Here Comes the Rain

It's raining outside and it couldn't have come at a better time. I was feeling like one of those clouds, all swollen and full and ready to burst, but... just waiting. I've been staring at my wall for the last .. oh.. two hours or more.

Yesterday my neighbors asked me to stop by their barbecue tonight. They said they had invited over a bunch of old college friends and that it would be fun and would I like to come. I told them I'd try to make it if I didn't have to work. Well, as I left work early tonight, I needed to kill some time so that it wasn't obvious that I was avoiding their shindig. I decided to catch a 5:00 showing of The Dark Knight, which was a great choice, because it kept me occupied until after 8:00. That made me well beyond fashionably late and instead of stopping by to say hello, I just kept my head down and made a mad dash for my door. I wasn't feeling social at all and really didn't think I had it in me to navigate my way through my "Married Mormon Neighbor Social Glitch Syndrome" or MMNSGS. For some bizarre reason, I lose all my social skills when confronted with these neighbors. I like them. I think they are sweet and warm and friendly, but I just cannot find a common groove with them and it causes me to take a social nose dive. The conversation could be 1 minute or 10. Doesn't matter. I wish I had a hidden camera so that I could record the expressions on their faces. I feel this pressure to fill in the silent moments and so I talk more than I need to and often things just come out that shouldn't. I really cannot put my finger on it, but I don't know how many more dinner invitations I can dodge with them. I think it would be torture to have to sit for a meal while I over share all night and watch in horror as they file me away in the minds as a special case in need of their fellowship. Ugh!

OOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo crap! I'm scared. I like RAIN ... um... but I don't like lightening. I want to hide under something and cover my ears.

For Whom The Wedding Bell Tolls

It looks like I survived!! I was NOT a runaway bridesmaid as I feared. I was so worried about whether I'd be able to make it through the ceremony or not. I didn't want to disappoint Sheryl and I certainly didn't want to ruin her moment. As it turned out, I was neither a disappointment nor the ignition of disaster.

My first hurdle was the rehearsal. I was anxious to find out exactly what I would have to do and how the ceremony would be set up. We went through it in one, two, three and that was that. Seemed easy enough to follow. My fellow groomsman, Zach and myself were ON it. I told him we were going to be the star walkers as we synced our footsteps. He was a willing student of "Teresa's School Of Not Being The Worst One". It was a little odd seeing all of the chairs set up and knowing that the next night they would be full of a lot of people I would have to see again. Like the survivor that I am, I just put it out of my mind and headed off to the dinner. I sat next to Zach and Sheryl's stepfather. I made a good choice as my company ended up being so much fun. Zach and I chattered all through dinner. We were laughing so hard over our shared fear of needles and blood draws. I told him about my donation story and gave him tips on how to survive his upcoming blood test. "Close your eyes, plug your ears, turn your head and hum really loud. Works every time." If Zach hadn't been married with children, I'd have tried to make him my new best friend. He was easy to talk to and we related on a lot of levels. Very nice guy! I also wanted to adopt Sheryl's stepfather, Joe. He was such a riot. An ex DEA agent, now retired and living on a boat in San Diego. He captains boats for other people and has sailed literally all over the world. Such a bold, funny guy. He pretends to not hear what you are saying to try to throw you off your game, but I caught on and dished it right back. By the end of the night he gave me his card and told me I was to look him up the next time I was in San Diego and that he would take me sailing. Everyone in the wedding party was so warm and were all such great people. It's really a testament as to the kind of people Larry and Sheryl are. I left the dinner feeling uplifted and glad to have been a part of everything, but I was still fairly certain I'd be in for it the next day.

The Next Day...

I showed up for pictures right on time. I had to pick my dress up on the way as it had a few last minute alterations. It ended up fitting great! All the bridesmaids got ready in a suite across from where the wedding was taking place. The room was all decked out and was stocked with champagne, wine, fruit and a chocolate fountain. I abstained from the chocolate fountain, but took advantage of the champagne and wine. When we were all ready, we headed out for pictures. I'm hoping the champagne and wine helped my camera face. I didn't feel quite the facial twitching that I normally do, so I may have a shot or two that will come out looking somewhat normal. I'll feel awful if I ruin all of Sheryl's pictures with my anti-camera face. Ugh! Especially considering how extremely beautiful all the rest of the bridesmaids were. Not an "un-pretty" girl in the bunch. Everyone kept commenting on the line and wondering where Sheryl shopped for friends. I was not the thinnest girl in the bunch, but I did win the prize for the best cleavage thanks to my push up bra.

After pictures, I took my stuff and checked into my room at Steins. It was just above the lodge and as a total moron, I figured it was a short hike. It was a short hike, but not when one is carrying luggage, in heels, over actual wet dirt. I'd parked my car down below, because I hate when they valet your car. You have to wait for them to get it and blah, blah, blah.... I'm not all that keen on being catered to like that. Anyway.. the point is that I carried all my shit UP hill, in heels and it was really stupid and I was hot and tired and it took me forever to find the lobby only to have to walk ALL the way back down to where my room ended up being. Nice room by the way.

On to the actual wedding CEREMONY. I popped a klonopin and as we were waiting in the pre-wedding room of the lodge, we all had one last toast and I downed another glass of champagne. Just before we went out, the maid of honor got a little freaked when she saw my nerves and I told her I'd be fine, but that I may be a tad "over medicated". Suddenly I had everyone coming up to me asking if I was okay. After demonstrating just how well I could walk and coordinate my body, they relaxed and then it was showtime. I did my thing (Zach and I were totally the best walkers) and took my place in the line. There were a LOT of people, but I wasn't nervous. Once Sheryl came down the isle, everyone was in tears. I laughed at the girls who put tissue in their cleavage, but I was the one who ended up needing it and I borrowed some cleavage tissue from one of the girls. I cried more than anyone else. The ceremony was so beautiful and Larry kissed Sheryl's pregnant belly, which made everyone melt and it was just so lovely. I have always thought that the big fluff, all the bells and whistles were kind of a waste of time and money. I have since changed my mind. I get it now. I get why people would make the effort and why they would stand in front of that many people to share their moment. I was so proud to have been a part of it. From start to finish, it was such a beautiful event. It was the nicest wedding I've ever been to and the room was filled with so many wonderful, likable people. Granted, my good mood may have been due to being heavily medicated and slightly intoxicated, but I'm choosing to believe that it was a beautiful moment. As I kept hearing the same comments from other people, I'm pretty certain that what I ingested had little to do with it.

