Sunday, February 27, 2005


I love my husband. I really do. He is the force that keeps me centered, grounded, and focused. He supports me in all that I do, even when I have lost my mind. He is my best friend, the one I can tell everything to. He understands my ups, my downs, my aggravations, and things that make me go hmmm. But he isn't a girl.

There is a special bond between girlfriends that scientists have yet to decipher. Girlfriends can get together once a day, once a week, once a month, or even once a year, and pick up like they never were apart. Girlfriends will listen to you cry, listen to you bitch, and listen to you. Really listen to you. They understand the emotional ups and downs of monthly hormonal changes. They understand if you want to cry because the Hertz commercial was endearing. They understand the sanctity of Girls Night Out, and they understand when the damn dry cleaner shrinks your favorite pants once a month.

Since moving to San Diego, I haven't had a lot of girlfriend time. And as the saying goes, you don't know what you got til it's gone. So I had the fortunate opportunity to get together with some girlfriends this Sunday and laugh, and love, and have a good time. It is amazing the things that laughter does for your health. Don't believe me? Read THIS.

So I did a good thing for myself today. I had lunch with some girlfriends, and Wednesday I'll have dinner with another.

When is the last time you laughed?

Friday, February 25, 2005


Black Beach Cave Posted by Hello

This is one of my favorite pictures. It was taken in Maui, in May. We had traveled the Road to Hana the whole day in a convertible Mustang with two of our best friends. We had stopped at this beach to see the black sand and have a picnic lunch. I need life to be that simple again.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Call Noah and Gather the Animals

When my husband asked me about a year and a half ago where I would NOT want to move to, the first word out of my mouth was California, followed by West Virginia. I apologize right now to any West Virginians, as I had just seen the movie Wrong Turn and didn't want to go anywhere near that state.

And California, well, it was just too damn expensive.

So he came home three months later and said "Honey, how about San Diego?" Now, to see my husband, is to love him, and he can have the cutest faces, and well, it's hard to say no to him. Really, really hard. So we put the house up for sale, packed up our game and headed out west, sucka, cause we wanted to be cowboys, baby. Oh wait, that was Kid Rock. Anyway...

So we moved to sunny San Diego. Well, call the mayor, alert the press, and hose down the neighbors, because I want my money back. It has rained here. A Lot. More than Seattle this year. That's right folks, we're beating Seattle in record rainfall this year. And it's only February 23. One year and one day to the date that we made this journey to the land of Sea World and sandy beaches. Tanned bodies and Trader Joe's.

People's houses are sliding down hills. I saw on the news last night a couple in Bel Air had their pool DETACH from the house and slide down the hill. It was actually kinda funny, for a second. Then I felt bad for them. After all, now what are Carlton and Hillary going to do for fun this summer?

But I digress. I am tired of the rain. And in my morning prayers in the shower this morning, I told God I felt enough was enough. This was, of course, after the power went out in my neighborhood, so I had to do my makeup in the dusk, had no hair dryer, and basically felt like crap because I had no coffee. But I said it anyway. And on the way to work, I saw it. Bright and big and plain as day. A rainbow in the sky. There it was in all of it's primary color glory. I hallelujah'ed and praised Jesus like a Baptist woman on Sunday. I even pulled over my car and took pictures with my camera phone.

And I told the Man Himself, I was holding Him to His Promise to not ever flood the earth again.

And all day long, it's been sunny skies. Welcome to San Diego.

Friday, February 11, 2005

Viva Las Vegas, Baby/The Passing of an Age

My husband has many acquaintances. He knows a lot of people. But I can honestly say that the handful of friends he has is quality. He has, and he might beg to differ, five quality friends, three of which he has known since high school.

Most of these friends (about 95% of them) turn 30 this year. Yes, they were all 1975 deliveries. And most of them have birthdays in the beginning of the year.

One of our friends who just turned 30 on Monday is celebrating with a blowout weekend in fabulous Las Vegas. Where else should a grown man mourn the passing of his twenties? What's that you say? Men don't mourn it? I beg to differ.

Case In Point: Everytime we get a phone call from one of the group regarding said "thirtieth" birthday, they are WHINING about it. Oh yeah, I said it. Whining about it.

Most of you know and some of you don't, but I celebrated my 30th THREE years ago. So yes, I am older than my husband. And I partied like a rock star. And to be truthful, I LIKE being 33. I like being in my thirties period. I didn't mourn the passing of my twenties. I like being the OLDER woman.

So long story short, we are headed to Vegas, baby, to party like rock stars for the weekend. And if I win a million dollars, I won't be back.

Oh alright - I'll write, but I won't be back to WORK.

Stay dry!