Happy Hour

I went to happy hour today after work. It was nice to get out and have a few drinks. I rarely do it. So, I was enjoying my time.

As the time went on, us teachers who get out of work at 3 o'clock, started to get joined by the rest of the working population. Those normal people who get out around five starting filing in. With those people, my teacher friends had their significant others' meet them at the bar. It was nice to meet who everyone spends the other part of their lives with. I couldn't help but be a little envious, but it was nice nonetheless.

When I spoke to Jeff tonight, he said he was sorry he couldn't go. He was probably lying, but I appreciated his answer. I would have loved for him to be there. I'd love for him to be here. Anywhere really, within seeing and touching distance. Even though that is not possible, he is still the best husband a wife could have.

A Little Color

My tan has come early this year. It all started during my spring break. Not when I was in some warm, tropical climate, but Cleveland.

It was beautiful that week. Temperatures in the high 70's, low 80's, and even hit 90. All except that one day it snowed. So, that week I spent a lot of time outside: running, playing with Shea, going to watch softball games and such. With the sun shining everyday, except that one that it snowed, I started to get some good color. 

I was blessed to be born Italian. This meaning, my olive skin gets dark quickly. So, a few days in the sun gives big results. Since it had been raining and cold for a few days here in upstate New York, I decided to go tanning. I didn't want to lose the start of the tan I have, so I figured one time would keep me in a good place. 

Today, a day after my trip short, ten minute trip to the bed, you would think I had just gotten back from Hawaii. Everybody had a comment about how I looked so nice and tan. I was sure to credit spending lots of time outside running and playing with Shea. Which really is true. Thankfully, my olive skin doesn't give me that orange, oompa loompa skin that a lot of people get when they go tanning.

You know we've all seen those girls. Don't worry, Jeff, I'm not one of them. My skin tone won't allow it. Nor would I ever let it go that far, because:

Fingerology

Dr. Phil is an a-hole. I don't know him personally, Jeff doesn't know him personally, but he is definitely an a-hole. Not knowing either one of us, he has diagnosed the future of our marriage.

You see, Dr. Phil has proclaimed that anybody who has pointer finger that is longer than their ring finger is an adulteress. Apparently, it is a destiny, there is no option there. It will happen. Why is this an issue? For me, it's not. I have nice, proportional hands. See:

All fingers are the length they are supposed to be. So perfect, I have been told I could/should be a hand model. What a compliment! Lord knows I couldn't be any other kind of model! 

That means, the problem lies in Jeff's hands, literally. His stupid pointer finger is longer than his ring finger. So, basically, because this birth defect of Jeff's fingers, our marriage is screwed. According to Dr. Phil anyways. 

Well, Dr. Phil will lose this battle. 

Jaracka Park

After the lovely Spanish Club I am teaching, I decided to go for a run. I ran to my old neighborhood. The neighborhood I grew up in. The neighborhood my mother grew up in. The neighborhood that has many great memories buried in it's streets.

I love running here. I get a sense of nostalgia as I run down the streets, reminiscing of times that I rode my bike, or even ran, down those same streets as a youngin. Memories of childhood flood back to me. The happy childhood I had.

Running through the neighborhood park, I could see myself as a tyke, playing on the swings and trying to makes shots at the basket, way too high at that point. But I noticed, at that point, those nice, sweet, innocent memories were being pushed out of my mind. I had ruined the sanctity of Jaracka Park in my high school days. The park is now a tainted memory in a way, for the last night before I left for college a few friends and I celebrated the way high school kids do. It's unfortunate now, that I am damn near 30, that that memory trumps the childhood ones when I run through that park. If I had only known back at 18 that those actions would stick in my mind forever.

This got me thinking, since I do my best thinking while I am running, about other places where memories are trumped by a one time occurrence. My mind immediately jumped to the gym at the college Jeff and I both attended. Well, not the gym, but the basement of the gym which housed the men's locker room, the laundry facilities, and a small, additional weight room. 

Many days and nights were spent down there lifting weights, running, jumping on boxes, and watching game film. However, one specific event sticks out in my mind when I think of that lovely place. It is only different from Jaracka Park because it does not mar the memories of the gym. It enhances it. No further details. Think of it what you want! 

