Settling

We're getting all settled into our new digs. I'm feeling very smug that several of the traditional office naysayers -- people who've had bad attitudes all along about our move -- have said, out loud, "You know, this really isn't that bad." I want to do that dance Grace always does for Will, "Told Ya So, Told Ya So -- TOLD YA, Told Ya, Told Ya So!" And stick my tongue out.

But I'm glad that we're here. And that my computer's connected and my files put away. It's gonna be fine. I mean, what can possibly be so bad? There's a TARGET across the street, for pete's sake!

Happy weekends, everyone.

Feeling verbose today, post #3

Okay, is it extraordinarily sad that I am SO SUPER EXCITED about lunch at a Mexican restaurant today? My coworker and I, seriously*, could eat Pizza and Mexican Every. Single. Day. She is my taste-bud-twin. (Except I think she doesn't like beer. Me, I like me a good microbrew once in a while.) We are going together today to indulge in chips and salsa, and perhaps a Lunch #1: Speedy Gonzales.

Wondering...if we did have get to eat P or M every day, would she be content to eat any kind of pizza, as would I? Meaning, frozen pizza counts - Domino's counts - Hot Pockets counts - even Geno's Pizza Rolls would count, on occassion.

Must stop talking. Starting to sound crazy.



*I guess this would be the appropriate place to say "serious as a heart attack," because that is what we will have someday. And this, after Krissy's inspiring post about cholesterol issues and addiction. Oops. Oh well. I lied, Krissy, it IS the Food! I'm addicted, too. Can I blame you for getting me thinking about it? Thanks.

AJ is to smart as Jeff is to sensational

My little man is SMART. His teacher SAID SO at daycare this morning, and as many kids as she's seen, she would know. She was showing him "where are your ears?" yesterday, and he remembered! He showed us his ear today! After all that time overnight, he didn't forget.... See? I told you. Valedictorian. :)

**head swelling with Mom-pride**

I can't imagine how much joy a kid can bring a parent through their successes, but I guess this is a little bitty taste of that. I thought about it last night, while watching the Atlanta Braves game. I used to be a huge fan.... fell into complacency as they just kept winning every single year and it got boring.... quit going to games because they are (too expensive and) miserable in the HEAT..... quit watching altogether..... and then, this year, our FRIEND's BROTHER is basically making himself a Rookie of the Year candidate. It has been so fun to watch him -- he's led the team back to its #1 standing in the NLEast, and has rocked the house every game. Yay! I wish I actually knew him, but I don't -- I know his sister. But I do know that he comes from a wonderful family, and they are so proud of him. It's cute because TBS always finds his parents in the stands, and I just love watching his mom be his #1 cheerleader. It must make her crazy with happiness to watch him do so well. I was trying to imagine that level of amazement as I watched her last night -- I think I would wonder, "This kid came from Little Ol' Me, and look what he can do! How did he learn how to do this?" I just love it for them.

Of course, even if your child is NOT a major league sensation at age 21, any teeny success makes a parent proud. I once asked my Mom, when I was about fifteen, "Mom, what if I am not overly successful in my life? What if I wanted to be, say, a fisherman?" (I meant, a fisherman on the pier in Pensacola, not a commercial or competitive one.) "If I was happy, would you still be proud of me?" She looked sideways at me and said, "Well, honey... um, if you wanted to be a happy fisherman, I guess I would be happy for you...." It became quite the family joke, but I bet she meant it, deep down -- if your kids are happy, and doing something that they love, you're happy. You're proud. You've done well. (Of course, my Mom was thrilled that I decided against the fishing career.)

No comment

I have received no comments on the last several of what I think are sort-of interesting, if not nicely written posts. I am aware that the content of said posts is not that much different from Anymom-blogger@anywhere.com, and I am most decidedly aware that the writing is not as spectacular as some that I read. And, MAN! Some of the stuff I read... is nothing short of amazing. The universe didn't know it had such a plethora of intelligent authors until the advent of blogdom. What a treasure trove! Some of you make me laugh, and cry, and hug at my sides with the laughter! Or the crying. I'm not even fishing for compliments here (she says as she launches her line), but I realize I am not One of Those Writers.

