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November 19 Oy VeMy friend Dave and I made a pact awhile back to go to different churches each weekend and "try on" an assortment of different religions if you will. We were both raised Catholic but neither one of us felt touched by what we learned every Sunday morning and over time going to church with our families became more of a chore than a cause for celebration. Sit. Stand. Pray. Sing. Kneel. Shake Hands. Kneel some more. The only thing really worth celebrating, as far as I was concerned was the chance that after church we might stop by Woods Bakery for some hot cake doughnuts. Obviously, religion, or God for that matter, have not really played a huge role in my life. However, I have always been slightly envious of the people who are strong believers and those who do, in fact, have unshakable faith. It's not that I don't believe in God, I do...or at least I beleive in Him enough to be scared to admit that I have doubts about Him, (especially outloud.) Turns out that one day I let my secret slip to Dave who admitted that he had the same doubts and hated going to church also. While he believes in God, he is just not sure about all the mumbo jumbo that goes along with it. Maybe it was Catholicism that was turning us off. Maybe we needed to get out there and explore other religions and see which one felt right to us.
The following Sunday I sat at a local Starbucks a few blocks away from my home, sipping my soy latte and watching the Jewish worshipers line up at the gorgeous synogogue across the street. The men all had long, black curls hanging down the sides of their faces that blended with their even longer dark beards and they all sported yamacas on top of their heads. The women wore plain clothes and the children seemed to be all tiny clones of the adults..each had dark hair, skin and eyes. Seeing them all lining up like that brought back a childhood memory that I had almost forgotten but blame completely on the strange fascination I have with anything Jewish. When I was in 5th grade my class and I took a field trip to a synagogue. As we walked into the huge room I was fascinated that there were no pictures of Jesus up on the walls. There were no stations of the cross anywhere, the walls were blank and the doors and windows were trimmed in shiny gold. In place of where the crucifix was in our church there hung The Star of David. We silently sat down in a long wooden pew and directed our attention to the huge book sitting on the pulpet in front of us. Suddenly a man who looked much like the men I just described walked into the room and opened to huge book which I later learned was called the Torah. We sat listened to the man read outloud and eventhough we didn't understand a word of the ancient language he spoke we knew that if our eyes left him we would be in big trouble on the bus ride home. We were Catholics and we were representing.
When he finished reading we all stood up and took the driedels out of our pockets that we had made in art class the week before. We held them out in front of us and began to sing the song we had been practicing for months to the man who smiled down at us. (At least I think he was smiling. It was hard to tell through all the curly hair around and on his face.) Looking back I am sure we must have been some sight, a bunch of Catholic kids in our starched blue and black plaid uniforms singing about dreidles and latkes, Hannukah and the Festival of Lights. I could not tell you how long we stayed there. I could not tell you how to get back to that place where for the first time I felt the magic of faith. I don't know if it was that everything in that synagogue was foreign to me but from that moment on I became intoxicated by all things Jewish. Weird I know...even weirder that I am admitting it outloud. I don't know much about their beliefs but I do know that they fascinate me with their privateness and their smooth, exotic words: Shalom. Say it with me. Shalom. Nice huh? I know that I have a Star of David pendant that I wear around my neck and that during the holidays I always buy The Festival of Lights candle from Yankee. It smells like cinnamon and it is my favorite. I know that when I am in line at Einstein Bagels I am always tempted to try the bagels and lox. I never do though...something about fish that early kind of turns my stomach.
So while I may never have matzah ball soup grace my table during the holiday season and my name most likely will not be remembered in crazy Adam Sandler song, I have to say that that brief moment when I was a young girl standing in that synagogue touched me forever. So next weekend I am going to try and drag Dave to the synagogue across from Starbucks with me. I am not sure if the service is open to the public or if we will be turned away at the door. That is not what worries me. What worries me is trying to convince Dave that he will look very dapper in a yamaca.
November 12 That's All I Got.I used to be able to sit down at this computer and my fingers would fly over the keyboard full of life and the promise of stories waiting to be told. I would drive home from work and in the fifteen minute commute I would have an entire entry floating around in my head needing to escape onto this light grey screen in front of me. It became my stress relief and my passion and there were times that I thought I had found my nitch...my something that I loved...my "calling" if you will. Writer's block was a foreign word to me. I had endless stories to tell and endless more that I was creating with every relationship that I had, every date that I went on, every memory I decided to share. There were times that I would get stumped when I could not find the right words to express how I felt or frusterated when I couldn't find the right words to end an entry. But after a few minutes of sitting and thinking it would come to me like a flash of lightening and I would wrap it up with a shiny bow and send it off sealed with a kiss. Voila.
Then there came the lull. The time that I began to realize what writers block was. The time that I thought I had told every story I had to tell and that I had nothing left. I had used up all my fifteen minutes of blogger fame and now I was done. Now I realize that I never had writers block at all, because, in essence, I was never really a writer. I was just some girl who had a witty way of telling some goofy stories that people could relate to. As I sit here today all of this feels forced and foreign. The magic is gone. Lots of great things have happened that would have been good material. For instance, The Cards won the World Series. I was there, in the utter chaos that took over this city. I drank the red shots that were passed around. I cheered until I was hoarse for days. I danced in the streets and celebrated with baseballs best fans. Not one time did I think about writing about it.
I learned that the one person I thought was a truley good seed turned out to be nothing but an onion. The more layers I peeled back the more he made me cry until finally I just had to throw him in the trash along with the other garbage from my past. But hey, you have all read about my disasterous dating life so why share more? A sob story is a sob story and frankly, I am getting sick of them myself.
After this drama I took the advice of a wise girl and tucked my head back into my turtle shell and I hung out with some dear friends from the past. I don't know what ever happened to the girl who gave me that advice but if she happens to read this I want to tell her thanks. Sometimes sitting around a bonfire sipping whiskey to keep warm with old friends is the best was to get back on your feet. There is no nonsense, no sugar coating, and no bullshit. They call your bluff and tell you when to shut up and quit feeling sorry for yourself. Then they hug you, tell you that you derserve better, and for the first time in a long time you feel home. You laugh until your belly hurts and all the crap that has been weighing you down slowly melts away. You stare at the girl sharing a bale of hay with you and you realize who you are and where you come from. You quit trying to be something you aren't and embrace the girl who you used to be. You make plans to go and see her in Chicago the day after Thanksgiving and know that you will keep them because suddenly true friends are the only people you want to surround yourself with. October 03 Can You Hear me Now?Life's a mess right now. Do you ever have those days when you think that things just cannot possibly get any worse and then, suddenly, they do? Just when you feel like you have made it over one hurdle you look up and realize that there is a bigger one just a few feet ahead of you and there is no way to avoid it? These are the days that I have to sit back and remind myself that to every down there is an up, that every cloud has a silver lining, and that everything happens for a reason. These are the days that I want to pull the blinds closed, crawl back into bed, and forget about all my problems. These are also the days that I wish that there was someone there who I could crawl back into bed with who would wrap his arms around me, kiss me on the forehead, and make everything better even if only for a few minutes. Instead I snuggle back into a mess of sheets and down comforter and wait for the alram to go off again warning me that my snooze time is up.
To start it all off, the clutch in my car went out a few weeks ago. What should have been a wham bam thank you mame kinda thing has turned into a full fledged fiasco. At first I wanted to just send my old car off to junk yard heaven and get a new one but a closer look at my not-so-perfect credit made me seriously rethink it. Then as I sat and budgeted my money I realized that yes, I could afford a new car but that meant seriously cutting back on my fun money. I would basically be living on peanuts for the rest of the month...oh who am I kidding? I would be living on peanut shells and everyone knows Target takes check, cash or charge....not peanut shells. So I nixed the idea of getting a new car and decided to give my trusty old car a makeover. While she has never really given me any mechanical problems before now she could use some help on her body. A ding here, a dent there. A back window that is off track and slowly creeps down as you drive. Peppers dog hair in every little crevice that the car wash vacuum can't reach...these are all things that need to be taken care of along with getting the major stuff done. New clutch, new tires, tune up for the winter and the towing fee to move her from in front of my apartment complex to the mechanic and we are talking a good $1300. I could think of alot more stuff I could spend that money on. Also, that chunk of change is breaking me and until I can get the car fixed I have become a vagabond of sorts. I have been having to stay in Illinois and split my time between my mothers house and Lance's apartment. Neither of these have been panning out for me (or them) very well. While my mother had been great and basically puts up with me coming and going as I please and leaving my dirty clothes on the bathroom floor I know that deep down she wants her privacy back. Lance and I are downright not good for one another. When we are together we literally sit and talk for hours and in the meantime accomplish none of the things that we set out to do. Eating out and drinking lots of wine have become a steady thing for us in these last couple weeks. Nights that I should be studying have been replaced with trips to the mall, renting crappy movies, playing miniature golf, fishing, long rides in the country, Cardnal baseball games and midnight trips to Steak-N-Shake for two vanilla shakes with extra hot fudge. To make matters worse we have begun to argue like an old married couple and have been getting in petty little fights about things like what laundry detergent smells best. For two people who are just friends we need to spend some serious time apart if we want to stay that way....if we don't I am afraid one of us is going to end up missing. However, until my car situation is resolved I am stuck with him....or he is stuck with me. Anyway you slice it it's no good.