I don't know if the comparison is fair. Jeff was not a part of my life in the Jaracka Park days. That is probably the one part of my childhood I would change. I would have loved, been privileged really, to have had Jeff in my life during my childhood. Oh, and I would have liked to have a dog too. But, since I cannot change that, I must realize that any memory with Jeff will never be one viewed as tainted. Simply something to smile about. 

Fatty McGee

A few weeks ago, I was introduced to this fantastic website entitled, This is Why You're Fat. It publishes everything I believe in. It shows the most ridiculous food creations. And, in turn, basically shows why fat people are fat!

This is Why You're Fat!

The majority of this stuff makes me want to vomit just thinking about it, let alone looking at them. Like this here giant mug made out of bacon and filled with cheddar cheese: 

Or how about this triple decker stack stuffed with boneless chicken wings in between each layer and topped with ranch, buffalo sauce, and sprinkled bacon? 

While the site is filled with a lot of these stomach turning creations, there are some that look extremely delectable! Like this chocolate peanut butter reese's cake:

And this Cap'n Crunch coated french toast:

As a new fan of this website, I certainly thought I could add the picture of this beautiful cheesecake Jeff sent me this morning. I showed it to one of my friends at work and she actually began salivating like Pavlov's dog. 

There it is! Jeff's very own, homemade, devil's food cheesecake. I think it would a great addition to one of my new favorite websites! 

A Surprise Slide

I went to visit an old friend today. Being as she lives in North Carolina, I hadn't actually seen her since Jeff and I's wedding. She isn't in New York often, so her entire family was around to see her. Hanging out at her grandparents, we had time to catch up.

A little while into our time, her grandfather gathered everyone and wanted to show some of his slides. The entire basement is full of slides, ranging from the 1950's to present day. So, Ashley and I went to hang out and check the set of slides her grandfather would choose to show on this lovely Sunday.

The slides were cute. Ashley's mother and aunt, who were both present, were both in diapers in the pictures. Very entertaining when you are with a loud, boisterous group of people. Then, it happened. Something no one in the family could have ever imagined. Something beyond my wildest dreams of what Ashley's sweet old grandfather would show on the big screen.

A Playboy centerfold from 1975, right there, in all her nudeness, for everyone to see.

Screams, yells, and laughter erupted. Apparently, to nobody's knowledge, Ashley's uncle used to take pictures of all the Playboy centerfolds and mail them to his father. So, as to play a joke on himself, her grandfather dispersed the centerfold slides into random groups of his organized slideshows. Apparently he didn't really think that through!

All in all, everyone got a great laugh out of it. I guess that was his goal all those years back. Mission accomplished!

TGATT

Out of the blue, a friend sent me a link to an interesting article. I read the whole thing because it was extremely short. Take a look:

Boyfriend Arrested

Disgusting? Yes. Worthy of arrest? Questionable. But, it got me thinking. 

Jeff has never shot bloody snot at me. However, he has done some disgusting things. Some things, that according to the arrest standards relating to this article, I could have him arrested for. One thing stands out. A little something Jeff likes to call "The Great American Torture Test."

"The Great American Torture Test" resembles a scene from one of my favorite movies, Big Daddy. The scene were little Julian shows off his spitting skills. As he makes his spit touch the ground and then sucks it right back up without spilling a drop. Remember how proud he was after he did it?

Anyways, the is a big difference between what little Julian did and the actual test. When Jeff tests me, he pins my arms down, and sit on my stomach. Like that isn't torture enough! Then, he does the Julian thing right over my face. Being immobilized, there is nothing to be done other than laugh as spit dips down toward your face. "The Great American Torture Test" never ends as cleanly as Julian's spitting expedition. I always wind up with spit on my face. It starts with a little trickle, but will eventually turn into a nice big glob in the middle of my face. 

So, with the revelation of the above article, I believe I can have Jeff arrested on similar grounds. I like knowing that it is an option. Most likely, I will not bring any action against my husband. I thought at first that maybe it could teach him a lesson. But, I have decided I do not want my husband to have to shower in prison, I don't want to have to waste money bailing him out, and I don't want him to be an ex-con for the rest of his life. 

Besides, at this point, I would love to undergo "The Great American Torture Test!" 

Car Alarm

My parents live on a very quick, no-outlet street. The only cars that come down their street are their neighbors. So, I was shocked to hear a car alarm going off.

