4 a.m.

It's four o'clock in the morning and I just got home from a night out. A few days ago I wrote that I sometimes feel like my life is a story. Well, tonight that story became true....

I hung out with Christen and Amanda tonight...we used to get high together in high school. (I bet you didn't expect that!) Anyway, we were re-hashing old stories about all the times we hung out doing what we used to do...I told the stories that have been most prominent in my memory regarding the "high times," as I'm going to call them. Miraculously, I'm not the only one who remembered! This "story" that is my life, is actual reality. There were bystanders who were there with me, experiencing the same things that I was. And oh, the stories....

We went to BH's for some drinks, there were about 8 of us. We were sitting there, catching up, talking a million miles a minute...then guess who walked over? First I saw Mark, Amanda's husband. Next to him? Lucas. Four years ago, Lucas and I dated for a few weeks...a month? I don't remember anymore. He still looks the same: gorgeous blue eyes, bright smile, see-through-you stare. We had a tough ending...I fell head over heels with him (I've become really good at that), and I thought he with I...he wasn't over his ex-girlfriend, stopped calling...after a week I called him to see what was up...we (he) decided to be "friends". A month after we cut things off, he called to hang out, I bitched him out and that was the end of it. But I never stopped thinking of him. Apparently he didn't stop thinking of me either.

At the bar, I saw him and said, "Hi Lucas." He looked at me and smiled, then took a double-take...he was thrilled (this is what I saw). We were both excited to see one another. We hugged a big one, starting talking. First thing, I apologized for being a total bitch to him and explained why. He completely understood and said he was never mad at me, only disappointed that we didn't get to hang out as friends afterwards. I told him that I really liked him back then...I was also disappointed that things hadn't worked out. We chatted a while, talked about a few old things, introducing a few new items to the conversation.

After the bar, we all went to Justin's house. I had no idea we were going, as Mark was driving. We hung out there for almost four hours - the girls with margaritas in our hands (I had just a few sips, I know that I'm a lightweight and would be driving home) and boys with beers. It turns out that Justin married Jessica, a girl I used to be friends with in high school. This is all irrelevant to the my-life-is-a-story theme, but I'm just remembering the night. Lucas was there too. The guys all work together, so there's the connection.

I have told that Lucas story to so many of my girlfriends, especially when random dating stories are exchanged. It always felt like this one-sided story that I told, never knowing the other half, how Lucas felt and was dealing with it. He may well have liked me as much as I him. It was incredible to see him and realize that we both played a part...he recognized my place in the story and I recognized his.

It was like a full-out time warp tonight.

Up and running...

Our internet has been down for the past three days. It's like falling off the edge of the earth, living without it...incredible. I can't seem to write fast enough in my hand-written journal, so typing is where it's at. Nevermind that I've had trouble falling asleep at night because I have so many things rolling around in this dome of mine....

Anyway, I had a doctor's appt, an annual check-up, on Wednesday afternoon. I have realized that I suffer (severely) from the Napoleon Complex. (I hate to admit it.) The first thing the medical assistant, Kelly, did was weigh me and measure my height. 118 lbs, okay, that I knew. But then she measured me..."5'0"" she says. WHAT?! I responded, "No way, I'm closer to 5'1", do it again." She rolled her eyes, but I think she understood that when you're my height, every inch counts! So, again I went under the metal bracket, trying to stand as tall as possible. We looked again. "Sorry," she said, "Five-feet." Damn.

Today I was the lab guinea pig for the new lancets that we received. Three of us were standing at the counter, twisting the ends from the lancets and trying them on one of Josette's foam hand-sqeezy things. They didn't break the surface...so I volunteered. What?! You think I'm crazy, I know. I grabbed some gauze and alcohol pads, handing them to Lauren, and held out my right forearm. "Try them on me," I said. She laughed at first, but I was persistent. We needed to know if the lancets created small dot-shaped cuts or dash-shaped cuts (the latter are better for Bleeding Times and finger sticks). Lauren assumed they were to be dots. First she shot me with the pink lancet, and then the purple. I must be crazy...but I was glad to be of service. Maybe I'm a masochist. Lauren was right - I ended up with two barely-visible dots of blood on my forearm. (We won't be using those!)