I would also like to have a great blog title. Some of the cleverest, IMHO, are:
But I Digress
Idbit (<--get it?? ID-bit?? So clever.)
A Tale of Two Kiddies (for which I cannot find a link)
Does This Mean I'm a Grown-Up?
Welcome to Patootieville (<--that one just cracks me up)
The tagline from "Dance...": Excuse me while I figure out my life. Lalalala I'm not listening...
Von Krankipantzen, a word which, for some reason, I cannot get out of my head

...and by far my favorite of all,
insert witty title here.

Those are so great. Although, as I was searching for all of those well-titled pages, I decided that "Hello, Self," does pretty accurately describe what I'm doing here, which is absolutely talking to myself. I've done it for years -- it's me. It's all about me. SELF SELF SELF.

But dangit, Internet, once you've given me one comment, I'd prefer a thousand. It isn't that I need your approval or advice, but we all thrive on positive reinforcement, after all. My ego likes to be stroked just as much as the next guy's. I am trying to remind myself, "Now, Self, remember when you started this blog, you promised to not get all hyped up about the 'audience.' This is just for YOU, remember? Write it for YOU." This is just an online version of the fabric-backed journals I've been keeping for years -- minus the crayon drawings and magazine clippings and poetry that I used to paste into those old books, as my 9th-grade English & religion teacher taught me to do. (Wow, hadn't thought about it, but I kinda miss having those things in a journal.)

So.... Who cares who comments. Right? Go on about your business, gentle readers, and don't worry because I really don't need you. Really. I don't... no, I insist...

:)

Future valedictory speech

Forgot to mention the other things/words AJ has learned. He is uber-smart, as you all know.

"hah, hah, hah" panting...... (sign for) DOG
"ah-ah" (then makes an "o" w/his lips) ....UH-OH
"bah-bah"...... BOTTLE or BYE-BYE if waving
"boooo" .......BOO, as in, Peek-A. Just learned that one last night!
"no-no" .......he'll imitate us if we say this to him
"ni-ni" .......he seems to be imitating NIGHT-NIGHT
can show us his tongue when we say "Where's your tongue?"
can hold our hands when asked to do so (when walking)
can pat-pat-pat the dog
can make his "yucky" face, just to be funny
puts to his ear anything rectangular and pretends it's a phone
has signs for "ALL FINISHED"/"NO MORE." His version of the "no more" sign isn't what's in the book [crossing his hands back and forth, palms down, in that "no thanks" motion that adults do], but it's close -- he points to his wrist. Kinda odd. Okay, it isn't close. But it's cute and I am starting to recognize it.

All this to say he's definitely understanding speech, which still blows me away. For months I've been able to say to him, "AJ, go get that green ball," and he can go get it. But now he's recognizing when we say, "Are you hungry? Want some Cheerios?" and "AJ, let's go outside with Polie," and "Come with me," and "Put it in your mouth." How does the brain learn to process and understand such things when it can't spit them back out? It's amazing to watch. It's like a huge language explosion right now. I know this is normal but to the Mommy it's always extraordinary. :)

Tripping

During our weekend trip to Seattle, AJ learned many wonderful things.