After the ceremony, everyone moved into the dinner area where we ate, drank some more wine and champagne, toasted and then the dancing began. Sheryl and Larry started it off as is custom and then the bridesmaids and groomsman were called out to join them. I felt a bit awkward dancing with Zach while his wife looked on, but it was only half a song. After that.. the party really started and I did my thing. I racked up more dancing partners than anyone else. Dave Brown from work (one of the owners of PSE) threw his coat off, pulled out his shirt tails and boogied like he had ants in his pants. I danced so hard that by the end of the night, I could barely walk and my lungs were raw from trying to keep up with my body. My shoes below are proof of my dedication to the dance floor.



All in all, it was one of the best things I've ever been a part of. I wish I would have allowed myself less anxiety over it, but this was a good lesson for me. Though I'm not by nature a person who loves to socialize EVERY day, I do love people. I love spending time getting to know new people and I love exploring new things. Twelve years ago, I was the person who packed up and moved just for the sake of being able to say I had. I've been in a rut the past four years and I think I'm ready to get back out there and live my life a little more freely.

Wedding Day Jitters

So, I get to be a bridesmaid. Uh... ya, the idea is fun. Getting to wear a nice dress, having my hair done, being recognized as someone "close" to the bride. All that is great! The downside... I actually have to be AT the wedding ceremony. The bad part of that last sentence revolves around the word CEREMONY. OH MY GOD!!! You all know I do not like formal, quiet type settings, right? Okay.. this is a CEREMONY and I have to stand there, QUIET and can't move or run out of there screaming for my life for probably a good 15 minutes. 15 MINUTES!!! That is like torture. How am I to prevent myself from pooping my pants (or dress rather)? I've already had nightmares about it. The closer I get to the day, the more anxious I feel. I'm not consciously thinking about it either. To add to the heaping pile of ceremony stress, I am helping to throw a bridal shower. This will be happening next week and it's a lingerie theme. We are actually holding the shower AT a lingerie store and part of the fun will involve strip tease lessons. Weeeeeee!!!! I'm all for the strip tease lesson. How is it that I can be so up for moving my ass in a provocative way in front of strangers, but I can't bear the idea of standing next to my friend as she says I DO? I definitely have it backwards. I do not want to be part of the wedding ceremony, but by damn if I'm not looking forward to busting a move on the dance floor at the reception. I could have every eye in the room on me as I wiggle and shake and I'd love every minute of it.

A Morning Ride Through Uneasy

Ugh! I haven't felt this feeling in a while. I find it astonishing what stress will do to my body. I haven't eaten well, which has been good for the size of my ass, but tends to break one's mind into itty, bitty particles. I feel like I get myself put together and then ... suddenly, I just unravel. Over the last six weeks or so, I've felt so good. I wake up feeling like I'd like to vomit, but it usually subsides by the time I get to work. This is new. For the better part of 4 years, I would wake up feeling like I'd like to vomit, come to work and feel it until everyone else left the building. In the last few weeks, I've been more social than ever. I go to lunch with people I don't know well and I'm able to carry on a conversation at someone's desk without feeling that overwhelming urge to just get up and RUN! Today, I'm having a much harder time ditching that sick feeling. I forgot just how badly I used to feel. When you are experiencing it on a daily basis, you just take it for what it's worth and you become a little numb to it all. GOD.. I HATE this feeling. No wonder I secluded myself for 4 years. I'd rather live life in a cage than have to endure these feelings on a daily basis by being part of society.

I am currently working on talking myself through this and I hope it will pass. I took a pill and will wait to see if it pulls me back together.

I just want to find a colorful pumpkin patch and lay in the sun for a few months. Is that really too much to ask?

My New Couch!!

So, this is my newest piece of furniture. I've asked the store to hold it for 6 weeks to give me time to find somewhere to put it, but I'm really excited! It's leather and super comfortable. I'd been looking for a long time and only seemed to find pretty, but "uncomfortable". This is the first beautiful couch I've found that I'll really enjoy sitting in. Yeah for me!!!

Operation Hard Hat

One should never plant bad ideas into someone else's head.

I received a call at work the other day from Bill, an engineer who works for PSE, on site, at a plant in Wyoming. He was in desperate need of my help, because the plant was updating their hard hats and had switched to "baby blue". He said he refused to wear a hat that would make him look like a dork and could I please send him out one of our PSE hard hats and ask Sheryl, our sales person, to add a few stickers from other plants when she brought it out to him. I was absolutely thrilled to be helping him out in this matter. I teased him a bit about his fear of baby blue, but told him I would set him up.

Everything was going really well for Bill until he opened his mouth and said, "Now you guys are probably going to decorate it with girly stickers or something, aren't you?" Gee Bill... I hadn't thought of that, thanks for the tip.

And so Operation Hard Hat began. Sheryl was the project lead. She took the initiative to purchase the best girl stickers she could find. Butterflies, Care Bears and Hello Kitty stickers are about as sweet as you can get. She also came up with the name. I was just the artist, Sheryl was the mastermind. I hope Bill likes it when he sees it next week. I can't imagine him feeling like a dork in a hat like this.




The back side of this hat is kind of a private joke. I'm sure Bill will find it amusing as will the rest of his co-workers at the plant. I'm afraid he may have the name branded on him forever now.

Oops!

Call It

Time of death... sometime in the afternoon.

I feel like a horrible human being.

The Lucky Two

I had all but exhausted every avenue trying to find help with these baby skunks. I would have ordinarily called the Utah Wildlife Division, but they are closed for the holiday as are most other organizations. I was hoping to find someone who might rehab skunks or at least know the best thing to do. I ran into dead ends everywhere I went, until today. I was at PetsMart picking up more milk and on a whim, I decided to ask the girl at the vet counter if she knew of any people who would rehab wildlife. She gave me.... WOW.. I think I just felt an earthquake! Anyway... she gave me the name of a woman and I called her and she said she had worked with skunks before and would be able to take 2. It was hard trying to pick which ones to live. Originally I was going to just pick the two girls, because that would make it easy and you know.. I was trying to make up for the whole male preference thing in China. I ended up with one boy and one girl, because they seemed the most docile of the bunch. There is one boy who is always stinking, and I mean this literally, MAD. The minute I look at him, he's up and grunting and stomping his feet. He stomped his feet the entire time I fed him and only quit grunting when I shoved the dropper in his mouth. He was not picked because of his poor attitude. This proves that it's always best to be nice. It could save your life someday. Anyway, I'm horribly depressed and sad over having to call the authorities tomorrow, knowing that they will kill the rest of the babies. I can't imagine anyone being able to continue to feed them for another two months while they still have their stink machines. If they were de-scented, they wouldn't have a chance in the wild and it's illegal to keep them as pets in Utah. So, there really is no alternative. The woman who took the two from me will have them de-scented tomorrow (she knows a guy) and will probably keep them. She has a full grown raccoon and a three week old baby raccoon that she let me hold. SO CUTE!!! I think she's a brave woman to be taking it on, but I imagine if they weren't able to spray, they would be pretty much like a kitten. They are one of the most adorable baby animals I've ever seen. It seems so unfair.

