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| It seems like this Valentines Day was a successful one for most of my friends. After a rough start to mine (Nick's sister going into labor and the worst hangover I've had since high school) I also had a pretty good one. I cooked a large meal for Nick (which we really only picked at since our stomachs were still pretty upset from the wild partying Monday), threw a heart streamer on the couch and renamed it "the love seat" (which Nick thought was cute and funny -- hungover people are an easy crowd) and lit a woodwick candle, which has a wooden wick (imagine) that emits a crackling sound like a fireplace. It was very nice. We had a nice romantic evening wondering aloud every 15 minutes when we were going to get the call about the baby (didn't come until 9 a.m the next morning -- 24 hours of labor. God bless Dani).
So Nick's an uncle now (Nonc Nick to be exact), and little Kaitlyn is going to call me Tante Monk. Tante as in the French word for aunt, and Monk because I used to think the "Monk" TV show was really about a monk, and Dani thought that was so funny that I should be ridiculed forever with the nickname. So am I allowed to call her my niece? I think Nick is a little reserved about that. He is already very possessive of his niece, and it is well documented that he and I are just friends (yeah right). So she's not really my niece, but with the "tante" in my name and the fact that Nick and I probably will get married some day, it seems only fair that I be able to call her my niece too.
So I just finished reading "Bones of the Moon," which is book 3 of 24 for the year. I don't read too much fiction, but Mom had bought me this one for Christmas. It was definitely interesting. I really don't like fantasy books (outside Harry Potter, of course), but this wasn't too bad. The back cover did not explain the book at all, and I kept waiting for things to happen that never did. There definitely must have been a deeper level to the book that I didn't get. It would probably be good as a novel you read in English class. I have now fallen back into my comfortable world of nonfiction (kind of) and am now reading "When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops" by George Carlin. | | |
| I watched the two-hour series finale of "Arrested Development" this weekend (which Nick kindly taped for me since I was working) and I've never been so impressed with a show. It's horrible that such a great show has no ratings. If anybody who reads this hasn't seen the series, it's three seasons long, and worth every minute. Seasons 1 and 2 are on DVD, so go buy them! I realize this is one big commercial for a TV show, but have I ever steered you wrong? | | |
| I'm not listening to anything right now, but the song in my head is Nickel Creek's "Hanging by a Thread," which is the only Nickel Creek song I like. The song reminds me of how I felt before Nick moved in with me. No question, I survived four years of seeing him only a couple times a month, but it didn't feel right. When Nick decided to move to Shreveport, I was floating on all kinds of clouds, and in the past year and a half we've had a chance to work out a lot of things that hindered our relationship in the past and start to move forward. Since nobody else can understand, I hope I never forget that no matter how screwed up things may still be between us, it's 10 times better than it was when we were apart.
When is it time to stop following your instincts and take the advice of your friends, the people who love you most? How many times do people have to tell you you're wrong before you start to believe them? Does it get to the point where you take their advice just to get them off your back? What happens when you take that advice and realize you were right all along? The things you said were other people's words, but it's too late to take them back. What the hell am I supposed to do now? | | |
| So this last week has been absolutely crazy. Work stress, home stress, ahhh, it's never ending! I want to crawl under a rock for about a week. (Don't read into the song I'm listening to; I really like the song, but if anything, it makes me NOT want to kill myself.)
My friend Kelli called yesterday. She just celebrated her 1 year anniversary with her boyfriend. Sorry, I mean her fiance. He's not a bad guy, but I've met him before under different circumstances, and he's not anybody I'd be best friends with. Anyway, she's pregnant now, and she called to say they're having a small wedding ceremony next month, but it's just for immediate family. Translation: "I expect a gift, but you're not invited." I love Kelli, but I'd expect nothing less.
I finished reading Michael Jordan's book "Driven from Within." I'm 2 down, 22 to go. The book was good and it gave a lot of insight into the designs of the Air Jordan shoes. It's a lot more thought than I'd ever put into a shoe, but I love Michael Jordan and I'd expect nothing less.
I took Royko to PetSmart this weekend to get a bath and hair cut. He's so cute, and he doesn't shed as much anymore. Usually after they bathe the dog they give him a bandana to wear around his neck. My dad thinks it looks gay and calls it a fagdana. He'll be so happy to know Royko didn't get the fagdana this time, as PetSmart is opting to give out Valentines Day bows for dogs to wear on their collars. It's cute. I call it Royko's Boy Bow. | | |
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