So I just figured out how to post things to my blog directly from Flickr, and it’s so totally cool! So much easier than my old method, which was to upload pictures to Flickr, then download them to my desktop (because the originals were too large), and then upload them to the blog.
Yay for streamlining!!
In honor, here’s another picture from that one time when I went on vacation. Remember that? That was fun.
Yesterday, Tonks was in Super Adorable Puppy mode, where all she did was snuggle with me and lie around the floor watching me go about my business. No biting. No trying to run away with my slacks while I tried to put them on. Nothing. Just cute.
Today? Not so much. Today I have an inch long scratch on my arm because I didn’t throw her ball fast enough. I had to take her out 4 times because she kept ringing the damn bells and even though she was driving me NUTS, I still want her to know that ringing the bells = outside to potty. Then, when I was almost ready to go, I put her up behind the baby gate and she promptly ran over to her water bowl, dumped it over, rolled around in it, and then set to work covering every last millimeter with muddy paw prints.
Good times. Good times.
I gave her a stern lecture on how we are not morning people, and she’d best learn that and save all her crazy psycho energy for…well, for never, but if she must, then for when we’re actually, you know, playing. I don’t think she listened.
So I got tagged for a meme by Nicole. I don’t know what a meme is. Is it like “me!me!” or is it like “meem”? Anyone?
Any-hoodle. Here’s the dealio.
“List one fact, word or tidbit that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your first or middle name. You can theme it to your blog or make it general. Then tag one person for each letter of your name.”
I’m going to go with my real name, cause Wonderspot is just way too long and I’m fucking lazy.
E: Empathetic
I am one of those “bleeding heart liberals” my dad always used to make jokes about. I know it doesn’t seem like it, cause in the interweb world, I’m pretty much a bitch (a funny bitch, but still). I blush when other people feel embarassed. I STILL cry in ET when little Drew Barrymore thinks ET is dead. I pretend to be hard core, but really, I can’t stand for anyone around me, real or TV/Movie, is less than happy.
M: Mysterious
JS sometimes calls me Secret Agent Girl because I tend to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. For the longest time he had no idea I was interested in him. This can be a good thing; I can be professional in tight situations. But also, it means I have to work very hard on being open and honest when it’s important (ie: in relationships). But it’s always worth the effort, I think.
I: Irreverent
Yeah. Uh, nothing is sacred, anything can be a joke. Unless it’s about me or I don’t find it amusing. Then all bets are off. Cause I really AM a bitch. Ha ha. You thought I was nice. Ha ha.
L: Lucid
I don’t know. I tend to make sense? Sometimes? I’m not ALWAYS drunk?
Y: Dear God, Y? Really? A “y” word? Shit. Yeager!
So when I worked at Camp I would teach kids about Chuck Yeager. He was a pretty cool pilot. Look him up. But the coolest thing is that we had a bunk room (we called them Bays) called Bong. BONG. Ha ha. He was a pilot, too. But, seriously, we caught kids with pot staying in Bong Bay. Too good to make up.
And now I’m supposed to tag 5 people to do the meme (the number of letters in my name). I don’t have 5 blogging friends. So I’ll tag John. I’ll tag Zoot, cause we’re both from Huntsville and I’m hoping she’ll feel some solidarity (Hunts-Vegas in da HOOOOUUUUUSE!). I’ll tag Name That Mama cause I love their blog even if I never comment on it cause I suck. Erm…I’ll tag Matt, cause we share comments sometimes. ANNNND, for number 5, I’ll tag Jon, who also has a great blog that I read often and don’t comment on enough.
So even if these guys don’t post a meme, then I hope that you read their blogs anyway cause they’re super good.
Ta-da!
I love Christmas.
Love.
Love love love love.
I love the decorations. I love the lights in windows. I love the ginger flavored cookies. I love the secrets. I love shopping for the perfect present. I love the smell of pine trees. I love the smell of baking. I love the music; O Holy Night is my favorite Christmas Song. I love the church services about the birth of Jesus. About the story of Mary - an unlikely teenage mother….to the son of God. I love the toddlers singing carols in church - the little boys staring into the distance or poking the kid standing next to them, the little girls pulling their dresses up over their heads.
I start early. November 1, and I’m ready to string up my lights and bust out my Christmas Fun playlist on my iPod. Most people wait until after Thanksgiving. My feeling is that one month is not NEARLY enough time to celebrate. I want to spend as much time as I can in the joy, the peace, the generosity. The good will. Also? My birthday is in the season. My mom always told me I was born on the first day of Christmas, but once I learned how to add (about a month or so ago), I realized she was a day off, but still. I claim the Partridge in the Pear Tree as MINE, bitch, so back off.
And yet, it’s also complicated. As for many people, the holidays can be a hard time. It’s the anniversary of a lot of bad times for me. I attempted suicide in December (it’ll be 10 years this year). Last year I was drugged and assaulted on New Years.
Somehow, it doesn’t bother me much (OK, not TOO much). I’m aware that I have a hard time this season. But I’m also aware that it’s in the past and that it isn’t my life now. Of course, this will be the first anniversary of my rape, and I’m not sure EXACTLY how I’ll react to it, but I feel confident. I have a good support system and I got into counseling ASAP, so I think I’m not into too much danger of developing bad thought patterns.
Plus, how can I stay in a moody mood when there are hot cocoas to drink and fuzzy socks to wear and babies with knit hats to oggle?
I love the sun. So day light savings time Fall Version is not my favorite time of the year. It means it’s dark when I drive home from work, even when I cut out early. Sad. (Also, it reminds me very much of working at Camp, when I went to work when it was dark, and drove home when it was dark….of course, that tends to happen when your hours are 5:30Am to 12:30AM…but still.)
YET, this weekend was fabulous. It was JS’s Birthday on Friday. I’m huge on birthdays (mine is coming in December. If you want to buy me something, just let me know and I’ll send you a wish list). I took him to the Hotel Del Coronado for dinner on Friday night. It was wonderful. Romantic. Quiet. Waves crashing in the background. I’m sure it sounds nauseating, but it was wonderful. I had a glass of Pinot Noir and the Fillet. So. Yummy. Beyond belief.
Then my younger cousin, Plumpy, came home from Boston and we all went out to dinner Saturday night. I took it easy and just ordered the Tortilla Soup (plus 2 margaritas, but who’s counting?). Aside from that, though, I pretty much just lounged around with JS all weekend long. We watched football. I napped very adorably, I’m sure, with a minimal amount of drool and snoring, while the Colts heartbreakingly lost in the last 10 minutes. The jerks.
We took Tonks to an open field and let her run around off leash. She had a blast. She found yet another stick about 5x her size and ran around with it. Then today there was a Pee-Wee baseball game going on her field, and she had a grand-ole-time watching the kids play and making friends with the younger siblings dragged along by supportive parents.
I haven’t even bathed today. I think I washed my face at one point, but I’m not sure.
I love weekends like this.