Evacuate the Gym Floor

I've seen a lot of basketball games. Probably more than the average human sees in a lifetime. Today, something I had never imagined happened.

I walked into the Coles Center at NYU and was in awe. What an awesome facility. Not that there aren't better out there, but it had a unique feel to it. Underground, with two levels overlooking the gym floor from above. On top of that, the atmosphere inside the gym was great. The pep band, the crowd, just the constant hub-bub going around the building. I guess that's what happens when there is a university in the middle of Greenwich Village.

As the game tipped off, Case jumped out to an early lead. An intense game from the beginning, the weird buzzing noise that started about five minutes in didn't seem to catch anyone's attention. It was more of an annoyance. The game went on and people ignored the noise sporadic flashing lights.  That is, until the announcer got on the P.A. system and announced that we must evacuate the building. Everyone stood around for a minute before realizing he was serious.

A pissed off crowd made their way up the three flights of stairs to the main level. The bitter cold that blanketed New York City today was not appreciated. As we were walking, people were quick to express their displeasure of having to evacuate for a "fire drill."

As I lugged my travel bag outside looking like an eskimo, Jeff came over to tell me that there really was a fire. A small one albeit, but a real fire. So, while listened to every Tom, Dick, and Harry complain about evacuating, I was in the know! The FDNY was entering the building before I even made it to the exit. A job well done if you ask me! In Schenectady, I once watched a house burn for a half hour before the fire department made their way over. They worked hard once they got there, but why the delay?

About twenty minutes later, fire abutted, we were allowed back into the building and play was to resume.

The intensity of the game returned after a minute or two and the incident was quickly forgotten. With temperatures mirroring that of the arctic tundra, this was a good thing! I was happy the game was prolonged for a few minutes longer. Even though I couldn't be right there with Jeff, it extended my time with him. For the conclusion of the game meant we went our separate ways, again. Other than the whole leaving part, the weekend as a whole was wonderful. Thanks for asking!

No Time For This!

Just got in from a night out on the town, NYC, with my husband. The thought just popped into my head, oh sh*t, I have to post tonight.

So, here it is. Tonight, I'm going to enjoy the rest of this short time I have with Jeff. To all you haters (I know, I say "all" like there are more than a handful of people that actually read), here is what Jeff says....

A Super Fan

Six years ago I was told of a man named Allen. A 40-something year old, die hard Brandies fan. I have followed Allen's post regarding Brandies basketball on d3hoops and almost feel as though I know him personally. So, with all the anticipation of seeing Jeff this weekend, adding Allen into the mix only made it stronger!

When we pulled into the parking lot at Brandies' athletic center, I could barely control my excitement. I was as giddy as a schoolgirl. I brushed past people to get to Jeff. After our joyful reunion, my next mission was to find Allen. It wasn't hard. Not only was he jumping up and down screaming, but he was donning a shirt that read, "I'm Allen."

Allen was very vocal throughout the game and just as entertaining as described. He did not disappoint. Although we were rooting for different teams, I really did find him cute. From his bopping to the music blasting over the loud speaker, to the shear passion for his team, he was adorable.

Leave it to my father, who had not heard of Allen until I filled him in at the game, to go up to the guy between the men's and women's games. In fact, he said, "There he is. The infamous Allen." This was a great conversation starter and they eventually got into talking about NYU women's basketball. Why you ask? Because my father knows one person ever to play on the NYU women's basketball team. When he mentioned that to Allen, he amazingly rattled off name after name of former NYU players. Just think, NYU isn't even the team he likes! It's Brandeis!

After Allen's amazing display of knowledge, I simply watched him in awe. So impassioned, so innocent. A super fan to say the least. Every team could use someone like him on their side! The six year wait was well worth finally seeing Allen in action. I just wish his Brandeis Judges lost.

The Face of Death

I had a near death experience today. Well, not a personal near death experience. I nearly lost my husband. To me, his near death is the equivalent of my own death.

When airplanes lane, it is good for the pilot to be able to see the runway. It is also a good thing for the runway to be cleared of snow and ice. It should not look like a blizzard is hitting. But that is what Jeff, and more importantly, his pilot, saw when they looked out the window.

With not even a tinge of apprehensiveness, I had sent Jeff a text to let me know when he and his team landed in Boston safe and sound. Not that I had any concerns, I just like to know. So, when I recieved a response from Jeff that the plane should be landing soon, but it wasn't looking good, I simply took it as him testing my intelligence. I fly on airplanes enough to know that you can't text until you have landed. So, I called Jeff out on it. Only, he wasn't joking. Much like people would do when facing death, he was writing to me to say his final goodbyes. He wanted me to know he loves me and to tell Shea he will miss him. Still, not believing the circumstances, I told Jeff he was f-ed up for doing this to me. I had a smile on my face, imagining him laughing at my stupidity. Until, he continued to insist it was true. His plane had, in fact, tried to land three times, but had to lift back up due to unfit conditions. 

