a mother's love...

I think I'm the only person in this country who isn't glued to the Olympics. I caught my first bit last night: men's synchronized diving. All I can say is who knew Canadians could look so good in speedos?!Yowza.

Ok, moving on....

Prior to catching this event I hadn't seen a single thing and relayed this information on to my mother. She totally freaked out, going on and on about how incredible all of the events had been and highlighted Michael Phelps. Which is when the following conversation took place:

Mom: "Oh my god, Michael Phelps. He's SO amazing. Did you know his feet turn out 15 degrees? Like flippers?! Plus his feet are size 14, and he has 6'7" wingspan. Isn't that incredible?"
Me: "Yeah, whatever Mom. Doesn't anyone remember the fact that he got a DUI a couple years back?! I mean, the guy's a criminal and we're all treating him like America's hero just because he won the genetic lottery."
Mom: "Whatever. You drink a lot. Things happen."
Me: (utter silence)

Thanks, Mom. Love you, too. ;)

In other athletic-related parent-child love news (yeah, you didn't think I could go there, did you?), have you seen this video? I just don't know how anyone could get through it without bawling. My reaction necessitated several Kleenex.

kinda grumpy.

Sick and tired of work and all that comes with it (stress, lack of sleep, bad eating habits, falling asleep of-the-ass). Only 12 more days till freedom, and freedom means this:

Oh Charleston. This is where my sis' reception will be. So fantastically Chaaaaaahhhhleston.

QT with the sibs (both original and new!).
Annnnd with mi casa. Last time I'll see the house :(

QT with the parentals!

Honestly, who doesn't love a wedding? Nothing is more fantastic.
btw, this photo is from Old Sheldon Church. Where yours truly WILL be getting married. Isn't it just fantastic? I hope my future fiance thinks so! ;)
Birthday!
(this was last year, obvi.)

So yes, all good things.
But to make it through the hard part, would someone like to buy me these?They're on saaaaale!

hello!

I did not fall in a hole.
I did not leave the country with no return ticket.
I did not get a sex change operation.
I did not go to Vegas and elope with a random stranger.
I was not abducted by extra-terrestrials.
I did not join the Peace Corps to "fight the good fight."
I did not have all of my fingers amputated.
I did not get a puppy (boo!).
I was not deported to Uzbekistan.
I did not get a boob job.
I did not wear the black Reeboks and drink the Kool-Aid.

Just wanted to clear that up, because I know that's what y'all were thinking.

Instead:
I started a new job.
I re-started an old job (eek!).
I went on adventures.
I said goodbye to Nanny.
I bought records... actual vinyl records.
I had my first experience with flight cancellations (grrrr...).
I became fully obsessed with Buck Hunter, even though I'm awful at it.
I lost 6 lbs.
I owned Marc Jacobs pumps. For a fleeting 2 weeks (they're being returned tonight- boo).
I finished Felicity, Sophomore Season.
I went into a Target and didn't buy ANYTHING.
I took a prairie fire shot and amazingly didn't vomit.

Mostly good things.

In short, I'm back.

Hi.

our house is a very very very fine house.

As I sit here in the house I grew up in, at my mother's desk in the kitchen, with my dog at my feet, James Taylor singing in the background, I feel at complete peace. This is what I love about being home. It's a feeling that can't be recreated anywhere else in the world.

I especially love my house at Christmas. My mom is even more of a Christmasophile than I am, it's genetic. Everywhere you look there's a "touch of Christmas." Every shelf, lamp, window, railing, and dresser has something Christmas on it, and I just think that's fabulous. Even though Christmas day has come and gone, Christmas won't really be over for me until I leave this house on Sunday.

What makes this Christmas even more bittersweet is that this is most likely our last Christmas to celebrate in this house. My parents are putting it on the market in a few months, and I am, in short, devastated. I know that it's the right move-- the house is far too large for 2 people and it doesn't make any sense for my parents to continue to live out in the 'burbs, but I'll just continue to view it as a necessary evil.

I love walking around barefoot on the extra-plush carpeting. I love my Backstreet Boys posters, remnants of my teenybopper days, still hanging in my closet. I love the sound of my dog's nails clicking on the hardwood floors. I love falling asleep to the sound of Allison Krauss, James Taylor, Patsy Cline, or Motown playing over the house speakers. I love seeing our childhood playhouse through the trees in the backyard. I love the copper bartop on the basement bar and the way it smells. I even love the "weird room" where no one ever goes. I love the dogwood tree outside my bedroom window. I love eating dinner on the back deck. I love the ridiculous amount of counter space in my bathroom. I love just about everything about this house, and I'm going to freak out when it's not home any more.

daily randoms.

