Missing My Girls

Have you ever gone without close female companionship for so long that you feel a pain in your ovaries from lack of common estrogen? It's not that I haven't been around women. Lord knows that our office is less than 10 percent male so we have more PMS days than paydays around here.

However, it's not the same as being able to call someone a bitch without the fear of an hour long visit to the HR representative. The only girl that I can call my "girl" where I'm at happens to work with me, but it's crazy how when you're busy and both out of the office how quickly the deep ache for an hour long session about who was a whore last weekend can take hold.

There are only a few people in my life that I can truly be myself around 100 percent. Luckily, Chef is one of them so there is that nice respite when I come home. Being able to burp as loudly as I want and only get a head shake or "what do you say?" in response instead of a horrified look like you'd just killed a puppy with your salad fork.

It's just weird how many "me"s there seem to be. The me I am with Chef is different than the me I am with my writer's group and the me I am with my hometown girls. I miss being able to hang out knowing that I'm going to be harrassed about something but also knowing that if I wasn't I wouldn't be so loved.

Perhaps it's all the damn hype about Sex & The City or maybe it's because I haven't been up north in almost a year. I need to get drunk, eat pizza and set off some fireworks with my girls!

My Milestone

So today is a big day in my life. Not because of anything big that happened or because it was a day that marked anything special. But today I officially hit 60 pounds lost.

I started changing my lifestyle in August and since then, it's been a challenge, but well worth it. I am officially no longer obese by clinical standards. I fit in normal clothes and I've cut my fat and calorie intake. . .a LOT.

Originally 60 pounds was the goal, but now I'm aiming to weigh less. I'm hoping to take off about 15 more pounds so that I'm well within the "healthy weight" range.

I couldn't have gone even one day without Chef's support. What's more is that I've fallen more in love with him because he loves me no matter what size I am. There are few people that can truly say that they will love you no matter what, but with him, I believe it.

Am I thinner or dehydrated?

The last few days I've been asking myself this question constantly. I'm drinking less water than normal, but I'm still getting plenty of fluids. Yet, my lips have started to crack and my hands are perpetually dry. I've also lost weight. A few pounds since my last weigh in, so not enough to be afraid, but I'm wondering if I lost all water weight.

What are the signs of dehydration anyway? How much water do I have to drink before Chapstick starts working again to soothe my crusty lips?

On another note, the lady in our office that's notorious for not wearing her shoes has now been sporting a full body brace for the last month. Apparently she fell in December and it's just now hitting her. The brace looks like she's always sitting backwards in a chair that's too small for her. I'd feel some sympathy but she only complains about her back when we ask her to fold letters or anything else that is her actual job. She has no problem lifting an entire catering tray of sandwiches so that she can nibble on them. And it hasn't prevented her from taking her shoes off. Perhaps I'm just evil or perhaps my bullshit barometer is just highly attuned.

Purging for the sake of Purge

I'm not talking about any kind of eating disorder so if you were fooled by the topic, don't worry about reading on. I had a moment a few weeks ago where I looked around the apartment that Chef and I shared and about had a nervous break down. It's not that the apartment is all that bad or that we live with old stuff or anything.

It's just that I know that a house of our own is a few years away. Sadly, I've been waiting to upgrade our stuff until we either move or get married, whichever comes first. I'm now tired of waiting and even more tired of the years of crap that I've accumulated. It would actually be worse if we had a house because I would accumulate even MORE crap. It's mostly my fault. I bring stuff home with good intentions. Now our house if filled with good intentions.

So, I've systematically been weeding through each room of the house and throwing away anything that hasn't been worn, looked at, used, or handled in the last 18 months. I started (and still am finishing up) the bedroom. So far, I've thrown away, given away or taken away five garbage bags full of stuff. The most important thing is that it is AWAY.

I don't care if we have to eat on the floor while we save up money for the furniture we want or watch a busted up TV while we save for teh HD version. It's time to make our living space what we want it to be and not just what we can have.

