and squat to do your business. It was crazy.

So we get to Camp Darby in Livorno, cause you know I'm still not ready to give up on this cheap hotel dream. Note to self: Army hotels are NOT cheap. They are expensive, yet half the size as the Air Force. What's up with that? This is where the adventure really picks up, and "picks up" I mean really starts to get annoying and push the boundaries of my newfound peace and patience. When we got our tickets for the train, the schedule put us getting to Livorno at about 5 p.m. Cool. Still enough time to hang out, eat dinner, maybe look for a little club or something. We get to Milan and ask the attendance which track the train leaves from. Apparently, for the train to Livorno, we have simply bought a ticket. Not a seat. OooKaayy ... so we get in line to buy a seat. Now, I'm not going to call any names, but the male portion of our trip duo stood in THE.SLOWEST.LINE.EVER. For real. We stood in line for an hour. Got to the front at 3:58 and the train left at 4. The chick looks at her watch and pretends, if only for a moment, that we actually had a chance at making that one. So, we miss the train. Now I start to get antsy and whatnot and by now I'm screaming on the inside because although the NEXT train doesn't need a seat to be purchased and leaves in an hour, it takes like 6 frickin' hours and we won't get there until 10. Damn. So we sit there, Woodstock consoling me because I'm on the verge of freaking out because I like to plan things, and we didn't plan this trip, and things like this happen when you don't plan!!!! We eat (McDonald's. Pathetic, I know. But everything was closed except for this little hut that only sold drinks and the sandwich shops in the train station. On a side note, German sandwiches are WAAAAY better than Italian ones.

So, 6 hours later, we have our bags, we're here, we just want to get to the hotel. So we walk to the Taxi parking area. No Taxis. We walk back and forth. Nope, still nothing. OK. We're starting to worry. Should we try to take a bus or something? Finally, in the nick of time a Taxi shows up, takes us to post. It takes 15 minutes or so to get there, but costs about 30 euro - about $38. I'm tripping because in Germany you can damn near take a cab anywhere for under 15 but we're tired. We drag our bags and our tired butts onto post and into the hotel where we pretty much fall straight to sleep. The next morning, we get up eat at the DFAC (so much for Italian breakfast I guess), and go to rent a car. I'd hoped we could turn it back in in Venice, but no luck. This is our fly rental. Jealous?

Ok, I'm totally sleepy so tomorrow - for real this time! - part two. Hopefully there will be more pics but Blogger seems to be tripping which is why they're so limited this time. But just in case here's a teaser - dum, dum, dummmm!!!!!

It's over now

Unless I get a phone call within the next 15 minutes, I am now unemployed.

I thought I’d gotten used to the constant waiting of Army life, but this is a new feeling. My job contract was set to expire today, but I’d been told from the day I was hired that it would be extended; that it would be no problem. But late last week told a different story. My department was scrambling to get a last minute approval because of a new rule requiring stateside approval for any hiring action because of budget cuts. Right now there is neither approval nor disapproval. Approval after today still means I’m fired – I can just be rehired later, which is something my bosses have already agreed to. If it comes back disapproved? Well, that’s a different story, meaning pretty much that I’m out of luck. And with the hiring freeze now in place, I’ll be hard pressed to find anything else. So now, I sit here 10 minutes away from being a housewife again. My feelings are conflicted. I’m upset – I’d hoped to be working at least until December. But at the same time, I could use a short break. Short meaning a month, not two years.

So I’ll go on vacation, the excitement of which has been partially squelched by this wait-and-see scenario, and hope that when I get back I’ll have a job.

Because no matter how much I complain – or what I complain about – I love to work. And when I’m not working, I feel a little less than what I am. I'd finished the outstanding memos that were to be written and created an out of office reply: "I will be out of the office for an indefinite period of time."

7 minutes until close of business the phone rings. At this point my hopes of hearing something today are almost shattered, but still my heart skips a beat.

"What do you mean you're out of the office indefinitely?!?" It's the community sergeant major. I tell him the situation and he demands why I didn't tell him sooner. It's all being worked out, I tell him. I thank him for calling. I send an e-mail to the staff saying essentially the same thing, but the tone in that e-mail, it's clear that I may not be back.

2 minutes before the end of what has turned out to be my last day of work I get an e-mail. With my system, a portion of the e-mail flashes on the screen. "Congratulations!" It reads.