1. How to say "More." While he was eating breakfast one morning at our hotel, he decided he really needed another bite of watermelon. Instead of using his signs, or simply reaching for it, he reached for it and also SAID, "Moooooooooooooow." Which comes out a little like a cow sound on paper, but in real life is very obviously the word "More." Is that cool or what?! My baby boy is absolutely talking!
2. How to drive his parents to the brink of insanity, but only because THEY switched the time zones on him. How that little one suffered! His once-perfect internal clock all discombobulated! How WE suffered! Because it IS all about me, after all. He woke us up at 2:30 or 3:30 am each night we were there. Ouch. Of course, we exacerbated the problem by keeping him awake until 10:00 pm in the evenings (1:00 am his time) while we partied as wedding attendees must. What a trooper. He actually did very well, considering. We had a great time, even if we did go a little insane.
3. How to survive on nothing but animal crackers, Cheerios and milk for 3 days. Not a green bean in sight. Nary a bite of chicken. I'm somewhat kidding; we did manage good breakfasts, thank goodness. And he really enjoyed the Late Harvest Riesling sorbet served at my Sis's wedding reception, however. Sophisticated palate, you know.
4. How to charm the pants off everyone in a room. Just by being himself. That skill is going to come in handy one day.

Husband and I learned how gorgeous a city can be. While we've both stayed in Atlanta because we've loved it, visiting such a clean, free-thinking, visually appealing place made us question our current choice of locale. We both know we're tied here, for now, but it was fun to keep saying, "We seriously ought to move here," and imagine what it'd be like.

It was a great trip. The wedding was spectacular. My Sis and her Now Husband planned every last detail, but managed to keep their cool and not worry which details didn't come together until the last possible moment. The ceremony was lovely, the reception divine, the friends and family who gathered were all happy and I, for one, loved being there, being together. I got to wear my hair in an up-do, and, well... there just isn't anything much more fun than that now, is there?

Personal Ida

I'm feelin' all y'all ... (like that?) ... who have moved recently, or are moving now, or soon. My office is also preparing to relocate. Today is Clean Up and Pack Up Day, meaning: We're wearing shorts!! (I always wonder what in the heck these moms DO, that they get to wear shorts and tennies when they drop their kids off at the daycare. Today I was one of them, though. Maybe everyone is moving.) And we had a free pizza lunch woo hoo!! And we are dirty and lugging heavy things about.

Moving always makes me think of when my family "up and moved" from Texas to Florida. And that's exactly how we did it, too -- "up and moved." It was like, all of a sudden, hey, we're leaving this stinkhole and moving, so ha, ha, all you people who are still stuck here..... Okay, it wasn't quite like that, but it was pretty sudden, as evidenced by our then Aunt Lovely, who refused to ever speak to us again because she thought we'd kept her "in the dark" about our plans, on purpose. Or some such baloney. Suffice it to say, it surprised everyone, most of all, us. We were Established in Cow Town, Texas. We were Country Club Members. Dad was on the Bank Board (of what, I don't know -- Trustees?). Our name had meaning behind it. Our grandparents helped build that town. And here we were going to pack all that up and transport it to the big city? Unbelievable to many of our friends and relations.

It didn't transport -- the reputation, I mean. We became little fish in the big ocean, if you consider Pensacola big. Which we did. But the enormous plusses of Pensacola definitely outweighed the minus of our "status" in Cow Town. Someday I will tell you about my charmed childhood, though. For all its cow-relativity, the original hometown was a pretty great place to grow up. It was all sunshine and high cotton. :)

What did transport was our STUFF, and lots of it. As a homeowner myself, I now understand how easy it is to accumulate So Much Crap You Think It's Going to Take Over and Eat You For Lunch, and we've only been in our house 3 years! We lived in our 4BR/3.5BA house in Tejas, with a large basement, for about 10 years. So you do the math. Those Mayflower guys had plenty to do to get us out of there! When they arrived 6 weeks later at our brand-new house in Florida, we unloaded. And we kept finding these boxes labeled "Chester Drawer." What the...? Who is Chester? "Ohhhhh, we finally figured out: Chest of Drawers. This box of stuff must have come from the dresser. (I think that, in the South, we don't have "chests of drawers." Nor "bureaus" -- although I think I knew that term from reading Nancy Drew. Seems like she must have found a clue or two in an old, New England-y bureau. But mine, and my mom's and sister's, were dressers.)