High School Memories

My friend Natalie sent me this questionaire via email. It was different than the usual "what are you wear? Send this out or you're damned for life" kind of chain, so I thought it'd be fun to answer and post here. It's a rehash of high school. Funsies.

1. Did you date someone from your school?
Not technically.

2. Did you win anything in Seniors Who's Who?
I don't remember my high school doing that, so I guess the answer's no.

3. What kind of car did you drive?
1985 Cutlass Supreme that I named Carlos

4. It's Friday night...where r u?
Working at a sporting goods store until 9 and then meeting my co-worker (who happened to be my high school softball coach's best friend) in the mall parking lot for a beer delivery

5. Were you a party animal?
Not by the people in my high school, but by the kids in college that I actually partied with. . .yes.

6. Were you considered a flirt?
Only when I used to stick a green glow stick in my cleavage at parties. Most of the other times, no.

7. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
Not in high school.

8. Were you a nerd?
Yes. I went to class, did my work and got the hell out of there.

9. Did you get suspended/expelled?
Sadly, no. I was the only one of my friends to NOT get suspended during my high school tenure.

10. Do u remember your school fight song?
Sadly, yes, but that's because it's also the Michigan fight song.

11. Who were your favorite teachers?
Mrs. Goebel and Mrs. Mautz, Mr. Kelley

12. Where did you sit during lunch?
The journalism lab

13. What was your school's full name?
William Henry Harrison High School

14. School mascot?
Warriors

15. Homecoming court?
Yes, we had one. No, I wasn't on it.

16. If you could go back and do it again, would you?
College-yes. High School-no.

17. Where did you go senior skip day?
I didn't get to skip because I had a softball game that night.

18. Were you in any clubs?
Yes. NHS, the paper, German Club.

19. Have you gained some weight since then?
Gained it and lost it.

20. Who was your senior prom date?
Didn't go to senior prom. Instead I went to eat Chinese and then to the after parties.

21. Are you planning on going to your 10 year reunion?
Already skipped it.

22. Who was your home room teacher?
Mr. Ballard-an odd mix of Ross Perot and John Denver.

23. Who will repost this?
I don't care.

24. Did you play any sports?
Freshman and JV volleyball, freshman cheerleading and Varsity softball for four years.

25. Do you still talk to people from high school?
Yup. At least two on a semi-regular basis and two more when I can or they aren't pissed at me for some unknown reason.

See? Wasn't that fun?

I survived. . .but the Patriots didn't

What a week! I survived turning 29 (although today when I said it, one of my coworkers said "But what's your real age?" as if I were older and just claiming to be 29), two events within 48 hours, and a Superbowl.

What a great game! Even better was a Patriots loss. I'm going to pretend that I saw it coming, but I did dread the avalanche of accolades the team would've gotten if they'd gone undefeated. I'm clearly not a Patriots fan, but despite all that, I was surprised at the lack of sportsmanship that came after the game.

Yes, I think Bill Belichick should've stayed on the field until the last second was run out. Crazy as it was, it seems poor form to leave before the final tick of the game clock. And not that Belichick is ever exceptionally talkative, but the post game interviews were lame. The man has no problem being called a genius (if you can find me a quote where he denies this title, please let me know), but will not allow anyone to really question his decisions.

And Tom Brady acted so surprised at the beginning of the week when Plaxico Burress predicted they would only score 17 points (in the end they didn't even hit that number). His response sounded like "an older brother who has 50 pounds on his younger brother when his younger brother challenges him to a wrestling match." And yet, in the end, he not only had nothing to really say, but also pulled out of the Pro Bowl because the mysterious ankle injury flared up again.

Is it me or does anyone else think that Brady and Moss pulled out of the Pro Bowl because they didn't want to have to answer any tough questions?

29 on the 29th

Me, Oprah, Tom Selleck. We all share a love of guns, a tendency towards self-deification and a birthday.

I turn the big 2-9 on the 29th. I think as a kid I dreamed that this would be a magical birthday. I'd be old enough to realize the numeric symmetry and have some kind of zen year because of it. Of course, that's probably not the case seeing as its a mere day or so before a weekend of hectic frenzy with work things. But there's always hope.