I guess these last couple weeks have really made me, for the first time in my adult life, take a closer look at me. I hate the fact that I am 27 years old working in a job I don't want to be in. I look at the two women who work next to me and pray that I do not end up like them. I pray that I do not end up in a dead end job that barely pays the bills. I hate that I have to rely on a friend for a ride to work. I hate the fact that I seem to be floating through my life and have no idea how to point myself in the right direction. I hate the fact that I think I am having a quarter life crisis!
So now I am playing that "what do I want to be when I grow up" game and the irony is that I am a grown up. When the hell did that happen? Grown ups are supposed to be able to buy cars by themselves, have real jobs that they love, and have a special someone in their life to talk about all of this crap with. What bump in the road did I hit that made me fall completely off the apple cart? Why can't I decide what I want to do with my life? I feel that with every step forward I try to take I end up falling two more behind and there are some days that I literally feel like I am staring up from the bottom and can barely see the light up ahead. I have had enough. I am at my wits end and I do not know that to do.
I have prayed as hard as I know how to pray that God would show me a sign. I still haven't heard back from him and I am starting to get a little nervous, so tonight I am going to pray a little louder. I am starting to think that either we may have a bad connection ot else he may be hard of hearing. Either way, I need to speak up.
September 08 Where the Wild Things AreFor the past few months there has been a monster living under my bed. At night right before I would doze off she would whisper quietly into my ear that I am not as funny, pretty, or smart as she was. She would lurk in my thoughts all day long and has made me doubt everything about myself. Because of her I have had many sleep deprived nights, some not-so-healthy weightloss, and some serious dates with top shelf vodka. Then four days ago, out of the blue, my monster decided to email me. Well, technically, she decided to email me back.
When I first mustered up the courage to email her I was fueled by a broken heart and the knowledge that the man I trusted had turned out to be nothing but a liar. I was sure she would respond right away and I was ready for whatever she had to bring to the table. This was good verses evil and I had faith in the good guy...or girl in this situation. I was about to make contact with "the other woman" and I was scared to death. I felt sick to my stomach, my palms were sweaty, and my mouth felt like a desert. I hovered over the computer all day waiting for her reply. I could not wait to let her know what I thought of her. I wanted to tear into her and hurt her as badly as she hurt me. I wanted revenge but deep down all I wanted was answers. I wanted to know that I had been lied to and that all the moments of wonder I had were not in vain. I wanted to be able to walk away from this with no what if's. What if I was wrong. What if he was telling the truth. What if he really isn't such a bad guy.
Then something strange happened. She never emailed me back. I checked my inbox everyday for about a week and everyday there was no reply from the Monster. Slowly the unanswered questions didn't weigh so heavily on my heart. The tears quit falling as much and I started to get back on my feet. I put the vodka back in the freezer and had all but forgotten about her until Tuesday afternoon when I got her response. It was month later than I had expected and it floored me. I felt sick to my stomach as I read through it the first time. I read in again slower than the first rying to grasp everything she was saying me. By the third time I read it I almost had it memorized. My fingers flew over the keyboard as I wrote her back. I read my reply over five times before I finally sent it. I waited and this time her reply came much quicker than the last one.
For the past few days we have been emailing back and forth not only about the man who lied to us and broke both of our hearts but also about how much better off we are without him. Our identical stories seem to be giving eachother exactly what we needed to begin feeling better about ourselves and makes walking away from him very easy. They always say never to judge someone until you have walked a mile in their shoes...Well, not only have I walked in her shoes but we have been traveling down the same road, side by side, and didn't even know it.
Since our first contact with eachother I have realized she's not so bad afterall. She is a regular girl just like me who has had the same doubts and fears I have had and who has been living with her own monsters. Through this terrible situation we have become, for lack of a better word, friends. From these emails we have both realized that sometimes you really are sleeping with the wolf in sheeps clothing. Sometimes in takes the enemy to show you exactly how strong and beautiful you really are...and sometimes, when you finally do face your fear, you realize you never really had anything to fear at all. August 27 How Many Juans Can You Fit In a Jar?The answer? Just Juan. Yeah, I know it isn't really funny. Kinda lame actually, but after one too many drinks at Al Hraboskys Sports bar on Friday and watching Beth plant a kiss on the cheek of Cardinal outfielder Juan Encarnacion we all thought it was hilarious. We thought it was even funnier that she felt compelled to tell Ronnie Belliard, another Cardinal, that you don't really need your pinky to play baseball. He has just hurt his hand in the game and was obviously in no mood to deal with tipsy girls. We left shortly after that...well, at least I think we did.
You see, the Cubs are in town. St. Louis is all a flurry with the rival team here and with their fans who come and perch on our barstools and drink our Anheiser Busch products. They walk down the streets in groups and wear their blue and white jerseys with pride and arrogance. How dare they. You have never seen smack talking until you see a drunken Cards fan lash out a drunken Cubs fan. There is no love. There is no respect. There is no sportsmanship. Hand gestures and verbal jabs have led to more than one bar room brawl. It doesn't help that we have won the last two games either. We're getting cocky and loving it. We are floating on cloud nine right up to baseball heaven despite the fact that this season the good old Red Birds haven't been doing so hot. All that has been forgotten thanks to the recent wins over Chicago's pride and joy this weekend. We're sending you boys home and if you don't come back for a long, long time that is ok with us. However, while you are here, we will take the opportunity to drink too much beer, give too many high fives to our fellow fans, and talk too much shit about you.
Which desribes my Friday night to the T. My friend Laila used to be a Cardinal Girl and she rented out the loft at Al Hrabosky's sports bar so we could watch the game from the lap of luxury. Only VIP's are allowed upstairs and yes, thanks to Laila we were all VIPS's for the night. It was great! Food and drinks were free and yes, we took full advantage. We danced and laughed and when the game was over we gloated over our victory. We congratulated the Cardinals as they came up the stairs and gathered around the small bar to relax. The only reason I reluctantly dragged myself and my girlfriends out of the crowded bar at midnight was because I had to wake up really early and go buy my books for fall courses...oh yeah, and I had to meet my brother in law, my sister and our friend Dave at 10:30 the next morning. We had tickets to the game! Whoo-hoo! It doesn't get any better than the promise of a cold beer, a paper boat of cheese and jalapeno laden nachos, and watching the Cards kick the crap out of the Cubs. I drug myslef out of bed the next morning and took a couple aspirin to subdue my pounding headache. I showered and pulled my hair up in a ponytail and threw on my jersey. I felt like crap but I figured after a few beers I would forget all about the nasty headache I had and could ignore the feeling like I could vomit at any second. Hair of the dog I kept telling myself...hair of the dog. I was running late and felt rushed and hungover. My cell phone rang and as I looked around the living room for my keys I was tempted to ignore it. It was Fatty, my brother in law calling and I still had so much to do. What could he possible need? I was meeting him in an hour. Hello? Ooooh, you are gonna be mad. I got the dates mixed up on our tickets and they were for lastnights game. We aren't going today. We will just have to go to a bar and watch it there...yeah we are still coming to your side of the river.
Whatever, Fatty. Nice try.
I have been fooled by my brother in law one too many times for this crap. He loves to make me the butt of his jokes and on my drive to school he called a few more times, each time the lie getting more elaborate. I was not giving in, he was good though and if I don't know any better I might believe him. However, I was not about to fall for this prank of pranks and look like a total fool. The moment I acted disappointed or said I believed him would be followed by him telling me what an idiot I was, handing me my ticket, and cackling his way all the way to our seats. If he had really mixed up the ticket dates he would have been much more upset. When I was done buying my books and finally headed to meet them by the staduim my excitement grew. I was feeling alot better and I could smell the hotdogs from the highway and see red jerseys filling the streets. God I love baseball. People were lined up at the ticket windows and I wondered out loud to myself if the rain would hold off long enough for us to play. As I pulled up next to their car my heart sank. Nate and Mandy were in regular clothes...no Cards gear. This could only mean one thing: He wasn't lying. Oh my God, we really weren't going were we? You weren't lying and you really messed up the tickets! YOU IDIOT!
So instead of watching the game from $50 seats and drinking $8 beers we decided to make the best of the situation and have our own little bar crawl. We gathered around the big screens and drank one beer at each place in hopes of drowning our sorrows. I don't know how many bars we went too or how many beers I drank but I do know that it wasn't enough. Eventhough I did end up having a great day I'm still sad about missing the game. My poor brother in law will be hearing about this for the rest of his life. He made a mistake and I guess I have to forgive him...all I have to say is he's lucky he's not a Cubs fan.
August 22 One Good Cup Of JoeIt is only Tuesday and it has already been the week from hell. Between running around all weekend like a chicken with my head cut off and having to jump through hoops to get registered in time for fall classes I am drained. It is all I can do not to go to the store, buy a bottle of Grey Goose and shake up the worlds dirtiest martini. No, I am not an alcoholic but yes, I sorta want to be one today. At least then I would have an excuse to be hammered at 6 p.m on a Tuesday. I have not been myself lately. My happy-go-lucky carefree self has been replaced by someone who I don't particularly care for. I would love to call American Airlines and book this new Lana a ticket on the first flight out of here. Frankly I cannot stand her and like a bad house guest she has overstayed her welcome. I am just in a funk. I feel like nothing has been going right. I am sick of my job and I don't know what to do to give myself a little jumpstart.