More puzzling than Chester, however, was Ida. Boxes upon boxes were delivered into the new house, labeled Glass Ida. Guest Room Ida. Blue Room Ida. Backyard Ida. She was omnipresent. This Ida had claimed everything as her own! Who WAS she and what did she want with our stuff?

Seriously, it took us about a day to decipher the code. Maybe you've already figured it out. Like the sunlight returning from behind a cloud, we finally got it: Items. Glass items. Guest room items. They were abbreviating! We have laughed about that phonetic mistake ever since.

So today I'm channeling Ida and labeling my personal boxes. Hope none of my Ida. get broken. :) Ah, memories.

90 degrees in the shade

It is HOT. Wait, let me rephrase: it is Super-Hot. Steamy. Sticky. Beyond Muggy. Little AJ and I had Recess today. It was only intended to last about 10 minutes, because I knew it was hot out there, and I think we got to 8 and three-quarters before I scooped him up and took him inside. The stifling weather plus his new big-boy sneakers and socks made for one sweaty little boy! He was too cute, trying to walk in the new shoes, on the uneven surface of the grass. He insisted on carrying the dog's ball-thrower thingy -- you've seen this, right? It's my best friend because it means I don't have to touch the wet, nasty tennis ball between fetches, ew! -- but it was a little bit awkward for a person who stands 2.01 feet in stature. He kept falling down. I hope the know-it-all neighbor wasn't watching out her window. She's constantly saying "Well, pretty SOON, AJ will be able to keep up with Kelsey," (who's 18 months old). As if he isn't GOOD ENOUGH at walking yet to play with her much advanced toddler girl. Whatever. He WALKS, I tell you. He was just a little wobbly on his new wheels this afternoon.

Plus, that heat must have been making him a little goofy. It definitely fried my brain! Whew! Hot!

Craving the simple life

Geez, I hope I don't sound like a chronic whiner. "Whaaa, we have so much to DO. Whaaaa, we have to go on a PLAAAYNE. Whaaa, our house is falling apart." Sorry. Got to remember we have a good life.

Snaps to So The Fish Said for reminding me of that in her July 12 post -- "Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us if we do not love it enough." And for reminding me how great Garrison Keillor, coin-er of that phrase, is. I SO need to listen to Prairie Home Companion on NPR. Husband doesn't get things like that -- therefore, I try not to subject him -- but I love it. Here are some more gems from the genius himself:

"Librarians, Dusty, possess a vast store of politeness. These are people who get asked regularly the dumbest questions on God's green earth. These people tolerate every kind of crank and eccentric and mouth-breather there is."

"I want to resume the life of a shy person."

"A minister has to be able to read a clock. At noon, it's time to go home and turn up the pot roast and get the peas out of the freezer."

"Beauty isn't worth thinking about; what's important is your mind. You don't want a fifty-dollar haircut on a fifty-cent head."

...and this inspired wisdom, which really spoke to me this morning:

"People will miss that it once meant something to be Southern or Midwestern. It doesn't mean much now, except for the climate. The question, 'Where are you from?' doesn't lead to anything odd or interesting. They live somewhere near a Gap store, and what else do you need to know?"


How refreshing it would be to give up (the Gap and) City Life and move to a small town. Last whine, I promise: I WAAAANT it. I have been dreaming of small-town life, the kind you see in movies where the road's a little dusty and you can find a spectacular old house with pane glass windows and the prettiest little flower garden. And they put those hanging banners across the road during the County Fair. Y'know? I thought of it especially on July 4th this year. I told my Mom, "I just want to go to a Main Street parade, catch some bubble gum from a float, help AJ hold a sparkler, eat some watermelon, and not have to fight for an hour to find parking." (Instead, we shied away from Any and All July 4th activities this year). I think Husband should open an EB Games franchise -- because Lord knows, the kids in the sticks need their video games just like the rest of us! -- and I could help him run it or get a job at the local school. I could teach, right? AJ should grow up enjoying the clean air, the neighbors' dogs, and the chance to ride his bike all day long. Does that exist anymore? (Whi-i-i-i-ne.)

