The Duck Says:

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Originally uploaded by Glamorous Jo.

Merry Christmas Ya'll!

Mahwhage is what bwings us... togedder.....today

This is my gorgeous sister-in-law Angie.



And this is Angie and Micah, her boyfriend.



And this weekend, they got engaged!

I am overly happy for them both and wish them long years of happiness together. And since I am a five month expert on marriage, here is my advice for the happy couple:

Have fun.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Reflections (Merry)

So I know the Christmas ornament photo is a bit cliche and all that but I DON'T CARE. It's Christmas and it's festive so Fa La La La La La and Happy Self Portrait Tuesday.

Reason #656

Reason #656 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

Because he bought me the Say Anything DVD* for Christmas**. And because he's my own personal Lloyd Dobler - anything but basic. I, however, am still working on being a "brain trapped in the body of a game show hostess".



*AJ Fabulous bought me the Say Anything DVD for my birthday a while back, but someone has stolen it. If it was you, it's about time you fess up. Even though I've now received a new copy of my beloved movie, you need to be reckoned with.

**Ryan and I have been giving each other one present every day for the past few days because A) we can and B) it's really fun and C) we are overcome with Christmas Cheer.

The Exception to the Rule

Don't you hate it when you feel like you are on the verge of seeing the bright light and you definitely feel like you are on the verge of walking towards that bright light so you go to the walk-in clinic looking for some assistance and they tell you this:

"Lately we haven't been prescribing anti-biotics because, frankly, they aren't working anymore. But YOU are........sick. I mean, wow. How long have you been walking around like that?"

I say nothing since my ears are ringing so loudly I'm not entirely sure what she has asked me.

"So, I guess we'll just prescribe the anti-biotics and hope for the best."

You're a Mean One

You know what? I love Christmas. I love decorating and buying presents and helping those in need and making cookies and seeing family and Christmas parties and Christmas music. I love it all. Even Christmas socks.

But I do not love shopping in a specialty store that thinks it's "cute" to be uber-nosey and uber-wisenheimer-y when I've been standing in line holding my giant carpet bag purse and a really heavy box and I've lost feeling in both my arms and I have those icky red stripes on my hand from holding all the stuff for so long my knees are about to buckle. I immediately turn into the GRINCH when cheery sales people ask me these series of questions:

Cheery Clerk: Hi, how are you? Are you getting some Christmas shopping done?
Inner Me: It's Decmeber 14th and it's my lunch hour and I'm buying something only a Grandmother could love and I'm sweaty from wearing my coat in the store but it was too cold to leave it in the car......what do YOU think?
Me: Yes.

Cheery Clerk: I see you found some nice things today!
Inner Me: Shut-up and scan the bar code. I am in a hurry and I do not like it when sales clerks are nosey about what I'm buying/renting/eating.
Me: Yes.

Cheery Clerk: Can I get your phone number, area code first please?

*Sidebar - You should know that I HATE the give the phone number routine. They ask so they can look up your profile in their system and keep track of what you've bought and how often you come in the store blah blah blah. And yes, that's good data for them to have. But it feels like they are asking for my bra size or what side of the bed I sleep on. My phone number is not something I want out there for all the world to dial. Not that they do. It's just the idea. And it drives me crazy.

Me: 615-***-**** (which is actually my office number. Haha! Look at me! Dodging the system like a pro!)

Cheery Clerk: Now will this be all for you today?
Inner Me: Well let me see, I came rushing over here on my lunch break and I've been standing in line for over 15 minutes and there's a huge line of impatient people waiting behind me, but now that you mention it, I'd like to browse a little longer, yes.
Me: Yes.

Cheery Clerk: And how will you be paying for your gifts today?
Inner Me: Well I'm holding out my debit card, so that would seem the obvious choice wouldn't it GENIUS.
Me: Debit

After even more irritating questions, I was finally free to leave with a giant Merry Christmas and some Holiday Kisses blown in my general direction.

Ok, ok - I know it's their job to be overly polite and I know they HAVE to ask for the phone number and I know I sound like a big 'ole jerk.
I guess the secret's out.
I'm a jerk.
Ho Ho Ho.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Reflections (Shorn)

Ok...so...I like change. I like to mix things up. I like to try new things (well mostly, not always, and if it's food then not ever). I've lived in Nashville for 8+ years and I've had 8 different addresses (if you don't count the seven day stint in Maine - which I don't). I've also had about 8 different hair colors. I feel like I'm willing to try most anything with my hair - when it involves color. The length - however - is a different matter entirely.