FATE OF THE SODA CAN:
Jessica came into the lab asking for some ibuprofen. I opened the cabinet where we keep our toiletries, moving aside a bottle of lotion and, in the process, knocking down an almost-empty can of Diet Coke (which shouldn't have been there in the first place). I had been checking off results in the notebook, so my papers were spread over the countertop. UGH! That soda spilled all over the place. I was so irritated that I threw the soda can in the sink and probably said something like, "Shit!" Jessica and Lauren laughed at me...I was actually upset! After it was cleaned up and Jessica had her pills, I finished up the paperwork and got back to ordering labs on the computer. I was still stewing about that soda can, trying to work it out. I got to thinking about fate. Since I was standing closest to the cabinet, I was the one to reach in for the ibuprofen. When I moved those items around I knocked the soda can down and spilled its contents. But...what if someone else had reached in the cabinet? Hmm.... Would that can still have spilled? I created my fate of knocking down the can because I chose to do that paperwork and get Jessica her pills. What if Lauren or Josette chose to do the paperwork, then stopped to reach inside the cabinet - would the soda still have spilled? We may never know...

Boston Red Sox

Game 1 - Tokyo, Japan

Well, I was wrong about the start time. I set my alarm for a few minutes before 5am, only to wake and realize that the game didn't start until 6:05am. "That's okay, I can use the extra hour of sleep," I thought to myself. At 6:00 my alarm went off (again) and I went straight to the TV in the office. I was a few minutes early, so I scanned through every channel looking for NESN. (I don't watch much TV so I haven't a clue about which stations are on which channels.)

Opening pitch: Joe Blanton of the Oakland A's
First at bat: Dustin Pedroia of the Red Sox - first base run.

Then, three outs by Youkilis, Ortiz and Manny. Now, Oakland up at bat...after Travis Buck grounds out, Mark Ellis hits a homerun, ball going straight up through centerfield into the stands. Damn! Good hit man, but damn. Next, two walks, Cust gets hit by Matsuzaka's pitch and Barton makes it home.

That's all I've seen so far. The game will be replayed today at 2 and 2:30pm but, unfortunately, I'm working until 5pm and won't be able to see it. Perhaps someone will record it?

Off to the daily grind...

To Veg or not to Veg?

I just remembered something else I wanted to talk about. Vegetarianism. I've taken part in this lifestyle over the last few months and, honestly, it's been stressful. Sometimes, I feel light as a feather, clean and wonderful. But living with mom and dad makes it difficult - almost everyday, or perhaps five-sevenths (five out of seven days, for those of you who didn't pick that up) of the time there is meat or poultry served in this house. I've been consuming many alternative proteins and fats while not eating meat. Examples: soy chicken strips (chicken-flavored...this is an issue of debate with many non-vegs..."Why would a vegetarian want to eat something that tastes like chicken if they don't eat chicken?" Perhaps we can get into that another time), Tofurkey brand soy sausages, tofu cooked many different ways, and the addition of soy milk to my diet. Oh, and lots of nuts, peanut butter and cheeses for additional protein.

Recently, due to a long winter, depression, continual meat-exposure and a renewed craving for meats, I have partaken. Last week, on St. Patrick's day, I celebrated the Irish holiday (of which I share no cultural history) by devouring a grilled corned beef Reuben. I must have been hungry that night, because I licked that plate clean! Of course I shit my brains out in the morning, but it was worth it.