1. I am terribly hungover. The Yelp Elite event at Mio last night was awesome awesome, but I imbibed a bit too much in caipirinhas, which is apparently not a good idea. I don't think it was so much the amount of alcohol as the amount of sugar that killed me, although the gin and tonic at Stan's may have done me in. Oops. Needless to say, I woke up this morning feeling like absolute death, almost passed out in the shower, and had to get off the bus early in an attempt to keep myself from getting sick. Not a good start to the day.

2. Up until lunch about an hour ago, I hadn't eaten in about 24 hours apart from 3 or 4 little hors d'oeuvres I had at Mio last night. This might explain the way I was feeling this morning. At around 12:30, on the edge of passing out, I decided to make my way down to the Corner Bakery for their Turkey Frisco sandwich. This is not a meal I usually partake in-- it's carby, fatty, oily, but oh-my-god-so-freaking-good. I was pretty excited about the artichoke hearts, sauteed onions, and yummy bread. I walked in and looked at the menu and couldn't find it! It's been replaced by some crap-tastic Turkey Harvest sandwich. Ew. So disappointing.

3. I was just invited to a fashion show at Neiman Marcus that's hosted by Paul Hastings. I'm going.... with my boss. It was really sweet of her to invite me as she knows I love fashion, but I still can't see how this isn't going to be awkward. Just a little too worlds-colliding or something like that. I mean, it's not like she and I ever hang out outside of the office. Ever. She's nutty. And more importantly, what the hell am I going to wear!??!?

4. The girlies begin to arrive on Thursday! Woo! I can't believe its already here and October is nearly half over. It's been so busy that the time is seriously flying. It also doesn't feel like October outside (cough 90 DEGREES cough) but I'm hoping that changes over the weekend. I'm so excited to have all of the girls in town (we'll miss you, Jenni!) but to be honest I have no idea what we're going to do, besides play Kings and make goals, of course.

Quote of the day: My grandmother, while I'm driving down a cobblestone street in Georgetown: "Oh, wouldn't this just be an AWFUL street to ride on if you had hemorrhoids?!"

My family is one of a kind. One. of. a. kind.

funny funny.

Ok, I know this is totally random but for some reason I thought about this sketch today and just about cracked up. I saw him at the Roost (my college's on-campus bar)(yeah, we were stuck in Ohio so they gave us a bar) and had never heard the sketch before and cried my eyes out the entire time. I remember Kyle and I, sitting in the front row, not being able to catch our breath. Hysterical. One of my favorite college memories. Now he's performing in DC for $42 a ticket. I miss college.

Even more funny is that apparently about two weeks ago my Dad just walked into the living room, uttered "hooottttt pocckkkkkettt" and walked out. Yeah, my family is weird like that.



ps. is it Friday yet?

hi, mom!

Well, kids, we're in the presence of greatness. Bad Patsy has found my blog!

I guess I'll have to delete all those posts about my habitual drug use and salacious affairs with senators.... dang.

I kid, I kid, Madre! I'm glad you're reading :)

belated.

My parents' 30th anniversary was on Monday. Apart from the fact that I completely forgot about it, this is a pretty huge milestone. I mean, really. 30 years. They've spent more of their lives together than they have apart. I honestly have no idea how they've done it, or how I'm expected to do the same.

I constantly tell them that they have ruined any shot for me to have a good relationship, or any relationship for that matter. They are just far too perfect together. And not in that annoyingly fake perfect way. Sure, they fight and bicker on occassion, but that's what love is. I mean, they've lived together for 30 YEARS. I have never once doubted their love for each other and its apparent that they honestly enjoy each other's company. I have no idea how I'm expected to find someone that will complement me so well, who I'll never get sick of eating dinner with, who I'll want to father my children.

Last Christmas my mom told me that she undoubtedly loved my dad more than she loved any of her children. After the initial shock of this statement wore off (the horror!), I began to understand her point. She chose him, out of the millions of men in the world, and he chose her. We were a result of that choice and their love (a wonderful, obscenely perfect result). He's got the added bonus of creating us, so that warrants more love, I suppose. Plus, as she said, she only has to live with us for 18 years, she's stuck with him for the rest of her life.

So, I'm screwed. My parents' relationship is 1 in a million and I'm not going to settle for anything less. When perfection is your example, I can imagine it will be hard to find that kind of perfect myself. They say that women often look for men that remind them of their fathers. As I realize that I am turning more and more into my mother every day (evidenced by my control freak-ness and progressively earlier bedtime), I think that's a solid theory. If there is a man out there who was raised by a single mom, has an insatiable work ethic, baby blue eyes, horrendous fashion sense, gives money to Republicans but (I think) is a closeted liberal, only eats Rold Gold thin pretzels, stays up till 4am to discuss world issues with his kids, and will be bald by the time he's 28, give me a ring (no, not that kind of ring... a ring on the phone). We're probably perfect for one another.


*it's a random pic, but i love it. they're drunk, sitting on the floor at fripp and my mom is checking to see if my dad is bleeding after an particularly violent play session with the dog. and no, the dog is not dead.*