I have had several people this morning already ask me how my weekend was. I can't figure out how to answer the question without raising eyebrows so I give the standard answer "Fine and you?" It seems the most polite thing to do. I always want to tell people the truth, but that just seems to end up hurting me in the end because the thing that I have come to find about people is that generally speaking, they don't care. They don't care that I took my taxes to my tax guy or that it has taken me years to become so responsible. For most people taking in their taxes or doing them theirselves is just part of life, however, through my stuper of six years, I didn't do taxes. I got under the wire in fines because it ended up that I was only backlogged by three years. Anyway, it takes everything I have to do such a simple behavior because it is new behavior for me, which anyone who knows me knows that new behavior feels like someone pulling my teeth out. It hurts. People don't care that I had a great achievement this weekend. They don't care that I heard a surreal speaker who shared her life with me without fear or anger. They don't care that the restaraunt was so slow that I was home by nine. They don't care that my boyfriend loves me. Oh my, does he ever love me. I can't figure out why, but he does. They don't care that Sunday I watched a great flick that had Leonardo Dicaprio actually acting and that it should have been a nominated performance instead of his crazy nonsense that is in theatres now. They don't care that I did laundry and they don't care that I hate doing laundry. They don't care that the farm lost a calf this weekend and that it is a big deal to a cow farmer. (You think I made this last one up don't you but I didn't.) She was squished in the birthing canal and suffocated because it was a first time Mom and the canal had never done that before right at that moment. I guess that is why I have a blog. So that those who don't care don't have to know, but those of you who read obviously do care so tell you that I had a tragic weekend with exciting achievements: you get it. You care...who cares? I care.

I am amazed at how much I learn from children. Last night I had the opportunity to babysit an eight year old and a ten year old. I spent more time with Cooper, the eight year old because Grace, his sister was in ballet until almost six forty-five. I picked up Cooper from "homework center" which is an afterschool program for kids with working parents that is provided by local college kids. I never realized how small he was until he and I got out of the car to go grocery shopping. His mom told me to get him something from the store since he was going with me. So as began to walk through the parking lot and through the store I became quickly aware of how 1) dangerous the parking lot is and 2) how easily it is to get lost in the grocery store with a ton of scary people everywhere. I don't usually pay any mind to these things, but then again I don't usually have a small eight year old boy with me either. He decided on this ball that was attached to a wrist piece that you could throw and would come back to you with the same force and speed. While we were waiting on his sister at the ballet school, I noticed how excited he was with the toy. He threw it and caught it. He bounced it and dodged it. He kicked and punted it. For about thirty or forty minutes straight, nothing but play. When it came time for homework, he wouldn't put it down. In the end, I had to take it from him so that the homework would be accomplished. He is a really smart kid. He had to construct six sentences using his most difficult words in a vocabulary list. He did great. The thing that I learned from Cooper was that if I played as much as he did, then I wouldn't be so caught up in "trying to lose weight" and that there are times to play and times to work. I should be excellent at both. The other thing I noticed is that he never noticed the people around him. He didn't care what they thought. He was comfortable being himself. Children never cease to amaze me.

I have been very proud of my diligence lately in the job search. Did I tell you I am looking for a job? Well, I am. Not because I have to, but because I have to. Anyway, I have been very diligent lately in my resumes and even have an interview next Tuesday. I was tickled today because I ran into the man into who I applied for this position in his bank. He gave me the unfortunate news that it was not his bank, but that it was the best cover letter and resume he'd ever seen. Well, oh well. He will need me soon enough and at least he has the letter and resume as his bank rises to the occasion. It is a new bank in town. So new that I don't even think they have a branch yet or main office yet. Oh well, I sent a copy to the listed address so maybe they will think just as highly of me as the hand delivered to the wrong person thought.

hodgepodge:

Finally, back to a normal Monday night. I was afraid Valentines would never end. Then it did. Thank goodness. I like waiting tables a lot. I am good at it because it is a mindless thirty minute performance for which I am rewarded. However, it seemed that being slammed would never stop. On Monday it was slow. Whew.