When Nobody Wants To Be Your Friend

I just finished feeding not 6, but 7 baby skunks. I was well equipped with very long, thick rubber gloves and had managed to learn how to keep the skunks tails turned under their body so they wouldn't spray me. I would feed one and put it in another box so I could tell who was fed and who still needed to be. I had all 7 piled into the "finished" box and then began to transfer them back into their regular box. I was doing great until the second to last one. I was too slow and he was irritated and he let it fly. My arm ended up being the target. I now smell like baby skunk. I took my second shower for the day, soaked my arm in tomato juice, scrubbed my arm until it almost bled, doused it with several different essential oils and I'm still a little stinky. I hope people will still talk to me tomorrow at work. Cathy said she could still smell me. :(

The Rabbit Tamer

Skunked

We have had a burrow in the barn for the past two years and late last year, we finally discovered what had been living in it. It was a skunk. We left it alone and it left us alone. This year, it was back and it sprayed in the barn, which irritated my father, so he decided to irritate the skunk in return. He shoved a conduit pipe down the hole and then a hose and watered the den so to speak. This pissed off the skunk and after it was all said and done, the entire neighborhood smelled like skunk. He put rags soaked in ammonia around the hole and soon it seemed the skunk had vacated.

Earlier tonight, I had saved yet another mouse from the cats. Actually ... mom was again the one brave enough to catch it in a bucket, while I screamed as I carried the bucket all the way to the back to release it. Anyway, on my way back to the barn, I noticed a pile of black and white fur huddled up behind a pile of mulch. At first I thought it was Jack or Scooter and then I realized it was a skunk. I stopped in my tracks and was preparing to run when I looked a little closer and realized it was not one skunk, but six tiny babies huddled together. There was no mother in site and they were crying and acting very hungry. I ran to get mom and Amanda and we watched to make sure the cats wouldn't be able to eat them. Apparently cats have a natural instinct to know that baby skunks are stinky. They really didn't want anything to do with them. Dad, Justin, Meagan and Teresa all drove up and we had a nice skunk watching party, while the babies fussed and pushed each other around in their tight huddle. We all figured we would give the mother a chance to come back for them and drag them back to their den. About an hour later, mom and Teresa went back out to check on them and found several of them wandering around the yard. We decided we should put them in a box tall enough so they couldn't get out, but short enough that the mama could get them out when she returned.

Catching the little buggers proved harder than we thought. One was under the flat bed trailer and was not about to be caught. Mom was armored in a pair of garden gloves and two oven mitts. Teresa was on one side trying to push it to the opposite side towards mom, but it would run the minute it saw her gloves. I grabbed a pitch fork and scared it out the side of the trailer near Teresa, while she and Meagan blocked it and mom scooped it up in her hands. It was NOT happy and it lifted it's little tail and proved that baby skunks are fully capable of spraying. They look so cute that you wouldn't believe it possible, but they know how to do it and it DOES stink. I got a mouthful and it wasn't pleasant. It's not as potent as an adult, but it still reeks. After mom put the first one in the box, I went after the others. I decided to use the pitch fork and just scooped the second one up and put him in the box. Each time I picked one up, it would spray, continually adding to the already potent perfume in the air. We were able to catch three babies, but the other three disappeared and we are hoping they went back to their den. We left the box out near the den with straw and if the babies are still in there tomorrow morning, I fear they have probably been abandoned. We looked on line and found out what to do if that's the case, but I'm really hoping it's not. I don't think fostering tiny skunks who like to spray you sounds all that fun. From what I can tell, they are between 3 and 5 weeks old. Very, very cute!!! If they didn't stink so bad, I'd pick them up and hug them.

To IKEA and Beyond!!!

So, my mom and I went to the Grand Opening of IKEA yesterday. I didn't think it was any big deal even though I'd heard reports that people were camping out. Well, it was quite the event. They had all kinds of police officers directing traffic and many hired temps doing the same. It took us about 25 minutes just to get IN to the store. It was swarming with people and children were a large majority of that population. It was fun though even with all the people. I had no idea how cool the store would be. I didn't like everything that was in there, but there were a few pieces of furniture and accessories that were really great. I bought the above chair, which is super comfortable and also comes with a matching foot stool. It's going to look great with my black futon couch. I need another "comfortable" couch as the futon is not all that soft, a few end tables and I should be set for furniture. I think IKEA will be able to provide all that I will need in those areas. They also have this really great bed that moves electronically for comfort. As my back begins to hate a bed about 6 months in, regardless of how "good" it is, I'm thinking that being able to change the shape of my bed at any given time might help. All in all, it was a fun day and I'd recommend IKEA to anyone looking for inexpensive, but not completely crappy furniture.

The Global Warming Debate

I've been thinking about this issue for a long time and in talking to other people about how they see it, I'm sometimes at a loss for words. You have those people who believe it and are doing what they can to help, those who believe it and just don't care and those who absolutely refuse to believe it so they don't have to care. I turn my radio to conservative talk every now and again and am still surprised to hear how Global Warming is somehow a conspiracy. I don't really understand what anyone has to gain by the observation that the earth is warming at an alarming rate and that man's influence is an overwhelming factor in this increased trend. The majority of people claiming that the effects are minimal seem to be Evangelical Christians or those making a profit from oil. For those people who believe that Christ will soon be returning to the earth in these "last days" and the earth will burn and all the good souls will be raised while the wicked are left to burn with the earth, it's really not a priority. I mean, if the earth will be ablaze within the next 20 to 40 years, why in the world would we need to do anything about that tiny 1 to 3 degrees in temperature rise? I mean... seriously.. just turn up the A/C, right? What I don't understand about the Christian perspective is this: Christians believe that God, a man, created the earth. Because he created the earth in 7 days, there was no room for evolution, so each and every plant, bug and animal had to have been created for some purpose. The earth is like God's back yard, so to speak, and we are basically visitors. It's on loan to us. Now, honestly.. if you loaned a car to someone and they brought it back trashed, would you not be a little bit upset? Even if you do believe that the earth will be destroyed in the end, is it not still disrespectful to treat it poorly while we are here? While our actions are still affecting other people and other living creatures, I would think God, if he is a man above, would want us to be kind and to watch how what we do carries over to other beings. Just because we are ignorant doesn't make us innocent.