As you can imagine, panic set in quickly. My voice began to waver as I simply repeated to myself, "are you serious? Oh my God." I know your life is supposed to flash before your eyes when it is actually you in the face of death, but my life (past, present, and future) flashed before my eyes. The boy I fell in love with and hounded at the gym, the man I love having a little family of three (Shea) with, the man I see myself growing old with, was on what I was envisioning to be a runaway plane. 

With tears in my eyes and my life on the brinks, Jeff finally let me know they had landed safely on the fourth try. The weight of the world was lifted off of my shoulders. I did not have to become a 26 year old widow and bury my hopes for a happy life. Seeing my life 450 miles away from Jeff, and knowing how difficult it is, I don't want to imagine what could have been. 

So, I will stop the imagining! Instead, I will enjoy my weekend, as I head to Boston tomorrow night to meet Jeff and his team for their game at Brandies, and then NYU on Sunday. With the combination of excitement and relief, I am exhausted! 

A Pampered Pooch?

Last night Jeff sent me an article to read. The article is about a marriage in jeopardy due to the amount of love and attention a wife gives to her dog, while neglecting her husband. Can you believe it? This woman does everything for her dog, devoting all of her free time to pampering her pooch. Read about it by clicking here.

Jeff tried to tell me that I cater to Shea in a similar this lady does. I find that claim preposterous! Sure, I love the big guy, and I may spoil him slightly, but I have my limitations. I do not set out gourmet meals for my dog, I don't make a bed for him, and I don't dress him up. I simply try to make his life a pleasant one. The only way I feel to know that I have succeeded in doing that is by the smile he so often wears on his beautiful puppy face.

This pampering issue came back to haunt me when I got home from work today. Shea was curled up in the corner of his crate. I didn't think anything of it until I let him out and he ran to the door and curled up again. Then, out of nowhere a loud beep echoed through the house followed by a woman's voice screaming, "low battery!" It scared the bejesus out of me. I can imagine that is why Shea was so flustered. When I called him over to me, he sat directly on my feet and I could feel that his body was shaking with fear. This is where I wonder if Jeff is write about comparing me to the woman in the article. I climbed up and tried to disassemble the smoke detector. Since the battery was low, according to the Goddess of smoke detectors, I figured if I took the battery out, the thing would shut off.

It didn't. Her ear piercing voice rang through the house again, just as I had finished telling Shea that the awfulness was over. She made a liar of me and a wuss of my dog. He went off to sulk in a pile of patheticness again.

I felt so awful. Nobody should have to see their dog this scared. So, to lift his spirits, I took him out for a long romp at the park. Was this being an extreme pet owner? Was I over coddling him? I don't think so, I just wanted to get him out of the environment that was painful for him.

I started to question myself again at 7:00. I had planned to go to the mall at 5:00 to pick up some things I need. I hadn't left because I wanted to wait until my uncle got home to stay home with Shea. I didn't want to leave him with the smoke detector scaring him. I searched high and low for a new 9-volt battery to no avail. At 7:00 I decided I had no choice but to leave my best big guy alone with the awful noises.

My feelings of guilt only heightened when I spoke to my mother and she got very upset. She wished I had called her earlier so she could have come stayed with Shea. What a dog lover she is! Ha! Anyways, by the time I got home, my uncle was home and had the smoke detector fixed. Shea was back to his normal, smiling self.

Do you think I may have a Shea-pampering problem? It's not like I would sacrifice time with Jeff to overly accommodate Shea. Right now, Shea's all I got!

Near Death

Most people would claim that Friday isn't too far away. I want it here so badly. It almost seems as though the closer it gets, the more pain I feel. The pain of having to get all the way through Wednesday, Thursday, and the majority of Friday. I don't expect you to understand, so let me try to explain.

Think about when you have pee really bad. I am a big a fruit eater. I will sit down and eat a whole watermelon or a whole bag of grapes all at once. Delicious, healthy, and full of water. As I am always thinking ahead (sarcasm), I tend to take Shea out for a run after a full blown noshing of fruit.

With this, at some point, it hits me out of nowhere. I have to pee, and I have to pee immediately. There are the times that I find myself five miles away from home, with no shot of making it back without an accident. An accident would be mildly embarrassing considering that I am damn near 30 years old! With wetting my pants not an option, I look to Shea for an answer. When Shea has to go, he finds a good spot, squats down, and lets it flow! At times like these, I have no other options. My idea of a good spot differs from Shea just a bit. Instead of finding a nice red fire hydrant out in the open, I need to find a grassy area that is well hidden! There really is no else I can do but make like this little lady....