I have always - always - had long hair. Always. Sometimes long, and sometimes looooooong. But always - long. But lately I've felt bogged down with the hair and have threatened to "chop it" as I've so exasperatingly shouted to Ryan over and over. But for me "chopping" would mean a few inches off the back. And just to prove my point:

Here I am in a sorority composite picture circa 1993:



And here I am at a sorority dance circa 1994:



And here's me as Poison Ivy in 1999.



Here I am in October of 2003 (why are all my pictures from October?):



And here I am in June of 2004 with Baby Alex (scrumptious Baby Alex):



And yes, I have 1,000 pictures of me with long hair from high school and elementary school, but no one needs to see that.

Which brings us to the present day. Ryan has needed a haircut in the worst way, and I've been running around spouting about "chopping" my hair, so last night we did just that. We both went and got haircuts. More accurately, we were shorn like innocent lambs.

Exhibit A:



Exhibit B:



Exhibit C:



The good thing is, hair grows fast. Ok, the REALLY good thing is, I cut so much off I was able to donate it to Locks of Love - and that ain't half bad.

But I didn't ask for bangs.

Why Today is Good

1. It's Friday and the sun is shining.
2. I get to see my fabulous in-laws and sister-in-law this weekend.
3. I only have 8 work days left until MERRY CHRISTMAS FOR THIRTEEN WHOLE DAYS.
4. See #3
5. My record company is putting on a benefit show tonight for the orphans of Haiti and I think that's pretty cool. Also, the bands will be good. Rock 'n Roll 4-EVER.
6. Did I mention #3?
7. Reading Hula Seventy's delicious words that can warm your heart even on the coldest of days.
8. See #3.
9. In an obvious effort to please me, NBC is moving The Office to Thursday nights - so now I can watch!

Since November 3rd

I cannot stop sneezing.
I cannot stop blowing my nose.
I cannot breathe.
I cannot stay awake.
I cannot concentrate.
I cannot take much more of this.

In a Theater Near You...

I've always been a sucker for a happy ending love story. Those movies or books with the one pivotal moment that makes you gasp and cry and laugh all at once. The swelling music. The couple that meet each other in the rain for a kiss so perfect it breaks your heart. And even though I usually savor every word and purposeful shy glance, I always left the theater with a small twinge of “yeah right”. Shut the book thinking, “it's fiction, obviously”. I always had a small fear that these incandescent feelings, these breathless words between lovers were manufactured niceties strung together by some clever writer. Emotions acted by talented people who, once the scene was over, would return to their personal misery. Their lonely heartbreaks. Because real rapturous love couldn't possibly be true. Not in this world. Not in this girl. I'd seen too much deception for one lifetime. Had my heart trampled on until it was unrecognizable. Tasted the bitterness of betrayal.

Besides, isn't it the unspoken rule that one should turn up her nose at such a possibility? Scandalous love stories are fairytales devoured by the weak, right? It seems to be more accepted to talk about love with disdain than with hope - at least for a single girl. Or maybe that was another way of fooling myself into doubting its existence.

Enter Ryan Illingworth.

And no, I don't want to say that now I know perfect kisses do exist. I don't want to tell you that real rapturous love does happen without the aid of directors and screenwriters and novelists. I don't want reveal the elusive Mr. Darcy as a possibility. Because I know it probably won't ring true. I know for most, it might sound hollow or boring or even threatening. I know that to gush about one's love is often to the dismay of others. But why? If we celebrate true love on the screen, shouldn't we celebrate its true existence? Shouldn't we praise the idea of actual people walking around experiencing real love?

Wherever you stand, and whatever you've been through, I cannot deny…..it exists. True love. Movie love. Mr. Freakin' Darcy love. I've found it.

I've found someone who loves me so quietly my ears ring. Who loves me so profoundly I'm struck silent. Who wears his heart on his sleeve but is stronger than I've yet to see. A man who serves me without motive, dotes without pretense and gazes without suspicion. Who constantly surprises me and alarms me and fills me with outrageous screaming hilarious love.

And yes, I've only been married for five months. I'm still wearing blinders, right? I hope not. I hope I always look at Ryan and feel the wonder that I do today. I hope I always run to meet him when he comes home. I hope I never tire of his face or his stories or his shy laugh.