Last night Iris behaved badly for the first time in public. Meg says that she has gotten familiar with Walmart and will pitch a fit there too. I had never seen her act up like that outside of her home. She just was not interested in the adults around her and almost exploded. Luckily, I wasn't the one babysitting her. Her Dad had her and scooped her up and swept her away. It was a good thing. The rest of us adults could go on being adults. Sometimes I would love going back to being a kid and other times I just really enjoy the peacefulness of adulthood.

I went to Snooty Snoots yesterday. It is the little girl store on the square. I got myself an aroma pen called "hope" and a pair of butterfly earrings. I love going in that store. If I were a little girl, it would be the ultimate reward place. It has dolls and fancy purses. It has sparkle jewelry and scarfs. Everything is pink and colorful with ideas of love and happiness in being a girl. It is hooked into this beautiful clothing store called Wandering Jules which is the flip side for Moms. It carries gorgeous clothes that scream luxury. What a great business marriage. I love going in there because the women who own the store are so loving towards me and are so well educated. The woman who owns the little girl store is a psychologist. The woman who owns Jules is a former merger queen from New York (she used to orchestrate larger corporate mergers). Both women are for me strong role models. I can only hope to have the effect these women have had on lives.

Hold me closer tiny dancer....count the headlights on the highway...

I had a seventies flash back this weekend. Granted I wasn't born until 1976, this however doesn't mean that I can't participate with some old fashioned fun. Yes, I just called the seventies old fashioned. I went to a new hairstylist who has been a friend for about four or so years, however hasn't ever cut my hair before last Saturday. **Don't worry, Dad, I only trimmed my hair it is still down the middle of my back. (Dad likes long hair.)** She made me laugh by exclaiming that she wanted to straigten my hair because she has never seen it straight. When I was little my hair wouldn't hold a curl and now it is full of curl and wave developed when I was in college. I actually ended up in college with my hairdresser in Atlanta and when she saw me my junior year she flipped because she had been trying to curl it since I was seven. So first to my seventies weekend was my "ironed" hair. IT WAS SO STRAIGHT! I looked like a picture I have of me when I was sixteen! People didn't recognize me all day! That is why I like going to get my hair done. The second seventies event was watching "the Doors" the movie. Wow, lotsa drugs, lotsa sex, lotsa music makes a man sick, wealthy and dead. Then the third thing that made me laugh because it made me realize I was having a throwback was that I got into my car and on the radio was the Allman Brothers. I loved it. Things flowed nicely through out my weekend.

This morning I woke with curly hair again. Put the Doors back into their sleeve to return to Netflix and put on professional clothes to go to serve "the man" as one would say in the seventies. As I drove the short distance from my apartment to my workplace, "Tiny Dancer" by Elton poored across my speakers to remind me that the seventies weekend was almost over. I wanted so badly not to get out of my car but rather pull out of the parking lot and go back to my weekend. At the end of the song I shut off the car and my weekend and opened the car door to work week.

Cause you'd be oh, so easy to love....

I don't have to buy gas very often any more because my life has been simplified to the passing of the same strip of about ten miles back and forth. However, it does happen that I buy gas on occasion. Typically, I take the time to go the extra two miles for the cheaper gas because it is worth my time. Though, the other day, my car's blinking orange light seemed invigorated and the milage for the tank read four hundred. I couldn't remember how accurate it was seeing as I couldn't remember the last tank, so I made a split decision to stop at a station that was the second lowest gas prices in three cities. I pumped my gas and walked into the store to pay in cash. Without any acknoweldgement at all by the beautiful woman behind the counter who kept on with her conversation in Hindi and mid-breath said, "seveteen, sixty-three," resumed her Hindi immediately and held out her hand. I gave her a twenty and the young man replied to her in English about a computer engineering degree would be perceived more useful for that type of work. I smiled politely as the woman spoke two bits English in return and flushed back into Hindi while handing me my change. It struck me as I walked away from the counter that not once did anyone speak to me other than to say give me your money. Now, I live in a rural, southern, small town. It is impossible not to be spoken to even if I go into the grocery store and go throught the self check out line. Everyone nods with colloquialisms sputtered inertly out of their mouth with no real expectation of return, just in passing. No one ignores socially. No one. Politeness is the essence of the society. People will call you ugly and make it sound like a compliment. There is nothing about the society I live in that conveys ignorance. Well. . .hmm. . . anyway, this woman ignored me completely and for the first time in my life, I noticed and was almost offended. I conjured up my city smarts that I possesed from my former life instead of being offended and blew it off. It made me realize that I am no longer a city mouse.