Like I said, that is what happens in extenuating circumstances. Stuck miles from my home. There are times that I can make it home, and those times bring upon the feelings that I compare to how far away Friday actually is.

Running across town, with the bathroom as my goal, the closer I get, the worse I have to go. The harder it is to hold in. When I finally get to the door, just feet away, the real problems ensue. I have to dance, wiggle, and jiggle. On top of doing all of this, I need to get my key out and actually open the door. By the time that happens, I usually have no self control left. I fling the door open, let it swing ajar while I hit the bathroom. Any random could wander into the house, but Lord knows I don't have that half-second to spare to shut the door. Usually sweaty from running, I have a hard time with my pants. Trying to dance and hold in while taking your pants off is very tricky!

The pain mounts until I finally am set to go. The relief is immense. But the fight to get there nearly brought death. That is where I am at right now. Near death. I am at the equivalent of fighting with the front door. So close to the prize, but yet so far away. Still, two and a half painful days lie ahead. I am sure, as I often leave the front door swinging open, I will lose my mind in some way before Friday evening arrives. But, the relief will be well worth the insanity the next few days will bring.

A Barking Matter

Last night, Shea woke me up at 1:30 am barking. I immediately popped out of bed to scold him for barking at such a ridiculous hour. Shea is not a big barker, but the late night bark raised no alarms in my mind.

In the past, if Shea barked at such an hour I'd reach for the mace I had to keep hidden by my bed out of fear. Not really, but I'd certainly be planning my route to the nearest cleaver in the kitchen. Shea's bark was a warning, a sign that something may be up. He didn't even bark when screaming in the streets ensued, so his bark always meant something. Something that got my pulse racing. For, although I didn't always feel unsafe, when alone, I slept with the light on, the door double bolted, and a sense of caution. I wasn't in the suburbs and made sure I reminded myself of that before I went to sleep.

Like I said, I didn't feel completely unsafe. But, I consider myself smart enough to take Shea's barking seriously. In order to be sure there was no danger, I would simply encourage his barking, hoping it would scare away any potential danger.

Now, living with my uncle, I just try to stifle Shea's barking as quickly as possible. I don't want him to wake my uncle. While I know something must trigger it, I don't give a second thought to it being some sort of danger. It may have something to do with the setting.

In fact, one night I caught Shea laying by the front window when he was barking. There was a car a few streets over, and he could see the lights shining through the trees. I guess he is quite the watchdog!

I used to be scared to stay home alone no matter where I was. Shea has really altered that for me. I'm sure when it comes down to it, he would simply lick any intruder, but I feel like he would at least give me a fair warning of what to expect. Other than that, I feel safe with Jeff around. I don't think Jeff would lick the intruder to death. However, his presence, in itself, has always made me rest easier. You can only imagine the comfort I feel when I have Jeff and Shea with me!

Two Dogs in a Field

I hate the weekends! Well, not all the weekends, but the ones like this one. When I'm here, Jeff's there, and I don't have all that much to keep me busy. You see, the problem with me is that when I'm not busy, I think. If I were thinking about chocolate cake, world peace, or writing a novel it may not be so bad. But I think about Jeff and what we'd be doing with our day if we lived in the same city.

On a day like today, a decent temperature, I bet we would take Shea out to play. We always brought two tennis balls and two bags. I realize now, the reason for two tennis balls was because I stepped into nearly the same role as Shea when we went on family walks. Jeff would launch a tennis ball across the field for Shea. Then, me, with just as much enthusiasm as Shea, would urge Jeff to launch one up for me. So, he would. There were two slight differences between Shea and I. One, naturally, Shea used his mouth to get the ball, I used my hands. And two, Shea is much better at catching the ball than I am. Luckily for me, you, Jeff, and the whole world basically, the two bags were not shared between Shea and I. Those were just in case Shea needed to do his business twice. He does that sometimes!

This type of Sunday, monotonous for me, gets me thinking along those lines. Makes me miss all the little stuff like those walks, going out to dinner, even watching tv together. I did get to see Jeff's game today on the internet, which I love to be able to do. But, live is so much better.

Hopefully this week won't drag on and Friday will come quickly. I hope I can control myself enough not to drive 100 mph on my way down to Boston. As Jeff always says, "drive fast, take chances."

The Animal

For Christmas last year Jeff and I got a new vacuum. We stayed up and vacuumed all Christmas night. We are not the biggest losers on the planet, you see, this was not just any vacuum. Take a look:

That's right, this is a Dyson. The Animal nonetheless. It works wonders. So, we marveled at it's powers on Christmas night. It really goes to town on Shea's dog hair!