Now I'm done.

Man your stations.

The spaceship of our life has been hurling along on cruise-control these last few years. Bravely conquering new worlds, recently -- like diaper bags, jarred foods, The Wiggles, and Build-A-Bear-Workshop -- worlds we never considered would be major landmarks in our overall landscape! But mostly, cruising. Auto-Pilot is a wonderful thing. It lets you input your basic schedule, computes around small obstacles like return-to-work-after-pregnancy, nighttime feedings, and fevers of 103, and then takes over with a scheduled routine that carries the ship through, day after day. The Crew doesn't have to think much about it.

But our Auto-Pilot doesn't seem to be working anymore! Indeed, we've had to rush to the controls and steer the ship hastily, lest it dive and gather speed (and catch fire), in these recent few weeks.

We had seen -- and avoided the pitfalls of -- some pretty big things before, like the House-Buying Vortex. The Black Hole known as Dead-End Employment. The exhilarating, swirling, but infinite depths of Planning a Wedding, even. But nothing like now. Our ride has taken a determined turn toward some bumpy air, and I'm not just talking about The Baby.

Captain the Husband is decidedly uninterested in his job, and that is definitely a scary Wormhole. He gazes out his tiny Captain's window at miles and miles of nothingness -- nothing to like about work, that is. Nothing to keep him sane. Nothing to inspire his intellect or grant him appreciation for his time and effort. Debris flies at him from every galaxy. New projects to manage here, shipping errors there, grumpy co-workers everywhere -- none of it his doing, but all of it on his shoulders. I sense he's a little depressed by it. He's flying the ship handily -- but he doesn't enjoy it. And every Pilot ought to enjoy the flying.

A recent flurry of pressurization in the atmosphere (known on Earth as Hurricane Dennis) has finally left our spaceship... wet. The lower levels, specifically, took on 6 galactic inches (and more than 60 gallons) of H2O, and the whole Crew is suffering mightily from the stench of mildew (and the previous Crew's smelly mascot, who must have stored his canine waste product in the basement carpet). Now we face a Clorox bath to prevent other odious interplanetary creatures (Germs!) from inhabiting our humble craft -- not to mention a complete overhaul of that section of the ship, in the form of Waterproofing. (We can only thank God we hadn't finished the room when the storm came ravaging.)

And yesterday, we found out from a free-floating astronaut who does Rocket Repairs, that our ship is probably crumbling to its demise, cosmetically. Same trouble the shuttle Columbia had, perhaps -- although it's completely inappropriate to spoof that tragedy -- but the panels on all sides of our ship are definitely ready for replacement. This Operations Controlwoman doesn't like to think about big-time repair jobs like siding replacement. Don't like having to spend the taxpayers' (our) money, you know. It's my job, if not to drive the ecnomics of the ship, then at least to monitor them. And these aren't happy economics. Basement repair, siding repair, trips cross-country, and Baby Needs New Shoes. (And did I forget to mention our 20-year-old AC unit will also need to be jettisoned and replaced next year?) Looks like I will be working full-time for a long time to come.

All we can do, really, is Man our Stations and hope the ship doesn't crash. That's what we've been doing. Another kind of auto-pilot, but with a constant eye on the attitude and pitch, making sure the horizon stays in view. (It doesn't, by the way, from the front porch, which is tilting unevenly and will also need fixing soon.) Captain hands me the headset, and takes position down below for maintenance and restoration. He also must inspect the surroundings (yard-work) in the next two days -- gotta keep that spaceship curb-appeal, you know, so that our neighbor Spaceships in this big, bad Universe aren't embarrassed by our presence here. I stand-by at the Home-caring terminal. Meals Ready to Eat, keeping things Ship-Shape, keeping the Crew clean and working efficiently.

