.

-It has come to my attention that one of the only things that gets me out of bed in the morning is the thought that I'll be able to have a Diet Dew within a few short hours. 

-It has also come to my attention that the above statement may be a bit unhealthy.  Mentally and physically. 

-Conversely, I haven't been late to work since I started this luring myself out of bed with thoughts of Diet Dew habit. 

-All I'm saying is we humans do what we have to do.  It isn't always pretty. 

-I'm not really sure if the top I'm wearing today was meant to be a shirt or a dress.  Ever have that?

-There seem to be a number of women who would consider it a dress, at least from what I've seen at nightclubs (not that I know what those are, mom). 

-I personally don't consider any top that you can't comfortably bend over in without biker shorts underneath it to be a "dress."  But what do I know.  I'm wearing what I've decided to call a shress with cutoff jeans right now. 

-It sort of looks like I didn't have time to fully change after ballet practice? 

-Nope, it isn't cute.

-Also, I never took ballet, but I should have because my feet have freakishly high arches.

-Instead, I did marching band.  Which I was clearly too preoccupied with to develop any sense of style at such a crucial style-forming time in my life. 

-I mean, a shress?  Really?

-These listing has become redundant and unnecessary.  And so has this post.

we live here.

Sometimes, when you live in our apartment, you hear a chainsaw going off at 6:30 in the morning.  We haven't quite figured out the reason why this chainsaw would be on and sawing about as loudly as possible at such an ungodly hour, but the non-negotiable fact is that it is.  And we just lay there, the helpless victims who want nothing more than to be able to sleep for an hour and a half more.

At roughly 12:30 am, it isn't rare to hear the girls that live above us walking into their apartment.  Unfortunately, in order for them to do this, they have to walk right past our bedroom window.  Their comings and goings are often accompanied by shrieks, loud exclamations, and louder boy companions.  One time, a group of these hoodlums were gathered directly outside our window, talking as if they were all at least half a mile away from each other.  Good heck.  I crawled across our bed, and Drew, to the window, pulled the blinds away and knocked very loudly.  I added a nice, "Shut uuup!" for a dramatic effect.  They all looked shocked, but followed my orders.  I'm sure I looked terrifying.

There are other times that we hear sirens.  We are fortunate enough to live in extremely close proximity to the fire and police departments.  This is a good thing because if we ever had a fire or a burglar, it would get taken care of at record speed.  This is bad because of the sirens.  I don't mind them too much, unless they go off when I'm trying to sleep.  Then it gets old.

Almost directly next door to our apartment is a convenience store.  Even for a convenience store, it is very convenient for us.  I have really enjoyed the benefits of living so close to this place (aka: chocolate and Diet Dew less than ten steps away at any time I darn well please), except for one time, the other day.  On this particular afternoon, a man had parked his black car outside of the store while he went in to do a little shopping.  The only problem was that he left the music playing in his car on, with the windows wide open.  Bigger problem, the music was played by some horrific metal band at full blast.  Let me repeat the fact that he wasn't even in his car.  The music was just echoing through our street.  He must have stayed inside for roughly twenty minutes, and I wanted to drive the car into the store.

We are also happy to report that we live right down the street from a lovely old bar.  That was sarcasm.  Some strange (and considerably inebriated) characters have been known to wander past our apartment, making obnoxious noises.  They also, at times, choose to break bottles and leave cigarette butts.  Lovely.  So lovely.

But, on the bright side, the rent is cheap, the windows let in lots of light, and our landlord recently blessed us with a new water heater.  It heats water in such a way that a warm shower can last for more than five minutes, and the bathtub fills up completely before the water gets cold.  Amazing.

rich.

I realized I had been thinking too hard about it.  Not everything I said had to be profound or important or worth writing down, but then again it could be.  Any moment now, I could think up the most impressive thought anyone has ever heard.  Or it could just be more pointless crap as usual, but how do I know unless I give it a chance?  If I keep telling my brain, "No, that's not good enough," or "No, that's been said before," eventually it's is going to get fed up with me and stop throwing out ideas.  And if it stops giving me ideas how will I ever come up with better ones?

After I considered the fact that any thought of mine had the potential to be genius or at least move others in some way, I started writing almost all of them down.  At three a.m., in the bathtub, walking to the gas station for a Dew.  I just write it down.  No matter how brief or obscure the thought.  I give it a chance.  And I find I have a lot more creative ideas now.

"we got no food. we got no jobs..."