With it being the weekend, I felt the need to bring out The Animal's powers to help me clean up around the house. Besides shedding, Shea leaves little crumbs and dirt around the house too. Just part of the territory when you have a dog. So, a good vacuuming was needed.

Shea is deathly afraid of the vacuum. I try to explain to him that if he doesn't shed and doesn't make a mess, I wouldn't have to do it as often. He just doesn't get it! So, he has to pay the price.

The first time I vacuumed in front of Shea he was just a puppy. He ran into the corner and his chunky little puppy body began to convulsively shake. I immediately turned it off, ran over to him and cuddled him. In not wanting to send my puppy into cardiac arrest, I promised him I would never vacuum again.

I guess you could say I lied. And although Shea does not like the vacuum, he has found ways to cope. He hides. Sometimes behind the bed:

Sometimes in the shower:

Anywhere he thinks the vacuum can't get him. Without Jeff, he doesn't have a strong male role-model to show him how to face his fears. I love him anyways!

Shout Out

I should have been there! I feel like if I were cheering in person, it would have been more effective than cheering into a computer screen. It was a very good game, exteremely interesting to watch. However, the most exciting part for me was when Jeff was interviewed before he went into the locker room for half time. Hey Jeff, maybe next time I can get a shout out! It's not like you have better things to be thinking about at half time!

Watch

Do like me, watch Jeff's game against Washington University....

Jeff's Game

Wash U has won the last two division III national championships.

A Little, Teeny, Tiny Bit of Blood....Really!

The tables turned at basketball tonight. The vulnerable little girl that I was previously viewed as, has taken a sharp turn. That is what happens when that same vulnerable girls takes a man twice her size down to the ground and brings upon blood. That's what I did tonight!

This guy comes to basketball and may be the most miserable person on the face of the planet. Before the first possession is over, he is bitching and moaning about something. He yells at the people on his team and in his eyes, doesn't do much wrong himself.

I went after a loose ball hard. I usually let up a little, knowing that if I get hit by a grown man, it is going to sting, but I lost all inhibitions on this play, and just went after the ball without a thought. I remember I was playing with men when Grumpy Gus and I collided full force in midair. I lost my breath for a second as my hip and shoulder railed into him. Somehow, I was able to gather myself before my feet hit the ground and landed, standing up and holding the ball. Below me, landed Grumpy Gus, sprawled out, face down on the floor.

What was I to do? Anything would have been better than laughing, probably. But, that is essentially what I did. I started laughing for two reasons. Number one, to mask the pain of my readjusted hip. And, number two, because I thought the guy was joking around. Well, he wasn't. Five minutes later when he gingerly stood up, he said he had a bloody lip. Everyone called him out on it, as there was no blood visible. He argued that it was true and stuck his finger into his mouth. I think he scratched himself to supply the teeny drip of blood that sat on his finger. Either way, he was viewed as quite the sissy!

His miserableness heightened after the incident because of the fact that it actually happened and that people were ragging on him. "You got knocked down by a girl that weighs a buck 10." "She got the TKO in 2 seconds!" "She knocked you the f(*# out!" Those are just a tasting of what the guy heard for the rest of the night.

I didn't help his case as I stole the ball from him a few times. I did take it easy on him when he went in for a layup though. Instead of blocking his shot (which in reality I had no chance at), I grabbed his arm and fouled him. I couldn't muster up enough courage, strength, humility, whatever you'd like to call it, to apologize after the initial incident. I felt he may punch me in the face for making his night even more miserable than his life.

Haiti

One week ago, I am sure you know, Haiti was rocked by an earthquake. Last Thursday my cousin, Michael, left for Haiti as a rescue worker. I am very proud of him and feel that he is doing the right thing by putting himself out there to help those in need. However, it is a scary situation to have a family member over in such a vulnerable position. Michael's fiance happens to be a close friend and co-worker of mine.

With Haiti very much on her mind, my friend and coworker came up with a brilliant fundraising activity to help the Haitians. She is in the process of organizing a faculty basketball game in order to raise monies (I've always wanted to use the word monies. I'm not sure if it is in the right context, but there it is!).We discussed the possibility of adding a twist to the game or just having an actual competitive game. In reality, we will have to see what the crowd of participants wants. If we go with a twist, we are thinking of having two players tie their arms together. Teamwork is a big thing at school! 

On top of the basketball game, we are planning on having cheerleaders, sign holders, announcers, referees, and a bake sale. The goal is to get as many students and families to the games as possible in order to raise the largest sum of money possible. It is a great opportunity to bring our community together for a good time and to help a good cause. 