My hope is that soon I'll have a stash of cash to buy some new clothes. While 2008 promises to be double awesome, 2007 brought about a much needed reduction in my size. My clothes that I wore 6 months ago aren't even a viable option any more and the clothes that I'd kept from my slimmer days are now too big as well. I'm really living off the donations of friends and family at this point. It's not a bad problem to have and I'm nearing a size I haven't seen since I was in 8th grade. I'm compelled to keep going, but it's time to stop being cheap and buy things that actually fit.

Happy New Year

Wow! It's 2008 already and I'm already slammed. The person starts on Monday which should relieve me of most of my old duties, but the next two months are going to be crazy at work. Aside from that, Chef and I came back from the holiday to find that our computer had crashed. We had to restart the hard drive from its original state which meant that I had to pray hard that I'd backed up my novel and other short stories. Luckily, I had.

Our trip to our homes for the holidays was definitely interesting. Chef and I created a new car game to pass the time. We also passed a place in Florida that simply had a sign that read "Fantasy Bingo." From this we created our own Fantasy Bingo team. Devised like fantasy football, my first selection in the mock draft was the 72 year old blue hair from Missouri with excellent memory recall.

All in all, it was a great holiday that unfortunately left me wanting more time off. A wish that I won't get into well into March, if I'm lucky. Oh, well.

And I haven't bought a gift yet. . .

Now is the time of year that I freak out. I'm not an incredibly late shopper. I'm not like the hordes of crazy people that are at Wal-Mart at midnight on Christmas Eve. But generally now is when I start to really shop. Usually I have a few gifts under my belt, but this year, I'm behind.

Work has been nuts. I haven't gotten home before 6 p.m. more than once this week or in the last three weeks. I've had morning meetings once a week for the last two months. However, it's a good kind of busy. Productive and with lots of planning for when I'm really busy in January and February.

So tomorrow I will brave the crowds to wade through deals and find some things that I hope my family will like. Plus I have to find things that I hope Chef's family will like. That's pretty challenging. For the first time in our relationship, we're going to both families for Christmas. Seeing as the families are nine hours apart, it's going to be a car Christmas. But in the end, I think it'll be worth it. I haven't spent Christmas with his family, so it'll be nice to see them and how they celebrate.

Aside from working and stressing, I'm still losing weight. Today I saw a former co-worker who said that I looked like I did when I started at this place six years ago. It was nice to hear. I've actually lost 40 pounds now. Only about 30 to 40 more to go. And that's just to get at a healthy weight. But it hasn't been too bad so far.

Grandma Got Gunned Down by Santa Claus

On my nightly walking route, I pass by an Army surplus store. Last week after Thanksgiving, they had someone paint festive holiday scenes on their storefront windows. The paintings weren't complete the first day. Only the white was laid down. First I saw a few snowmen, then a few reindeer and then I saw Santa riding a fighter jet with an American flag flying off the back. It seemed appropriate enough and made the last few blocks a little more jaunty.

Today, I passed by the completed store window. Red, green and black details had been added into the white and the scene really took shape. Most stuck to the same motif the store had set out, but two really stood out. First, the snowman sporting camouflage. Perhaps it's just me, but I thought that being made out of the ground materials and a pure white would be more masking than sporting a red and green camo jacket. But I could let that one go. Next came the plane riding Santa. This time, he was holding up an assault rifle with a scope. He didn't seem to be hunting the reindeer, but it was a little disturbing to see the man known for sneaking into houses carrying a weapon. Did I miss something? Does Santa actually break and enter with force? Perhaps his belly is merely a hollowed out shell used to conceal hand grenades. Either way, seeing Santa with a gun raised above his head is disturbing.

But maybe that's just me.

I like to move it, move it

Since August 1st, I have been walking progressively more each day and counting my calories. It wasn't really a conscious decision to lose weight, but just a spur of the moment thing. Chef has been exceptionally supportive and we've been working on portion size and adding more fruits and veggies to our diets.