This past weekend I was good on Friday, eating taco-flavored tofu crumbles in my taco salad, whilst everyone else ate the ground turkey (which I was never a big fan of anyway). Saturday came, along with my period, creating in me a voracious craving for meat. I can educatedly attribute this to the anemia that is caused by my monthly flow. Three girlfriends and I went out for dinner and drinks at a restaurant called Bahama Breeze. It was great! I pored over the menu, exhausted and a bit crabby, desperately needing something to eat. Lyss wanted the tostones (fried plantains), which came with peppers, onion, chicken and melted cheese on top. Allie and Lauren both had the grilled chicken with mashed potato and broccoli (FYI: George Bush (senior) does not like broccoli, and neither does my father...he always says, "George and I don't like broccoli."). I couldn't decide what to eat. I remembered that when we walked into the restaurant, I was hit with the smell of BBQ ribs. I had to have them! Lyss and I agreed to split the ribs and tostones. Oh man...what a great decision. Those ribs were incredible! I sucked every last bit of meat and cartilage from the bones, and enjoyed the sight of the sticky sauce that remained under my nails after eating the ribs. By the way, our waitress didn't bring wet naps - the audacity!

Needless to say, the trend continued. The following day was Easter. Regular breakfast of yogurt, fruit and cereal. Easter dinner consisted of baked ham, baked chicken, peas, snap peas, salad, homemade apple sauce, creamed cabbage (which is like a finely-minced cole-slaw), olives of two sizes (a Jennings family favorite), and I'm sure I've left something out. The point is, I ate up that ham and chicken so joyfully and so free of guilt!

At least my BMs have been wonderful the past few days. Whether or not I can attribute them to the meat or my period could be discussed...but really, who wants to talk about my poop besides me? haha I just realized that many of you probably aren't interested in bodily functions. Good onya if you do...welcome to my world!

We will see where this meat-eating ends up. I have a stash of tofu, soy chicken strips and a soy sausage in the fridge right now. It might be a little more time before I go back on the meat, but I have enjoyed every guilt-free moment of being an omnivore again.

Until next time...

What should I call it?

Often, I feel as though my life is a story. In my head, I am constantly writing the chapters. In my car I do the most thinking, even if there is NPR chatting in the background, woeful country music stirring my emotions, or silence compelling me to think deeply. I keep meaning to buy a voice recorder, so I can record my thoughts while I'm in the car.

I just realized that I missed my March payment for my storage unit. A few weeks ago, I carefully set up an automatic payment on my bank's webpage...only to just find out that I set the date for April instead of March. Cripes! This is two months in a row that I will pay late. Dummy. I swear some days I either get out of bed and leave my head on the pillow, or I've got it on backwards (or perhaps it's stuck to my butt?).

Today someone told me a cute name I can call people when they piss me off: Richardhead. It's the long form of Dickhead, haha....

I had a long, peaceful drive back from PA today. I'm almost done with my audio book, "The Hot Flash Club." Yes, I know, I'm only 26. Two people have already informed me that they think I'm too young to be "reading" about menopause...but I can say from listening to the book that even at my age I can relate to those characters! I can appreciate the comraderie shared among girlfriends, emotional rollercoasters we endure, bingeing on "bad" foods every once in a while...and even the changes that our bodies go through over the years. I have heard of the fears many women have in their mid-20's, about how being 26 isn't 25, it's closer to being 30. I never really thought about that, the fact that I'm four years from thirty. It seems unbelievable. Despite this reality, I still feel like a kid. If you ask my family, they would say I still act like one. I will never stop acting like a kid...life is meant to be fun! Some people say, "Grow up," or "Act your age." I saw a comic today, Dennis the Menace, and in it Mr. Wilson told Dennis to act his age (Dennis was doing a handstand in Mr. Wilson's living room). Dennis responded by saying that he didn't know how, because he had never been that age before! I wholly agree! And there are many people who do. I believe in making decisions with maturity, using my experience and knowledge to help out along the way, and choosing a career path that will financially and emotionally support me. And all the other adult things that go in that category. But at the same time, I could never lose my imagination, my playfulness and my joy for life! I have had too many people die in my life and heard of too many regrets that others have expressed to me, to have a life without fun. I have experienced heartache, the society-induced self-consciousness of hating my body, depression and all the shitty things we go through as we mature. And while all this went on, I still traveled around the world, ate incredible and strange foods, spoke with and became friends with many people of many cultures. I guess what I'm trying to say is, that I have no idea what I'm trying to say - HA! I am a mature adult who, every day, struggles to make mature decisions. Despite all this, I can still find the time to laugh, love and enjoy the life that has been given to me.... And perhaps do a few cartwheels along the way :)