I open it.

I am one of this month's volunteers of the month. Ain't that a b@#$h. I start to laugh. Too hard. I make myself stop when I feel it becoming one of those hysterical laughs that get louder and louder until it becomes crying.

4:00. My boss comes in and asks if I've heard anything. He got my e-mail. "You'll be back next week," he tells me.

I hope so. I pack up a few belongings - I'll pick up the rest next week - and turn off the light. I have to close the blinds to make sure it's off because they're activated by the light produced outside and for the past 2 days, I've accidentally left them on.

And I won't be there Monday to turn them off.

Still here

I am a source of power
I am excited journey
I am a rock of patience
I am a whisper singing

I am unbridled freedom
I am the thoughtful thinking
I am a love unshattered
I am the great orgasm

And if you don't recognize my presence, I am here
And if you don't recognize my presence, I am here

- Jill Scott, Beautifully Human

I've been getting my ass whooped. First by Woodstock and now, Da Riddler has joined in. And not one of those Go-get-my-belt whuppins. One of those -go-pick-a-switch-off-da-tree-and-don't-bring-the-smallest-or-two-get-twisted-together type of whuppins. First Woodstock started it, urging me to get on my game, scolding me when I didn't.

But my line sister REALLY tore into me in an IM convo. I'm green, she's pink.

nolimit :what's up?
Riddler:not much and u
nolimit: exhausted ... but writing class is at 6 so just waiting for that.
Riddler: cool, writing class
Riddler:oh i can't wait for the finished product
nolimit: and I'm such a slacker ... still where I was two days ago ... the class will be disappointed
Riddler : SHAPE UP NO LIMIT
Riddler: what's wrong with you
Riddler:what's the prob?
nolimit : I know ... I don't know - unmotivated but that's what the class is for, motivation. When I get home, so tired, and then too much other BS going on. Might quit the church thing ...
nolimit:i mean as church secretary
Riddler:blah blah blah
Riddler: excuses is all i'm hearing
nolimit : i know, not giving excuses, I realize my slacker tendencies ...
Riddler : anything worth having is worth working for
Riddler: stop talkin about it and be about, u've gotten soft since u left the states

Damn Riddler, it's like that? But she's right, and so is Woodstock. During my bachelorette party onne of my bridesmaids read a survey she had put together where Wood answered questions and we decided whether or not they were true. What really struck me, forever solidying my love for him was the answer to the question "What does she hate most." The answer? "When people say they're going to do things and don't do them."

And I've become what I hate most. So I'm making a change here and now. Today. And I'm gonna do the damn thang. As for the name change, sansamor was my past name, the name that shackled me to a past that I'm no longer living in. And as Wood put it, it's just sad.

So No Limit is back. Reading the IM over, even I had to admit that I've gotten soft. A punk.

No Limit gets what she wants.

No Limit wins a journalism scholarship without a portfolio - in fact with only poems written on torn out steno pad paper.

No Limit talks the Dean of the School into letting her keep her scholarship even after Effing up for two semesters.

No Limit holds down 3 jobs while in undergrad so she doesn' have to ask moms for money.

No Limit goes to grad school and gets a full-time job out of it and a university teaching position.

And if you're not about my progress, stay the hell out of my way, cause I'm coming through.

Doctor! Doctor!