Coffee always helps. So when I was sitting at my desk this morning and over my head a wonderful, hot, Starbucks grande soy latte no foam was placed in front of me I smiled from ear to ear. I swiveled around in my seat and was face to face with my friend, Lance. Well, gooooolly! Is that all it takes to get a smile out of you? His southern accent made me smile bigger. You're prettier when you smile ya know? I smiled a little bigger...couldn't help it. Compliments and coffee all before 8 a.m.? I was in heaven. He knows I have been a little blue lately and his honest effort to due something to cheer me up brightened my morning a little bit. Man, Lana. You are so easy to please. I wish my ex girlfriends were more like you! We both laughed. I took his turtle flavored coffee out of his hand and took a sip. Too sweet for me. I handed it back and laughed as he took a sip from mine. Ick. You need sugar. Nah, it's perfect the way it is. Seriously, Lana, you need to get out of this funk. You being sad kinda brings the whole office down. Aww, that's sweet Lance. No, it's not. I am serious. You kinda have a way of strutting in here and seeming like you don't have a care in the world. You smile at everyone and say good morning and you start us all off on the right foot. So if something small like this coffee is all it takes to make you smile then I need you to do me a favor: Stop mulling over whatever it is that is bringing you down. It's not worth it. Think about all the little things that make you happy instead. I like seeing you smile but I can't bring you in a cup of coffee everyday...these damn coffees are a rip off! $4 a pop! I don't know if you are worth it every morning! I watched as his lanky body disappeared around the corner and realized he was right. But what was it that really made me happy? I thought about it all morning and this is what I came up with:
Daisies for no reason at all.
A good long hug.
A good long run.
Fresh laundry.
Hotdogs at the ballpark/going to see the Cards beat the Cubbies this Saturday! GO CARDS!
Watching my right slice slowly going a little more to the left. Just call me Tiger Woods.
Jordyn trying to get me to hop like a kangaroo at the zoo. (I'm 27 and I did it. I hopped like an flippin' kangaroo.)
The gay guy at Starbucks who makes fun of my Crocs.
Watching the entire 1st season of Greys Anatomy with Beth in one night...we only got up to pee.
Sleeping in Nate's grey hoodie.
The semi annual sale at Victoria's Secret.
Getting a funny email from Erin.
Great highlights.
Compliments from strangers.
Mani/Pedi days
First kisses.
Snuggling.
Puppy breathe.
Lovespell lotion.
Being with someone who really gets me.
Getting all dressed up to go out.
Great songs on the radio.
Someone telling me my butt looks good in a pair of pants...or that my favorite brown dress makes my boobs look huge!
Patriot Pops
Coronas and peel-n-eat shrimp
My favorite jeans.
Good hair days.
Digging my feet into white sandy beaches.
Kisses on my forehead.
Finding cute shoes, earrings, or purses on sale at Target.
Pictures.
How my grandparents always smell like Downey when I hug them.
Laughing until my belly hurts and knowing that if I watch Dane Cook's Standup this is definetly gonna happen.
Funny movies.
When someone gets what I mean when I say "PIVOT!" and they start to laugh.
The Tiffany Beans.
Writting.
Soy lattes for no reason at all...or maybe just to give me just the jumpstart I need to get out of this funk.
August 12 My Big Fat American FamilyMy family used to be big on Friday night fish fry dinner at the local Knights of Columbus. No matter where we were Friday or what time we got off work we would all meet up in the basement of the smokey crowded bar and unwind over plates of cod cuts up, crinkle fries, coleslaw, and cold beer. Some Fridays we would all stay late and drink more than our fair share of Budlight, Crown and Sprites, and Jack and Cokes. Other nights we would just eat and jet out early, all of us having something else on the agenda. I loved these family bonding times and would skip any major event to make sure that I was in attendance but, as with anything, things started to change. First Mandy started having babies. Noone wants to have a tiny baby in a smoke filled bar with loud people coming up and breathing their fish breath all over your childs face. Then the management changed and they switched french fry brands which threw my brother in law into a fit of rage. He vowed to never eat there again until they brought back his beloved crinkle cuts. Then Beth and I moved to St. Louis. One by one we slowly all just stopped showing up. Suddenly, Friday Family Fish Fry was a thing of the past.
I don't know why we decided to shake things up this Friday but we did. Maybe all of us just had a craving for some good greasy food. Maybe the gorgeous weather we have had for the last few days lured everyone out of their air conditioned shells. Maybe we all just needed a good dose of family time. No matter what the reason, this Friday, my entire family headed across the river to meet me and Beth for dinner at our favorite place, Pat's Bar and Grill.
We have been trying for months to get my family to come and break bread with us at this local watering hole but it took something much greater than our rave reviews to lure them across the river. It took my older sister reading an article in Dining on a Dime that boasted Pat's as serving the best fried chicken livers in St. Louis. My family looooves fried chicken livers. I could barely stand to watch people eat them until recently when I tried Beths one night. People say they are an acquired taste and I guess after months of taking tiny nibbles off Beths livers I reached my goal. I acquired a taste for one more fattening fried food.
Beth and I arrived at Pat's earlier than my family in hopes of grabbing a large enough table to seat everyone. Unfortunately though, everyone else in St Louis must have read the famous chicken liver review too because Pat's wasn't just more busy than normal, it was jam packed. People hovered like vultures over full tables of diners waiting for someone to give up a seat. The bar was lined with hungry patrons trying to stifle their hunger with alcohol. We knew that there was noway my family was going to want to have to fight the crowd for a table, especially with my two young neices in tote, so we met them outside and broke the bad news: We would not be dining on chicken livers that night. I could see the disappointment in all of their faces. Now we had to try and decide, at 7:30 on a Friday night, where we could go and eat. We racked our brains trying to think of someplace that we could get a table for ten and not have to wait for hours on end.
Our first choice was another Irish bar down the road from Pat's called Seamus McDaniels. While it is nowhere near as fun as our little bar they did have family dining available and one really hot bartender who I have a secret crush on. I was all for it...let's go. Does my hair look ok?
My sister went in and came out moments later shaking her head. There was a longer wait than she wanted and the girls were getting hungry and cranky. If we were going to stay in our neighborhood and had any hopes of eating that night this left us one option: We piled in our cars and headed for Olympia, the only greek restaurant in a predominantly Irish part of town. It sticks out like a sore thumb with it's white washed walls and big blue umbrellas...everything about it makes you want to stand up and scream, "OPA!"
I think by the time we were all seated we were so hungry we didn't really care what you would have put it front of us we would have devoured it. Everyone was stressed about having to hop from place to place and all we wanted to do was sit down and stuff ourselves silly. Over plates piled high with spanikopita, hummus, pita bread, mousaka, kalamata olives, gyros and chicken fingers for Jordyn, we did just that. Rounds of greek beer, pinot grigio, and bloody mary's couldn't come fast enough. My family was having Fish Fry Friday miles away from the Knights of Columbus and still loving it. As I sat watching them all eat, drink and laugh with eachother I realized how much I missed our Friday nights and how good it was for all of us to get together like this. My family members are my favorite people in the world. They have seen me at my best and at my worst and still claim me as one of their own. Come hell or highwater we are there for eachother and while we have our disagreements like any other family, we are a tight-knit unit. You can tell by sitting with us for just fifteen minutes that our bond is unshakable, we are good to eachother, and that if you can switch your dinner plans from fried chicken livers to greek cuisine in a matter of minutes, we will be good to you too.
August 09 Accidental Day OffToday I had an accidental day off. How, you might be asking yourselves, does a girl have an accidental day off. Well, let me tell you. This morning started out like every other weekday. I crawled out of bed to the screaming alarm on my cell phone. I clicked it off and sat up in bed. My eyes focused in on the time and I yawned. Ugh...5:35 a.m. I cannot wait for summer to be over so I can go back to running at night. All I wanted to do was crawl back under the covers and sleep for one more hour. Just one. That's not asking too much is it? But Pepper is used to our morning routine by now and she was hopping all around the room and doing her little pee-pee dance that meant I could not go back to bed. She had some business to take care of.
I changed out of my pj's and slipped on some shorts and a sports bra. Even this early in the morning the heat and humidity make wearing anything else unbearable. I walked in the kitchen, grabbed my Gatorade out of the fridge and my keys off the counter. We were off.
Our run started out like any other. As expected the humidity made it harder than hell for me to breathe and a part of me wished that I would have taken a hit off the Albuterol inhaler Lance perscribed me. He thinks I may have exercised induced asthma and the medicine in the inhaler opens up my lungs. While it does help me breathe it gives me a severe case of the shakes. If you combine that with my morning Starbucks I look less like a 27 year old gal and more like an old woman with a bad case of Parkinsons. So since I had my hopes set on a grande soy latte I opted not to use the inhaler and just suffer.
