And with only dropping about a dozen f-bombs. . .

Last weekend was the Nashville Heart Gala. It's like having 400 people over for dinner. And my role was to make sure they were charged for their meals properly. Well, not exactly.

We had a staff member leave about 2 weeks ago, so my friend Jennifer and I were given the role of learning the software system and running the behind the scenes. It was not a fun thing. Actually, the night of the event was cake. It was the two nights leading up to it that stressed me out. Lots of things to enter and lists to pull, but only so much time.

And to add to the fun, Friday was National Wear Red Day. So our fantastic volunteers were out making things happen so that I could be available to do other things. It was like being in 6 places at once.

But just in the midst of everything, when I was coming home at 10:30 for the second night in a row, I looked up and saw three buildings that I had coordinated in going Red for the night. They were three of five. Suddenly, I felt more productive than I had all week. It was a good feeling.

Snow days that weren't so bad

Before I get too far into this, I'll admit it. I'm one of those Northerners who chuckles obnoxiously at southern snowfall. Others warn me to be careful driving in the weather and I reply "No worries. I took my driving test in the snow."

It's smug and I realize it. It's also one of the few perks I have coming from the North in the eyes of my Southern brethren. I mean, I'm a Yankee and it's often told to me in disdain. Others try to place my origin as I've had enough of the southern twang seep in to my previously flat accent to throw people off.

But I digress.

We got about 4 inches of snow in my little corner of the world. Four inches in Indiana is not enough to call off school, delay work or do anything other than add shoveling snow to your day's to do list. But that amount in Nashville is enough to paralyze the city. Honestly, I'm rather thankful because there are too many people unfamiliar with driving in snow and it's slow intricacies. It can be dangerous to be out with others.

For me, it was a great weekend. The snow on Friday night made it seem like the restaurants open in my neighborhood that would normally be bursting with business were quietly open just for me and Chef to enjoy. Snow slows things down so much that my email inbox wasn't bursting at the seams and my Saturday was spent lounging and working at my leisure.

So I say "Thank You, Snow" for the break. Now get out of here. We've got a Heart Gala next week and this stuff better be gone.

It truly has been my day

I'm 31. Not a big birthday, but a birthday nonetheless. And I learned an important lesson a few years ago. I'm not so important that I can't take a day off of work (even during the busy season) for my birthday. It took a while for my inflated ego to realize it, but once I did, I became a much happier person. I've done the simple thing of taking the day off the last two years and it's made all the difference.

Today has been a great day and for all the simple reasons. Despite the pain of his oral surgery just a few days ago, Chef has been a real trooper. He didn't even pout when I brought home my birthday lunch of Pei Wei and he could only smell it. I got to go to Sephora and blow a big gift card on myself without feeling a bit guilty. I was lucky enough to find a dress suitable enough to wear to work the Heart Gala next weekend for only $35. I got a giant cupcake (my favorite!) and some beer for later.

It's been peaceful, it's been relaxing and most of all, I've been able to forget about my impending work load, responsibilities and mistakes for a day. I only have one more Birthday Wish that I'll happily wait another 8 days to receive...a Colts Super Bowl victory.

And even with the snow (and it's actually coming down quite a bit for Nashville), I'm happily holed up with many well wishes, Chef's attention and lots of a kitty love.

It's a good day.

Happiness is. . .

Your team going to the SuperBowl! Go Colts. Then there's the realization that I have to work at the Nashville Heart Gala the night before and will probably not get home until 2 a.m. So sleepy time until about an hour before kick off.

Now here's hoping that the Vikings lose because I can't think of anything more excruciating than having to listen to two weeks of Brett Favre worship coming from the mouths of sportscasters. I mean, seriously, if I have to hear about him being "old" and having his best year ever for two straight weeks I'll be ready to tackle the shit out of him myself by February 7th.

And TJ Houshmandzadeh, thank you for picking against the Colts every time in the play offs. Please continue to do so.