Since I was already up, getting ready to fill my bowl with my second helping of ice cream, I decided to check and see what was going on. To my surprise, it was my car alarm going off. My immediate response was to go take care of it. If there was somebody breaking into my car, I would certainly scare them away. As I made my way down the driveway in the dark, I started to question that initial thought of scaring somebody away. But, I realized that there was very little chance someone was actually breaking into my car.

Nobody was. As soon as I opened the unlocked door, the alarm shut off and everything was all quiet on the home-front. I returned inside unsure of what could have set the alarm off to begin with. Shea was waiting for me at the door, curious about the minor chaos outside. As we both sat back down, the alarm kicked in again. I ran immediately to shut it off. Now, not the least bit concerned about someone breaking into the car, just not wanting my car's alarm to be a nuisance to the neighbors.

When I returned to the house again, Shea was waiting for me, curiosity at a peak. As I settled into a chair, Shea laid down next to me. "BEEP, BEEP, BEEP." The alarm again. What the hell was going on? I ran out to turn it off. If it happened again I decided I would break the alarm with my own two-hands, because I know exactly how to go about doing that.

Inside, before I sat down, I observed. Noticing my purse, with my keys attached to it, set against the chair I'd been sitting in. There it was. Every time Shea sat down, he was sitting on the car remote, setting off the alarm.

I moved my bag, and all was solved.

An Electronic Disappearance

I have a flight booked to go visit Jeff next weekend. Needless to say, I am very excited. One week from tomorrow I will be there. The only real question I have is, how long will the next week seem? 

In buying my plane tickets, I used a gift certificate my lovely brother-in-law, Jonathan, got for Jeff and I for our anniversary. Wasn't that a great idea? Yea, I think so too. I'm not even trying to suck up, although with Jonathan, I can use all the sucking up I can get. 

You see, Jonathan sent the gift certificate electronically. Very convenient. Only problem, really, was that I erased the email when I was trying to get rid of my junk mail. Unfortunately I didn't realize that the gift certificate was not junk mail. So, when I went to go use it to help pay for next weekend's trip, I was stumped! 

The first thing I thought was, "crap, Jeff is going to kill me for losing this thing." He didn't. Maybe because I haven't seen him yet. Or, maybe because he had accidentally deleted his copy of it as well. Then, even more dreaded than telling Jeff, was telling Jonathan. We both knew Jonathan had the receipt with the gift certificate number on it. 

Jeff manned up and asked Jonathan for it. He then, sent another copy of the gift certificate to every single email address we have. The email message he included with the forwarded message read, "You guys are jerks and will not even get a phone call this year." So, I am in need of brownie points with Jonathan. If only I could figure out a way to teach Diggy how to stop eating his poop! I imagine that would warrant forgiveness!

The Courtyard

I have a beautiful view from my classroom. Instead of look at a parking lot, the playground, or a dumpster, my windows face the courtyard. A beautiful little green area with minimal distractions. Today, however, there were major distractions. When I say major, I mean major!

A few minutes before lunch, we were working on some math. I happened to glance out at the beautiful courtyard for a moment and caught a peculiar view out of the corner of my eye. The principal and assistant principal were out there, holding a massive blanket, slowly creeping up to my window. What on earth was going on? I wanted to stare and figure out what they were doing. I decided against it, as 25 recess-anxious fifth graders would have been unable to control for the next ten minutes if they got a load of this!

So, I did my best to not draw attention to the twilight zone of a scene going on outside my window, while keeping a curious eye on it. Then, all my slyness was blown when out of nowhere, "BANG," something smashed into one of the large classroom windows. Of course, everyone turned to see a large bird of some sort go flying past the remainder of the windows. It was a safety hazard as all 25 kids jumped up and ran to the window.

I promised them I would find out what the flying creature was while they were at recess and lunch. And, once they realized that the bird-like creature was gone, they calmed down some. Just in time to go out to recess.

Turns out the bird was actually a peacock. A student at school had it as a pet. It got loose from it's cage and somehow ended up at school, in the courtyard, and banging into my window. This makes me wonder if, like so many animals, peacock's have a very strong sense of smell and this peacock actually tracked down the kids at school.

Who knows? I don't know anything about peacocks, except that for the rest of the day, it was walking around the roof of our school.

Glasses

My mother is old! A few day ago she called me to ask me if I accidentally took her glasses. I didn't.