Aaaah … the joys of military life just don’t stop! Every day in the newspapers I read about people complaining about how the military and the Department of Defense as a whole is cutting back – on jobs, on services, on everything. But what these people fail to mention is the FREE lessons they give us every day. Yes, you read correctly, FREE. I got such a lesson myself today. I ran out of birth control pills 2 or 3 weeks ago, which signaled to me that it was time for my yearly. So I call to schedule an exam. Only there’s a waiting list. Waiting list? For an exam? So I wait two weeks before someone calls me to set my appointment. Anyway, today the appointment rolls around and I have made plans to “skip” lunch so I don’t have to take my appointment time out of my sick leave. Ok, now I know that may sound kinda shady, but I might need that sick leave – you know, for my (cough, cough) trip to Italy next month. So I get there a little early like they suggest – 1:15 for a 1:30 appointment. They have me fill out all these forms, which I don’t really understand, because haven’t I filled these out before? Then they give me a survey to say what I like and dislike about the clinic. Now, I must say that was a smart move, giving out the surveys BEFORE people see the doctor. That way they have nothing bad to report yet. So I’m chilling, reading the only damn magazine in the place “Family Fun” like I care about how to make a little house out of sponges and make grass grow on it (Who would WANT that?!?). I glance at my watch, 1:45, and I’m getting a little antsy. I admit it, I hate to wait. But I’ve come to expect to wait a LITTLE bit. They take my vitals and my blood pressure is high. I think that was a sign – a sort of preemptive sign of my impending anger. After they take the vitals, you know it’s only a matter of time before you get to the doctor (or in my case nurse practitioner) right? Wrong. I sit, tapping my feet, glancing at the plasma TV that’s playing some cartoon movie, the same movie that was on when I got there that they have had time to start over and how in the hell can they afford a plasma TV but they can’t hire another doctor up in this piece? At 2 I go to the reception desk and ask if maybe I had the wrong appointment time. I don’t. So I’m getting heated. I mean HEATED. I haven’t been that mad in a long time, since ole’ girl almost made me go off on her that time. 2:15. 2:30.2:45. I go back up to the desk, as where the restroom is just as my name is being called into the exam room. “I’m sorry ma’m, something unexpected came up during her last exam,” Soldier somebody says. DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FLYING F$%^?!?!? You should have told me that an hour ago! But I just look at him with that smile I used when I’m pissed the hell off. I think he got the point. So when I get in there I already have an attitude, and you know how hard it is to break out of pissed off mode once you’re deep off into it. Nurse tells me to take off my clothes, put on the robe, yada yada yada. Now I know it’s her job to say that, but inside I’m screaming, “I’m 26!!! I know that I need to put on the damn robe facing the front!!!” And what’s the point of going behind a curtain to take your clothes off, and even putting on the robe for that matter? You end up butt booty nekkid anyway! So when the nurse finally comes in to talk to me she’s asking me all these dumba$$ questions, like when was your last exam. How in the eff should I know? You got my chart in your hand. It’s right there, I see it. I heard you on your computer before. What were you doing if not looking up my patient history so you wouldn’t have to come in here and ask me all these dumba$$ questions? Then they rush through my exam, shoving the speculum in so damn hard I can still feel it and tell me not to start smoking before I leave. OMG!!! So what free lesson did the Army teach me today? Patience. Or at least they tried to.

Confessions - Part I

People ask me all the time, “Sansamor, what makes you tick? Tell us more about you” And I’ve decided to do just that on the blog. Actually, no one says that, and actually I’m bored and too lazy to come up with something interesting, so I’ll just tell you some random stuff. But didn’t the other reason make me seem way cooler?

1. When I was younger I wanted to be an actress or a rapper. In middle school I actually wrote a rap for a “Say No to Drugs” contest at the school and me and my group (me, Apple Jacks – don’t worry, not her rap name, and Lewis who lived down the street from Ms. Josephine ‘nem) won a pizza party.

2. Some people think I’m a snob before even getting to know me. And that hurts my feelings; which leads into #3,

3. Despite my “tough” exterior, my feelings are easily hurt.

4. I drank so much at my graduation party (from undergrad) that all I remember is bits and pieces: accidentally calling my mom while cursing people out and having to pretend she made it up; praying to the porcelain god after drinking shots that most people consider full cups; passing out in the car but waking up periodically to give my brother directions to the club – needless to say we didn’t make it. Ahhh …. Good times!

5. I’m afraid that if I write a book, everyone will hate it.

6. I got fired from a job because they said I caused $300 to be missing from the drawer, but they didn’t fire the white person who actually took the money from the customer. So I sentenced the store to “pay me” reparations with $300 worth of merchandise.

7. I almost got my license suspended because I had an outstanding speeding ticket in the States before I moved to Germany.

8. People who brag get on my nerves.

9. People who brag about their husband’s rank or what kind of car they drive REALLY get on my nerves.

10. It annoys me when people assume I’m a secretary. Maybe I should put my degrees on my wall at work.

11. My mom found two “books” I wrote when I was in like elementary school. I cried when she read me a story from one of them.

12. I hate for people to see me cry.

13. I listen to Avril Lavigne.

14. I really, really hate school, but want to go back to get either a J.D. or a Ph.D. A Ph.D. in what, I don’t know.

Anyway, that’s enough of letting you all in MY bidness for now. What are some of YOUR confessions?