There is a sense of loss in me lately that I can't really explain. I think I miss Iris. Granted she did give me the Iris Virus, which means that I am still an active participant in Iris's life, I have not had an opportunity to babysit her lately. In the past month or so, her father has stepped up to the plate. He shows up on time like he is supposed to and takes instructions from Meg and follows them to the best of his ability. He and Iris tool around together visiting friends and playing outside, learning new things with all of her instrumental learning toys. These are all things that I used to do. Now all I do is go and hangout until he gets there and talk to Meg and play with Iris a little bit. She is terrified of me because I am the big bad blonde babysitter who makes Momma go away so most of her time is spent in confusion as to whether or not I am going to stay or not. She has learned so many new things like how to pick her nose and where her belly is and I haven't been there except to see the results. She smiles at me now when we are in public because she knows who I am which is cool because before there was only the association with making Momma go away. Sometimes she even reaches for me or runs to me (yes, she is running) when in the midst of a lot of people because she knows I am safe and sometimes can't seem to find Mom. I can remember doing that. Still, I realized yesterday that I had nothing to say about an Iris adventure because there wasn't one. That is both good and bad I guess. I am glad that Dad is doing the right thing, but I am sad that it has cut into my Iris time. I miss my Iris-pie.

There was no way for me to be prepared for last night. I knew that I was supposed to wait tables last night. I wait tables every Monday night. There was no way for me to be prepared last night. I was a "closer" which made it even more interesting. I am typically scheduled as last in because I have a real job, but last night they called me early because they were already so busy. People were still coming in after we were closed. It was amazing. There was a wait and there were tons of people. They were all in pairs. They all had silly things in their hands: stuffed bears, cards, wrapped gifts or flowers. It was unbelievable. I hit the ground running.

There was no way for me to be prepared for last night. There was no way to tell what kind of tip to expect either. The people I waited on last night I will probably not see again until there is a birthday or anniversary. Mostly on Mondays I have come to expect to see certain people. There are the lovely ladies couple from the Orchard whose husbands are out playing poker or something so they come in and lap up the wine and gossip. There is Mr. Oliver who has two glasses of Merlot, a bowl of soup, a house salad and wants to talk and talk and talk. He is a nice, lonely, older gentleman who also happens to be a physician's assistant so he helps the servers out all the time with first aid stuff. There are the occasional birthdays or anniversaries. One or two business men who come in to discuss the state of the nation within the confines of their company with someone who is willing to listen. Maybe a politician or a judge. Then there are those who just need something to eat and order spaghetti. These people help to gage about how much money I make in a night. Last night there was the hippee couple from California who ordered a bottle of wine, veal entrees and salads. There was the mom and her three boys who didn't make it through a full dinner due to the upset of the youngest. There was the double date couples who were about twenty-five and were trying to look cool ordering a bottle of wine. There was the older couple who came in for the special occasion but still ordered carefully. There was the internet blind date couple. Yes, I waited on a blind date on Valentines. I would say it went off well from my perspective. There is no way to know what to expect. It was everyman for himself. It was wonder as to if the kids would have enough money for that crazy bottle of wine they just ordered. It was the hippees having a voucher for a free meal because of a previous bad experience. I finally decided when it was all said and done that it wasn't that the people were unusual, it was that the day was unusual. It was supposed to be Saturday. That is all there is to it. I made Saturday money too, which is good considering I was out last Saturday and unable to wait.