Each day since she has continued to ask me. She was completely flabbergasted about where her glasses could have went. Knowing my mother, the first place I looked was on her face. They weren't there. Then the top of her head. Weren't there either. So, I too, was at a loss.

She search high and low to no avail. She even picked through the garbage. Then, she came up with the only solution she could think of: blaming Shea. Shea must have eaten her glasses, because he does things like that so often. I leave my glasses on the bedside table every night and he has never eaten my glasses. He's never eaten Jeff's glasses (minus that one pair of sunglasses and one pair of regular glasses, way back when).

The thing is, when she first blamed Shea, I was pretty sure she was joking. However, with her continuing failing searches, I could tell she couldn't get it out of her mind. She kept asking him what he did with her glasses. She suddenly began to resemble an alcoholic who lies to themselves enough that they begin to believe what they are saying.  I could tell when she kept telling me she couldn't find her glasses she was insinuating that my dog had eaten them.

Lo and behold, today, my mother found her glasses. Amazingly, Shea did not eat them. I knew he wouldn't do that kind of thing anymore. She had dropped them while she was outside. Luckily they didn't get run over by the lawn mower. I can't come up with any other conclusion as to how this could have happened than, simply, my mother is old.

No Life

Out playing with Shea, I began chatting with a neighbor. Neighborly chat about this and that. Work, his kids, the weather, the lawn. Then, he dropped a bombshell of what was supposed to be a compliment on.

"Out of all the dog owners I have ever seen, you put the most time into your dog."

The guy was just being nice. But, do you see where that can be kind of a sad revelation? I am such a loser. I have no life. So much so that I put all my time and energy into my dog. I have nothing better to do. While that keeps me perfectly content, it is a somewhat sad existence. 

The man can make this comment because he sees me when he leaves for work in the morning, running with Shea. When he gets home from work, I am running with Shea. And, when he is checking on his two young children playing in the backyard, I am running back and forth chasing Shea around. He must secretly wonder if I do anything else. Anything at all. 

At least in the past I could grocery shop, do laundry, and attempt to cook for Jeff. So, thank you neighbor for your kind words and hidden message of my life's patheticness. 

A Sleepover

My brother Nick is so lucky. Last night, we went to my Godson's 6th birthday party. Nick, the lucky guy that he is, was asked to sleep over by the birthday boy. And really, how do you say no to the birthday boy? Especially when the birthday boy will probably slap you in the face if the n-word dare come out of your mouth. So, almost needless-to-say, Nick slept over.

Nick, a pretty easy going guy, was a little nervous about the sleep over. For the last time Nick slept over it didn't go so well. It was about a year ago. So, what could go so terribly wrong when sleeping over with a five-year old? Can't think of much. Since he has a queen sized bed, there was room for Nick and the little guy. The little guy just happened to wet the bed. He wet the bed with a stream strong enough to soak through the sheets to Nick's side of the bed.

I have to believe that when you are no where near the point of having children, as my brother just happens to be, makes this 900 times worse than it already is. With that, I completely understood Nick's fear going into this sleep over. 

Nick made it home today unscathed. Sleepless, but unscathed. He laid awake all night keeping an eye on the little guy, making sure there were no signs of possible bed wetting. Maybe he managed to make it through the night because he was comatose from all of the partying and undercover spying.

Too bad Jeff missed all of the fun! I'm sure he would have been invited to sleep over too. 

Shea Day

A note to the reader: I wanted to wait until the Mets/Cardinals game was over. I thought it was going to happen when the Mets scored a run in the 19th inning. Yes, that is not a typo, I mean the 19th inning. But, lo-and-behold, the Cardinals tied it up 1-1 in the bottom of the 19th. So I am here, typing this up and watching the Mets game. Cut me a little slack if I do not write in complete sentences.

I declare today, Shea Day. It was certainly a day that completely revolved around him. I know what you are thinking: everyday seems to revolve completely around him. Well, yes that is true in a way. But today was extreme.

This morning we got up and rather than going out for our normal run and game of fetch, I drove Shea to run in a doggie-race. The race was to benefit a local animal shelter. It was a 5k (3.1 miles) around a local college campus. On top of the actual running race, it is quite a sight to see when all these dogs are gathered in the general vicinity.