I say this now because I hit a milestone last week. I have officially shed 25 pounds. But more importantly, I feel great and have loads more energy. I hope that I can continue making better food decisions. For some reason, this time, it hasn't been that bad. I haven't really denied myself something if I really wanted it, but instead write down what I eat so that I hold myself accountable for what goes into my mouth. Plus I'm now shopping, what I call "front of store." No longer relegated to the back where they put the plus sizes next to the maternity wear.

And what's more, Chef has lost weight by the lack of too many high calorie snacks in the house. And naturally, being a dude, he's lost about 30 pounds.

The other aspects of my life are pretty good right now too. My sports teams are winning, my writing is progressing and work is going very well for the first time in a while. No complaints here.

On another note, I was in a hotel lobby and wasting time waiting for someone, so I stepped into a gift shop. They had some nice jewelry and I was taken with a necklace. I tried it on, liked it and then thought that I shouldn't spend the thirty bucks on it. Two days later, I went back to get it and realized that it was $300, not thirty. I felt like an idiot and then was indignant that they could sell something that looked like it was $30 for ten times the price. I wonder who the hell would buy the thing.

Yes and I feel very touched to have done so

This morning I was walking my usual route before work. Almost back to the apartment. Because Chef and I live in the city, we're used to all kinds of things. One thing I'm used to is getting stopped for directions while I'm walking. Normally, it's not a big deal.

This morning, however, I was walking about a block away from being back home when a big ass blue Hummer pulls up and then proceeds to honk at me. Now, I wear headphones, but I'm also not blind and therefore observant enough to see a car pulling up beside me without having the horn of a small barge blown into my ears.

In the driver's seat is a pretty, petite blonde woman with too much make-up and in the passenger seat is a clean cut looking guy wearing a cowboy hat and a gap toothed smile. The woman was a little caustic when she asked "Where's the Pancake Pantry?" Now, seeing as I've moved to the South, I am a little more accustomed to getting a pleasantry such as "Excuse me" thrown my way, but since the horn honking incident, I had no such expectations.

"Go up to the light, take a left and it'll be two blocks up on your right," I said.

She leaned over the guy and screeched at me to repeat the directions. The guy looked a little embarrassed. I repeated the directions and got ready to throw my headphones back on and motor on when the blonde chick looked at me and said "You've just given directions to Dean Strickland!" and then took off. I did have time to give them the eyebrow raised- I don't care look and see the guy was mortified while mouthing "Thank you" as they sped off.

I don't know who the hell Dean Strickland is and I doubt that I ever will, but this morning, I gave him directions.

Sometimes I'm an Idiot

It's not that hard to believe if you know me, but sometimes I can get myself into some very unique situations. One of which happened yesterday. I wore pants with cuffs and high heels. Separately, not too bad, but together, a lethal combo. A friend of mine got her high heel caught in the cuff of her pants and took a tumble down some concrete steps that lead to a dislocated elbow and a full arm cast for 6 weeks.

I, however, not only have the combo of the pants and heels, but my pants are not at least a size too big and fall off my waist when I walk. As I was going to a meeting, I told my friend that my biggest fear was that my heel would get caught and my pants would come down. It didn't happen going to the meeting, but on the way back from it. I was walking into our office, my heel caught, my pants came down. That would be enough, but there was an underwear situation that had me bare assed in front of my office. Luckily with my reflexes of a cat, I was able to crotch down and pull up without anyone inside noticing. My friend, however, got to see the full moon.

Good times. But at least I'm not in an arm cast.

I Hate Bill Belichick

There are many reasons why I hate the coach of the New England Patriots, but let me be honest and start with the real one first:

1. I am an Indianapolis Colts fan and the Patriots have beaten us at some very inopportune times. I put it out there because very few people like a team that continues to win over and over and the only thing that makes that worse is when the team they beat is yours.
2. Cheating is cheating is cheating. Steroids, videotaping, referee influencing. They all give an unfair advantage, even if the person doing it isn't exactly sure what that is.
3. Bill Belichick has always been praised at being a master of details, a game plan for anything, and yet he claims to not have known the rule about videotaping an opposing team's defensive signals. We're not that stupid.
4. The whole league, and the Patriots specifically, were warned that the NFL would be watching this year. Where does Belichick choose to tape signals? In New York, the home of the NFL's main office. Do the words "above the law" mean anything?
5. The stupid torn sleeve sweatshirt. It's ugly and I'm sick of it getting all the attention.