The restarant closed at nine. The seating stopped at nine-fifteen. I didn't leave until ten-thirty. I woke up and a quarter of seven and was supposed to be at work at seven-thirty. Oh my, oh my. There was no way for me to be prepared for last night.

There are no lyrics to start this entry. I got sick. I got really really really sick. I haven't been sick like this since I was a child. I got the Iris Virus and it was awful.

Thursday I started out happy and excited about dinner. I was also eager to watch my new West Wing season just arrived in the mail. Thursday night I got invited out to eat with the girls. So I set aside the West Wing for more important things like building relationships with women. I was all revved up about going out and eating and gossipping. There is something about that that is so feminine.

I couldn't figure out why I had all of these gozillions of movies laying around in my apartment that I hadn't watched yet. It is so unlike me to go without watching a good movie. I had "Shall We Dance" and "JFK" and "Born on the 4th of July" and the WHOLE second season of the West Wing. I also had about ten thousand things planned for Saturday and couldn't figure out how it was going to work out. It was a mystery. It was a short lived mystery.

I woke up early Friday morning astonished at the noise that woke me. It was my stomach. OH WOE IS ME. Then, for about twelve hours I was sick. One of the women I had dinner with still had the Iris Virus left over in her system! Oh No! I had it. Then the next forty-eight hours were in movie recovery. I watched the whole second season. Yes. I did. I watched both Oliver Stone flicks. Never to be rented again. AND I watched Greer, the Grey, pull off yet another romance piece in Shall We Dance. I will have to watch the West Wing stuff again because there was a lot I didn't catch as a result of fuzzy headedness and sleep. As for Oliver Stone, even with the fuzziness, it was just too much. Shall We Dance was intermitten the house cleaning that began about noon on Sunday. Everything I touched, I cleaned. Everything. My bed stuff, my carpet I walked on, my tub, my floor in my bathroom, my toilet, buckets, hairbows, sweats, pillows you name it: I washed it. Some how, some way everything was cleaned. While my bed is still not made today and there is one last load of laundry to be done, maybe two, I am proud to say that while I didn't get to do the ten thousand things on my Saturday list, I got the ten thousand things on God's Saturday list totally completed: House clean, movies watched, Rachel spending LOTS of time by herself!

You’re loves the only thing I've ever known
One thing for sure sweet baby I always take the long way home

Last night was an Iris night. It is the wrong night, but her normal babysitter got sick. She and I went out and about to Helen and then to Tom Hickey's birthday. He is 36. She was totally exhausted by the time she was buckled in for the final ride home. She was fussy and it was past her bed time. I looped one of her favorite Indigo Girls song on my cd player and by the time we got to Sautee she was yawning in to a sleep. When we turned onto 105 to head to Demorest, I turned it off. I can only take so much of one song being played over and over. The quiet of the car was something I hadn't heard in a long time. As the car slowed to the stop sign at 105 and 115, I noticed a familiar aire. It was the rhythm of the car or the way it slowed. It was my own exhaustion. It was the yellow of the headlights in the darkness. It was the baby breathing in the back seat. I knew this feeling. I couldn't place it, but I knew it. The more I listened to the car and myself the more I discovered, it was my family. I was in this place with my family. We used to drive from Chesapeake to Atlanta in 12 hours for Christmas Eve at my grandmother's home. I was tucked into the floorboards behind my mother's seat. I could feel the rhythm of the car and no matter how much I fussed or got up or fought, I would inevitably fall asleep. I used to watch the moon out my window and how it would change. I would watch the rain droplets jump together and make a flow up my mother's window and because of the halting motion would pretend that they were Indians going to a sacred bonfire for the hunt. As I grew older and we would travel, we would be on our way home late at night I would be strapped into the seat belt of the Volvo. I would be exhausted and fall asleep just after my Dad would turn off the radio. I would try to make conversation about nonsense that no one would respond to because everyone was equally tired. That sound of silence except the tires on the road. The way he drove the car so that it slowed with out using the brakes but rather the gears. The speed of the car tuned into my ears. Last night, with Iris in the back seat dreaming, the radio in its silence, the rhythm of the car, the tires on the pavement, I felt like I was on my way home.