I spent the Easter weekend with some of my favorite people. Three of my best girlfriends from college were there, one with her husband and baby (my goddaughter) in tow. They were visiting from Canada, where they have been living the past three-plus years, and are soon to move back to the states (in a few months). Life has been emotional since I moved back home with my parents. Even though I know it's short-term, our fuses are short and we seem to have a lot of friction. I try to keep my mouth shut, but for the most part I don't have a filter [that works]. It was a breath of fresh air visiting the Coles...they always make me realize the importance of family, love and laughter. And this morning, as I was sitting in the living room with them, amidst my groggy, period-induced coma, I realized what I love about the Coles. They laugh. Every day. I usually do too, but there has been a somberness attached to living at home. Like I said, there is a friction in the air and I have a hard time feeling the love that I once felt in my parents' home.

Tomorrow is the opening Red Sox games vs. the Oakland A's...only they are playing in Japan! I called my sister to see if she and her husband would record it for me, but it was too late, they were already in bed. Crapola. So, I've set my alarm for 5am to see if, perhaps, I can wake up to see the opening pitch and part of the game before I head off to the daily grind tomorrow. Blech...I have doubts about this one!

Whew...I'm spent. My mind is still whirring with thoughts, but I've got to double-check the newspaper for game time (just in case I can get up at 6am instead of 5am, ha). I might even start a new book...though I'm pretty wiped. I'll be shitting more of my subconscious later. For now, it's off to la la land.

TGIF

I woke up late today. It's amazing how sometimes I can sleep through 4o minutes of loud NPR in the morning. Usually if I'm too tired to get up at 6:00 I will just lay on my belly and listen to the news, dragging myself out of bed when my bladder screams.

No shower. Wash face, brush teeth, rub on deoderant, throw back hair. Dress. Grab food, drive.

Brekky at work: multigrain flax toast with Neufchatel and fresh strawberries. More dx code reviewing. Lunch with the girls: brown rice mix, baby spinach, smart strips, tomato and avocado, and butternut bisque. YUM.

3:15 Dog walking
There was a new puppy today, a St. Bernard mix...I'm in love. He kept jumping onto my leg and nuzzling up to my underarm. I love him. Dozer. There was a Pekingese that Joan would love. Manny - he snorted the entire time we were walking. He also peed four times, as if there wasn't enough territory there for him and the others. A new pit bull, Kya. Shy but gorgeous, almost an albino, save for a few nose freckles. Gorgeous icy blue eyes. Max too, a big German shephard, he's new to me. Fluffy black tail, loud bark, sweet disposition. But I am still in love with Dozer.

At home I relaxed with a few minutes of a random TV show while chomping on a seeded baguette. It was still early so I ran for 30 min on the treadmill while watching episodes of Family Guy online. Great show. Stretching, following by a real, good, hot shower. Washed my hair today! Got dressed and Stacie was there. I dried my hair and ate two quesadilla triangles that were leftover from the night prior. She was talking to dad anyway.

We went to Bennigan's to meet the girls from work. We were late, as Jess so nicely pointed out. They were already half-tipped. Grey goose and tonic with lime, please; Killian's for my sister. We both wore green in spirit of the upcoming St. Patrick's Day.

A little history:

"St. Patrick of Ireland is one of the world's most popular saints. Apostle of Ireland, born at Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, in Scotland, in the year 387; died at Saul, Downpatrick, Ireland, 17 March, 461.