I forced myself out of bed this morning.  I forced myself out of my warm comfy jammies and into a stiff pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  I actually used a blow drier on my hair.  I even had a few extra moments to put some mascara on these typically bare lashes.  I had to leave the adorable face of my husband and kitten, and walk out the door into the lone and dreary world.

And how did that world reward me for my efforts?  Ice.  Ice all over the place.  Ice on my wind shield, ice under my shoes.  But not the obvious  kind of ice that you see and immediately think, "Hey, that's ice, I should probably walk slower."  This ice wasn't messing around.  This ice was perfectly clear and camouflaged and out to get me.

Unfortunately, I didn't take notice of this ice until after slipping right off of my feet, landing directly on my hip and knee. 

How delicious is my husband.

I've had it with this dump of a season!  I need a beach!  I need warmth.  I need melted chap stick and my poofy floral clown pants.  I need sandals or just no shoes at all.  I need that otherworldly feeling of slightly sunburnt skin.  I need some vitamin D, y'all.  And not from a bottle.  From the sky!

I need the smell of Summer, I need its noises in my ears.

history.

He brought me See's and Diet Dew.  And I feel much better about this whole Monday thing.

I have no idea how to transition this, so I'm just gonna move on.  Did you know my parents have been divorced and re-married twice?  Which means they've been married to each other three times?  That's a true story.  One that is probably too complicated and personal to get my blog on about. But aren't they cute?

When I was younger, and they were living separately, I was always worrying about them.  Those of you who have experienced divorce probably understand what I mean here.  Are they bored?  Are they lonely?  Is Dad hungry?  Does Mom have anyone to gab and watch movies with?  It was a conflicting experience, because I, being young, wanted to go out with my friends and do silly things.  Like "hot tubbing" and/or "going 80's." (Which meant we dressed up in neon colors and danced to 80's music until 1am in a sleezy club in Salt Lake City.  I can't say I know why.  My brain wasn't fully developed.)

My parents encouraged me to go and do these things, insisting that I needed to have fun and not worry about them and they were fine and they'd see me for dinner in a few days or whatever.  I knew it wasn't my fault that any of this had happened, and that I also couldn't do anything to fix it.

But in the moments where I felt especially helpless, I always turned to one specific song.  The song of all sad, therapeutic songs.  Yes, we're talking Fix You, by Coldplay. 

"Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you"

It's pretty ironic because, as I have previously stated, I knew I couldn't fix it or them or anything about the situation.  But this song seemed to appeal to my irrational feelings and voiced the thoughts that I didn't have energy to put into words at the time.  Which is the best kind of song.  I'm not even a very big Coldplay fan.  But that song, it hit the spot.

That song was on the episode of The O.C. that Drew and I watched on Saturday night.  And what did I do?  Bawled like a baby.  Even though things are much different now, and my parents mostly keep each other company and, rest assured, my mom sees to it that my dad never goes hungry, those emotions came flooding back.

And I was glad.  Drew and I talked about difficult things.  How they shape and mold us into stronger, more capable people.  I'm glad that song still brings tears, that I still remember.  Because I learned things from those experiences that have become a vital part of who I am and how I live my life.

My dad.  Somewhere in the 70's,

I don't mean that we should hold on to the bad memories and let them control our lives.  We should do our best to rise above negative or difficult situations.
 
But I'm not sure how to learn other than by reviewing history, and if I forgot my history, I would likely forget what I learned.

un-happy, but necessary Monday.

Here we are, just hanging out in our front room.  Sweaters, leggings, cardigans, wrapped in photogenic Christmas lights.  You know, the usual.

Obviously kidding.  Get real.  This is another teaser from the shoot we did with Erin.  She's so creative.  I want to send it out as a Christmas card, but I think people will be mad that they get a Christmas card from us before a thank-you card.  Maybe I just think too much.

I'm falling asleep in my chair at work today.  Fact about Drew and I: we're definite night owls.  Employment and something called "adult responsibility" keep us from acting on our natural tendency to stay up into the early morning, watching movies and snacking and giggling and loving the fact that we don't have to wake up to an alarm in a few hours.

We had the opportunity to do this all weekend, and it was bliss.  But one thing you just have to accept about life is that Monday always comes.  Like a great big slap in the face.  I know, I'm so full of wisdom.  All things considered, being tired today is worth all of the weekend enjoyment.  I'm just pounding down some Diet Dew and chewing on sunflower seeds to stay awake.

A very un-happy because it's after a long weekend, but necessary because we have to get on with our lives, Monday to you.