The race itself was wonderful. Shea was so overwhelmed with all going on around him that he sprinted nearly the entire time. He stopped once to let out a little squirt and greeted a few of the workers along the trail. Other than that, the only deterrent was when we ran past my mother. He must have smelled her because he was looking for her like crazy. Once he actually saw her, he just kept running. I knew he didn't like her that much anyways! We finished in a respectable 24:11. He's a dog, and he's running right around 8-minute miles. I will take it! 

While it was most definitely a wonderful thing to do with Shea, I wouldn't deem the doggie fun run event significant enough to name a day after it. But, seeing as there was a charity dog walk about twenty miles north of the dog run, I figured I'd make a full day out of exercising my big guy. 

The dog walk was also a good time. There were all sorts free dog treats and contests. I was hoping Shea would win the "best wagging tail," but there was a a dog that weighed about 4 pounds whose tail wagged as fast as a torpedo. He won. I was happy, however, to not win the "pet/owner look alike" award. Don't get me wrong, Shea is a handsome dog, but I don't want to look like him. 

All of these festivities were followed with a nice three mile walk. Enough of a fun filled day to leave Shea sleeping like a baby since 5:00 pm. Pure bliss! On top of that, while Jeff finds it hard to believe, he was perfectly behaved. A little gentleman. 

And, by the way, the Mets pulled out a 2-1 victory in the 20th inning. Minus the rain and Jeff's absence, today made for a good day all-round. 

Chew-fest

As Shea has gotten older, he has really eased up on his chewing. He knows, for the most part, his bones and toys are for chewing, and sneakers, furniture, and human arms are not. This is major progress from the puppy who left my arms bruised from constant biting.

Shea and I were out on our evening romp. He had been chasing the ball for close to an hour, when I leashed him back up and was ready to head home. As we were lightly jogging out of the park I began talking to another park patron. She was quite long winded and the conversation lasted too long for Shea's liking. So, he simply chewed through his leash and set himself free.

Luckily, he is so well trained that when I called his name in the most forceful voice I can muster, he came running with his tail wagging, hoping to play some more fetch. Being the resourceful person that I am, I took the largest piece of leash and hooked it snuggly around Shea's collar. While it was not the most ideal sturdiness of a leash to have a 75 pound dog on, it would have to do.

We made it home and Shea chewed through one of his toys. Not sure what was going on today, but I was happy all of my socks were tucked securely in my dresser. Unlucky for my father, his underwear was out in the open.

I think Shea is acting out because he misses Jeff. I may start to act out soon too!

The Talk

I held a week old baby today. What an amazing thing! He was so teeny and sweet.

The boy belonged to a parent of one of my students. As I was standing there, naturally holding her newborn, she told me she needed to talk about the older one; the one in my class. It seems as though with the new baby around, hormones flying in 5th grade, and the possibility of overhearing other kids talking about the new "friend" girls ages 10-15 get, this little girl, we will call her Suzie, has become curious about where babies come from. How did she get in her mom's belly? How did baby Austin get in her mom's belly? The simple, "God gave you/him to us," wasn't working this time.

Somehow, with extreme uncomfortableness, this mother found a way to back herself out of this conversation. She wanted me to know, mostly because she wants to know when I am going to talk to Suzie and the rest of my class about this stuff. She thinks I am the one who should get the ball rolling.

Talk about pressure. I thought that was a parent's job. Especially these parents that are involved. Oh well, I guess I will figure out a way to answer all of these unheard of questions. Seems as though this kind of thing has been hitting me in the face as of late. A sign of what's to come I guess.

But, on an extremely positive, something else that is to come is reuniting with Jeff. I cannot wait!

Six Long Years

My Godson is turning six. Ironic how he is my "God"son, but is actually the spawn of satan. All that's missing is the horns and tail.

At first, it didn't strike me. But now, I think, and I can't believe he is six. I can't believe it for a few reasons, and they are all contradictory. One-I never realized that he actually made it past the terrible twos. I thought things got better after two. Apparently he dropped the two, but kept the terrible! Two - since spending five minutes with him equivalent of a grueling five hours, it seems as though he has been around for a long time now. Well beyond six years. Three-he is a giant. A freak of nature almost. Since the day he was born we deemed him a line-backer. He never fit in anything less than six-month old clothes. 