Okay, now I feel much better. Let the football season roll on!

More What? Mashed Potatoes?

So I'm old enough now where I don't mark on a calendar when the Video Music Awards are. Actually I never marked them on a calendar, but I did use to watch MTV and thereby knew the air date by osmosis.

However, being that football season kicked off this weekend, I have better things to watch than an awards show. I did, however, log on the next day to see Britney's first post-baby, non-night club performance. Look, we all know that Britney's songs aren't musicall good, but they are usually musically entertaining. Meaning they might not remind us of Beethoven, but they do put a nice little jaunt in our step. And she's had some real shitty songs that have just plain sucked. But the one thing that made Britney Britney was that she could take a shitty ass song, add some glitter thongs, dancing midgets, albino snakes and a dash of lesbianism to come up with a truly entertaining performance.

This year was the exception. Girls want to be Britney because she's got a hot body and some great stripper dance moves. Her performace to "Gimme More" (which unlike it's title does not really invite anyone to want more of anything except choices on the radio) was slow, boring and so uninspired that even my lazy ass could've performed the dance routine. When an overweight nearing 30 year says with confidence that she could've out-gyrated Britney Spears, it's time to get a new choreographer.

Look, I applaud any woman that's had two kids in two years and dares to put on a bikini or lingerie for her husband, but doing so for the whole world to see is a little different. Britney wasn't fat by any stretch of the imagination, but her stomach was considerably more rounded than the last time we'd seen it without a child growing inside. Wearing an outfit like that is setting people up with high expectations and then having them come crashing back at you in the tabloids you already loathe and use umbrella's against. Some stylist needs to have the balls to tell that girl that she can be sexy in something that doesn't create the negative publicity.

Does anyone else wonder how long Britney's hair has gotten since she shaved it off and what her natural shade is?

Nearly Everything's Going My Way

Perhaps it's the skeptical nature in me, but nearly everything is going my way right now which leads me to wonder when the shoe is going to drop.

What's going my way?, you ask. Like I said, nearly everything. My lifestyle change program (aka weight loss) has been going great. Chef is ultra-supportive and I'm actually finding that I love eating fruit. Vegetables take a little more effort, but I'm choking them down as well. Plus I've come to realize that a lot of smarter choices adds up to pounds lost. I'm down 14 pounds in 6 weeks. Not too shabby and I'm not hungry all the time.

Plus last week my aunt sent me a big box full of shoes, scarves and a purse that she was cleaning out of her closet. Needless to say, I racked up a lot of new footwear.

Also something I wrote and submitted a year and a half ago was selected to be printed in an anthology meaning that something I penned will be in a book next year. I'm excited because I've been in newspapers, magazines and online, but never in a book. It seems so permanent and grandoise that I love it.

I got to see my niece and nephew last week (and brother and sister-in-law, but let's face it, when you get older you can't really compete with two adorable children). My football teams both won. My friend got married without a downpour on her and it was a beautiful wedding (at which I caught the bouquet). All in all, things are going well.

I would take bets in my head as to what will come crashing down first, but then I wouldn't be able to enjoy the good times.

It's Hard to Find A Bathing Suit in August

So Thursday night I'm driving to Memphis to meet up with my dad and stepmom. We're heading to Texas to visit my brother and his family. Kind of neat because I've only been to Texas once and it was a business trip so it was therefore immediately no fun. Kind of sad because my brother lives in the Texas equivalent of my home town. And it's August and in the middle of a heat wave. But anything to see my niece and nephew.

However, one thing that I'm not thrilled about is that both this trip and a trip I have to take immediately after require a bathing suit. I have not bought a bathing suit since 6 sizes ago. And let's just be honest. It has less to do with my fat than the fact that I live nowhere near a swimming pool and never remember to bring them when I go on vacation. Wearing a bathing suit doesn't really bug me that much anymore. Buying a bathing suit is what sucks.