I hope I always feel his kiss on my shoulder in the middle of the night.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Reflections (Work)

I heard a rumor that this month's SPT should be about reflections. So, here's me as reflected in a Kids In The Way CD. I work for a record company where I market, sell and generally cheer about rock bands. I spend (or it feels like I spend) the majority of my life at this record company. And it is a good record company, a good job. Some might say a great job. I know many many people who would beg, borrow and backstab to get my job.

But my soul....she longs for other things.

14 Things You Should Know: December Edition

1. I use the backs of CDs as mirrors
2. In the second grade, I fell out of the swing at recess (and I was swinging higher than a KITE!). I landed ok, on my well insulated rear, but the swing went back up into the air and then came crashing down on the back of my skull. I had to go to the hospital where they told me I had cracked my skull. My dad joked that my brain might leak out. I was terrified it would.
3. It irritates me when people calculate instead of listen. While listening to you talk they are already thinking of a rebuttal or a comment or a judgment of some sort. JUST LISTEN. WE'RE MAKING CONVERSATION HERE.
4. Once, while on a business trip, I morphed into Jessica Simpson over dinner. We had been working a sales expo all day and were famished. The expo was being held in a hotel, so we went to one of the hotel restaurants. It was very fancy, very dimly lit, and very expensive. I ordered "the chicken" and hoped they would hurry. When my food arrived, I was slightly perturbed that my chicken had come with rice instead of the potatoes I ordered, but neveryoumind I was STARVING! I dug in, heartily, and then announced to the table: WOWWWWWW!!!! THIS IS THE BEST CHICKEN I HAVE EVER EATEN IN MY LIFE!!!!!! SO LIGHT!!!!! SO TENDER!!!!! SO UNBELIEVABLY DELICIOUS!!!!!!!! I wouldn't shut-up about the chicken and its chickeny awesomeness. The chicken! It's good! Finally, my friend Cathy reached over to take a bite of my glorious never-before-have-I-eaten-something-so-delicious chicken......and made a face. She turned to the rest of the table and announced, "JoAnna is eating fish".
5. I rank movie candy in this order:
Reeses Pieces
Raisenettes
Peanut M&Ms
Reeses Pieces
Anything else you could think of including vegetables and liver
Popcorn
6. If I prepare for a meeting with you about one of my records, and I am talking to you about said record, please do not interrupt me and talk over me and vomit your general rudeness and ugliness all over the conference room table. It's not very nice....or glamorous.
7. The darkness that is descending at 5:00 is robbing me of my very soul. (I know this is a repeat, but People! I! Am! Serious!)
8. I'm a messy toothbrusher
9. I can't think of one single thing worse than wet socks
10. Sometimes when I'm describing someone that was rude, I say he was, "Rude Dog U.S.A." although I have no idea what this means or why in tarnation I say it. I do not know where it came from and I think it sounds a little crazy. But I say it. So there.
11. Now that it's getting dark so early, I can see my reflection in the window when I look out into the cold, cruel, dark afternoon. And let me tell you, I slouch like Old Mother Hubbard with an unsightly hump and a chip on her shoulder. Ghastly!
12. I think the Extension Cord People jack up the prices around Christmas because they know it's the only time of year you look around and think "man, I sure could use about five extra extension cords".
13. Ryan and I watched the finale of The Biggest Loser and saw these nice people getting $100,000 or $250,000 for losing weight! We looked at each other and said the same thing in our heads. START EATING.
14. I think I would be BFF with Kelly Clarkson, Joan Cusack, Lorelai Gilmore, and Reese Witherspoon.
Bonus: Buying Christmas gifts for dads and dads-in-law and brothers and brothers-in-law is hard. Please help.

Confessions of a Lurker

There's quite a few blogs that I lurk and love. The writing makes me salivate with glee while equally feeling like a loser because I cannot spin such magical webs. And I get paid to write! But no matter, it's not my words you should be reading. It's this. This post made me....well I don't exactly know how to describe it. It just made me. So read it.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Undercover

So this is my neighbor, one street over, filled with an apparent overflowing of Christmas Cheer. I saw this house shining like a beacon in the night, and made Perfect Ryan go with me on a stealth mission to photograph it for your enjoyment. The picture is blurry because he took it quickly and without a flash - we didn't want to draw attention to ourselves. Of course, we were skulking around our neighborhood late at night, wearing dark hooded sweatshirts and posing for pictures in front of the Christmas Castle. I'm sure THAT didn't draw any suspicion.