At my school, it is a rarity for a kindergartner to get sent to the principal's office. For him, he goes at least once a week, sometimes more. Some of his antics include, but are not limited to, telling the librarian that she is evil (if that isn't calling the pot black, I don't know what is), booing a book about President Obama and shouting, "Obama sucks! Obama sucks!", and telling his teacher to shove a book up her booty. This is not normal, don't you agree?

Anyways, in looking for a safe gift to give to a little imp of a boy, I have had some difficulty. It is a sad truth, that almost anything can become a weapon for this child. So, with the help of my lovely, angelic seeming fifth graders, I have come to the conclusion that he will get a Pillow Pal. 

He surely will hit people with it, but it will do less damage than say, a baseball bat or a light saber. 

Gerbels

Tomorrow we pass out third quarter report cards. Wow! That means only one quarter to go. And while this is a positive on almost counts, there is one thing holding back total elation. Puberty class.

That's right, I get the distinct honor of teaching "changing" fifth graders all about those changes. Separately of course, considering that boys and girls "change" differently. So, while I am not all that uncomfortable with the thought of it, I'd rather not do it at all. With these thoughts in my mind, a friend, unbeknownst to them, sent me this article to read. 

The "Talk"

With the six-year old asking, "can I do that to you," I get a little freaked out. Laughing hysterically, cause that is funny, but a little apprehensive about what my puberty class could turn into. I think we only need to talk about the actual changes that come along with puberty. But, I imagine that one can easily lead to another. 

I guess we will just have to wait and see. 

Passport

Today I went to get a new passport. What a stinkin' process! Actually, it really isn't when you think about it. You just have to go, get your picture taken, and fill out some paper work. The only thing that actually takes time is getting to passport cleared and mailed.

The passport people have some major rules and regulations for the pictures. I was not aware of this. First, the girl told me I was not allowed to smile. Little did she know how hard that is for me. Next, she made me take my earrings out and my necklace off. Apparently no jewelry is allowed in passport photos. And lastly, she asked me remove my shirt. I'm not joking. I got a little uncomfortable at this point and wasn't sure if she was really qualified to be taking this photo. I somewhat remember being able to smile last time I got a passport. Lucky for me, she was only kidding. She was okay with me having that on. Sick sense of humor that girl had.

From her shirt request and her way of talking to me, I am pretty sure she was hitting on me. Somewhat uncomfortable and nervous, I began to giggle. It is my natural reaction to discomfort. This instinct compounded with the difficulty I have not smiling, especially when a camera is stuck in my face, did not make for a good combination.

After a few takes where I simply broke down laughing, I used the strategy of biting the inside of my mouth. It hurt, but seemed to work a bit better. It only took two more tries once I started doing this. When she showed me the pictures I was devastated by how mean and nasty I looked. I could never imagine myself being this mean.

Scary right? Definitely, as most passport photos seem to be, a mugshot. There is no doubt that if I commit a crime, that is the photo they are sticking on the television screen and in the newspapers. They won't show me as the sweet, smiling person I really am.

Anyways, as I was leaving the girl handed me my receipt. She gave me a sly wink on my way out, somewhat creepy. But hey, that picture of me is pretty darn creepy too! 

A Trimmer

My mother asked me to trim the hedges out in the back. She went on to explain how I had done such a wonderful job on the ones in the front last year that she wanted me to do them again. I'm not sure if she really meant this, or just wanted someone to do them so she didn't have to. Either way, I conceded and trimmed.

Well, it did not go as well as it did last year. The trimming I did today was nothing to write home about! The bushes looked lob sided and off kilter. I was not happy with my failure. I had high expectations for the outcome of my trimming and this was just not up to par!

What do you think? Give me a break, I didn't do that bad of a job. Those aren't even our hedges. Here is part of my real masterpiece:

My mom told me I did a wonderful job. Again, not sure if she really meant it or just was happy somebody did something for her. Lord knows you won't find the males in our family doing anything like this. They are off galavanting in their khaki shorts and collared shirts, most likely shopping for, well, more khaki shorts and collared shirts. So, when there are things to get done, that leaves my mom and me.

But really, the hedges weren't too bad. Not great either though. Very mediocre. No wonder Jeff won't let me cut his hair anymore; nobody wants a mediocre hair cut! 

Home?