Beyond helping Haiti in that way, I would love to adopt a Haitian orphan. I would want to replenish the child with everything they have lost and much, much more. I would bring him with me to Jeff's games next weekend so he could meet him. If it were an option, I'd do it. 

Since it is not, I will simply pray for the well fare and safety of those in Haiti. I know that can go a long way too!

Itching For The Weeks Ahead

I saw Jeff yesterday. It's hard for me to fathom that. Just yesterday seems like an eternity already. One day away and I am already shaking with excitement for the last weekend in January. For I get to see Jeff again. If possible, I would bypass this weekend to get to the goodness of what is to come!

With a game in Boston on Friday night, I will see Jeff's team in action. To add to the mix, my parents, a few other members of my family, plus Jeff's parents, and a friend will be present at the game. Watching Jeff coach his team is one of my favorite things to do. Watching it with friends makes it that much better.

From Boston, Jeff's team plays at New York University on Sunday afternoon. Not bad, hitting up two major metropolitan cities in one weekend. The plan is to go into New York on Saturday and between Jeff's basketball requirements go out to eat with all of the family that will be Jeff's groupies for the weekend. Groupies which include the baby mama and baby daddy that are going to make me a proud aunt in about nine months! I will try to control myself not to rub her belly. I hear pregnant women don't really like that! The only thing that could make me happier than the whole idea of Saturday and Sunday in New York City surrounded by my family is ice skating while we are down there. If I am going to be in a northern city during the winter, NYC isn't a bad place to be!

Anyways, if you cannot tell, I am excited for the upcoming events. I love having something to look forward to. I just wish it didn't seem like an eternity to get there. It does give me sometime to figure out how to include Shea into the picture. I don't think it is possible, but I would love nothing more than to bring the big guy along for the fun. If only dogs were allowed everywhere!

I know Jeff misses this beautiful boy!

Three Words So Hard To Say

When someone tells you they love you, the proper response is to say I love you back, if you do, of course. There is no room for lying when it comes to love. When that occurs there is too much pain and heartache. 

Very rarely does someone declare their love for another without the expectation that their declaration will be returned. Usually that only happens the first time it is said. With much time to think today, as I traveled from Cleveland, to Chicago, to Albany, I compiled a collection of unacceptable things to say in response to "I love you." Things I have heard personally, as well as a number of things I have overheard in my seemingly endless world travels!

Don't respond with:

I love me too.

I know you do.

I'm a lovable person.

What's not to love?

What a nice thing to say.

Really?

I like you a lot.

That's nice.

And.....my favorite....

You always say that after _______ (whatever you have just done whether it be gone out to a nice dinner, dancing, or sex)

The list is laughable. I think many times it is in good humor. Good thing my husband doesn't have good humor and would never say of the things on this list. He just simply declares his love for me. 

A Whole Lotta Cookin

Jeff and I haven't done all that much today. Do you think that matters? Not at all. We went grocery shopping because his kitchen was empty and decided that we would do a lot of cooking so he would have excess food for the week ahead.

So, we have spent our day cooking all sorts of things to refrigerate and freeze. Okay, I lied. "We" didn't do the cooking. Jeff did the cooking. I supervised. Okay, I lied again. I didn't supervise. In fact, I didn't do much of anything. I like to think it is because Jeff knows that I cook a lot for my uncle and myself when I am back in New York. However, I feel the real reason is because he thinks (knows) that he is a much better cook than me.

Either way, I have been exposed to some very pleasurable aromas throughout the day. I am expecting to get a good dinner and now Jeff will have some good meals prepared for the week. Among others, he made sauce and meatballs, and is frying up some chicken breasts.

 

I have been recruiting to bake cookies this evening with a new recipe. I'm guessing it will be a joint effort as Jeff is not one to dare let me follow a recipe on my own. I can only do that when he is not home!

And honestly, I'd rather have him home!

Planes, Trains, & Automobiles

It was a long drawn out trip using many modes of transportation, but I got here. Planes, trains, and automobiles, in no particular order, did the job. I'm going to enjoy my time with Jeff tonight. We are going out to celebrate his team's victory and our reunion.

A Lonely Lesson

It was 40 degrees today, a Friday, a ski club day. This has never happened before. Usually, to spite me, ski club Friday's are much, much colder than the average frigid day here. I couldn't believe it worked out for me!

My plan for ski club tonight was to learn how to snowboard. My students have been wanting to teach me. I thought we could try a little role reversal and let them play teacher. I thought it'd be fun. So, when we  got the the ski mountain, I went over and got my snowboard and boot rentals and I headed out with my students (teachers in this situation) to learn how to snowboard. 