After what seemed like forever and one too many hills we finally crossed over the highway into Turtle Park and made our way back to my car. I bent over to unclip my keys off of Pepper's collar and groaned outloud when I realized they were not there. They had been lost, once again, somewhere on my four mile run. Yes, as retarded as it sounds this has happened to me before. A few months ago the same thing happened when Pep took off after a rabbit. The leash jerked out my hand and in a glittery shower of metal I witnessed my keys disappear into the rough on the golf course. Beth, Joshua and I searched and searched to no avail. We found bits and pieces of keychain and my Gold's Gym thingy but no keys of any importance. My dad had to bring me the spare key to my car and lectured me first about not ever putting my keys around my dogs collar again and two about making sure that I got a copy of my spare. I would be really sorry if it happened again and I lost my spare. I hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, told him he saved the day, and not to worry. I was going to Wal-Mart that night to have a spare made. But I didn't. Then, over time, I completely forgot. So the key I lost this morning was the last known key to my little car. I called Beth and when she answered the phone I stared to cry. I explained it all to her and cried some more. I felt so stupid, I knew my dad was going to kill me and I wanted to kick myself for not getting a copy of the key. Christ I am such a procrastinator and now I was about to pay, literally, for my stupid mistake.
She offered to come and get me and I told her that would be great. I was going to start retracing my steps so just to drive along my normal route until she saw me. Minutes later she pulled up along beside me. I climbed into the front seat of her car, still keyless, and sighed. She tried to cheerme up but nothing helped. The tears just kept swelling up in my eyes I knew if I tried to answer her they would spill over and down my cheeks so I just sat there and nodded. I don't honestly know why I was being such a baby and crying so much, it's just that nothing ever goes my way and yes, I guess maybe I was having a little pity party for myself.
I called into work and told the girls what I had done. I explained to them about not having any spare key for my car and therefore had noway to get to work today. I wanted to hug Beth when she told me if I rode along with her to work I could use her car to drive back to Forest Park and look for my keys. I didn't hug her though because I was covered in sweat and stunk to high heaven. Instead I rode along with her and said a silent little prayer I have such a great friend. I dreaded having to go back and retrace my whole run. If it would have been just be me running it wouldn't be so bad but Pepper has an extenda-leash so she runs all over. She is a maniac. She rolls in the grass, dives in the water, she sniffs in every hole, chases squirrels up every tree and today she even chased one into a fallen tree that had crashed to the ground in the big storm we had a few weeks ago. I impatiently waited as she untangled herself out of the limbs that lay lifeless on the ground and thought for sure she would come out limping. Nope, she just trotted ahead looking for her next prey. That's when it hit me...maybe somehow the branches had unhooked the clip and my keys had fallen off there, amidst the rotting tree limbs. Fat chance but hey, anything is possible.
As I pulled up to the Jewelbox and couldn't get out of the car fast enough. I ran down the flower paths, past the huge greenhouse and up to the fallen tree. There, laying in a bed of dead leaves and twisted tree limbs was my keychain. I breathed a sigh of relief and picked them up. I went back to Beth's car and drove home thanking my lucky stars I had found them. When I walked in the door I peeled off my sweaty clothes and hopped in the shower. I suds up and marveled at the fact that I had actually found them. I got dressed, sat down on my bed and compiled a list of errands to run on my accidental day off:
* Drop off picture to Amy's mom
* Go to the Farmers Market and get some tilapia and brocolli for dinner
* Go to Hallmark
* Call Pat's Bar and see if we need reservations for Friday night.
* Balance my check book
* Stop at Walmart and get some keys made. Make sure to get an extra set just in case of an emergency. August 06 My Lobsters Turning 30My lobster is coming home to visit. I haven't seen him since all those months ago when he told me he wasn't going to move to New York. He lied. He got a great job and he moved to New York. I haven't really missed him but I find myself thinking about him every once in awhile. Especially lately since this whole thing went down with Kevin. I think in some twisted way Kevin thought I was his lobster. That being with me seemed like the best thing in the world. That he thought he knew me and that life with me would be great but in the end I was just a girl. He had held me above all others for so long that when he finally got the real thing he was disappointed. I wasn't the girl he had created in his mind. I was real and I had faults. I don't want this to happen with my lobster, so I don't think I am going to go to his party.
Lobster is turning 30 and they are throwing him a big bash. All of our mutual friends tell me that I have to go. He will be sad if I am not there. But oh my goodness we are getting old and this "thing" between us has been going on for too long. I figure if it was meant to be it would have happened by now. Don't get me wrong...part of me really, really wants to go. I want to see him and see how New York is going. I want to get that butterfly feeling in my stomach but another part of me just wants to take a break from it all. I have no desire to have anyone in my life right now and I think part of the thrill of seeing him in the past was that I wanted something...or someone. He has been the only person who has had literally made everyone else in the room seem invisible. The one who I am drawn to not because of the the way he smiles, the funny way his hair sticks up in the front, or the way his clothes smell of fabric softener when you stand close enough to him but because he fills some need in me. The need to feel like someone sees the real me, KNOWS the real me, and because of that doesn't want to leave my side all night long. The only one who held a candle to the way I felt about Nate. The only boy to knock on my window late at night and sit on my mom's front steps talking until dawn. The only one who has tempted me when I was dating other people. The only man who's face makes my heart feel heavy and light at the exact moment because I know deep down we will never be together but the fantasy of it still makes me happy.
I think realizing that your lobster isn't really your lobster has to be terrible. I think it is important to always have that one person who you fantasize about...the one who you can go without seeing and then when you do you see them you wonder how they haven't entered your thoughts for so long and how you can live your life without them in it...even if it is only for brief,shining moments that you remember forever. I am terrified that seeing him won't be the same for some reason. Maybe because so damn much has changed since the last time we talked. Maybe it's because I feel like a light in me has gone out and I won't have the same effect on him...or worse, he won't have it on me. I am thinking it over. Maybe I will feel differently in a few weeks when the party is scheduled for but I doubt it. Afterall, everyone knows lobster is the freshest on the coast...not in the MidWest.
August 03 Random Thoughts Of A Not So BlondeThis morning as I was running I had some random thoughts floating around in my head. I tried my best to peice them together into one great little entry but I came up with nothing. So instead I am going to throw them out at you in no particular order...sorta like mental mumbo jumbo.
First of all, I hate running lately. It takes every ounce of energy I have to crawl out of bed at 5:30 when my alarm goes off. I have been running before work because the heat has been unreal and by early evening you would literally drop dead of a heat stroke if you tried to run then. I am so not a morning exerciser. I like to go at night after a long days work and when I am full of stress. That stress, along with all the crap I ate for lunch, fuels me to keep going. Another thing, besides having no stress in the morning, is the song selection on the radio. I find it impossible to get any kind of pace going while listening to the ho hum drum of the morning DJ's voices here in St. Louis. I surf and surf through all the morning shows until I stumble across the last 2 seconds of a song. Those 2 seconds are the greatest ones of my morning run. I know, I know....I should get an IPOD. I want to get an IPOD but it just seems like I never have time to go to the store and look at them. I am a very busy, important woman you know! ;)
My friend Sarah is laying on the floor here in the office and she is stoned. She hurt her back yesterday and due to the fact that she has a softball game tonight that she refuses to miss she has doped herself up on enough pain meds to kill a small army. She is babbling about random things and cracking me up. Writing with her in the room is virtually impossible. My thoughts keep getting interupted by random bursts of song...verbal abuse towards me and everyone who enters this office... and questions about wether or not I watched Last Comic Standing. She has asked me this 3 times now...3 times my answer has been no.
I really don't know how she is going to play in the game tonight but God love her, she is determined to lead her team to victory. She is a trooper I'll give her that.
I am covered in hematomas. That is my fancy medical lingo for bruises. As you all know I went on a float trip last weekend and that is the reason I am covered in these black and blue little suckers. I can't wait until they are gone. Plus the doctor I work for thinks I may have fractured my pelvic bones. Yah for me.
Lance and I went out for martinis and stuffed mushrooms lastnight. The bartender laughed when Lance ordered a foo foo girly Apple-tini and I ordered a dirty martini, blue cheese olives, no vermouth, Grey Goose only please. I think he thought we must have mixed up our orders. Nah, Lance's just too metro for his own good. After a few drinks we started talking about the possibility of wether or not men and woman can really be friends. I asked him if he had ever seen When Harry Met Sally and he said no. I told him that the next time we hang out we have to watch it....it is the greatest movie in the world and it asks (and kind of answers) that exact question. I was very adament that men and woman CAN be friends. He disagreed. We went round and round and in the end we still disagreed. The question of ages? Still just a question.
Friday night we are going to Copia. It is a wine bar downtown where the the drinks are too expensive, the music is too loud, and the people are way too snotty. I cannot wait. Lance's friend is coming down from Chicago and we are taking him out on the town. Showing him the new and improved side of St Louis. I haven't decided what I am going to wear yet: It is a toss up between my favorite brown dress or my white pants with my fun new tube top. I guess it depends on how hot it is, how much my bruises have healed, and how dressed up the boys get.