As a boy of fourteen or so, he was captured during a raiding party and taken to Ireland as a slave to herd and tend sheep. Ireland at this time was a land of Druids and pagans. He learned the language and practices of the people who held him.

During his captivity, he turned to God in prayer. Patrick's captivity lasted until he was twenty, when he escaped after having a dream from God in which he was told to leave Ireland by going to the coast. There he found some sailors who took him back to Britian, where he reunited with his family.

He had another dream in which the people of Ireland were calling out to him 'We beg you, holy youth, to come and walk among us once more.'

Patrick began his studies for the priesthood. On March 25, 433, after being ordained a Bishop, he arrived in Slane to begin preaching the Gospel throughout Ireland. He and his disciples preached and converted thousands and began building churches all over the country. Kings, their families, and entire kingdoms converted to Christianity when hearing Patrick's message. He used the shamrock to explain the Trinity, and it has been associated with him and the Irish since that time.

After years of living in poverty, traveling and enduring much suffering Patrick died at Saul on March 17, 461. This is where he had built the first church."

-> info extracted from http://www.catholic.org/ (I am not promoting Catholocism, simply using their data. I was tempted to use Wikipedia, but we all know that anyone can write those facts.)

Music of the day:
- Yael Naim
- Sara Bareilles (thanks ADK)
- Lisa Hannigan
- Damien Rice
- Johnny Lang *
- Rachael Yamagata
- Sam Cooke
- David Ford (there is also a visual artist by this name)

Once again, it's past midnight...and my musical experiences have just been broadened. Goodnight.

Wahconah Falls

Today was a day like any other - go to work, have fun while at work, work on projects, work hard...hardly work? Nah, not me. I started a new project yesterday, sorting through diagnosis codes to weed out the non-permanents. That's enough business talk....

The highlight of my day was the afternoon. Though mostly delightful, there was a bit of sadness mixed in. After double-checking what type of tires I have on my car (so I can buy replacements), I was asked over to my neighbor's to watch the boys for a bit. There was an ambulance, fire engine and squad car at Sully's house...something had happened. I went over immediately. I fed the baby the remainder of his bottle, getting two good burbs out and a bit of whining. Then, he entertained himself for almost an hour in his musical toy chair thing. I don't know, there are so many new toys these days. Steve came back and picked up the older of his two sons, J. - he told him that like their dog the year before, Sully had to go to heaven. Frankly, J. turned to me and said, "Sully died." He's 6 1/2 years old and already deals with death better than I do. I brought the news home to my parents. Sully was a sweet man. We're all the saddest for Gloria, his good friend, another neighbor of ours. They are/were both in their 80's, single (widowed? I'm not sure) and practically best friends - eating dinner together daily and breakfasts on the weekends. Steve told me that Sully would bring powdered donuts to Gloria's house on the weekends...in turn, she offered them to Steve, Nicki and the boys, as she was never able to eat them herself. We haven't told my grandmother the news yet, but she will know by tomorrow. She also knew Sully.

I passed the news onto my sister...she said "Ohh" about six times, in that sad way that people do when someone has died or something generally sad has occurred. We'll all mourn for Sully this weekend.

A short while later, I picked up Stacie and drove up to Wahconah Falls. It's wonderful now that we've sprung forward an hour - sunlight until 7:30 pm! First, down a pothole-infused dirt road off of the main road and we were on our way. There was a parking area at the bottom, but I am far too stubborn for that. I challenged the enlarged-gravel-covered path with my little two door VW. Five-speeds are great for going over rough surfaces...shifting down into first and then second, I proceeded up the gritty hill. My sister made a comment that life is always an adventure when she's hanging out with me...or something like that...I think it was more of a comment leaning towards fearing for her life when I decide to take the wheel on an adventure, hahaha. Afterwards, I said that I think I thrive on fear and adventure. (I am not a true adventure-seeker - I do not jump from bridges, ice climb or wrestle with crocs, but I do step outside the box.)