How To Have A Nervous Breakdown in Three Easy Steps

About this time every year, I start hyperventilating and feeling the impending weight of February pressing down upon me. For any American Heart Association employee, February takes on new meaning. It's our Superbowl, our Mardi Gras, our tax season. It's a month long endurance test of sanity, sensible shoes and the number of hours that can be worked in a day while sleeping and eating in proper proportions.

The pressure of February hits me in the face the day I come back from Christmas break. It's a nice long break to allow us all to sleep as much as possible in a two week period.

So 8 years in, I should be used to this by now, right?

Well, each year is different in what needs to be done, what's new for the year and what new position I might be in. This year, for some reason, hit me harder than last.

So with that and other things, here's what I call the Perfect Storm of a Nervous Breakdown:

1. Feel the oppression of hundreds of hours of looming work for three weeks and have it reach crescendo on a day where you have a minute to realize just how much more there still is to do.
2. Have had your friends and/or family visit you and realize just how much you miss them, how life was simpler when you lived near them and wouldn't be great to move back to a place you originally called home? (later realize it is less the geography and always the people that you miss)
3. Pick a fight with your spouse/significant other as to make every place you are in a day completely awkward and hostile with tinges of nostalgia and reflection.

That's it. The holy trinity of mental instability.

I hit that on Wednesday for no reason in particular. It was a bad day. Thankfully, I also had drinks scheduled with my friend Greg. That helped me vent, made me focus on things other than myself and drew me back into the land of the less volatile. . .even if only for a few hours. A cocktail and an entertaining friend. Just enough in most cases to pull me back.

Sometimes the Internet is Not a Good Thing

Last week I had a face to face chat with one of my favorite out of town co-workers (shout out to you, E) who was telling me of her latest (and first) encounter with a flying squirrel. I, being naive that I am, thought that flying squirrels were a made-up breed of squirrel that were only useful for cartoon makers. However, she enlightened me.

Flying squirrel lovers (aka flyers--which is also the name for cheerleaders who are at the top of pyramids) have close relationships to the animals that feed and breed in the same place for generations. I admit that there's a cool factor to having a pet that flies without being caged and will be loyal for years. Plus no litter box--another plus (sometimes I can convince myself I'm an archaeologist sifting for treasures and other times there's no escaping that I'm scooping poop).

Then as she was chatting came out the words that raised a thousand questions that I knew would never be answered. So, you're warned that by reading the following you will have to live without knowing WHY. Okay, you're warned.

On a web site for Flyer Lovers, there was a list of things that make you a Flyer Lover. One of them read: "You know you're a flyer lover if you let your Flyer pee in your bra just to be closer to your Flyer."

Yup, you read that right. Pee. Bra. Flying Squirrel. Willing Participation from a human.

There are days when I am thankful for all that the Internet has brought into my life and the ease of which information can be found. And then there's rodent urination in human undergarments.

I'm just saying.

However, despite my wonder, I am forever thankful for the nugget of information and more thankful for the wonderful person that shared it with me.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

This morning I was very cold when I decided to venture out from beneath my electric mattress-pad warmed and grabbed a sweatshirt. I'm not a big fan of sweatshirts, but because I've been lazy and haven't ventured out, I've won the two that I have the last two days. It wasn't until sporting the light blue Indiana sweatshirt for a couple hours did I realize two things: 1) I was wearing my mother's old sweatshirt and 2) it was her birthday. My mom would've been 62 today.

Of course, in my head and heart, my mom will always be 52. And in actuality, she's frozen at about 48 in my mind's eye. She was last cancer-free at 48 and when I picture her she's got a full helmet-hair and bangs, her little work outfit and flats (she rarely wore the high heels I'm known for). I picture her walking with her toes turned out, heavy sighing (I did get that from her) and changing from her work stuff immediately into more comfortable attire when it was 5:30.

So 10 years later, I wonder what she would've looked like, what she would've said about my life now and how much she would've loved having grandchildren. She would've loved her grandkitties a lot less because she was allergic to cats. Maybe their forbidden nature in my childhood household made them that more alluring to me later in life.

Nonetheless, Happy Birthday to my Capricorn Mom!