I am virginal.
I am a St. Bernard.
I am a a social driver.
I am a child’s kiss.
I am 50% Charlotte, 30% Carrie, 20% Miranda & 0% Samantha.
I am Rachel.
I am 50% Modernist, 30% Traditionalist, 20% Eclectic.
I am #41.
I am Daria, the typical feminist, depressed, artist.
I am… going to bed. I’m really flucking tired.

Sometimes nothing starts the day off right like slipping on your old favorite sandals. Man, these things are rancid — I’m sure you could smell me coming a mile away! I just can’t toss them — they’re broken in & comfy & make me happy — and that’s what really matters, right? So what if people fall to their knees and cover their noses when I walk by. I’m a happy eka in my brown leather sandals. Keeeyah!
(I just rubbed them down with Burts Bees lemon oil. We’ll see if that helps. Phew!)

So I didn’t kill anyone at the retreat yesterday — a shame, perhaps, because the woods of Maine hold lots of great places to hide the bodies.

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Ok, who the fluck keeps voting for Trenyce?
Let her go, dawg. Let her go.

Staff retreat in Maine today & tomorrow. I’ll be home tonight, though — not staying over, like usual.
Head spinning — lots of stuff going on. Good stuff, scary stuff, big stuff. Decisions, changes — and no, we’re not pregnant.
I feel like we’re caught in a dream where we’re running down all these side streets trying to get where we want to be, and we’re not quite sure what might be around that corner — and if that corner will even get us closer to where we need to be, or get us lost and further from where we want to be. Navigating our way through things we don’t know enough about, and afraid we’re going to get to our destination too late & not prepared. I feel like it’s a race, and no one gave us the route — or even a pair of sneakers. Like we’re running in high heels & bumping into walls — and that’s not good for anyone involved.
Nothing like talking in code, right? Life’s a journey, marriage is a journey, we’re in this together. We can handle anything — keeeeeeeeeeeeeyah!
All in time. Everything happens for a reason. Must stop drinking coffee now. [smooch]

If you’re on the east coast and the sky seems unusually bright this evening, it’s not a full moon — it’s the glare radiating from this mother of a zit on my chin.
Almost 30. Ok, two more years, but still, I’m not 15 anymore — wtf?
And don’t ever let anyone tell you love can’t change the world — snazzykat’s been at the top of the popdex charts for two days now, and it’s all because YOU spread the love. You rock.
I was my usual pissy self with my coworkers today — my tolerance level was shot months ago — it’s bad, because now things that normally wouldn’t piss me off are magnified thousands of times. So I took off early for a walk, and wouldn’t you know it? There were three little bichon frise dogs hanging out this window over at the artists’ lofts. It was high enough up that they couldn’t jump, but low enough that they could lean over and give me puppy kisses on my nose. It didn’t make up for people having their heads up their butts, but it definitely made me giggle.
Amen for spring, open windows and free boobies — gotta look for the positives, right? So, how was your day?

Welp, I did it. On the first beautiful, really spring day of the year, I did it.
I’m going braless.
Out came the happy hippie dress from the back of the closet, the sandals — and out went the bra. I packed one in the car, just in case I didn’t feel like I could do it, and I’ve thought a couple of times about going and getting it –
It’s such an odd feeling. I walked downtown to get some stuff, and I felt so — out there. Self-conscious. I was hyper-aware of everyone else’s boobies — she’s wearing a tank-top. She’s wearing a bra. I had to remind myself that it’s really no big deal. No one is looking at my chest going, Dude! She’s not wearing a bra! I mean, this is how we’re meant to be, this is natural and normal — being wrapped up and perked up and locked into wire & fabric & elastic is not.
It’s an oddly liberating feeling, both physically and mentally. How utterly silly that something so small seems so insanely bold to me — but I kinda like it.
Down with the bra! Free the boobies!
Uhh. Yeah.

Jay just came home from grocery shopping (where did I find this boy?) with a package of yummy tomatoes, which he popped open and held out on display for me. Of course, I promptly snagged one and started nibbling away. I miss when my family had a garden, and I could steal ‘maters right from the vine. He bought me more fresh basil & fresh mozz, so I’ll be back on my tomato salad kick this week. How yummy. He rocks.
I just got a whiff of wet-dog smell. Odd, since we don’t have a dog, and we both showered today, so I’m not sure what that’s about. Not a happy smell. I think I’m going to go bury my nose in some clean laundry — now I just need to actually wash some to get that clean laundry smell. Hrm. Details, details.
My sister’s bridal shower was beautiful. Tame, mellow & dignified – just like her. She got lots of great stuff, and I got to make her the most obnoxious bow hat — I’ll post a picture when my mom sends them along, but I spent most of my life of being insanely jealous of her beauty, so it was kinda fun making her wear this god-awful hat. In sort-of public, no less. I’m so horrible. But she was beautiful and happy and fun, so it was awesome.
And why is it that when you’re on a road trip & you manage to find a perfect song on the radio, the reception chooses that moment to get all static-y? I mean, Sweet Child O’Mine AND Here I Go Again, in a row, and I’m singing along in-between the fuzzy noise. I’m such a Monster Ballads cheesehead. It was okay, though. I popped in Poison’s Greatest Hits, opened the moonroof and all was well with the world. (Unskinny bopbopbopbop, blows me away, yeaaaaaaah.)
I have issues, I know.

Pretty crazy – as of 6am, there are 84 trackbacks spreadin’ the love. You guys rock! I’m heading out of town until Sunday, but keep the love going to everyone you know — ain’t it a beautiful thing?
(Now get your butts to Boston and celebrate that love in person. Shameless, ain’t I? )

For those of you still in the Blogshares game – a word of advice. Do NOT lbo unless you know what you’re doing. I thought I would play and see what would happen — I went from having some money to being something like $174,000 in the hole.
Sounds like my college loans. *heh*