We walked up a small portion of the hill, lugging our snowboards along. When we got to the top of the hill, mind you a crowd had gathered below with their cameras and video cameras ready, the kids began in on their magnificent, and obviously well planned snowboarding lesson. Their instruction? They said, "this is how you do it. You put your weight on this foot. Then, to turn, you put your weight on the other foot. Like this, watch," and they took off down the hill. Awesome. My teachers just took off down the hill and I don't even know how to stand up! 

What was I to do? I decided if the 10-year olds that I had left to teaching me could snowboard down that hill, I should be able to do. I have always considered myself athletic, so I knew I could figure it out. I stood and fell down often that first trip down. My second trip down, with no more detail in the so-called lesson, I fell a few more times down and then decided I was heading to the chairlift. Screw this baby-steps crap, if I was doing this, I was going all out. I just needed to throw myself down that mountain and figure out how to survive. 

I did just that, I threw myself down the mountain. By some greater power of God, I didn't die. In fact, I didn't even fall. My body somehow seemed to know exactly what it needed to do. I mean, I was very confident I could figure it out, essentially teach myself, but I was surprised I did it that fast. I shifted my weight, I turned my board, I floated down the mountain. It was an awesome feeling and it only got better as the night went on. 

After my night, I have concluded that I would love to spend all of my free moments out there on a snowboard. The only thing that would make it better is if Jeff would give it a shot and go with me. Somehow, with time and distance being an issue, I don't see it happening!

Love Conquers All

Love conquers all things! Good times and bad, sickness and health, bodily excretions, flatulence, and body odor. I can honestly say, the love I have for Jeff conquers all things!

I realized what love is tonight when I was at basketball. Love is what I have for Jeff, no matter what! I found myself repulsed on a few occasions this evening. I was repulsed when one man let out a horrific smelling fart that lingered on the court for quite some time. Love conquers this. I may have to plug my nose for a while, but I always make it through even Jeff's deadliest gasinators.

I nearly threw up when the man with bad breath  exhaled near me. I couldn't bring myself to go near him the rest of the night. Love conquers this. So does a toothbrush, but sometimes morning breath happens, as I know when I get to share a bed with my husband. I love him nonetheless!

The sweat that quickly covers most of the men I play basketball with is another thing that grosses me out.  In about ten minutes their shirts are soaked through with sweat. I retract when anyone comes in contact with me. This is a problem if I am going for a rebound. I don't want to get their nasty sweat all over me. You may think I am sweating too, but I don't sweat, I glisten! Love conquers this. When Jeff is sweaty, I don't mind. I would smother him with a hug if he would let me!

Lastly, tonight, I was disturbed by the chubby man with the B.O. Whenever he ran by me I held my breath. I'm not saying Jeff is one to have B.O., but if he is working hard playing basketball or running, I see it as just that with him. Love conquers this because I love when my man is working hard! When others work so hard they smell, I hate it.

Two good things came for the repulsion that was basketball tonight. Number one, I realized just what love is. The love I have for Jeff, could never be duplicated. And, number two, I do enjoy banging three's in the mugs of smelly men!

Open Door Policy

As bashful as I am, I must admit, I have really pulled myself together. Well, maybe not completely, but there is improvement from these days: Hot Mess That Was Me

I was thinking how much better I have gotten. I still forget things and blotch my words sometimes, but I have definitely improved from the beginning months of living without Jeff around. From the day we moved Jeff to Cleveland up until November, I was a chicken with my head cut-off. Since November, I have been temporarily stitched up. Very often those stitches fall out and need replacing, but my head is not completely detached from my body. At best, I seem to be able to remember my own name most days!

So, with the confidence of knowing my name, I have felt better about myself lately. I feel that I don't look as disheveled as I used to. Basically, I believe that I am able to hide it a little better now. 

That is why I was so surprised to step out into the garage with Shea for our morning run to see this: 

What's wrong with that picture? This was 6:30 a.m. My uncle was asleep upstairs and I had just walked out. The garage door had been open all night long. Whoops! 

I tried my darnedest to remember how this could have happened. My uncle must have been the last person in. No doubt in my mind. I would never forget to shut the garage door. Never! As I rewound the previous night in my head it all came back to me. The whole scene played out. Shea and I were playing in the backyard as we often do.  

As we were playing, Shea suddenly ran to the front. In a panic, I chased after him to find he was only going to greet my uncle who had just arrived home. Shea, in all of his excitement didn't know what to do. He was literally running in circles. So my uncle and I both ran inside knowing Shea would follow us in. And, he did. All three of us went in and never came back out. Not even to shut the garage door! 