And, I know this house doesn't hold any sort of record for most lights or lawn ornaments, but in our neighborhood, it's shocking. Most of the houses are still dark, or have a small wreath on the front door.

SoulO Again

Look, I was sad when Brad and Jennifer broke up. But there was also a part of me that thought, "well.....yeah".

But Nick and Jessica?? The Virgin Bride? The Newlyweds? I don't know where you stand on the Us Weekly/The New Yorker spectrum, but I feel like this separation should make us all a little sad. Even my Mom said "Not Nick and Jessica??!!" and she doesn't know that J. Lo never married Ben. Of course, Perfect Ryan thinks it's all a planned rouse by Dad Simpson to boost DVD sales and concert tickets. And even though I don't know them and never will and it's none of anyone's business what's going on in their private life, I just feel sad.

We had such high hopes.

Foxy's Thankgiving Turkey Leg

Top Ten Thanksgiving Highlights:

-Picking up my iBook EARLY and finding out that I owed ZERO DOLLARS. They didn’t even make me pay for the hard drive backup!
-Going to my Dad’s church in Beaver Dam, Kentucky and hearing this comment when Dad asked the church what they were thankful for: "Brutha Kelley, I'm right thankful I got me a der whilst I's sitting inma easy chair onma back porch there drinkin' coffee".....loosely interpreted "Brother Kelley, I'm thankful I got the opportunity to shoot a deer while I was sitting in my easy chair on my back porch drinking coffee. Thankfully I had a loaded gun within reaching distance so that I could easily shoot the deer without getting up from my recliner." And all the people said.....Amen.
-Eating dressing until I thought my eyeballs would pop out of my head, and then driving to the Illingworths and eating MORE dressing. And Deviled Eggs. And pie.
-Pulling up to Ma and Pa Illingworths and seeing several women park in front of the house and walk towards the front door. Ryan didn't know who they were, but we both assumed they were friends of someone. The three ladies walked into the house, and then screamed and ran out saying "THIS IS THE WRONG HOUSE!!!! WE WENT INTO THE WRONG HOUSE!!!!"
-Playing Taboo with Ryan's mom and laughing so hard I nearly puked. She's the sweetest lady in the world until you buzz her for saying a word that isn't allowed – then all hell breaks loose. (Of course, the near puke could have been from all the dressing. And pie.)
-Sleeping late.
-The A&E 24 Marathon on Friday.
-NOT showing up to Wal-Mart or Target or Sears or any of those idiot stores that opened at 5am. That's just not right.
-Playing Nertz with Karina and Debi and Ryan – and I will now wish Karina the Happiest Birthday of All. You are fabulous.
-Decorating the outside of the house with lights and such.

Bonus:
I am also quite thankful for so many things....including (but not limited to) Perfect Ryan, Illingworth Manor, my family (both Harris and Illingworth), Baby Eckert, the opportunity to write another book, having four days off from work, dressing, and pie.

The Duck says -

Happy Thanksgiving Ya'll!!

The Cat's (Pink) Pajamas

Overheard last night while standing in line at PetSmart behind a young woman unloading a basket full of tiny clothes. Mostly tiny pink clothes.

PetSmart Cashier: Are all of these outfits for your pet?
Girl: Oh yes!! He loves getting dressed up!
PetSmart Cashier: So, your dog is a boy, and he wears pink?
Girl: His favorite color is pink, he looooooooves pink!!!! Oh.....and he’s a cat!
PC: A.....cat?
Girl: Yeah!
PC: Does he have a questionable sex?
Girl: Ummm, no. He just loves pink!
PC: (still scanning outfits) And all of these clothes, the cat will wear these?
Girl: Yup! He loves it! He goes with me everywhere. I walk him on a leash!
Nivah interjects: You walk him on a leash?
PC: I’ve just never heard of a cat wearing clothes...and walking on a leash.
Girl: He’s a minx.
PC: A minx.
Girl: Yes, and he’s been getting dressed since he was 12 weeks old, so he just loves it!
Nivah and I: (Staring....aghast......)
PC: (Looking at register after final outfit is scanned.) You just spent $180.00 on outfits......for your cat.

Girl giggles, scans credit card, collects her bags and trots off. Nivah and I look at the PetSmart Cashier with bug eyes. No one says anything.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Too Early

As we discussed earlier, yes, it's too early. But guess what? This Christmas tree fills me with cheer. And I like cheer. Love it, actually. Three cheers for cheer!

Happy Thanksristmas Year to you!!!!

Because he's funny, that's why....