Gin & Juice - AKA Don't fry chicken when you're drunk

After an exhausting day, I am FINALLY at home, after lugging groceries from the underground garage to our apartment. When I get inside, I see the hubby on the computer, draining the last of a MGD. I’ve had a long day and he’s already set the standard so I decide to make myself a little after-work drink as well. Only I always forget that my drinks get you to’ up. And this one was no exception. Mixed up a little concoction of OJ, citrus vodka and triple sec, with a splash of grenadine. Thought I’d be OK because I used the Smirnoff and not the Grey Goose, but dammit if my juice to alcohol ratio is out of whack and by the time the chicken finished, marinating I was feeling pretty dang good.

So, the oil’s in the pan heating and I start to season and batter the chicken. By the time I put the first piece of chicken in the oil, I’m actually tipsy. But I’m still trying to maintain. So I got the chicken sizzling, mashing the potatoes and have peas boiling on the stove. But I’m also totally violating the cardinal rule of the kitchen – pot handles should never face out! So of course I almost knock over the chicken in it’s hot a$$ grease AND the peas. I regain my composure in enough time to prevent any catastrophes, but it’s a struggle. I guess the bratwurst I ate for lunch wasn’t good enough to let me sip on a lil’ something without overdoing it.

It’s going OK, despite my failed attempt to get on the computer and fry chicken at the same time – I kept envisioning myself typing away as a grease fire blazed in kitchen. And in Germany, there is no law that each apartment has to be equipped with a fire extinguisher. I was told that we had one for the tenants to share – and it’s in the basement. It got kind of perilous when I tried to make gravy, though. I had lots of grease in the pan and I didn’t want to pour it out because I wanted it to fry a second batch of chicken the next day. So I figure I’ll take the grease off the heat, get a smaller pan, put some drippings in it and make the gravy. Only when I started to do it, the grease was sloshing everywhere – much like my mind at this point. I’m able to set it down without starting a fire and proceed to make my gravy. So I’m putting in flour, stirring it around as usual, with my cup of water next to me. And I put in more and more flour until it had thickened up a bit. But right before putting in the water, a clear voice came through in my muddled mind – “Doesn’t it thicken up AFTER I put the water in?” It does. So I have this thick mess of flour and grease, and I hear the hubby turning off the water in the shower. So, what do I do? The only thing I could do – throw it away.

“I was going to make gravy but I changed my mind,” I told him.

The meal was damn good though – but don’t try this at home - you might end up burning the house down.

Mad World

Wow.

In two weeks, I may not have a job.

And I found this out from the newspaper.

According to the article the firings are being announced “as early as possible to allow our affected employees and their families to prepare.”

WTF? Since when did two weeks allow you enough time to do anything, let alone find a new job? And it’s not like in the states where you can pick up the classifieds and start making phone calls. Most jobs over here for Americans (the ones who don’t speak German anyway) are government jobs – the same ones being cut. So what do I do?

On the one hand, I am telling myself not to worry about it – that God will make a way for , that this may be a blessing in disguise, or that I won’t even be affected by this. But at the same time, I can’t help but wonder – and worry – at least a little bit.

The positive me (yes, there IS one) says that if I lose my job, what’s the worst that can happen? We don’t pay rent or utilities so we don’t NEED my paycheck to survive. And we are trying to move into a new place, a move that will be at government expense, that is big enough for a home office. A place where I can go and write and actually have the time to devote to it. Positive me says maybe this is the break I needed, the thing to get me off my butt and push myself to write until I finish something – not having to worry about squeezing in time between work and church and sorority and FRG and just plain Army stuff.

But the negative me, the one I’m trying to push down, says what are you going to do without a job? Although we don’t need my check, it was nice. I could finally buy what I wanted, not having to worry about the balance in my account and whether I should write a check for those groceries because I get paid tomorrow and it won’t hit my account until Friday. Negative me remembers my first few months living in Germany – months spent without a job, months spent depressed. Negative me says, what if I spend all day in my “home office” and come out with nothing. Or I get called on to do even more than I’m doing now, because in the world’s eyes I’m not working, no matter how dedicated I try to remain – they will say Sansamor can do it, she doesn’t have a job OR kids.