A hard knock
A cold clock
Ticking off my time
A long look
But no luck
Couldn't seem to find
Or unwind
Into peace of mind
While I was trying

I have found out that there is still a woman out there who is competing with me in the race for $500. Last Friday I weighed in and had gained 4 lbs. This is not a good thing. I had been a slacker though and had only put about a pinky's worth into my workout. I used the excuse that it was cold outside not to run and I joined the gym to only do four days of a thirty minute cardio. This does me no good. This week I began both cardio every day and added weight training. My legs presently feel like they might detach from the rest of my body, but I know that I am doing the right thing. They are not immobile, but they are definitely well worked. Today I will work gluts and calves and hamstrings. So tomorrow I might not be able to walk, we shall see. I have also changed some of the things I eat (i.e. no mayo in my tuna and little to no bread at lunch!). I am not yet willing to take the sugar out of my coffee, but I am willing for it to be my sugar for the day!

I can remember my Dad not letting me diet when my girlfriend Emily and I wanted to go on one when we were thirteen or fourteen. He told me I would need that later in life after I was eighteen and not in his house. I guess he had had enough of women with eating disorders in his life. It seems like he ministered to a college woman who was anorexic at one time. She was on his visit list at the hospitals. I can't say that I blame him. I don't know how to not eat. It just doesn't comply in my brain, but I can see how it could become an obsession of people. I can say even now, I am not on a diet, per se. I am more just eating differently. I am trying to remember how I ate when I was young. I am still the same height I was in highschool, so I shouldn't require any more calories than I did then. I am eating less than I usually eat and am trying not to eat late night because those are things that I have developed as an adult and I didn't do as a teen. I have found that mostly in my mid to late twenties I am returning to many of the habits of my youth. Things like...no drinking, no smoking, talk to God on a regular basis, call my Mom and let her know where I am and how long I will be and who I am with (especially when I go out of town), do something nice for someone with no expectations, love to be loved, have fun at least once a week, do my homework....or just work now!

I figured that in highschool I always had competition. The woman who I competed against the most, which in some areas there was no competition because she was a marvel, and in looking back at it, I don't know that she ever knew I was competing, was Rebekah. She used to challenge me something fierce. She was a better writer, both grammatically and in script, she was always a better pianist (like ten times better pianist), she was well liked by a lot of people who I could never seem to get the attention of, she was a better vocalist and a better swimmer. We were co-captains of the swim team our senior year. She typically challenged me in academics, however I was able to beat her in some of those areas. I can remember all of us sitting in second period AP Calculus listening to the morning annoucements my senior year and the literary magazine announcing the winners. For our class Rebekah was the typical winner every year mostly because she entered. I hadn't entered that year either, but my junior English teacher entered me with out knowledge, Mrs. Moseley. I had written a two page poem to make up for a quiz I missed in her class. I wrote it in the style of Faulkner's stream of consciousness. I had no idea that she liked it so much. There was shock and dismay when they annouced my name over the intercom. People were always mixing us up though so both of us went up there just to see if things were mixed up. I won $25 and was to read my poem at the "literary tea." I couldn't believe it and neither could she. In that excellence I found some humility because I didn't have any expectations surrounding it. I felt like someone had seen something in me that I had never seen. It was exposing. It felt good to be good at something though. That was the last time I excelled over Rebekah. It was the most unusual excellence.

Somehow having someone to compete with motivates me more. I guess that was part of the fun when I was in highschool. This woman, Jaclyn, who is still working to lose the weight, is my age, strangely enough. There are not many people my age in this county or in three counties for that matter, so it is nice to know that there is someone out there to challenge me. I would love to get back down to my sleek 120 lb body of sixteen, but alas, I recognize that may be a dream and the most I will accomplish might be 130. Gosh that sounds high, but I know that I am a woman of hips and curves now and not a girl in mid-development. I would also like to return of that feeling of humility and identity of self as though I will see in myself something I didn't know was there.