Instant Message I just received from Perfect Ryan:

I ate the cheese quesadilla Hot Pocket....and I think I had an orgasm in my mouth...

Weekend Update from Illingworth Manor

Ryan and I were gone to KY for the weekend and came home to an open refrigerator door. Cracked, really, but the light was on. And all the milk and butter and yogurt and carrot juice and egg nog* – warm and ruined. And smelly. And just plain ewww.

But there were highlights:
-We put up our Christmas tree and it’s GORGEOUS!!! GORGEOUS!!!!! Did I mention it’s GORGEOUS???!!!!**
-We saw Walk The Line with Joaquin and Reese. Go see it right now. Right. Now.
-Ryan helped build a life-size nativity scene for my Dad’s church. How cute is that?
-I lost 2 pounds.



*Look, I know it's not Christmas yet, but Perfect Ryan LOVES the egg nog. When they start selling it, he starts drinking it.

*Yes, I know it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, and singing “Holly Jolly Christmas” and hanging mistletoe in all the doorways are activities best saved for Black Friday or thereafter. And I agree. But Ryan and I will be out of town Wednesday through Sunday night and then things get crazy for quite a while and yesterday was the only day to get it done. So there! I know it was wrong, but it was sooooooooo fun.

Awkward

Do you ever get the feeling that someone is having a fake cell phone conversation just so they don't have to talk to you?

And I don't mean the Johnny Cash one...

I'm so so so glad it's Friday, even though The Mucus is still lingering. I’ve given up the fight. I can’t continue taking cold medicine. It makes me loopy and wooshy and high as an eighth grade cheerleader using those big fat markers to make a sign for the Winter Carnival. It also tends to give me hives. I often disregard this fact and dose up anyway, but this never turns out well. I constantly battle the struggle between feeling overly symptomatic (incessant nose blowing, headache, coughing, aches) or feeling drugged (spaced out, itchy inner-ears from the hives, feeling as if underwater). Neither option suits me. I’m jealous of those women who pound four Advil thereby squelching all aches and irritations. I take a tiny red Sudafed and I’m catatonic for two days. Usually I just suffer the symptoms and slurp mucus for a week.

But lately I’ve been thinking...what in the WORLD am I going to do if I ever have the opportunity to give birth? I’m not one of those strong granola-types who can squat, take the pain like a champ and then make pancakes for the family. And I fear that an epidural might induce a loopy drunken state for the first year of my child’s life and this would leave all the diaper brouhaha up to Perfect Ryan. And let’s be honest, he’s not THAT perfect. I like the idea of a medication-free midwife kinda birth. But I am equally freaked out by it – especially the “ring of fire” I’ve heard about. This does not sound like something I want to experience on purpose.

Not that I have reason to worry.
I’m not pregnant...today....

iBook, youBook we all fall down....

So I just took my iBook over to Mac Authority (The Authority on Macs!) because of a minor disturbance last night that nearly closed my throat with panic. I handed The Beloved over to the girl with the green fingernails and the pink pants. I tried to cry a little, so Miss Pink Pants would let the technician know that I’m desperate and maybe a little crazy. She asked me what happened. I told her that it froze up and then the screen went blank. Twice. Then I added a whimper and bit my lower lip. My antics didn’t phase Miss Pink Pants. She had me sign a form saying something about "I promise to pay whatever exorbitant amount you decide to charge me even if it means I cannot get my wisdom teeth pulled or ever have children" and sent me on my merry way.

This is bad because:
1. My book is due to the publisher in nineteen weeks. For those of you who think nineteen weeks is a really long time, I hate you.
2. Ryan’s computer is currently dead. Fried. On the blink.
3. That means there are no computers at Illingworth Manor.
4. I cannot write 50,000+ words by hand.
5. I’ve heard rumors about the cost of having a computer fixed, specifically a Mac. Something about “more than my first car”.
6. I have a Mac.
7. I need to get a new driver’s license by the end of the month because my check card expires and I need to start using my new check card with my new last name but I cannot use it until I have a matching I.D. with the appropriate last name and I cannot function with my check card. Cannot.
8. That last one was just a bonus reason that has nothing to do with my computer, but really stresses me out

So the half-asleep technician called me back with good news and bad news.
Good news: It’s a problem with the logic board, which may be under warranty.
Bad news: If it’s not under warranty, it’s going to be just shy of $500.00 to fix, unless we find something else wrong and then it will be way more. WAY more. And we won’t know that for several days. Oh yeah, and there’s the holiday coming up, so add some more days. It won’t be ready for a while.