For now, I’ll try to hold negative me off, I’ll try not to worry about it, I’ll try to stay calm. After all, my boss could come back in an hour and say, don’t worry about it. You’re permanent now, not temporary – they can’t fire you.

But for now, I’ll wait, and I’ll pray – because really – there’s nothing else I can do.

The Baddest B@#$h

Yeah, I know I've been MIA for a while, but I have been BUSY!! Why the baddest b#$%$h, you might ask? Because I've been on FI-YAH! First off, I've been super stressed about everything I've been doing lately. So it feels good that some of it has started to pay off. I've been a little worried about my job, but I decided a while back to put it in God's hands. See, the job I have is temporary and is supposed to end 30 June. That means I will be out of a job in a little over a month. But, I know in my heart that's not going to happen. So, anyway, ignoring all possibilities that my job may soon be over, I dove headfirst into my biggest "assignment" yet. Like I've said before, my job title is customer relations, leaving most people to think that I'm a receptionist. But I write policies, make sure they're adhered to, grant exceptions to policy, and somehow, have been spearheading my division's participation in the FDP. Since only Woodstock and RR2 know what the hell I'm talking about, let me explain. I mentioned that the guys here will be deploying soon (although it's been delayed, which means I have at least another couple months with my baby; YAY!!). FDP means Family Deployment Preparation, a half-day thing that all the married couples come through to give them information about what to expect from the different agencies in the community. I have to do the briefing for my department, which means twice a day, I speak for 10 minutes to up to 200 bored-out-of-their minds married couples. But I found something out after agonizing since January over the thought of doing this - I'm pretty good. As much as I talk, people often find it hard to believe that I don't like speaking in public, but I don't. I almost froze up a couple of Sundays ago while doing the church announcements (The Pastor was LOOKING at me!!) And I often have flashbacks of one day yeeeeaaarrrssss ago when I led the choir at church. .....

.......As soon as the music began, I started laughing. And I couldn't stop. Most people I've met since college have never seen this side of me, but I'm a giggle box. And sometimes, once I start laughing, I cannot stop. Seriously. So, I'm leading this song, and laughing hard as hell, trying to make the congregation think that my shaking shoulders are a result of me being so into the spirit. I think it's OK, for a minute, until we get to a part in the song where it's a kind of call and response thing. I try to keep it moving, but when I open my mouth, the only thing that comes out are giggles. I mean, I'm almost guffawing, while trying to lead the choir. So I do the only thing I can think of - I make that "keep singing this part" hand signal over and over until I calm down enough to finish the song.

So this little episode replays itself in my mind everytime I get up to speak in front of more than, say, 5 people. But I do it, and I'm good!

"You've done this before," said the guy in charge, smiling at me. Afterward, my boss gives me thumbs up. I do it again that afternoon, but instead of 4 stars, it's more like 2 1/2. There are fewer people; they look pissed off, and it seems like the Colonel's eyes are boring into me. I imagine him thinking, "What in the hell is she talking about?" So I stumble over a few words, I say a few too many umms, and I almost forget to introduce the Commander as the speaker after me.

But it's OK. I survived. I didn't beat myself up or drown my sorrows in the Snickers miniatures we have on our table for customers. I laugh it off, go home and go to sleep. And when I wake up, I make myself a strong cup of coffee, go into work and do it again.

And that time, I kicked ass.

Mo' Money, Mo' Problems

When I decided as a teenager that I wanted to be a journalist, I’d resigned myself to the fact that I probably wouldn’t make a lot of money. Reading books where young reporters ate beans out of cans to candlelight, I was content when my first full-time job (two jobs actually – one part-time) paid enough for me to pay rent on an apartment the day it was actually due (no post-dated check required), eat out, and know at the end of the month, I still had a little bit of money in my bank account. But what did surprise me was when I told a friend how much my full-time job was paying.

“Oh, Sansamor,” she said, eying me with pity in her eyes. I think she said more, but that’s all I remember. That moment of pity; that split second when I felt like everything I stood for was being reflected in my paltry paycheck. I’d never cared about money before, but in that instant I felt naked – I felt unworthy, and I didn’t like it. I rationalized that I was doing what I loved and that it was only a stepping stone for something greater. I was writing, I was editing, and I supervised (Ok, only two interns, but STILL!). And although she made more money than I did (I assumed based on the reaction, but I never asked) she wasn’t doing what she loved. I also had only myself and a small dog to support, while she had a child and a car note. Even so, I never again told anyone how much money I make.