Twenty pounds of brown sugar....

Yesterday it was my friend's 40th birthday. I had another friend who celebrated the big number 5 and I realized that I have two close girlfriends both with children. I am old. I am not even thirty and I am old. How did I get here? Yesterday I was riding my bike to the pool. I was arm and arm with Emily and Cory doing "the Monkeys" walk to Graham's house to "hang out" (what ever that means!). I was being called from class to get my dog out of the kindergarten class room. I was the captain of the swim team. I was dreading every night of practicing my violin. I was exhausted from musical rehearsal. I was excited about the next mission trip. I was babysitting every weekend I wasn't going to spend the night with a girlfriend. I was GROUNDED. I was always grounded. No one grounds me any more. Now I pay bills and watch rated 'R' movies. I have a hard time finding two hours to excercise because it is no longer a part of my work curriculum. I go to birthday parties for 40 year olds who don't even want birthday gifts. If I ever stop wanting birthday gifts, just go ahead and end it for me on the spot. There was not even a cake! How did I get here? My girlfriends have three year olds and toddlers. Iris has hair and three new teeth cutting. Reagan is taking ballet and gymnastics and learning her letters. What happened? I was supposed to sixteen forever. Forever. Oh well. . .

Could be?
Who Knows?
There's something due any day I will know, right away
Soon as it shows.....


Oh is it ice, is it rain, is it ice, is it rain? Who knows....I will. The whole office is in a panic over the weather. As soon as it looks icy, they will all bail and I will get to go home early! Bring on the ice.

I worked out yesterday at the gym and it occurred to me that the reason I am not the size that I was in high school because I used to do what I am trying to do at the gym for TWO HOURS a day! No wonder I was a thin thing. I was dancing for about 45 mins and swimming for an hour and a half! NO WONDER! So now I am going to up my time at the gym. The nice thing is that I have had the ability to cut back my hours for waiting tables and am now able to go five times or six times a week! Go Rae Go! Get that $500! Next weigh in is Friday.

Mom and Dad are in LA right now. Wish I were there.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...


Okay, so it didn't snow, it iced, but it was just as beautiful. I like it no matter what you want to call it. What is really funny is that I called my parents and Dad said, "hello," I said, "Guess What?!" He replied in the same hello tone, "It snowed." Then he began to chuckle at me. So I call my brother and he doesn't even say hello, he says "It snowed!" Yeah, my family knows me well. Very well. Both made a point that it was ice and not snow and no they weren't going to play in it. Well I did go play in the snow.

John and I cut right through the ice with his snappy all wheel drive Forrester. We drove around and went to Waffle House to watch others spin out circles, playing on the ice. It was great fun. Strangley enough we saw a few friends out and about, too. What a great day it was. Even better, my work on Saturday night was cancelled so I got to go to a birthday party! Hurray!

There is only one bad thing about cold weather, the cold season. Everyone I know has strep right now. One of my girlfriends has two kids and both of them have it. My co-worker who sits one cubicle over, came down with strep mixed with broncitis. Ugh! My girlfriend didn't think her son had strep until I saw her son's rash on his back and said, well that is not strep, that is scarletina. She flipped and called the nursing line and then said I was right. Yes, I have been exposed to scarletina. I had strep when I was little and once as an adult. I had strep three times when I was little and the third time I knew I had it and I didn't want to miss my Christmas vacation so I didn't tell my mom. Although I didn't have to tell her because I broke out in high temps and a rash that covered me from head to toe. Sandpaper and bright red. Scarletina. I can remember going to the peds office and not being aloud to go in the front door. They made me come to the really sick kids door. I was so embarrased because I knew that if I had told her I wouldn't be so miserable. How was I supposed to know it wouldn't just go away? I was ten! Anyway, I hope that having it so many times that perhaps my immunity is well established and I don't come down with anything.