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................

He also said...
Tech: Would you like anything from the hard drive to be saved?
Me: What?
Tech: Well, usually when Apple needs to fix a problem, they just wipe out everything on the computer.
Me: Everything? You mean my first book, my current working items for my second book, and my wedding photos? That stuff? YES, PLEASE SAVE IT ALL.
Tech: That will be $85.00 and three more days.

Scarlett, We're Not at Tara Anymore

I love being a Southern woman. I've lived the majority of my life in the south (minus a seven day stint in Bangor, Maine - which is a whole other story for a whole other ..... let's not go into it). I have enough of a Southern accent to count, but not enough to be asked to repeat myself. I use the word "fixin" to indicate when I'm about to do something. I love thunderstorms. When the restaurant server asks if I want sweetorun, I say sweet. (That's sweet tea for you Yankees.) A photo of me wearing a full hoop-skirt get-up complete with lace gloves and a bonnet with ribbons does exist. I refer to you as ya'll, I once owned a pick-up truck and I know all the words to Rocky Top.

But.

It drives me right crazy when every single every news channel refuses to interview anyone but a toothless drunk in a wife-beater and a John Deer trucker hat with the bill pointed skyward who scratches his head or spits his chew juice during the entire interview. It sets my blood boiling, ya'll!!

The South had a wild night tonight. Warm air mixed with a cold front coming in made for an interesting drive home for everyone from northern KY to the TN/MS border. I'm not sure how many tornados were spotted, I lost count at 20. Golf ball sized hail. Wild whipping wind and driving rain. Strobe-like lightning and thunder that rattled the dishes on the shelf. I've been through more storms than I have hairs on my head, but this one made me get in the bathtub and hope for the best. Of course, this all made for a most exciting night for all the news personna to shine. (Sidebar: It's always amusing to me when the newscasters are shouting to you to TAKE COVER and THIS IS SERIOUS and GO TO YOUR BASEMENT while they are standing outside wearing a slicker, holding a microphone.)

But.

Tonight at 10:00 was the storm wrap-up. The footage of damage and stories from survivors. And once again, Channel 4 News did not disappoint and managed to find the craziest hillbilly in all of Middle Tennessee to describe his "storm experience".

"Well I saw my daddy's S-10 git blowed over and them's porch ovare done neart blowed off. I took to runnin, I tell ya, I was scaret. That wind done blowed all crazy."

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you heard it hear first. Yours truly managed to survive the night the wind blowed all crazy.

Caution: Irritation Ahead

I’m just irritated. I have valid reasons why, but I don’t feel this is the place to air said reasons. Suffice to say – I AM IRRITATED AT WORK. I understand that I must work in order to have money in order to pay bills. I also understand that in comparison to the general populace, I have it pretty good. I also understand that I probably (actually) have nothing to complain about. But that does not and shall not change the fact that I am irritated.

Maybe it’s the trickle down effect of me getting the work that others don’t want to do (which, I realize, I do to others as well)
Maybe it’s the cold and rainy weather that’s really got me down
Maybe I’m finally fed up
Maybe it’s that time of the month (although I think this is a lame excuse)
Maybe I’m meant for other things, but it’s not quite time yet
Maybe I’m on the brink of a big change
Maybe the current state of things around the office has me so stressed out, The Mucus has taken up permanent residence in my head
Maybe I should start drinking
Or smoking
Or SOMETHING

THERE HAS TO BE MORE THAN THIS.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Carrot Juice

In order to prevent more of these kinds of visits, I've been chugging Carrot Juice every day. You must know, my idea of eating healthy is not picking the carrots out of my fried rice. So The Carrot Juice has been challenging for me. And gross. But yet I drink it.
Every.
Morning.
Of.
Every.
Day.

Pillar shirt

Did you hear about this missing girl? Stories are circulating that this 14 year old girl from Pennsylvania was out late with her 18 year old boyfriend. When she got home, her parents were angry about her missing curfew. Fight escalated. Boyfriend shot parents TO DEATH and left with the girl. There's an amber alert out for the girl:

Ludwig, a white male with brown hair and brown eyes, was last seen driving his parents' red Volkswagen Jetta with Pennsylvania license plates EHH-0994. Borden is described as white, 5-feet-1 and 100 pounds, with brown hair with blonde highlights. She was last seen wearing a black sweat shirt with "Pillar" across the front, blue jeans and black sneakers.