An article I read in the Fashion & Style section of the New York Times tells me that I’m not the only one feeling alienated by the size of my bank account. The article talks about “Keeping up with the Joneses” and how people of different economic status often feel uncomfortable, some about their wealth, others – like me – about their lack of it. A friend confided in me recently that she and her long-time best friend just had a falling out over money. Friend (I’ll call you DR just in case you’re trying to keep this on the low!) has been well taken care of by her parents. They were blessed enough to be able to provide her with a car during college and later, after she graduated from Grad school and was working. Well, apparently BF thought DR was acting “spoiled” when she lamented about not being able to get the new car she wanted. Now they haven’t spoken in weeks.

When did money become the measuring stick by which we measured our worth? Not that there is anything wrong with money – we all need some – but I don’t appreciate being made to feel like less of a person because of my perceived bank account. And I’m sure those more fortunate of us shouldn’t be made to feel bad because they didn’t grow up broke.

Here, in a military community, I think it’s even worse. Everyone tries to one-up the other, getting the latest BMW, Mercedes or Volvo. Buying up the Coach and Dooney bags as they come into the PX, and sporting fake Louis Vuitton and Christian Dior that we KNOW they got in the back room of some store in Czech. I’ve even been at a party where someone broke out the laptop to pull up the military pay scale so they could compare their pay to the rest of the guests!

Even though I make more money now, that’s not what defines me. But sometimes it’s hard not to get swept up in the comparison. Several weeks ago, an acquaintance speaking about his car (butter leather seats, heated seats standard) called my car a piece of shit. I’ve had my little ’96 Mazda Protégé since I was a freshman in college, and it has admittedly seen hard times, but it still stung. I was tempted to shoot back, we could afford something else if we wanted to – something better than what they have, but what would that have proven?

Just keep this in mind the next time you’re met by awkward silence from a friend after you make a crack about their financial status, or low-paying job, or when you look at a friend’s engagement ring, silently thinking how small it is.

We know what you’re thinking.

And it doesn’t feel good.

Hey Mama

Anyone who knows me, also knows that I'm not too keen on children. I'm totally not ready for my own yet, and can usually only take others' in small doses - no offense to my friends with kids. But you already know this. Plus, your kids aren't bad ass food court kids either, but I digress. Even so, I have buried in the deep recesses of my mind that I will have kids eventually. However, even deeper in the recesses is the fear that I will be the worst.mother.ever.

This seems to be evidenced by what I will refer to as "Plant Cemetary."

The Army is doing this thing to promote clean-up and beautification so they gave out free flowers. My co-worker, being nice, picked up some for me. Me, being a smart ass, motioned to the plant/tree next to my computer.

"Don't you see how this plant looks?" I could practically see the damn thing dying right before my eyes. I think I've watered the plant probably 5 X's in the 7 months I've worked there. And 3 of those times was with carbonated water I'd left sitting in a cup overnight.

But I figured, what's the worst that could happen and we planned to meet at our cars after work so i could get the flowers.

The "flowers" turned out to be 4 plants in a plastic thing. I saw maybe one flower out of the four.

"Are they going to get more flower-y?" I asked, my nose turned up?
Then she hands me a bag of soil. SOIL!!!!
"What am I supposed to do with that?"

You have to re-pot them, she answered.

WTF?

Now at that point I should have politely declined the flowers, but no, I try to be positive.

"Maybe I'll start gardening," my obviously delusional alter ego says. "I can use it as a
way to relax."

So I decide to take the plants home. Except, you know, I had a meeting after work so I had a lot of stuff to bring inside, so I left the plants in the car until the morning. Only, when the morning comes, I'm REALLY busy because I had to put a relaxer in my hair. I'd been rocking the head scarf thing all this week, and you know that just SCREAMS bad hair day when you do it too long. Either that or I'd converted to Islam, but either way, it ain't right. So, I'll just get the plants after work.

Only when I get off work, they're DEAD. I thought for sure I left a window down ....


And the lady at church had the NERVE to ask me to be a part of the children's ministry - really, would YOU want me watching your kids?