I watched a documentary the other night called, "Jesus Camp". I found it so incredibly disturbing. This Evangelical Christian pastor was literally training young children to live and speak her belief system. She has a camp every year and in this camp, she teaches these very young kids that Satan is out there, that they must be warriors against sin, which is like a flesh eating bacteria and that they must wage "actual" war against those people who do not believe in Jesus Christ. She specifically targeted Muslims and told these children that they would be in war with the Moslems to bring the "truth" back to this earth. The "truth" basically consists of praising Jesus Christ, speaking in tongues (basically making up your own language and screaming it to the heavens at the top of your lungs), making sure you repent EVERY day for all of your indecent thoughts and acts (apparently not having enough faith in Christ is the ULTIMATE sin) and learning to hate people who do not believe as you do. Many of the parents of these children see that they are home schooled. They teach them that evolution is a bunch of crap and that global warming is a conspiracy, all this over a nice bologna sandwich. They teach their kids to praise President Bush as a brave leader who is guided by God. In fact, at camp they have a life size cut out of the man and they pray for him every day. The scary part of this idea is how strong and pervasive it is within this one group of people. It bleeds into conservative politics and has heavily blurred the line between church and state. People believe that this world is more evil than it used to be and this is all because prayer has been taken out of the schools. What people don't understand is that this world is not more evil than it used to be, we just have more information put in front of us, so we see the bad things more often. I think that as human beings, we have become more aware and more concerned with our fellow man. Bad things still happen, but we also do so much more good. If we believe in our possibility to transform the ills of the world into something positive, we certainly can do it. Global Warming is an opportunity for everyone to do something small to achieve something really big. Seeing how we can reverse the damage we do will inspire people all over the world to be more mindful of all that they do and how it affects every living soul in this world. Whether they believe in Jesus Christ is not the big issue. How we treat each other is and I'm pretty sure that if Christ were walking the earth today, he would be taking the bus and he would recycle.

Mom's Brilliant Piano Playing

This is mother playing her sweet music. Only 1 week of having a piano.. can you believe it?

Liar, Liar Pants On Fire

So, I learned some information today about a fellow co-worker. Keep in mind, I have not trusted this particular person for some time, but the information I learned today was of such a high caliber in the way of it being almost unbelievable that my stomach has turned a bit. It's always so difficult for me to believe that someone is a liar. I see words come out of their mouth and though they seem untrue, I still have it in me to believe it, simply because I know if I were telling someone a lie, I'd be SO completely mortified about it. I find it odd to think that people would willingly embarrass themselves by lying. Well, apparently some people don't actually find it embarrassing. Some people are so good at it and are so good at denial, that the lies fly out of their mouths without them even being aware of it. Ya, little Teresa is growing up.

Famous People

I have to say that I have the most vivid dreams of anyone I know. Full of explicit detail and themes that are right out of a best selling novel. The latest genre in my dreams has been celebrities. A few weeks ago I dreamt about Brad Pitt and Angelia Jolie. I was staying with them at some hotel, because I'd won a contest or something. I met all their 7 adopted children. I know they don't have that many in real life, but in my dream, Angelina was swimming in adopted children and she introduced me to every last one of them. She was pretty easy going and I found her rather normal, in spite of her addiction to children. Brad ended up driving me to the airport after my day with the family and he and I had a chance to bond. He sang me a song and told me how he used to have a garage band, etc. I told him how I used to sing with my friend Sean Dixon. Then suddenly, he and Angelina were with me on a tour bus driving through the country and Brad started beating himself up, because he thought I didn't have a good time. He started pointing out huge mansions that he should have rented instead of the hotel, because he thought I would have enjoyed it more and it would have given me a better experience of all that was rich and famous. I thought it was nice that he cared so much. As far as I know, Brad and Angelina are cream of the crop, salt of the earth, good people.



Last night I had another celebrity dream. This time it was about John Mayer and Jessica Simpson. I honestly don't give a second thought to Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie, which makes it all the more odd that they appeared in my dream, but I'll admit that I have a little crush on John Mayer. I think he's insanely smart and witty. I know he's a "pop" star and this is one of the reasons I have tried to keep my little crush a secret, but outside of the method he uses to sell his music, he's really a brilliant musician. I was an avid reader of his blog until he began dating Jessica Simpson and gave up posting on his website. Reading his posts and catching on to his wit and off beat humor were a highlight to my day and are what sparked my interest in his persona. The bad thing about a celebrity crush is that you know you are sharing it with several million other people. A good portion of these women are probably just excited that he thinks their body is a wonderland, but it's still a pretty crowded pool to wade in. I'll admit that I liked knowing that he was single. Not because I thought someday he would be mine, but it made him more identifiable. When the news broke that he was dating Jessica Simpson, I was really upset. I was actually more upset that I was upset, but the feeling was there all the same. She ruined my entire image of this guy. My John Mayer hologram wouldn't have dated a dumb blond who exploits herself by inviting the public into her personal life. He would have chosen a nice, down to earth, media shy girl who nobody would ever know about. Enough said. On to the dream. I was outside a football stadium with John Mayer and Jessica Simpson. Jessica went inside to watch the game and I hung back with John. She would come out every now and again and glare at me with her big brown eyes and then interrupt me when I talked as if I wasn't really there. What a bitch! I finally got John to admit that he was only dating her for the sex and didn't really like her as a person. He told me he was breaking up with her. I was happy and I woke up. Apparently my dreams are just trying to appease my psychological need to keep John Mayer a single guy.

Spinning Like A Wheel

It's nearing 3:00 AM in the morning and I'm not sleeping. My eyes are droopy and I'd be likely to drift off if I actually laid down, but I'm just not in the mood to sleep. I'm itching for something to amuse myself with and as you may have guessed.. inspiration isn't making a late night appearance.

What I'd really like to do is create a very long sentence using only extremely profane words, but since I learned yesterday that my niece and nephew now peek at my blog, I need to keep it at least PG13. I think that rating allows at least one vulgar word. Poop. There. I feel much better.

To my dearest Andrew: Due to your recent review of my blog and the fact that you thought it was "miserable", I am going to include a pleasant picture just for you. I hope you enjoy it.