This story, obviously, is horrifying enough on its own. But what I can't shake is, this girl is a fan of one of my bands. This girl is the one that I write marketing plans for - the target audience. She's the one who goes to Pillar shows and buys their merchandise and wears it proudly. I guess I always picture "this girl" in my head as a happy go lucky teenager who loves Pillar and her parents. Who studies and goes to youth group and hopes to someday be a psychologist or a pediatrician. Not the victim (or possible participant) of a homicide and a kidnapping.

I'm It

I've been tagged by Cool M for a Meme. Does that rhyme?

Two names you go by:
1. Jo – obviously, since my name is JoAnna
2. Girl – my parents rarely ever call me by my name, and instead call me Girl. Well yes, I am a girl. Thanks for noticing.

Two parts of your heritage:
1. Indian horse thieves
2. English/Scottish royalty of some sort
(now isn’t that a good balance)

Two Things that Scare you:
1. Midget hands
2. These Beasts

Two of your Everyday Essentials:
1. Diet Coke
2. A window to look out of

Two Things you are wearing right now:
1. My Ryan charm
2. My Wedding Ring

Two of your favorite bands or musical artists:
1. Dolly Parton
2. Imogen Heap
Bonus: Ryan Illingworth

Two favorite songs (at the moment):
1. Goodnight and Go – Imogen Heap
2. The Christmas-y theme music from Home Alone/Elf that I tend to sing out loud 365 days a year. I cannot stop myself. I sing it every day in my head, and sometimes it escapes out of my mouth. This usually happens in front of my husband, who thinks it’s funny. But I’m not doing it to be funny.

Two things you want in a relationship (other than real love):
1. Balance
2. Laughs

Two truths:
1. Having a lot of money doesn’t make you rich
2. Being rich doesn’t mean having a lot of money

Two physical traits in the opposite sex that appeal to you:
1. Shoulders
2. All of THIS

Two of your favorite hobbies:
1. Making up jingles that rhyme
2. Dressing the Duck. This morning Ryan and I dressed him as a Lady Pilgrim - photo soon to come.

Two things you want really badly:
1. The ability to write full time
2. French fries

Two places you want to go on vacation:
1. Europe
2. NYC

Two things you want to do before you die:
1. Have children
2. Have fun

Two ways you are stereotypically a chick/dude:
1. I own more than 3 bottles of shampoo at any given time and an entire drawer of make-up, creams, potions and lotions that I will never ever use
2. I cry at weddings, commercials, touching stories, baptisms, songs at church, Extreme Home Makeover, movies..................

Two things you are thinking about right now:
1. That guy laughs like a chipmunk
2. My book deadline is in 20 weeks

Two stores you shop at:
1. Here
1. And here

Two people you would like to do this:
1. Server Girl
2. The Bohemian Princess

Do you watch Lost?

Because OH MY GOSH.

OH.

MY.

GOSH.

Imogen Heap

Don't miss this, like I almost did. If you saw the movie "Garden State" and loved the song "Let Go" by Frou Frou then:

1. We can be friends for life.
2. You know what it sounded like to be kissed by Ryan Illingworth in the Flicker parking lot when he was your intern and you were his boss.
3. You know the beauty that is Imogen Heap.

There's a new CD, that I somehow managed to miss knowing about. Maybe I've been listening to too much talk radio. I have it now, so all is right with the world. If you've ever listened to me in your life, then listen now. Go buy this CD. It will not disappoint.

In the meantime (and if you don't know our fair Imogen) listen to some tracks here and bask.

Self Portrait Tuesday: The Sneeze

To the other side....

Quote I just read:

"I guess every generation goes through their drug thing and some people get through it and get clean and some don't. But you know what, I'm sick of the people that are sober. I think sobriety is wrong. You can call drug addiction evil. And you can also call sobriety evil. This is a commandment by God: You're supposed to party on Friday night, and if you don't, you're going against God's wishes. If you look at the great art movements, everyone's dabbled and experimented [with drugs]. Again, I'm going to preface that by saying addiction is stupid. But the lack of experimentation is affecting the music today, and as a result, the music is stale. They need to break on through, man!"
-Perry Farrell
Formerly of Jane's Addiction

Ummmmmm.............

Mucus: 1 Jo: 0

Hello friends. What’s that? You want to know how my weekend was? Well I’ll tell you.

Thursday: Didn’t feel so well. Had to blow nose constantly. Throat started feeling scratchy. Went home and let husband cook and dote.