July 30 Rollin' Down the RiverI'm back. I have bumps. I have bruises in places you shouldn't be allowed to have bruises. I think I may have torn the cartiledge in my right ear. I am a little hungover and a tad bit sunburned but despite all this I had a great weekend and feel completely relaxed. Thursday after work my friend Lance came to pick me up and we headed to my bosses house. He is building batting cages for his two young sons and he needed Lances help. I went along for support. Oh yeah, and the grilled hambugers that his wife was cooking. So when the men were done doing their manly work and us women were done slicing up tomoatos and shredding lettuce for the burgers we all gathered around the table on the back porch and ate, drank and were merry. After our food had settled a bit, Lance and I took a dip in the pool and floated on our backs gazing up at the stars. My boss lives out in the far country so you can see every single constellation possible which makes for a pretty amazing sight. We floated in the cool water and talked about my upcoming weekend and I told him if he had no plans we was more than welcome to join us. He declined and told me that the only reason he wasn't coming along was because he had to work the following day. Unlike me he had not been so lucky to get Friday off and he was so jealous that while he was at work I was going to be, along with my sister and brother in law, driving down to Southern Missouri to do a little canoeing.
Friday morning at 8 o'clock I got my wake up call from my brother in law. He was at Wal-Mart buying beer to take on the trip and wanted to know how much and what kind I wanted. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I wondered out loud how on earth in was possible to buy beer at 8 o'clock in the morning...there had to be some kind of law against it. It seems wrong. Plain wrong. I gave him my order and crawled out of bed and into the shower. Less than an hour later I was standing in his driveway icing down coolers and packing tents and sleeping bags into the back of his truck. Once we had the car loaded and strapped down with bungee chords we were off to pick up my sister. Unlike the two of us she had to work a half day and when we pulled in front of her building she was standing there ready to go with a big old smile on her face. As we pulled out of the city and onto the interstate she reached back through the sliding window into the truck bed a opened a cooler. She pulled out 2 ice cold beers and handed one to me. We stuck them in our koozies and popped them open taking long swallows of the ice cold beers. She looked over at me and smiled, "God I am so freaking glad it's the weekend!" I smiled back at her and draped my arm out the window into the warm summer air. So was I.
Once we got to the camp ground we unpacked at record speed. My brother in law had some catching up to do and started pounding back beers like they were going out of style. We sat at the picnic table and played cards...when that got boring we played Hooiser Golf. We watched the campground fill up with people and welcomed members of our group as they came straggling in at different times during the night. When it came time to quiet down we all gathered around the campfire, told stories, drank more beer and listened to the radio. Around 1:00 I excused myself and crawled into my tent. Moments later I heard Mandy and Nate and JC come in too. It was a late night and we had a long day ahead of us.
The next morning the crowing of a rooster woke me up. That's right folks, the crowing of a God damn rooster. Now, imagine having a dull headache and being covered in sticky sweat and smelling like a campfire. Now add in the fact that your tent mate snores like he is cutting logs. Then top that off with COCK A DOODLE DOOOOO! I wanted to die. Instead I unzipped the tent and crawled out into the open. Some of my friends were already up and I waved at them as I made my way to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and washed my face in water so cold it took my breath away. I pulled my white hoodie over my bathing suit and slipped on a pair of khaki shorts. When I walked back to the campsight after chitchatting with our neighbor from Kentucky I saw my whole party was awake, eating, and ready to roll. Watch out river...here we come.
I don't recall much of the actual floating. I blame that on lack of sleep, too much beer, way too much Lychburg Lemonade, and being a light weight. I do recall dancing in my canoe. I remember jumping off a cliff hand in hand with my brother in law into absolutely frigid water. I remember losing one of my shoes and thanking Scotty for saving that same shoe. I recall dangling my toes into the cool, clear water and thinking that it really doesn't get any better than this. I remember not ever reapplying my sunblock and thinking I was really goingto regret that. I remember being so sick of eating hot dogs, brats, and buns that when JC suggested buying some chicken and dumplings and canned corn when we got back to the campsite I could have kissed him.
When I woke up this morning my body hurt like I had been rolled in the rocks all night long. I have bruises as big as baseballs on my inner thighs and my right butt cheek. I am betting it is from when I fell in our canoe after some idiot ran into us at full speed in the middle of my dance routine. At the time it didn't hurt so bad but when I done writting this I am going to go take some Advil. We packed up faster than we unpacked and stopped at a small diner on the way out of town for some of the World's Worst Biscuts and Gravy. I slept most of the drive home and woke up just in time to navigate my brother in law out of East St. Louis. He was low on gas and trust me when I say that is not somewhere you want to be stranded. I stink and I need a shower but all I really want to do is lay down on a real mattress and take a nice long nap. I am getting way to old for this... July 15 It's a MessI get in these funks when writing seems impossible to me. It is these days that the thought of actually trying to make a living out of it is almost comical to me. If I had deadlines I would surely starve to death. Ok, while that may be a little dramatic I seriously would have issues making rent. I wish I could pin point exactly what happens when I get on a roll and writing seems like a breeze to me. I would bottle that feeling up and stick in in the medicine cabinet and label it 'For Emergencies Only". When I was in a lull, or better yet when rent was due, I would pop it into my mouth and wash it down with a good glass of Pinot and wait for the magic to happen. Unfortunately, that is not how it works so I have been staring at my blank screen waiting and waiting for lightening to strike. I got nothin. Sometimes I think I write better when there is drama going on in my life but then other times it seems like drama drains me and that is when I have the most trouble. When I waste my energy overthinking things, (which, if you know me you know that is what I do best), I seem to have the most trouble putting my thoughts together. Somehow as they are flowing from my brain into my fingertips and onto the keyboard they turn from "good stuff" to "mental mumbo-jumbo". Instead of linking together nicely and wrapping up with a witty ending sentence everything turns into a clutter-fuck and makes no sense. So that, my dear friends, is going to be what this entry is. A clutter-fuck.
Blisters:
I have huge blisters on the heels of my feet. I get blisters all the time from running but I have never actually had them on the bottom of my heels before and they have surely never hurt bad enough to write about. This time is different. I went to the Tim McGraw concert lastnight because, yes, I am a hillbilly at heart and my sister wore these absolutely gorgeous, silver, hooker high heels. I had on black flip flops. Halfway through the concert her feet started to hurt and she wanted to take her shoes off. I thought that was a bad idea because who knows what the hell could be on the floor at that place so I offered to switch her shoes. Partly because I felt bad for her and partly because the silver shoes were so phenomenal. It was even better when I slipped them on and they immediately added 4 inches to my height which puts me at a solid 5'10. I could see well above the heads of everyone around us. It was great. I wore them all through the concert and when it was over I strutted down the city streets in the hoochie-silver-look-at-me-shoes. It's amazing what a great pair of shoes can do for your self esteem but about halfway home my feet started to hurt. I started to whine...these are really making my heels burn. Did they hurt the BOTTOMS of your feet? The bottoms of my feet are on fire! Give me back my flip flops! There on the corner of Washington and 6th we switched shoes. I felt like Cinderella losing my glass slipper...or maybe more like Carrie Bradshaw breaking the heel of a good Manolo, but either way the magic spell of the shoes was broken. In it's place were two blisters on the bottom each foot...3 inches long, full of water, and painful as hell.
I'm A Little Bit Country:
I have been to tons of concerts in my lifetime but I have to say country concerts are the best. Even if you are not a fan something about the wholesomeness of a good country show tugs at your heart strings. There are alot of songs that stir up emotion in me but the lonely croon of a hot country man can bring me to my knees. Sing about losing your wife and I will get down on a knee and propose. Your dog got run over by a car? Here, have mine. Her name is Pepper, she likes Purina Little Bites, and she steals your socks from the laundry hamper. She is kinda hyper but if you run it out of her she will be fine.
I don't know why it is that of all the music I listen to country music has a way of grounding me. It reminds me that while I may be living in city, walking around in shiny silver shoes, I am just a country girl at heart. It reminds me that sitting on a tailgate drinking a beer with a good friend can be better than going to a swanky martini bar,especially if you know where the good country roads are. It reminds me that if I drive 3 miles from my moms house I could get lost in a maze of sweet smelling corn. It reminds me that hard work and cow shit on your boots gives you character. It reminds me I have a weakness for small town homecomings and the smell of funnel cakes. Extra powdered sugar please. It reminds me that men should open doors, call you back, not take longer to get ready than I do, and only say they love you if they mean it. It reminds me that I never have gotten blisters from boots before.
Is This All There Is?
The other night I was driving home from work and was stuck in traffic jam. It was hot and sticky and I had my windows rolled down and the radio up. I was planning on going home, changing my clothes and going for a nice long run but was I really wanted to do was go home, pop open a beer, and sit my ass down for 5 minutes. I needed to relax. Suddenly my phone rang and much to my suprise it was The Elf. My first thought was to just ignore it and creep forward with the rest of the traffic but I thought what the hell...Hello?
It was weird talking to The Elf. He was still funny and witty but he no longer had the same effect on me. Whatever had been there was gone and something new had taken it's place...could it be friendship? As I sat in the hot car listening to the updates on what The Elf had been up to I had the urge to ask him to go grab a beer with me. What could it hurt? We both had nothing else to do and Beth was not home yet...plus if I made plans with someone else it was easier not to feel so bad about skipping my run.