To my dearest niece Amanda: I know you would probably appreciate a good poem over a non-miserable picture, so here goes:

My Auntie writes a blog
And she really likes my dog
She thinks her cat is better
Because he wears a sweater
I find her a bit rude
When she pulls her attitude
So when she leaves, I let her


To my dearest niece Meagan: I think you would enjoy a good short story. Here goes:

Once upon a time, there was a little mouse named Jose. He was from Mexico and crossed the border into the United States illegally when the minutesnakes were not looking. Jose was tired and weary from his long journey, so when he felt it was safe, he found a shaded spot under some sage brush and took a little nap. When he woke up, he found a cactus and bit into it very carefully so as not to puncture himself with one of the pricks. He drank the thirst quenching water and was immediately refreshed. Jose made his way to the city and found that there were few jobs for Mexican mice. The only job available was as a bait mouse and out of desperation, he took it. He would run frantically about to distract cats and birds of prey, while the rich mice traveled to and from their expensive homes. He was only paid a meager wage of a few crumbs of cheese or crackers here and there, but he felt happy that he was able to fill his stomach. He stored and saved part of his food to send back to his family across the border in Mexico as they had no jobs at all where they lived. Jose was happy that he could feed his family and was proud of the dangerous work he did. One day, Jose was asked to distract a nearby cat so that a rich mouse could take a walk. He ran passed the cat at lightening speed and the cat began to chase him. Jose had done this many times, but the night before, he had eaten some bad cheese and this gave Jose painful colitis. Just as he was about to get to safety, a pain seared through his little mouse body and he had to stop running to relieve the pain. The cat quickly caught up to him and snatched him up into his mouth. The cat began to throw Jose into the air and toss him about. Jose thought he was toast, but in the distance he could hear a human voice screaming... "Jack.. let that poor mouse go!!!". The cat dropped Jose, but was still leering over him. Then Jose felt water being splashed all over him and again the yelling of the human. "Jack, GET AWAY FROM THAT MOUSE!" The cat finally ran away and a nice human being picked up Jose and took him to a safe place. Eventually Jose recovered from his injuries and when the rich mouse discovered what a brave thing Jose did, he invited Jose to live with him. Jose went back to Mexico to get the rest of his family and they all lived happily ever after as servants for the rich mouse.

The End

I am sufficiently exhausted enough to attempt sleep now.

Good Night All

Thanks for reading my blog.

The Joy of Drugs

I love drugs. Not all drugs, just the ones that rein you in when your mind spins in ten thousand directions and every thought you have sends a waive of seizing throughout your body. This is the general setup for most of my sleepless nights. I feel anxiety at specific intervals throughout most days, but I can deal with that. It's when I lay down to sleep and my legs twitch and my mind starts obsessing as if it's on auto pilot. I can't take it!

The last few weeks, my normal routine has been shot to hell. Routine is what helps keep me sane. I had a visitor, which was nice. I love my friend Cathy, but we end up talking until way too late and that cuts into my mandatory 2 hour decompression time. I require a few hours to just be alone each night. I feel like it's my time to get out all the too much "whatever" from my day. Whether that be too much good or bad. Too much is too much and I'm easily overwhelmed. If I'm not in bed by 10:30 and at least attempting to sleep by that time, I won't see slumber until at least 1:00 - 2:00 AM. It can be much, much later if I have something on my mind.

The night before last I wasn't able to sleep until 7:00 AM. It's a long story, which I won't share, but needless to say, I was upset and I only got 3 hours of sleep yesterday. Saturday was groggy and I went with my mom to Park City to pick up our special cat food. Mom drove up, because I was afraid I'd kill us, but after enduring her driving, I felt it was a safer bet to let me drive as sleepy as I was. The feeling of lack of sleep brought back memories of mom, dad, Justin and I driving to and from West Virginia to pick up my horses and move me back to Utah. We did it in 4 days. We drove straight through to WV in 40 hours, with NO breaks other than a quick meal and a pee stop here and there. I've never felt fatigue like that in my life and it took a week to recover from. Even though you are so tired, it becomes so much more difficult to finally get to sleep. We all ended up getting sick when we got home. Anyway, this feeling of fatigue felt similar though not quite as extreme.

Last night, I decided I would test out one of our special pills from an unnamed country for two reasons. I really needed to sleep and I also needed to find out how much it would affect me as I'll be taking it when I fly out to Reno this week. It's an anti anxiety med that I've taken before at a significantly higher dose when I had to face my first gyno appointment. I had no idea how strong it would be and ended up unable to even undress myself. It's embarrassing looking back, but I didn't care much, because I felt SOOOOOO good. It turns out that cutting the pill in half gives you much of the same benefit while still allowing you to walk upright. I still had the racing mind, but.. I didn't get the rush of anxiety that usually accompanies it. I was able to steer my racing thoughts from one subject to another. Normally, they stay on ONE subject and it's like this uncontrollable, obsessive idea that plays over and over like a broken record. I'm thinking I should take this pill EVERY day. Who knows.. I may now be able to take over the world.

Taking Bruce for a Ride

So, I took Bruce Lee out for a ride today and it was great! I felt like a 125 year old Lance Armstrong. Bruce is my new bike. One of two that I have in my collection. He and Wangari are very happy together, but I think Wangari is a little jealous. I don't think I'll be riding her much now that I have Bruce. Bruce Lee is my "leisure" bike and Wangari is my "mountain" bike. One is uphill and one is downhill and after riding in a downhill position for two years and waking up the next morning with numb hands, I had to make the switch to an uphill bike. Gripping and putting pressure on my wrists makes them swell and then I can't feel anything. I "broke" my wrists so to speak when I tried my hand (pun absolutely intended) at construction site cleanup. Had I known I would be paying for it my entire life, I would have never done such a stupid thing. That little self employment endeavor cost me more than the full function of my hands and a boat load in taxes. It actually convinced my mother that I was gay. She was helping me unload one of my trailers one day and as we were driving to the dump, she looked over at me and said, "Teresa, I want you to know that I'll always love you no matter what.. but... are you gay?". I sat there for a minute and after I realized that she was absolutely serious, I just busted out laughing.

Getting My Flirt On

So, I think I've let loose a little of my flirt. I've been holding it in for quite a long time. I don't really even think it's technically just about flirting. I think that everyone has this inner signal they can turn on or off that tells the outer world if they are receptive or not. On a scale of 1 to 10, my little signal is sending out a charge of about a 2, but at least it's transmitting. What I find so funny about it is the feedback I'm receiving. I'm getting picked up on by a broad range of men. Older, younger, cute, not so cute, potentially gay and SO wrong for me. As I'm only transmitting at a 2, I'm not ready to.. you know.. actually date anyone, but I can see that in the near future. In the meantime, I'm practicing my luring skills. I'm trying to take it rather seriously, because as most everyone who knows me is aware of, I'm a bit on the picky side. I'd rather not repeat old patterns and so I'm trying to attract a new kind of guy.