Actually, I probably would've been fine buying a bathing suit in, say, May. The beginning of the season when all cute suits are available has long since past and the only thing left is a bunch of rejects on the clearance rack. Seeing as I buy nearly everything I own at Target, I went to see what I could get for a good price there.

But I forgot that Target went through a halter tankini phase this year. Let me clue the swimsuit designers in: A tankini does NOT make fat people feel like they're wearing a two-piece. It does NOT hide flaws and it does NOT do a better job than a brilliantly designed one-piece. AND a halter does NOT support the large breasts of the plus size woman nearly as well as you'd think.

After sorting through what seemed like hundreds of bathing suit bottoms and only two tops (quite literal there), I got desperate. The only matching bathing suit I'd found thus far was a floral tankini halter top with leopard print straps and a leopard print bottom. UGGO. So my desperation lead me to the maternity section. (and subsequently also to a major gripe of mine: RETAILERS. . .STOP PUTTING YOUR PLUS SIZE SECTION NEXT TO YOUR MATERNITY SECTION. ONE CAN EASILY DRIFT OVER WITHOUT REALLY NOTICING CAUSING PEOPLE TO LOOK AT YOUR STOMACH AND THE BOLD PEOPLE TO ASK WHEN YOU'RE DUE.)

I grabbed the cute maternity suit, the shitty leopard print one and then took a one-piece that was stuffed in the middle of a rack and two sizes too big to the dressing room. Joyfully the maternity suit was too big in all areas except for the boobs--which makes me fear pregnancy more than I already do. Besides the fact that I've lost nearly 10 lbs in the last 5 weeks and if it hadn't fit, I'd have been thrown into a hysteria that only french fries can cure.

The second suit was the one piece that fit through the boobs, but looks like I dropped a load in my pants--plus it's brown. (Thank you, mom, for the ass that resembles Kansas. Sometimes you can see a thunderstorm coming from miles away across my booty.) The third suit look like something even a transvestite couldn't pull off. So I went with simple, loaded pant one-piece.

Now I'm gonna be pissed off if I don't go swimming in the next week!

Friday, Lazy Friday

Have you ever woken up knowing that you were going to try and accomplish as little as possible? I knew from the moment the alarm went off this morning and instead of grabbing my running shoes to get some exercise as I normally do, I got up, moved from the bed to the couch and then promptly fell back asleep for another hour before getting up. Then I got ready for work and skipped curling my hair and therefore bought myself 10 more minutes of laziness.

I got to work and spent the first hour updating a wellness site that I'm participating in. It's like a free online version of weight watchers that I've become obsessed with. I log in every morning to type in my food intake and exercise from the day before. Then I take 3 minutes to do an online lesson. I've learned a lot about how to count calories just by looking at something.

It's quite interesting and a talent I should've learned in high school at the lunch table eating only twizzlers and diet coke, like the rest of the female gender. Unfortunately, I was a geek in high school and spent my lunch hours in the journalism room working on the paper or yearbook.

After that, I returned some emails, checked some emails and then ate lunch. After lunch I had three errands that I purposely left until Friday afternoon to do so that I could have a way to legitimately waste time. Luckily, Friday afternoon afternoon is also our company's "walking team" time, so I get to jet out of the office in a couple minutes to make up for the walking I missed this morning by sleeping in.

I have a feeling that Chef's not going to let me get away with the same kind of laziness tonight. Oh well.

Late Night Phone Call

Last night, at about 11, I got a phone call from my uncle Mark. I had been trying to go to sleep for over an hour and just couldn't manage to get down when my cell rang. I admit that at first when I get these late night calls I expect someone to have died. It's just how it usually goes in our family.

It wasn't a death, so that was great news. It was, however, a fire. The business that my grandpa started nearly 60 years ago and that my uncle Jeff had taken to a new level for the last 20 years was on fire. It had been closed. No one was hurt. But the fire was damaging.I'd have to say that as far as damage to personal property goes, fire is like the cardiac arrest of them. You don't see it coming. You don't get to say goodbye. You can only just celebrate what you had and hope that you can get it going again.