We sat and talked for hours about what we have been up to. We both had the same answer: same-o same-o. We talked about relationships, our families, work, what movies we have seen. He told me that it was good to see me and that the summer sun had been good to me. He laughed when I rolled my eyes at his pathetic come on. Then he looked at meand his smile faded into a look of complete seriousness and he said something that got my wheels going: Is this all there is, Lana? Do you think that day in and day out we live the same life and somehow people are ok with that? The answer, I decided after a long swallow of beer, was yes. Yes this is all there is. But hell, I figure if you can wear fancy shoes, go to country concerts with friends, and drink a cold beer with an Elf when Christmas is still months away, somehow, yes, it does all seem worth it. July 04 Happy 4th of July!So it is officailly my 27th 4th of July and I still do not quite understand why when Yankee Doodle sticks the feather in his cap he calls it macaroni. Can someone please explain this to me?
The thing about the 4th of July is the fireworks. Obviously, right? I don't know what it is about them but as soon as I hear the big BOOM right before the burst of glittery color my heart stops. On the sent of gunpowder I am transported back to my childhood. Back to a time where summertime meant red Kool-Aid and pudding pops. Back to praticing Popa Wheelies and riding our bikes without the help of our hands. Back to carrying band-aids in our pockets on bike rides througout the neighborhood because inevitably someone was going down...that someone always seemed to be me. Back to a time when the noon whistle blew, causing all the dogs to start howling in unison. The sound that meant it was time to pedal home as fast as our chubby little kid legs would go just to be able to snarf down some Spaghetti-O's and head back outside into the sticky heat that never seemed to bother us and noone ever complained about. If we were lucky, Mom would give Mandy and I each a dollar for when the ice cream man made his rounds later that day. No matter where we were the tinkly tune of Pop Goes the Weasel would draw us out like we were under a spell. We would line up in front of a spooky van occupied by an even spookier man who dished out ice cream to us. A man who under any other circumstances we would run like hell from. Instead we stood there in a trance before him ordering all sorts of treats...mine was always the same: One patriot pop. Still my favorite.
We would play outside until the hum of streetlights and the smell of grilled meat lured us home. We would devour hotdogs covered in mass amounts of ketchup. It would drip down our chins, down our arms, and all over our shirts. We would lick it off of our skin and suck it from our shirts. We were so hungry we didn't care. After Mom would clean us up she would spray us down with OFF. We were instructed to cover our faces and turn in circles so she could get our entire body coated in the stinky spray. DO NOT BREATH! I loved the feel of it on my skin cooling me down if only for mere seconds. Then we were off again, holding pickle jars with holes poked in the lids to catch fireflies. We would catch hundreds of them and fill our jars to the brim, shoving them back down into their glass cages if they tried to escape. We would sit on the cool concrete front steps and hold the jars up, gazing in at the little black bugs as their flashing lights slowly illuminated our faces. Blink...blink...blink.
Everynight I would take them to bed as my nightlight...each morning the would all be lying dead in the bottom of the jar, their little legs crinkled in defeat. This never phased me though because I knew by the end of the night I would have a whole new jar, filled with a whole new bunch of fireflies who were very much alive. That's the thing about being a kid. Day in and day out, no matter how repetative your life is, as long as your jar is half full at the end of the day, you are happy as can be.
June 29 Thank you for smokingI read a card the other day in Hallmark that had this angel on the front of it. The angel had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his wings were dirty. His hair was slicked back Danny Zuko style...it said, "Do you ever get that feeling that your guardian angel has stepped out for a smoke?" Boy do I ever. Actually, I was telling my friend Sarah today that I think my gaurdian angel not only stepped out for a smoke but that he is, in fact, the Marlboro Man.
These past couple weeks have not been good ones. I mean on the large scale they could be a whole lot worse but on the small scale they have SO sucked. I really am not a negetive person. I swear. I almost hate writing this because it feels like all of my recent entries have been, well, kind of downers. Like I said it's not just one huge thing but rather a multitude of tiny things that have added up that make this four day weekend I have coming up seem like a gift straight from God. Where do I even start? Ok, maybe the biggies. The ones that started the stressful foundation I have been building on here for awhile now. We moved. Beth and I. I read somewhere that moving is one of the top five stressful things ever. Whoever wrote that is a freaking genius. Then our a.c went out. St. Louis is hotter than hell in the summer and the sticky humidity coats your skin and creates a whole new meaning for the word uncomfortable. You relish walking into a cold apartment but when instead you walk into a wall of 80 degree heat things can get pretty ugly. I called our landlord three times before they came out to fix it. All is well now though...Beth called me this afternoon and said it was a cool 70 degrees in there..nice. I like it.
Then my little sister dropped the bomb she was secretly married..not even going there again. If you don't know what I am talking about reread Going to the Chapel. I can feel my blood pressure rise just thinking of it.
My boss is mad at me. He is one of my favorite people and working with him is a true joy, I know...odd huh? So him being mad at me makes going to work everyday a chore. Not only is he mad at me but he is giving me the silent treatment and it makes me want to cry. His constant jokes and good humor are what make the long, stressful days at work fly by and without them I want to shoot myself by 3 p.m. I feel like the kid at recess that noone is playing with. I have never been that kid and I hate it. I apoligize to all the kids I ignored when I was young...I feel your pain. I know the grown up thing to do would be to ask him what I have done but I hate confrontation. I am hoping to win him back with my witty jokes and good humor. Maybe I will bake him a pie...I am desperate, man.
Pepper had diarrhea yesterday. I got home from work and she pranced around until I loaded her up in the car and headed to Forest park for our daily run which everyday is like clock work. We get out of the car, she sniffs around, pees, walks a little, and poops about 10 feet before the big trash can. A good solid poop. I pick it up and toss in the can and we are off to a poop free run. Things didn't pan out so well yesterday. For one I forgot my baggy. Two she started to squat like she had to go but nothing came out. I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn't have to worry about not having a baggy and headed off towards the Muny. They Muny is an outdoor theatre and when we run by at night we can hear the people practicing and I love it. Lastnight, however, there was a real-life show going on...no practice. Cars were parked up and down the streets and people were dressed up for a night at the theatre. I felt embarassed weaving through them in their fancy clothes since I was covered in sweat and had a little dog with me but nothing could have prepared me for the horror of what was about happen. Suddenly my arm jerked backwards and as I turned my head to see why my little dog had suddenly stopped short in the crowd I could have died. Right there, among all the fancy ladies and gents, Pepps bowles let loose. I pulled her along pleading her to stop. She coudn't. Plop...plop...plop. My pulling her turned what would have been just one pile into a series of small piles. Wet doggie poo for all to see, smell, and step in. She looked so sad. I wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and die. Poor us...where is my gaurdian angel? I think I need a cigarette.
June 22 Top 10 Summer LovesSo here are some random things about summer that have been floating around in my head. Things I love but that really don't link together in any particular order so they just kind of have to be listed...no particular rhyme or reason.
1. Baseball games: I know, I know...the Cards haven't been holding their own so well here lately but I have faith. Pujols is back and without him our team just hasn't been...well, worth a shit really. Sorry boys, you know it's true but I still love you all!
1a. Nachos at the game.
1b. Hotdogs at the game.
1c. Beers at the game.
2. Coppertone. I love them smell of Coppertone. Reminds me of being a kid at the beach. Pure heaven.
3. Drunk golfers. I run at Forest Park which surrounds a huge, beautiful golf course and I gotta say, nothing is funnier than the drunk golfers. They smile and wave. They hoot and holler. They flirt from afar. They offer cold beers and rides in their golfcarts. I haven't taken them up on it but I tell you what, it has been so hot here lately I am really thinking it may not be such a bad idea!
4. Hot cars. I never use the a.c. in my car unless I have a passenger. I might die of a heat stroke someday like my grandma keeps warning me about but until then I will continue to love the hot air swirling around in there. I crank the music up and just drive. It's like being in a sauna with music and no pricey heathclub fees. Best stress relief ever...you should try it!
5. Sweating. It's sick I know but I love it. When I am done running and the sweat is soaking the hair on the back of my neck and I can feel it running down my back, my stomach, and my face. I like the salty taste when I lick my lips. Makes me feel like I have really just stuck it to the man. The man, of course is the the secret, little, fat girl that lives deep inside of me and keeps peer pressuring me to stop at Dunkin' Doughnuts for some smidgeons. Tell her stop will you?
6. Mowing the lawn and then drinking an ice cold Miller Light. Does beer ever taste better than right then? OK, not including baseball game beers.
7. Laying out with the girls. We float in the pool. We drink fruity drinks. We gossip about gossip. We compare tanlines and fat rolls. Only girls can understand how great this is for friendships.
8. Summer clothes. Dresses, skirts, flipflops, tanktops. I love it all. Anything sleeveless is a must to show off the tan you got laying out with the girls hours before.
9. I haven't done this yet but I know it will be one of my favorite things anyway. Saturday my older sister and I are going to eat at a Brazilian restaurant in Benton Park and then to an underground salsa club! I am so excited! She is a great dancer so I am sure she will have a time laughing her ass off at me trying to salsa. Picture Ben Stiller in "Along Came Polly" and I bet you have a pretty accurate idea of what I will look like on Saturday. Oh well, at least I will have on a cute skirt, fun jewelry and my big sister with me whom I love. It's not where you are or what you are doing...it's what you make of it, right?!