My old type has usually been, "The Unavailable Guy". Apparently, I enjoy feeling invalidated, because all of my past relationships have offered up this delight in plentiful quantity. A friend of mine who had a really bad experience with a man kept saying how he had picked her. I thought about that a while and I think it's only half true. I think we all pick people who match our own level of comfort. For example: If you have trouble receiving from other people, you will look for another person who has trouble giving. If you are afraid of emotional intimacy, you will look for someone who will continually test your trust, so that you never let your guard down. I think we are all so comfortable with what is familiar. For me, what is familiar is being alone and I've put great effort into staying this way. I never have to worry about a meltdown with someone else. I never have to worry about that horrible feeling of breaking up with someone. I am solely responsible for making myself happy and quite honestly, it's pretty damn easy. I'm happy and content and I could quite literally go on for the rest of my life this way, but I think there is a fuller degree of happiness and understanding about yourself that you can acquire when you open yourself up to a relationship and give up the idea of spending the rest of your life with 15 cats. I've had a "project" in the works to explore this other side of life that other people seem to need almost as much as the air they breath. I'm hoping it goes well and if it doesn't, I hope it's at least interesting enough to talk about for years to come.

The Love of My Life

How could you not love this cat? He's the cutest thing I've ever seen. Yes, he is naughty, but he makes up for it in squishiness. I call him my little chubs and I get love attacks for him every time I look at him. He was not thrilled to be trying on these sweaters, but I needed to get an idea if they would fit my grandmothers dog before I gave them to her. Both coats were looser on her dog than on Scooter. They were busting at the seams around his chubby belly.

Lollygagging

I was supposed to fly home yesterday at like 12:30 PM. I checked out of my hotel around 10:00 AM and decided I would drive from Long Beach to Beverly Hills and then take Santa Monica Blvd. to the beach and take the scenic way back to the airport. I figured that if I got to the airport 45 minutes before my flight, it would be ok, because Long Beach airport is the size of a kernel of corn. I drove through Beverly Hills, saw Rodeo Drive and saw Santa Monica Beach. I was totally surprised by how cool the beach was. I looked at the time and figured I was cutting it close, but I decided I could get back the time I'd miss from taking pictures by driving what seemed like 1/2 inch (on the map) back to 405 instead of meandering along Hwy 1. I walked out on the beach and started thinking how I was going to convince Michelle to come there for our next friend trip. I decided I'd better head back so I ran back to the car and headed for 405. Well, 405 wasn't exactly where the map said it should be. The on ramp for 405 North was, but 405 South, which was the direction I needed to go was on a little street of absolutely no consequence. Luckily, I stopped at a 7-11 to ask for directions. (If anyone doubted that I was female, this positively proves that I am.) I was ON 405 at approximately 11:42 AM. My plane was still scheduled to leave at 12:30 PM, even though I had somehow convinced myself that it may have decided to get a wash and "planicure" and therefore delay it's departure another 20 minutes or so. I was flying down the highway.. "Isn't that a song?" and as I came to the exit that my hotel was off of, I calculated 2 or 3 minutes until Long Beach Airport. Those minutes passed by and .. no airport. I then remembered it was more like 8 or 9 miles from my hotel exit. That meant something like 6 minutes. This put me at the airport at 12:10 PM. I still thought there was time though, because like I said.. it was a really small airport. How hard could it be to say.. "Hey plane.. wait.. I'm right here!"? When I finally did arrive at the airport, I grabbed my bags out of the car, threw away the garbage, because how tacky would it be to leave garbage in a rental car.... and yelled to the girl at the return counter that I was about to miss my flight. She grabbed my key and told me to get my receipt online. I morphed my suitcase into "roll mode" and ran like mad. Unfortunately my suitcase didn't follow and ended up tumbling over and over. I was drug to a stop and finally got the wheels back on track .. along with my pride... and "carefully" ran like hell to the check-in counter. There was only one Delta check-in counter and no Delta employees were there. There was another man waiting there who said he was also on the 12:30 flight. We rang bells, flagged down security personnel, tried to bribe our way through the security check to the gate, which was incidentally 30 feet away, but they refused to let us in. Even though we could see our plane through the fence and people were just beginning to "DE PLANE".. meaning that passengers were still getting off and they hadn't even begun loading our flight, there was nothing I could do. I missed my bloody flight. The next one wasn't until 5:30 PM, which meant I would have to wait 5 hours in a crappy airport until the next flight. I was absolutely LIVID. I used the "F" word at least 30 to 40 times and when the woman at the Delta check-in counter finally arrived, I was very, very rude to her. She asked me which flight I would like to book and as there was only one to choose from, I let her know it was a stupid question. They charged me $50 to "change" flights and when I asked her if I was now checked in, she told me that it was too early to check in. I said to her.. "So, what you are saying is that I can't check in too early OR too late?" I walked away trying like mad not to cry, because I was that pissed off. Eventually I cooled off and I did later apologize to the girl for being such a bitch. I was afraid when I checked my bags that she might lose them or send them to Alaska or something.

Wedded Bliss

So, I went to California this weekend for my friend Stanford's wedding. Stanford and I have been friends since he broke up with my best friend Michelle. That in itself is a very long and drawn out story that is quite messy and though it would make a great soap opera, I'd rather not relive it. So..poof.. we begin where Stanford and I are very good friends. He was the guy I always loved, but didn't love. It was very When Harry Met Sallyish. That's the best way I can describe it. He is a bit odd, I'm a bit odd. We could talk for hours. It was always so easy to be with him. We could be doing something as exciting as climbing Timpanogoes in the dark or just sitting around doing nothing. He let me give him a perm (actually he asked me to) and then rat his hair into tiny, tiny dread locks. This literally took hours and hours. We ordered the dreading kit online. He also let me shave his head (this was definitely my request) after I told him I could no longer stomach looking at the mat of grease that he now called his hair. Within our relationship there were many missed signals. I often thought I wanted a romantic relationship with him and I could never quite figure out if he wanted the same thing. I don't think that it was ever really in the cards for us. It was just so unnatural in many ways. I had the best friend part down, but beyond that I didn't have those overpowering feelings of lust. I thought maybe it was just because we knew each other so well. I've had relationships since then that have definitely blown that theory out of the water. It just wasn't there. I like that though. He was my very best guy friend and I loved him dearly and have had so many great memories and experiences with him.