After the gravel, we came to some snow. Mind you that I need two tires replaced (one is worn down even with the bar). I decided to drive through the snow - ha! What a wise idea. Stacie commented on the eerie Spanish music flowing from the radio and us being alone in the woods, driving on a slick, snow-covered trail with a few worn down tires. I just couldn't resist! We got to the point in the path where it thinned out and there was a huge ditch we could get stuck in. Now that is not an adventure that I want any part in! So we had one choice...I threw her in reverse and off we went, back down the trail towards the gravel. We must have gone about 30-40 yards in reverse. Probably more, I wasn't counting. I think Stacie may have been praying under her breath. I was just hoping not to go off into the ditch or creek to the side of us.

We made it back to solid land (soil as Jon would say, not dirt as I would), locked up the car, grabbed the camera and started walking. I had hiking boots on with my YakTrax on the outside. Stacie, on the other hand, was wearing chunky high-heeled boots. Those boots are to her like the gnome in all those travelling commercials. They've seen the world...taken her to Italy and Portugal and around the states. And here they were, walking her through a snow-covered trail in the woods with her crazy little sister.

It was gorgeous. There were paw prints everywhere. I knew they were from various dogs, though they darted in and out of the woods, over and path and further, leading us to the question of whether or not they may have belonged to bears? I denied it, but Stacie questioned. It was a wonderful walk. Quiet. A bird here or there in the distance, chirping away. The dull hum of faraway traffic on the main road. The soft whisper of the brook up ahead. And those paw prints leading the way. I kept saying, "I can't believe we were just driving on this!" as we slipped along the snowy path. We had about an hour of daylight to soak up yet. We talked, laughed, vented...did the things that sisters are good at! We stopped for a bit at the babbling brook. It had patches of snow and ice covering the rocks, but was flowing quite well. Past the brook, we went left at the fork. We assumed that the falls had to be that way, as the water was flowing downhill to the right. Thank you Isaac Newtown.

We went as far as the birch tree with four stalks. Perhaps it was four trees closely nestled, but I like to think of it as one tree...they just looked so content with one another. The hill was steep, burning my hamstrings, gluts, ankles and quads. What a feeling. We had both run the day before and were enjoying the lasting burn.

We spun around and were graced with the most gorgeous sky. There were reds, oranges, yellows, purples, blues and soft white clouds. I took a few photos there.
Coming down the hill, we laughed, talked about books, movies and our parents. We reached the babbling brook again and I pulled my sister to the edge of the path. I grabbed her close and told her to close her eyes and listen. She asked, "Do you think a blind person would know the stream was flowing towards them just by listening?" We agreed that this would be so. And on we went....

At one point, I saw two dogs off in the distance. We hesitated for a moment, watching, to make sure that they were dogs and not small bears. I saw their tails...I know what dogs look like after all! Stacie saw a boy. I saw a man. We kept walking. As we got closer, the boy saw us and started running towards us. It was the strangest thing! The dogs paid absolutely no attention to us, but this young boy was running at us, curious as anything. When he was about eight feet away he stopped, looked at us, waved his hand and yelled, "Hiii!" We laughed. His dad stood in the background with the dogs, watching. The boy turned and we followed, as we were already headed in the same direction. Stacie and I had been talking in our Irish accents to one another while we were walking and when one of the dogs came to her to say hi she said, "Helloo chocolate lab!" in her best Irish accent. Well, the boy thought this was hilarious and ran towards his dad saying, "Chocolate lab, chocolate lab!" trying to imitate the accent. We said hi to the dad and went on our merry way. I think they must live just next to the state park because at one point the dad yelled, "We're here" straight at the hill through the trees.

At last, we reached the car, my little two-door VW. We bounced back down the enlarged-gravel-covered path and the pothole-infused dirt road...back home, reeling in the happiness of an afternoon filled with sisterly love, the outdoors and a little adventure. Who could ask for more?