10. Thunderstorms. The ones with lightening and big booming thunder. The kind where the rain is coming down so hard that you can't even see across the street...the kind where you almost have to pull over and wait it out if you are in a car. We are having one like that right now. After it lets up a bit I am putting on my sneakers and running over to Mandy and Nate's to watch the Cards game, eat pizza, and drink some beers. Bonding time with the newlyweds and some friends.
Alright time to go! Have a good night everyone!
June 15 Goin' to the ChapelI'm a girl. And alot of the people who read my blogs are girls. And we all share one thing in common. Growing up we all pretended to be brides. We all wore towels on our heads and walked down the hallway of our homes as our Pound Puppies and My Little Ponies witnessed the greatest moment of our lives. If we weren't getting married then it was our good friend, Barbie. We were her maid of honor and watched as she married her soulmate, that handsome devil named Ken. The day you get married is a huge deal, and while I do not agree with all the hoopla that surrounds alot of weddings and the obscene amounts of money that are spent on the ceremonies I do admit that I love them. I love the moment you see the bride for the first time and she takes your breathe away. I get chills when the organ begins to play "Here Comes the Bride" and everyone stands. I love seeing the groom beam down the aisle at the love of his life walking towards him. I love the yummy cake, the music, the drinks and all the friends and family who gather together to support two people and shower them with love before they set off to live the rest of their lives together. I love the fact that 90 year old men and women practically race the rest of the guests out onto the floor when the Hokey Pokey begins to play... What I don't love is the idea that my little sister, my 18 year old sister, has been secretly married since October. She told us yesterday and my heart sank. I stood up and walked out of the room without even saying a word. I walked out to the front porch and sat on the swing and felt sick to my stomach. What the fuck? That's about all I could think or say. I got up and walked down the driveway and back. What the fuck? I walked back in and sat down and looked at her. What the fuck? I asked her. She wouldn't look at me. I sat there staring at her beuatiful, sad face and said it louder. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING LITTLE GIRL?! So she told her story. She told me that her boyfriend, errr, husband and her drove down to Florida two days after she turned 18. They told my mother that they were going on a vacation together to celebrate their birthdays and while they were down there got married in the county of Okaloosa. There were no witnesses. No white dress. No first dance. No yummy cake. Just a notary who stamped his seal of approval on a piece of paper and allowed two stupid, lovestruck kids to walk out into the humid Florida weather with no idea what the hell they just did. Since then her hubby, (whom I hate by the way but that's a whole other can of worms) has been stationed in South Korea. He is in the Army and is over there learning how to fight in the war just in case they need him. He has been gone for awhile now and it would suit us all perfectly well if he never came back. He has a better chance of survival staying as far away from us all as possible because chances are that the minute our little soldier boy comes home he will see, first hand, what a real war is like. The worst part, I think, was seeing the look in my moms eyes when Nancy told us. Then it only got worse when she explained that his parents and entire family have known the whole time. My mom was lied to and deceived by not only by her youngest daughter and a son in law that makes her skin crawl but also his entire family. She sat there her eyes said it all...she feels like she has been played for a fool and it was heartbreaking. Almost as heartbreaking as knowing that chances are all of the things that your little sister dreamed of have come to a screetching hault. That the images she had of traveling the world and going to art school in New York have been replaced with Air Force bases and duffle bags full of her husbands dirty clothes. Almost as heartbreaking as the fact that in a few short years she might be marking the "divorced" box on applications for school...if she even goes to school now. On the contrary if she isn't marking the divorced box she will be married to a man who started his life with her on a foundation of lies which makes for a rocky start. The two of them together think that this will blow over. They think marriage is living together in a cute little apartment and the struggle of every day life seems almost romantic to them. The two of them holed up together blissfully in love wondering why so many marriages fail. This is easy! They love eachother and didn't the Beatles say it best? "All You Need Is Love!" Yeah, right...tell that to the 60 percent of our population who are divorcees! They think things will be peachy after they are finally together and the dust settles down. The thing is though, here in my family, dust never really settles. It clings to the window sills and floats through the sunshine beaming into the rooms until you finally realize just how much there is and we begin to clean house. June 09 Your Cheating HeartMy last entry sparked up thoughts in my mind. Thoughts about cheating and that old saying, "Once a cheater, always a cheater", or what about, "Cheaters never win?" Then there is my all time favorite, "Leopards don't change their spots...or stripes...or whatever." I have a hard time believing this though. If it is true than I am destined to cheat on every single person I am ever with again. That's right. I am a leopard, I never win, and I am a big, fat, cheater.
It happened once a long time ago and while it was happening I didn't feel bad. I was wrapped up in the moment and all I could think about what how great is was. It was only afterwards that I felt like a shit and the regret of what I did really sunk in. I hated myself and cried in the shower in the morning and at night when I laid my head down to sleep. I had made a huge mistake and I fought with whether or not to tell my boyfriend about what I had done but something stopped me. A little voice inside of my head that knew I would never do it again, and I haven't. Not once. Not even on my ex-asshole of a boyfriend who deserved to be cheated on.
The fact is that alot of us have cheated whether we will admit it or not. You hear stories about people cheating and relationships breaking apart because of it. You hear stories about revenge and heartbreak and hate. What you don't hear is that sometimes the cheaters heart is breaking too. Sometimes, like in my case, I was searching for something else because deep down I wasn't happy. I also didn't have the heart to tell my boyfriend that I knew we wren't meant to be. I didn't want to hurt him and I know that sounds lame and selfish but it is so true.
People are so quick to judge us cheaters. We are automatically that bad ones in the relationship and the whole reason it fell apart. We are never to be given a second chance by not only the person we cheated on but with every other single person in the world either. We are S.O.L in the dating world and might as well be shipped to a far away island in the middle of nowhere were only cheaters can live. We are bad, dangerous, people who need to be kept away from all the perfect non-cheaters for as long as we live.
I know, first hand, that being cheated on is heartbreaking. I am not making light of it at all. I disagree with it but I disagree more with saying that a cheater can never change. If an alcoholic drug addict can go to rehab and never take a long slow sip of beer or a nice long hit off a joint again, then why can't cheaters recover too? If Jared can lose 200 pounds on the Subway diet and keep that weight off for years why can't a cheater stay away from their temptation too? It is ridiculous don't you think? That of all the terrible qualities someone can posess that cheating is the only one that they are stuck with for life? Once a cheater always a cheater? I call bullshit.
I think people make mistakes. They handle situations wrong. They are afraid to hurt someone else and in the end maybe, by trying to protect that person, do more damage then good. Now if you will excuse me it's time for me to go change my spots, it's Friday and I have to go meet my roomie for a cocktail. May 26 Man it's a hot one...There are a lot of thoughts rolling around in this head of mine. First of all, this may have been the most stressful week of my life. Beth and I's lease is up on the 31st of May. We waited until, ummm, 5 days ago to really start looking for a new place and to start packing up our shit. And we have alot of shit. Second of all our a.c. is out. So if the temperature is 85 degrees outiside it is 100 degrees in our tiny apartment. I have gone to bed in nothing but a tank top and underwear for the last three nights and still woken up a total sweat ball. There are absolutley no sheets on my bed and I fall asleep spread eagle on a naked mattress. I take cold showers and dread the heat from my hair dryer in the morning. My hair has been thrown up in a ponytail everyday to keep it from sticking to my neck as I put on my makeup. It is so freaking hot I see how the Summer of Sam came to be...the heat is making me crazy.
Yesterday I was at my wits end. We had looked at countless 2 bedroom apartments that allow the worlds best dog and came up empty handed. Why was this so hard? Everything was either too ghetto on the outside or too ghetto on the inside. I know the for rent lingo...Cozy=too tiny. Charming=old and drafty. 2 bedrooms=one decent bedroom and one closet that could harbor a twin bed if you didn't plan on walking in there...ever. So when Beth called and told me she found a cute place and I had an appointment to go see it at 5:00 I was skeptical. It was hot outside and I had a shitty day so far. It was hotter than hell, no breeze was blowing and I was in no mood to see another "cozy" hole in the wall. As I pulled up the place looked ok but didn't knock my socks off. A cute brick building that was home to an architect's office and our "maybe" apartment was right upstairs on the second floor surrounded by tons of trees and cute shops. I turned the key and climbed out of my car into the sticky heat. My tank top stuck to my back and as I reached up to peel it off I realized that the St Louis spring I just wrote about was long gone. Hello summer. Hello humidity. Hello misery. I wiped my brow, slung my purse over my shoulder and walked up the carpeted wooden steps to our "maybe" apartment. Suddenly I was bombarded by the leasing agent, Renee. She came barreling around the corner and grabbed my hand, "Hey Lana I am Renee! You look hot!" No shit lady...let's get this over with. I am in no mood.