But on a personal level, the family business had been a special place for me. It was special to all of us in the family in one way or another for various reasons, but since I'm the one with a blog, I'll give you my reasons.

Besides the fact that if I wanted to see my grandfather as a child, I could always hang out at the "shop," as we all called it. Besides the fact that we had more than one Christmas there as a big family or that my grandparents threw my sixth birthday party there when I parents were called away. Besides all that, there is the fact that the shop saved me.

After my mom died I was lost. Keep in mind I was only 21, so I had the normal amount of "what am I going to do with my life?" lostness going on as well. But as normally social and outgoing I was, after my mom died I had quickly turned into someone with social anxiety disorder. I didn't like to see or speak to anyone. After months of this, my therapist told me that I should get a job, but to make things easier I should get a job similar to one that I had before. So with my fresh college degree, I headed to the mall to get a retail job. Thirty minutes, a panic attack and an incident of me puking into a potted plant later and I was on the phone with my uncle Jeff.

All I said was that I needed to find a job like one I had before and Jeff told me to come in the next morning at 8 a.m. to start. I got to work in a loving, family environment that forced me to talk with customers and get over my social anxiety. For a year, I got to hang out, heal and then move on in better shape than I was. I firmly believe that had it not been for that year, I'd have not been able to move away and be where I'm at today, which includes the loving arms of Chef.

But that's just my story. The shop was a landmark in the community and all day people have been sharing their stories on the newspaper article on the web. According to my uncles, others in the community are stopping to help them clean up. Some of whom they don't even know.

It just goes to show the impact that one place can have on a community and how thankful our family, especially my grandpa and grandma and my uncle jeff and his family who have made lots of sacrifices to keep it going, is to be where they are.

Potter-ific

This past weekend was Harry Potter-filled. I had resigned myself to getting up on Saturday morning (and by morning, i mean 8 a.m. not midnight), heading to the local Borders, and grabbing the lastest edition with some coffee, to tuck in for a long day's reading.

However, as Friday wore on and I saw that I didn't really have anything planned, I decided to take a different tact. I took a "nap" from 7 p.m. to one a.m. on Friday night, drove to Wal-Mart (which an hour after the affair was sure to have the least amount of adults sporting eye-liner drawn lightning scars) and picked up the "Deathly Hollows."

Don't worry, I'm not going to spoil anything. But I did stay up until 6 that morning ready, got up at noon and then continued reading on and off for most of the day. I convinced Chef that we needed to see the Order of the Phoenix on the Imax in 3D and he was game. So, we chose what I like to call the "Sinner Showing" of Imax, 9:30 a.m. on Sunday morning. There were plenty of other people there, but not nearly the bone-crushing, arm-rest fighting numbers that would've been later.

Of course, we got next to the group of very obese people that acted as if they had never been to the movies before and were indeed watching the feature from their living room. They were all five sitting behind us with two of the ladies taking up two seats. Chef and I were in the row in front of them, but had moved towards the center as to not be directly in front of the group. While he was mostly spared, this did little for me.

The two larger ladies moved to our empty row (so chosen because in two and a half hours, I know that I'll have to pee at least once, no matter what the movie is). So now I had to maneveur through them when I wanted to pee. They got up no less than two times to refill the two large popcorns. None of this would've bothered me if they'd have spoken at a normal level, but instead, they decided to screech "When ya get up, make sure to grab me some napkins or something because I'm going to be crying when Sirius dies." Not that the majority of people didn't know the twists and turns of the book, but some didn't and that's just damn rude.

I was annoyed the whole time, but still enjoyed the movie. We enjoyed the IMAX part, but there was only about 15 minutes of 3D in the movie. It was cool, but not THAT cool.

So I finished the book last week so that no one (namely Chef who doesn't read the books but chats with people who does and then comes in to shout surprising plot twists while I'm reading) could spoil it for me.

Part of me is sad that the books are over, and the other part is glad that I'll actually live like a human being this weekend.