We haven't spent much time together the past three years. He went to Michigan to finish up his Masters in Architecture and then got a job in Las Vegas. I asked him when he moved there.. "Why Vegas?". He blew it off as just an opportunity until months later when he finally began talking about this new girl he liked who happened to live in LA, which is conveniently 3 hours away from Vegas. I put two and two together and finally unraveled the real reason he chose to accept the job there. He told me when he graduated in May that he was going to get married within a year. Knowing what a commitment phobe he was, I didn't really believe him. He proposed and I still questioned whether or not he would go through with it and then the announcement arrived. I took this as a good indication that it was safe to book a flight. Originally, I wasn't planning on attending. I figured that it was too far away and too expensive and as it was going to squash the possibility of any future camping and hiking trips with Stanford, I just didn't want to go. As much as I'm happy for Stanford, it's a natural feeling for me to hate his wife. I'm sure she is a delightful girl, but she ended my friendship. Plain and simple. So, I hate her a little bit. I told Stanford that I didn't want to meet her until their wedding. It was slightly more complicated than just the fact that I hate her, but I didn't see the need to put myself through having to interact with her more than I had to. I know what you are thinking. You are saying to yourselves right now.. "I think this story is going to end with Teresa saying how she met his wife and thought she was so wonderful and it all ended up so great in the end." Well, I met his wife and yes she does seem very nice, but it didn't end up so great for me in the end. I can't tell you how strange it was for me to see Stanford with some strange woman knowing that this was his life from now on. It's not like this is some sudden jolt and I've lost my best friend. He and I haven't interacted on a regular basis for a long time, but to see someone you used to know so well with someone you know nothing about is odd. He acted like it was going to mean so much for me to be there, but in all honesty, I don't know that it did mean that much to him. I'm out. My final blaze of glory was spending $500 to watch him ride into the sunset with someone who put an expiration date on our friendship. The reception was awkward in that none of his family members can ever remember who I am, even though I've been introduced and talked with them on many, many occasions. His daughter who I've been camping with many times, who I saved from a marshmallow burn when she received zero sympathy from her father and have always adored couldn't even place me at first. I don't really know what I was trying to prove other than I was a bigger person than I actually am. I held back the tears as he and his new wife danced to their first song. All I really wanted was some acknowledgment that I had meant something to him. I think that has been the theme of our friendship for many years. You can't ask for a more enjoyable person to spend time with, but I always felt so let down when he didn't come through for me in one way or another. It may be that this is some other relationship playing itself out in Stanford and maybe it's not about him at all, but it still feels pretty damn crappy.

After it is all said and done, I still don't regret going. I reaffirmed to myself that I can do anything I put my mind to. I totally rock when it comes to navigating my way through an unfamiliar city and I discovered in the process that LA is a really awesome place. I drove though it once and judged it too quickly, but upon further inspection, I think I could live there. I've always liked California, especially the people. They are friendly and open and there are just so darn many of them.

Here Lies......

I know cats are cats and that they eat mice. Fine. However, I have a problem when they inflict fear and pain just to amuse themselves. I saw my cat carrying a mouse home. He dropped it and then began to swat it back and forth. I waited a minute to make sure he wasn't going to kill it quickly and when he didn't, I went to inspect the poor thing to find out if it was badly injured or not. It was. It had been paralyzed in the hind legs and was dragging them behind itself as it tried to run away. The poor mouse just wanted to live and to get out of a frightening situation. I tried to call my other cat over, hoping he might be more interested in a quick kill, but he had just eaten. I knew I had to put the poor thing out of its misery, but I just HATE doing it. I would rather give myself a shot in the arm or even have a root canal. Seriously, it makes me SO sad to have to kill anything. I can't even kill a spider and I've cried over accidentally killing a bug more than once. Knowing what I had to do, I found a shovel and had the little mouse climb on board as I took it over to the gravel road. The worst part of the process for me is the death march. Here this mouse is staring up at you, hoping you are doing something nice for it and all along you know what is around the bend. Ugh!! I put the mouse down and I hit it over the head and.. it didn't work. Thinking that this was totally not how it should go, I repeated step one. I've never botched up an execution quite like this. I had to hit this creature SO many times and I was so sick to my stomach I almost threw up. I am the worlds worst executioner!! I've killed mice before and have never had this problem. This poor thing probably had the worst headache before it finally died. After I was sure the mouse was no longer breathing or blinking, I dug a hole and laid it to rest. I cried like a baby and I think my neighbors thought I had lost it. It's not the first time I've wailed over having to kill a mouse, but it's definitely the WORST I've ever felt about it. I really need to get my hands on some euthanasia. Maybe next time, I'll just take the mouse to the vet and ask him to put it to sleep.

I Feel Like This.....

I feel like this poor, miserable woman looks. I'm so drained and exhausted and really kind of disappointed in the world. I'd tell you more about it, but I've just realized that I don't even have the energy to complain.

Desperate House Cats

Jack has a certain fascination with sitting on my lap when I am at the computer. He will teeter totter trying to maintain his balance and will lay on my lap crooked, with half his body hanging off the edge. I don't know why it's such a thrill for him. As a kitten, he used to lay on my forearms while I would type. Balancing a sleeping kitten on your arms as you type is no easy feat. I think he may be a "special" cat, as he hasn't seemed to grow out of his very adolescent, neediness. While I do think it's "cute" in a way, this is one of the reasons I prefer animals who are female. They tend to be a little more independent and can keep their private parts to themselves. Male animals always have to show them off or at least show you what great things they can do with them.




I've started keeping a little bowl of food and water in my room for Scooter near his little bed. He thinks it's the coolest thing to eat in my room. He used to bolt down the hall from my room to the kitchen at light speed. Now that he has something as exciting as a bowl of dry cat food in my room, he runs back and forth trying to figure out which room he will have the pleasure of eating in. He woke me up this morning at my door asking to come in to see if he had anything left in his bowl. I crawled out of bed and he followed me to the kitchen so that I could get more food for his bowl and then chased me down the hall into my room as I filled it up. He seems so much hungrier these days, but I think it's from all the running back and forth. I think he feels like he's being rewarded for something, because after he eats a little something before bed, he tries to sneak into my bed. I have to pick him up and relocate him to his own bed and continually remind him that my bed just isn't big enough for the both of us. He doesn't know that this new idea of having food in my room was put in place to keep him happy until at least 6:00 AM, so that I could sleep passed his usual 4:00 AM wake up call for a little snack.