When she turned the key and opened the door I was shocked. I don't know if it was the immaculate hardwood floors, awesome kitchen, or the central air that stole my sweaty little heart but it was love at first sight! I looked at Renee and felt like I owed her one thousand apoligies. I knew I hadn't been so nice to her but wanted so despertely to blame it on the heat. I smiled at her and told her to give me two applications...Beth and I would like to sign a lease right away.
I went back to our little apartment and gave Beth her application. She was thrilled I loved it, thrilled we had a place to move and thrilled I was no longer entertainng the idea of moving away from her. We chatted for a few minutes until she had to hop in the shower because her boyfriend, Joshua, was on his way over and until I had to put on some running clothes. I strapped Peppers leash on her and headed out the door. I drove to Forrest Park and no sooner did my feet hit the pavement did I start to run. To something or away from something I am not sure. I was just running. It felt great. I ran and ran and by the time I was done and got back to my car it was almost dark. I had no idea how much time had passed I just knew that I felt better than I had in a long time. The stress of finding somewhere to live was gone. The stress of a shady realtionship was gone and for once...I was completely starting over. Everything was going to be new. The summer heat was fading and cool breeze had taken it's place. I rolled the windows down and slid in a CD. All of the other things that were going on in my life could be put on the backburner for a little while. I drove to Shop-N-Save and picked out some fresh summer veggies and pasta to cook for, what possibly will be, our last meal in the old apartment. I had no doubts or concerns and after we had eaten our fill and packed up the last of our things I snuggled into bed. Igrabbed my book but before I started reading I checked my phone. Amber, my old friend, had text me a congrats on the new place. I am going to see her next weekend in Chicago for her birthday and eventhough I am really excited to see her a part of me wishes I was staying here, with my favorite roomie, in our new centally air conditoned apartment.
May 18 CheersThat small gap between spring and summer in St. Louis has got to be, by far, one of my favorite times of year. For the last 4 of 5 days it has been rainy and dreary and just plain icky. The kind of weather that makes you want to hit the snooze button and crawl back under the sheets. Snuggling weather. However, since I do work in a hospital and sick people depend of me to be there I crawl out of bed, hit the shower, and head off to Starbucks for a grande soy latte no foam every day.. Some people call it an addiction, I call it a neccesity.
Yesterday was different though. I woke up to the sun shining through the cracks in the blinds so brightly I had to squint to look outside. As I opened the door to let Pepper outside a warm steady breeze swirled around me. It was going to be a great day. A good day to play hookie. No Lana...focus. As I pulled into work, coffee in hand I walked in with my friend Lance. We chatted a bit about the TV show we had watched the night before and joked that watching shows about working in hospitals should be the last thing we call relaxing. We made a golf date for the weekend and headed in. The morning was a breeze really and at lunch Sarah I decided to go out to eat. We opted for Chinese and drove around in the sunny weather eating crab rangoon out of the bag. What is it about the sunshine that immediatley makes you feel happy? We hung our arms out the windows and pushed our scrubs up over our shoulders for a "psuedo-tan". Sarah said she wished I had a convertable so we could really get some sun. I agreed.
After we ate the afternoon flew by. We were all in high spirits, joking around, and the fact that I got off a whole hour early made it that much sweeter. At 4 o'clock I waved goodbye to all the poor souls stuck inside and headed home. I listened to the radio and rolled all the windows down sucking in the warm air. God I love days like this. Once home I leashed up Pepper and headed off to Forest Park.
Forest Park is absolutley the best thing about living in this city. 500 acres bigger than Central Park in New York it is the home to the St. Louis Zoo, the Art Museum, tons of cool trails, the Science Center and people out enjoying the day. My first few steps I knew it was going to be a good run. Runners know what I am talking about. The music on your walkman is good, your shoes feel just right, and you feel like you can go on and on..fueled by the sun. That is exactly what I did. I ran and ran with my little dog it tote. Every bit of stress from the previous days being pounded into the cement with each footstep. It was warm still and I could feel the sun burning the tops of my shoulders. Good, a little sun kissed skin never is a bad thing especially when you are wearing a strapless dress to a wedding in two weeks.
When I got back to my car Beth had called. We had plans to go look at apartments but we had to hurry because Lost was coming on in 2 hours. We don't miss it. It is our bonding time as room mates when we catch up not only on our favorite show but love lives, work lives, and everything in between.
We drove around looking at the gazillion apartments for rent in our neighborhood when she looked over at me and said..."Let's try Oakdale?!"
Oakdale is really called Oakland. I can never get it right and somehow it has turned into an easy way to poke fun at me. Ha ha BJ, laugh it up. Let's go! I love that street! But we weren't laughing for long. Right there on my favorite street were tons of apartments for rent. We wrote down numbers and decided to hit up Pat's, a local tavern, for some cold beers and spinach artichoke dip before we headed home. Pat's reminds us of Cheers. Cliff should be standing there in his postal uniform blabbing on about politics. Woody should serve you a beer and say some goofy airheaded comment. Sam is making out in the closet with Diane. We love it there because it is so cozy and everyone seems to...well....know your name. When we walked in the bartender smiled over at us and shook his head. Here Beth was in her cute little work clothes and there I was...hair in a ponytail, sweat soaking the back of my tank-top still, flushed faced and smelling not so pretty to say the least. We made quite a pair. Beers? Yes, please.
We ate and drank and chatted with the locals. We watched the baseball game and did a shot with some guy when Pujols got a hit. As Chris reached out to take our empty plates away I caught a glimpse of his watch. 8:15! Shit! Beth we gotta go. Lost is on! We are missing it! Chris we need the tab! Hurry! They looked at us like we were nuts. Hey girls. Go upstairs and watch it. That way you don't miss anything on the way home. Awwww, how sweet are you guys? OK!
So that is what we did. Me, my Beth, and a barmaid named Beth all went upstairs and watched our shows. We had American Idol and Lost on both TV's watching simutaniously. It was heaven. When they were over we finished our beers and headed out the door. Bye Chris! We yelled. Our new friends waved back...bye Beth! Bye Lana! See you guys next Wednesday! We walked out the door and I held it for a heavset man walking in and I swear, as we were closing the doors of the car, I think I heard some yell, Norm! May 14 Eye of the StormWe had my sisters wedding rehearsal today. Which, considering the wedding is still two weeks away is kind of moronic but hey...welcome to my family. Not that any of us are morons because we aren't...well, most of us aren't anyway...ANYHOW we had the rehearsal today because my sister is getting married at the Botanical Gardens. Apparently there is a big blown glass festival taking place there over the next couple of weeks so the day before the wedding was absolutley impossible to book resulting in a rehearsal 14 days before.
I was late. It sucked. I am never late and I hate it when I am. Honestly though it was not my fault. Well, not entirely. So what if I hit snooze 3 times and took a longer than normal shower? So what if I stood in the kitchen frosting cupcakes to take with me to the park later instead of just driving home and doing it after the rehearsal? So what if leaned against the kitchen counter talking to Beth and Joshua like I had all the time in the world and still hadn't found my shoes that go with my belt? The main reason I was late is because my soon to be brother in law gave me faulty directions. Turn left on Shaw? There is no left turn onto Shaw buddy, nice try. So as I am driving around in a full fledged panic hating the fact that I am going to be late and my sister is going to kill me my phone rings. Kevin. Thank God. He's at Starbucks getting coffee, about to go for a nice run, meet his folks who are in town for Mother's Day for lunch....what I would give to be there, with him, instead of here. Just listening to him relaxed me a bit until my phone beeped. Dad's Cell...shit. Here we go. Where ARE YOU? I am lost Dad. Nate gave me bad directions...sorry. Lemme talk to someone who knows how to help me please....Dad? Quit yelling...find someone to help me out here. Dad!?
And so it goes. Typical day with my family. I love them all I really do. But getting us all together is a three ring circus. First of all I was obviously late sending everyone into a disarray. As I walked up my dad tried to shove a doughnut down my throat. Really Dad, I am not hungry. Let's just get the show on the road here. Then it was freezing. 45 degrees in the middle of May? My little sisters lips were blue as she stood next to me and I could almost hear her teeth chattering. Would it really be complete without a crude comment about my ass from Bryan? I think not..but I do have to say the preacher was not ammused nor was my sister. She shot me the look of death..."I can dress you up but I can't take you anywhere look" that mom's give their kids. I just shruggged. I hadn't said anything. Kids we running all around. Parents were laughing and visiting and paying no attention to the lady who was calling out instructions. The boys wre snickering in the background. Someone stepped on my foot. I looked over and saw my dad running full speed across rose bushes chasing after my niece who is hell on wheels right now...and there in the midst of it all there stood two people who were focused only on eachother. Mandy and Nathan. The calm in the storm.
It's funny how two people can connect so well. It's even funnier how you can see it when people do, indeed, connect. How they can filter everything out but the person right in front of them. How they can still find things to talk about and make eachother laugh after years of knowing one another. How you find someone in this huge sea of people that you just mesh with. That you feel so right with and so comfortable with. How you can be sitting across from someone eating dinner and just know that you will be with them for a long, long time. That you look at them and wonder what your kids will look like and how it feels like they were created just for you. Someone who you trust with your whole being and know they would never do anything to hurt you. How does it happen? I know it is the question of ages and I am not looking for answers...I am just happy that it does.
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