I think that this strange part of the exosphere will pass us soon, and we can return to calmer stargazing and a more direct flight pattern. Until then, Mission: Living is certainly keeping us on our toes.

To "infinity and beyond?" Good Lord, Houston, I certainly hope not.


P.S. I just re-read this and it appears we did, in fact, get sucked into the House-Buying Vortex (of Hell). We just didn't know it at the time.

Next Up... a Plane Ride

Okay, we survived the busy end of June and our glorious beach week in Destin. (And in an up-to-the-minute report, we think our parents' home in Pensacola has also survived Hurricane Dennis. Y'know, when all your trees were blown away 10 months ago by Ivan, it makes for a much easier time of it. But Gawd, help! those poor people along the coast who have sustained new damage on top of all the old damage.)

We've survived what might be the last time in a while that BOTH sets of grandparents come to visit on the same weekend. I love having them all, but man, is that a busy way to spend 2 days!

We've survived the 1-year-old birthday party, complete with cake-diving and mid-party bathing activities. The little man was head-to-toe covered in blue buttercream. It was Awesome. He gets an A+.

We've just this morning survived our latest round of shots from the pediatrician.

Next up: We are traveling to my sister's wedding in 10 days! In Seattle! Folks, that's a 6-hour plane ride with an active 1-year-old boy.

So Pray For Us.

One moment with my birthday boy

This Morning is a special one. We wake up early, and tip-toe-parade into AJ's room, softly singing Happy Birthday, as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up in his crib. He's so cute, reaching for Mommy, then pointing at Daddy's cap that hangs on our mirror, as he always does. "Dah, dah..." he calls it. "Yes, honey, that's Daddy's HAT. HHHAT. Can you say hat?" ..."dah dih dah dih dah dah." Then he remembers to look for the dog. "Hih, hih, hih," he pants, like Napoleon. "Where's Polie? Oh, THERE he is! Look, honey, he wants to kiss you for your birthday!" And AJ giggles with delight while getting completely slimed with dog kisses. "hih, hih, hih." AJ does a really good 'dog.' (It's his Baby Sign.)

We get ready, come downstairs, and... ooh, look, AJ! Presents on your high chair! (The first of many.) We open. We play. We stick the bows in our hair. Daddy has to leave. Mommy begins the morning work-routine. Get out the laptop. Listen to AJ fuss because he can't touch the screen. Get breakfast. etc. All is going fine until 8:30, when AJ starts to get sleepy, but WILL NOT admit defeat. I try once to put him in his crib -- he screams for 20 minutes. I believe in letting him Cry It Out, but he just isn't having it this time. Okay, fine, we go downstairs if he wants to play. Put him on the floor. Nope. "Aaaaaaahhhhhh, ah, aha hahahaahhhhaaaaa!!" he wails. "HOLD ME!" he's saying. "Honey, I can't hold you every minute of the day. I have things to do. Look!! Let's play with your new See and Say."

It goes on like this until forever, and all the while I'm sneaking in a few minutes of work here and there, and also watching the clock faithfully, because I don't want to miss 9:42 am. We play a bit, I get up to wash a dish, he realizes I'm gone, he cries. He tries to step into the fridge while I'm getting a drink for myself. He cries when I won't let him stay there. He climbs all the way to the top of the stairs. I pick him up, try rocking again. 9:00am. Not having it. More of the same wrestling match. Finally, I decide maybe he needs another bottle. So we sit down on the sofa... at 9:35. Hmh, look how conveniently that turned out. Now he quiets down and drinks. I'm calmed, watching him. I'm remembering the epidural, and how I clicked that handy little button a few times in the early stages of the morning, 1 year ago! And then I remember how they said I pushed for 30 minutes... but when I try to picture it, it doesn't seem like more than ten. And I remember how bug-eyed DH was as it all happened -- so fast, so foreign an experience. I remember how we called and called my parents to make sure they didn't miss it, but the phone wasn't in their room and they didn't hear it ringing. (They made it on time anyway.) I remember the "french fry" warmer. I remember the song that was turning over and over in my head. All of a sudden it's 9:42. I remember when the doctor held you up and Daddy had to turn away a little bit, so overcome. And how I said, "I can't believe he's here already!" And how we named you, out loud, from across the room while they cleaned you off. And how I got to hold you. How tiny you were. How warm. How we all cried. So I'm crying now a little bit.