When Shea and I run, I do a lot of thinking. This morning, my last in Ohio, was no different. In fact, the wheels were turning even more rapidly as I retraced my week and loathed the trip ahead. Suddenly, mid-step, I realized I did not post last night. Whoops! I was thinking you would cut me some slack since this whole blog thing is about Jeff and I being apart, and, well, we weren't apart last night. In fact, it was our last night together and since I was so enthralled in my time with him, it slipped my mind to write. Forgiven? Thanks!

So, that leaves me at today. Yea, today. And although I should appreciate each day as a gift from God, I'd be lying if I said I appreciated today. Would you? Saying goodbye to my husband until an unforeseen date, followed by seven hours of driving doesn't leave much room for a good day. However, I am trying to have a rosy outlook on life in general. So, here are some things that are helping me to appreciate today:

1) I got to wake up next to Jeff.
2) I didn't have to run with ice whipping in my face like yesterday morning.
3) Shea has 4 legs (we saw a 3-legged dog today).
4) The sun was shining.
5) Shea and I made it back to NY safely.


On a side note, I no longer call anywhere home. While Cleveland should be my home, it is silly to call a place I have stayed a total of three weeks in the past nine months a home. And here, in NY, I am split between two houses. Plus, I believe a big part of a house being a home is the people who are there. When I am with Jeff, I am home.

In conclusion, (that sounds like a bad closing to a middle school essay) I have made it back home but I am not home. Confusing, I know. Oh well, I am very exciting to know that it is April and this madness is almost over!

D & B's

I have been waiting for tonight since Jeff moved out here to Cleveland. I always hear the commercials and I want to "eat, drink, and play." Tonight was my chance. And boy, did I eat, drink (water), and play!

Most importantly I played at Dave and Buster's. Well, we played. Jeff and I that is. We seemed to, surprisingly, hone in on the basketball games. Laying out a major bet on the line. I am very easy to make the suggestion of betting, however I suck at coming up with terms. So, when Jeff asked what the terms were, I blurted out "If you win, I'll get you an iPad. If I win, you have to go camping with me." Yea, those almost seem fair. But, those were the terms going into our best of three shoot out. 

It was a long hard battle. I didn't realize how much Jeff disliked the idea of camping until his panties got all in a bunch. He was getting very frustrated as the games were very tight. When all was said and done, I came away with the victory. I threw my arms in the air and giggled at the thought of Jeff having to go camping. Then, he completely shot me down declaring that we was not going camping. When I came up with "real" terms, we could play another round. Sore loser?

I decided on a shopping spree at Nike. I could find a thing or two there for the price of an iPad. So we went at it again. Sad to say, Jeff won. In fact, he was completely fair and let us play an extra round for the championship. That's ok, I know he wants that iPad more than I want a Nike shopping spree, and a camping trip for that matter! 

As we walked out of our first, and most spectacular, Dave and Buster's experience, I realized what I really should have been playing for; the exact game that we were playing! I would just love one of those. 

Time

I wish I could slow down time. It's going too fast. When my mother jokingly asked me today, "are you going to come home? Ever?" Really, I wish I wasn't. I shouldn't. This should be my home. And, while my time here is flying by simply because of good company, the time until I move here will seem like an eternity.

Witness

Jeff and I became witnesses tonight. No, not Jahovah Witnesses. We went to a Cleveland Cavaliers game tonight. We can officially say we are witness to what is Lebron James.

Besides Lebron's amazingness, there were some interesting things going on at the Cavs game. First and foremost, the neighbors to our right were wasted beyond all coherence. So, what else was there to do but order more beer? Drunk and Drunker had nothing better to do than try to make friends with Jeff. Any great play Drunker would jump up into the air, screaming like a maniac, spilling beer, and slapping Jeff until he'd give him a high-five. Personally, I found it funny. Jeff, I think he found it quite annoying. I realized the ramifications of Drunker's drunkenness when I picked up my bag off the floor at the end of the game. It was drenched with the beer he had been spilling with his joyous celebrations.

We certainly didn't let Drunker ruin our time. I enjoyed the game and the atmosphere. I think, while it was an NBA game, the atmoshere is unmatched. Especially in comparison to other NBA games I've been to. This type of atmosphere could only happen in Cleveland. No, not because Cleveland is my Paris. Simply because the greatest player to currently be playing in the NBA calls Cleveland home.