Kit has discovered that Scooter has an almost always full bowl of food in my room and has now become a door stalker. She plants herself outside my door and waits until someone comes in or out. She then bolts into my room and heads straight for the food bowl. I have to catch her within 30 seconds or it's too late. This cat would eat until her gut exploded or.. until she puked all over the house. We treat her like she's had gastric bypass surgery and she is only allowed like 6 pieces of cat food at a time. Her entire life revolves around food, which kind of makes you sad. But.. it is useful when you want to train your cat to do tricks. It's very hard to motivate a cat, but Kit will sit and sit up for a piece of any substance that contains actual calories. This cat likes just about anything. Gardenburgers, potatoes, bread, cheese, yogurt, crackers, and of course hamburger soup. She has been caught with her head in the pan of cooling soup more than once. We have to keep the bread up or we find mysterious holes in it and end up having to throw out half the loaf.

I used to have so much fun watching the behavior of my dog that I didn't always notice the little quirks of our cats. Dolly would steal all the attention when she would sneak into the Pinto via an open window and watch as we all went nuts trying to find her. She would eventually stick her head out and ask.. "Well, are you ready to go bye, bye?". Cats are far more subtle, but every bit as hilarious and personable. They have far more self esteem than a dog and feel no shame about telling you to fuck off if they just aren't in the mood. I like that about cats. Dogs will try to lie ("No way, I know I was the only one home, but that garbage can tipped itself over and the pieces of garbage ran all over house.") in an attempt to stay in your good graces, while a cat will tell it like it is ("Ya, I pissed on that couch.. so what?") and then still have the guts to demand that you feed them and pick up their poop.

Cat Napping

This is Scooter in one of his famous sleeping positions.

100 Things You May Not Know About Me

1. I hate being barefoot.
2. My favorite thing is to be out in the barn by myself on cold, quiet nights with my animals.
3. I wear gloves to handle raw chicken.
4. I love to buy large amounts of toilet paper and then stack it. I like knowing I always have it in stock.
5. I love to design practical gadgets and shelters for my animals.
6. I have a secret wish to be an animal fairy godmother.
7. Beans don't give me gas.
8. Too much vitamin C does.
9. I like expensive things.
10. I find it easier to say my own name now that I have to use it to say my sister-in-law's name.
11. I don't like perfectly chiseled men. I like them with a few flaws.
    
12. I was painfully shy as a kid.
13. I am very, very introverted though most people don't believe me.
14. I like dynamic people.
15. I wish I could be independently wealthy for a living.
16. I hate bullies.
17. I love MUSIC!!
18. I hate passive aggressive people.
19. I am agnostic and I am happy that I don't know all the answers to life's mysteries.
20. I love environmentally friendly cleaning products.
21. I often say things that catch people off guard.
    
22. I love to buy blankets and sheets.
23. I would rather get a shot in my mouth than in my arm.
24. I would like to write a book someday.
25. I eat soybeans for breakfast.
26. I hate it when people tell other people something bad that someone else has said about them.
27. I name my cars and bikes.
    
28. I lose my appetite when I'm dating someone.
29. I would rather eat a bucket of worms than have to feel nervous or anxious about something.
30. I pack my fan when I travel.
31. I hate being mad at people.
32. I do not enjoy cooking.
33. I feel like crying when I see horses running and I don't know why.
34. I wish I could swim by myself with a group of whales in the middle of the ocean.
35. I'm OVERLY honest in many situations.
36. I am jealous of people with endless amounts of ambition and stamina.
37. I like to fix things.
38. I love men who know how to fix things.
39. I love men who are independent and secure with themselves.
40. I love men who like cats.
41. I love men who can express themselves verbally.
42. I love flowers.
43. I force my cat to let me carry him like a baby.
44. I often feel an overwhelming desire to sunbathe topless.
45. I am morally opposed to weed killer.
46. I give my horse filtered water.
47. I hate that cute shoes aren't made for people with wide feet and high insoles.
48. I hate my hands.
49. I like my hair.
50. I love cleaning out cupboards and organizing them.
51. I love spending time by myself.
52. My room is almost always a mess.
53. I have Tivo and I LOVE it!!!
54. I think it's wrong to use half an onion and then put the other half in the fridge.
55. I think it's more wrong to touch kitchen cabinets when your hands are dirty, greasy or sticky.
56. I wish I had more close friends who weren't married with kids.
57. I routinely engage in sexually explicit dialog with coworkers.
58. I taught my mom that bikes are fun.
59. I taught myself how to harmonize.
60. When I was 14, I wanted to try out for Miss South Jordan.
61. I have climbed Mt. Olympus.
62. I have climbed Mt. Timpanogoes in the dark.
63. I love to stay up late by myself.
64. I am easily frightened by ... well.. anything that makes a noise or moves without warning me first. Sometimes the warning even frightens me.
    
65. Until I was about 22 years old, I used to think that people were following me home at night and I would drive through different neighborhoods to lose them.
66. Three months ago, I got over my fear of sleeping in the dark.
67. I feel like a failure when I run out of energy.
68. I am a very affectionate person in relationships.
69. I have been in pain so badly that I thought I was dying.
70. I used to have OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) when I was a teenager.
71. I walked out of tryouts for the minerettes in 10th grade, because I felt too fat in my liatard.
72. I LOVE freshly ground, VERY course, black pepper.
73. I often turn off all the lights and dance in my underwear at night.
74. I am finally over my first love.
    
75. I am afraid of aliens and ghosts.
76. I think it's rude to blow your nose at the dinner table.
77. I am a perfectionist, which means I stress out when I think things aren't good enough, not that I'm actually perfect.
78. I get baby hungry from time to time and have to hold myself back from getting a puppy.
79. My mom is my closest friend.
80. I don't know my brother very well.
81. I have given simultaneous blood and urine samples. The ladder was on accident.
    
82. I still feel guilty over selling my horse Rudy.
83. I hate when people tell me I can't do something.
84. I hate when people have false impressions of who I really am.
85. I have slept well the past 3 months after having a sleeping disorder for over 8 years.
86. I don't love chocolate as much as I used to.
87. I love to laugh.
88. All my clothes have to face the same direction in my closet.
89. I used to color coordinate the clothes in my closet.
90. I no longer allow my cat to sleep with me, due to inhaling excess hair.
91. I think I'm becoming less insane every day.
92. I haven't eaten sugar in MANY, MANY months.
93. I don't think calorie restrictive diets are healthy.
94. I worked much harder at equestrian school than I had to.
95. I love making animals feel safe and loved.
96. I don't like ham. (Except for mom's Christmas ham and I feel guilty about it.)
    
97. I feel guilty for eating meat.
98. I think most doctors are ignorant.
99. I still miss my dog Dolly.
100. I use silly pet names for all my pets.. like chubs, boo boo, buns and stuff like that.

How Cute Is He?

This is my adorable cat Scooter, who I love more than just about anyone else. He's squishy and cuddly and lets me hold him like a baby, which satisfies any maternal instincts I may have.