Luckily, there were no consequences for our absentmindedness. And, when it comes to faulting someone for this mistake, I fault Shea. After all, he was the last one through the door! 

News

Back in my college basketball days, my brother-in-law to be, Jim, called me constantly. He wanted to talk about this play, or that stat. This player, or that team. The day my basketball career ended, Jim has called me twice. I may be exaggerating a tad, but you get the point!

Tonight, at 9:30 when I noticed I had a missed call from Jim, I began to wonder what on earth he was calling me about. He must be looking for Jeff. He knows darn well we aren't in the same vicinity, but he also knows we keep tabs on each throughout the day. That must be why he was calling.

When I spoke to Jeff this evening, he informed me that he had spoken to Jim. Well, good, I thought, I don't have to be the middle man. I had every intention of calling Jim back tomorrow just to see how things were going. That is until Jeff informed me that there was big news. I immediately knew what it was, no need for the actual information. I had all the information I needed. Jim was not calling me to find out where Jeff was. He was actually calling me. Calling me for the big news!

Are you ready for this? You probably won't be as excited as I am, but here goes. I am going to be an aunt! An aunt! Not to a furry animal, sorry Diggy, but to a real-live baby!

You better believe that tomorrow I am going baby shopping, and that I will be sure to make a lot more trips to Baltimore!

My most enthusiastic congratulations go out to Jim and Jenny!

Post Secret

Today I was asked to reveal my deepest, darkest secret. As I reached back into the furthest corners of myself, I came up empty. I don't really have any deepest, darkest secrets. Is that weird? Do most people have them?

I have thought long and hard all day long, wondering what the average person's deepest, darkest secret would be. Drugs? Stealing? Cheating? Lying? Or just dirty habits? I cannot fathom what someone would be so incredibly embarrassed about that they need to hide it from the world.

So, I went searching. This is what I found: Secrets

Some of these I may consider real secrets, some of them not. I feel like I fall under the same range as the seemingly 12-year old whose biggest secret is that he hates peanut butter and jelly. Although, I do love me a good PBJ!

I'm going to guess Jeff doesn't have any deep, dark secrets either. Not one's that I know of anyways. Do you have any?

Airport Boredom

A Sunday a few months back, I remember being very bored sitting in the Cleveland-Hopkins Airport waiting to board my delayed flight home. I got a call from Jeff at about four o'clock that his team's flight back to Cleveland-Hopkins Airport had been delayed for at least three hours. Ughh, how awful!

When you are anticipating going home, nothing is more depressing than having to sit in an airport rather than going home. I wondered if the weather was really that bad in Atlanta or what sort of blizzard may be spinning through Cleveland. Turns out, neither was happening. The delay was all due to a power outage at Hopkins (Power Outage).

Imaging the boredom Jeff must be enduring, I occupied my mind trying to come up with ways for him to entertain himself. I started off very lame with things like counting the people to walk by.  I slowly got more creative, thinking he could do any of the following to help pass the time.

1. Count all the Nike, Puma, and Adidas sneakers that walk by and see who wins.
2. Buy a giant bag of Starburst. Much like power hour, try to eat a  Starburst every minute for an hour. It will start off very easy, but become painful by the 60th.
3. Rate all the women who walk by on the scale of 10 to -10, how they compare to me!
4. Make a list of 20 things that you love about me.
5. Even easier, make a list of 20 things I do that annoy you.
6. Cut out letters from a newspaper and make them into a nice letter for someone.
7. Run laps around the terminal you are waiting in. See how far you can get.
8.Drink ten bottles of water and see how long you can hold it before you have to use the bathroom.
9. Eat at least one piece of food (or more) from each food vendor in the entire airport.
10. Or, just take a nap.

Luckily for Jeff, he did not need to use my stupid list. He was informed about an hour later that their flight was officially cancelled because of the power outage. They would be spending another night in chilly Atlanta. It may be much further south than Cleveland, but it is currently not any warmer.

Pink or Really Pink

Tonight, I am staying at my parents house. As I am now snuggled into my bed, I did the normal prepping necessary to get here. Take out the contacts, wash my face, and brush my teeth. My struggle every time I am here is the brushing of my teeth. Not that I don't want to do it and not that I don't like to do, I am fine with it. I better, for God's sake, I am nearly 27 years old. The problem is that I always forget which toothbrush is mine.

I bought a new toothbrush and figured I was safe if I got a pink one. It would be easy to distinguish which was mine and which was my brothers since I got the girly, pink toothbrush. To my surprise, there was already a pink toothbrush in the holder when I got into the bathroom. Awesome! So every time I sleep here at my parents, I look at the toothbrushes and try to remember which one is mine.