But I'm so glad I got to share this moment with you this morning. ALL of these moments. They're all part of your little life -- our little life. Do I wish you were still as itsy-bitsy and quiet as that first day? No way. I'm treasuring that memory, and this morning's tough ones, and anxious to make new happy ones together. Happy Birthday, my little boy. Your Mommy loves you, more than more than more.

Huh, how 'bout that!

(Kinda handy having that little to-do list down there...)

Last night I had dinner with a friend.... An online friend, whom I'd never seen face-to-face before. My first online buddy "hook-up!" How exciting! How 21st century! Since I was already married by the time I discovered message boards and blogs, I never got to do any online dating, so this -- having perfect strangers inside the computer for friends, and wanting to meet them -- still feels a bit brand-new for me. It helped that I've "known" Stacie for more than a couple of years now, but we were both still slightly nervous. I found that funny. Two girls! Both married! What's scary about that? But those little butterflies got antsy down in my tummy all the same. Kind-of a fun feeling, anticipation. When I arrived at her hotel, I couldn't help but hug her. And the whole evening was just like old home week -- we talked about our mutual friends that we hadn't "seen" [on the message board] in a while, and got caught up with each other's lives and families, and shared fitness woes (since that's how we met -- a fitness board).

Another friend and I wondered yesterday if the Internet brings us closer together through interludes like this one, or keeps us apart by gluing us to our keyboards and screens instead of having to walk 30 feet and knock on the neighbor's door. I guess it's a little of both.

But I'm very glad to have a friend now, in Alaska, with whom I can share a pleasant memory, a shared experience. "Hey Stacie, remember that time we hung out in Duluth?""Yeah, when we ate that amazing Dark Chocolate Mousse Cake?" "Yeah, that time." "That was fun." :)

Wow, long time no post!

My mind is abuzz these days with all the upcoming events and engagements for which I am responsible. Some of those are my own doing, and maybe things I shouldn't have scheduled. Like today's lunch date with a college friend I haven't seen in a while. It will be nice, and, hey, a girl's gotta eat... but I could seriously be using that time to complete one of the half-million projects on my radar.

• (work project:) writing the summer newsletter for Client X
  
• (work project:) testing the revised app for Client X
  
• (work project:) testing and proofreading the website for Client Y
  
• (work project:) sitting on the phone for 2 hours for Client Y
  
• (FUN project:) ordering the cake for AJ's first b'day party
  
• (FUN project:) going to Party City for decorations for AJ's party
  
• (FUN project:) wrapping presents for AJ (Do you wrap presents for a 1-yr-old? Logic says no, but he does love a good paper-ripping opportunity.... hard to decide)
  
• (FUN project:) getting alterations to my bridesmaid dress for Sissy's wedding (fingers crossed that it will take less than 2 weeks)
  
• (FUN project:) helping Sissy with itinerary for Wedding Weekend
  
• (FUN project:) buying and reading the next Book Club selection (ha! leisure reading? yeah, right)
  
• (MUST-DO project:) learning music and cantoring at Mass on Saturday night
  
• (MUST-DO project:) hair appointment next week
  
• (MUST-DO project:) vacuuming the house
  
• (MUST-DO project:) cooking for our friend coming to dinner Thursday night...
  

..... and yet, there's more. I'm doing surprisingly well with the stress -- I'm not stressing, actually. But my Palm is definitely "full-up." No time for reflection, just go-go-go! But hey, I'm thinking it's good to actually live life once in a while.

Wheeee! Catch y'all on the flip side....!