Is it the pink one, or the really pink one? Honestly, I'm not sure. I think it is the less pink one. I kind of remember thinking that it was pretty corny for my brother to have a purely pink toothbrush.

When I picked up the less pink toothbrush tonight, I was confident it was the correct one. But, when I got it in my mouth, panic set in. What if it was the wrong one? How disgusting is that? The thought of having my brother's toothbrush in my mouth mad my stomach turn. I felt my evening meal rising.

I have no idea if I used my own toothbrush tonight or not. The thought it still not sitting well with me. The funny thing is when Jeff moved out to Cleveland, I used his toothbrush for a while before buying myself a new one. I would rather have my own, but that didn't necessarily gross me out. Apparently that is what love does to you!

Drunk Goggles

When I say drunk goggles what do you think of? You may think back to the high school and college days when you had too much to drink and suddenly the sasquatch looking thing across the room began to look good. That's what I always thought of too, up until now.

We are in the middle of the D.A.R.E. program at school. It is a wonderful program with so much incredibly useful information. We have begun learning about alcohol and all of the effects it can have when consumed in excessive amounts. In order to demonstrate how little control you have of yourself when drunk, our D.A.R.E. officer brought in a pair of drunk goggles. Not only do these huge plastic goggles look ridiculous on, they make you do ridiculous things.

We brought the kids to an open space in the library and had them pop these fashionable goggles on. Similar to a sobriety test police would conduct in a traffic stop, the students were asked to perform seemingly simple tasks. Walking along a straight line of tape, standing on one foot, and catching a ball. To see a ten year old stumble, wobble, and trip over themselves was beyond hysterical. They had no idea how to control themselves with these drunk goggles on. The point was certainly taken. Not only did they see they had no self control, but they saw how stupid it made one another look.

The kids enjoyed having the drunk goggles on. However, the one part of the lesson they enjoyed most was when I had to put the goggles on. I put them on with complete confidence, sure that I had been to level of drunkenness these goggles would portray several times before. This shouldn't be a problem. I felt I was always very skilled at hiding the fact that I drunk. My confidence only skyrocketed when as I peered through them. Sure, I thought, I have certainly been here before.

The difference today is while physically I was drunk, mentally I was not. I could feel that my body was not stable. I felt unbalanced and wobbly. When I was really drunk, I always felt like I was strutting! But Lord, trying to walk that straight line I was anything but strutting. Standing on one foot was no easy task either. But, possibly the worst was getting a ball thrown to me. Although only one was thrown, there were three of them coming at me. I wasn't sure which one to try to catch. Guess what? I chose the wrong one and the ball bounced across the library floor. To make it even more amusing to my audience of ten year olds, it was decided that I had to find the ball and pick it up. This was even harder than catching it! I continued to jam my fingers into the ground thinking my hand was lined up with that silly ball. At one point, I actually lost my balance and ended up crawling across the floor to get the ball. Lovely!

All in all, it was a fun learning experience. Yes, the drunk goggles were an excellent resource to show elementary students how much drinking alcohol messes with you. Maybe they should also revisit this in high school so the teenagers can see how unsexy they are when they are anialated. And to think, that's what I looked like most of the time when I was chasing Jeff down! He must have simply had his drunk goggles on!

In Close Range

I just made my uncle a monster of a calzone. As usual, I made a mess of the kitchen as I was assembling this masterpiece. Flour on the counter tops, with sprinklings of cheese scattered around. But the mess isI always worth seeing my uncle enjoy this delightful dinner.

While the doughy ball of goodness was baking in the oven, I was heating up some sauce on the stove. Since I was continually checking on the calzone in between stirring the sauce, I had my pot holder handy. As I stirred the sauce with the wooden spoon, I held the pot holder in my other hand a tad to close to the range. I would have never known this except for the fact that the pot holder went up in flames. I'd love to tell you more than anything that I have a picture of the flowery pot holder spitting flames, but I was a too preoccupied running it under water to snap a picture.

Surprisingly, with the size of the flame, the pot holder had very little damage. Just a singed corner. The smell of the burntness however, could lead one to believe the entire residence was in danger. Luckily, my quick thinking, blowing air, and dousing in water smothered the smell before it spread too far.

You would have thought this near ashy occurance would have been a setback. But, I forged ahead and finished cooking my magnificent meal. The best looking, and in my uncle's opinion, best tasting calzone of my career. I marveled in my new found cooking glory as he savored each and every bite. I actually felt guilty that I had created my best calzone for my uncle and not Jeff. He sure loves calzones!

That vision of beauty and the spectacle of watching it being eaten, were well worth the near burning of a beautiful home!