Friday: Woke up feeling like the Mucus Factory in my head had an overnight explosion of some sort and all hell was breaking loose. Called in sick. Felt the room spinning. Crashed. At 10am I heard a pounding on the front door, threw on a robe and rushed to answer it. It was a repairman coming to look at the vent in the front bedroom. And even though I was obviously sick, he still told me a fifteen minute story about a guitar amp he found once, how much it cost, how cool it was, how much he loved it, and how cool my husband’s guitar amp was, equally. I coughed on him hoping it would help the story end. It did not. I went back to bed. At 12:45 the pounding on the door started up again. This time it was a repairman coming to fix the garbage disposal. I showed him in and while I was explaining that the garbage disposal had suddenly stopped working and….....he flipped the switch and it came alive. I was aghast and demanded to know how he did it! I….um…..plugged it in, he said. Ok. Great. Thankyouverymuchforyourhelpinthisdesperatematterweareidiots. Good-bye. Don’t remember much of the rest of the day.

Saturday: Tried to take a shower, nearly passed out from exhaustion and nose blowing. Did little else.

Sunday: Made it to church but had to leave half-way through from sheer onslaught of the Bad Stuff. (The bad stuff is my nice way of saying “The Mucus and its evil ways”.) Watched Extreme Home Makeover and Grey’s Anatomy. Went through three boxes of Kleenex.

Now it’s Monday and my nose is raw and chapped and my throat is sore and the Bad Stuff is still clogging up my will to live.

But I’m feeling much better. Thanks.

The Post Where I Tell A Story That Won't Be Funny To You But It Made Me Laugh So Hard I Got a Cramp.

My friend Jen is moving to San Diego. This is so great for her - so bad for the rest of us. Last night Karina and I took her to Las Palmas for farewell chips and salsa. Jen didn't disappoint and gave us a classic Jen-ism.

Jen: So did I tell you the funny story about putting Buck (Karina's cat) in my clear suitcase?
Me: Clear suitcase?
Jen: Ohhhhh, did I tell you about my new matress?
Me: No.
Jen (making a motion like pulling a suitcase): It came with a free suitcase, a CLEAR suitcase.
Me: What?
Karina: It wasn't a mattress, it was a comforter.

Long Pause

Me: So this clear "suitcase"...is it the plastic bag that the comforter came in?
Jen: Oh. Yeah that.

14 Things You Should Know

1. Whenever I think about the name of my blog, “The Glamorous Life” – I sing the theme song to The Parent Trap. The 1961 version with Hayley Mills, not the 1998 version with Lindsay Lohan thankyouverymuch.
2. When Ryan and I play Dr. Mario on Nintendo - and I beat him (which is a challenge) - I do an annoying dance just to aggravate him. This dance includes singing.
3. I hate punk music
4. I do not eat exotic foods like “tofu” or “couscous” or “lobster” or “avocado”. This also includes anything that, cooked, resembles its living self. Therefore, crab legs night at Canton Chinese Buffet is wasted on me.
5. I often wonder what my course of action would be if I discovered that my children were socially handicapped
6. I tend to freak out
7. Sometimes I wish I were a guy just so I could wear the same jeans and long sleeve t-shirt every day and no one would notice. I hate picking out things to wear.
8. When I was in first grade, I got in trouble for talking too much – daily. One day my teacher had had it up to here (HERE!) with my incessant talking and pinned a note to my back for my parents to find. I suppose she pinned it to my back so I couldn’t reach it and I would surely get busted. I decided that I would just wear my winter coat over it and then hide the incriminating note when I got home. It was spring, and my coat was really only necessary in the mornings. That afternoon, Mom decided to run ENDLESS ERRANDS after school. I was sweating. Red-faced. HOT. Going in and out of store after store. Mom kept telling me to take my coat off but I refused! I finally made it home and put the note in the bottom of the trash. I don’t know if my parents ever found out.
9. This weekend I ate no less than SIX highly caloric, highly fattening, highly GLORIOUS desserts. They included:
*Chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory
*The Wall of Chocolate from PF Changs
*Homemade cheesecake (FROM HEAVEN)
*Puffy Muffin chocolate cake in the shape of a pumpkin
*Wedding cake
*Strawberry something fabulous cake something
10. I am now on a swift path to Weight Watchers Anonymous – the POINTS, they are calling my name (and they sound mean)
11. I love that feeling right after a good, hard sneeze
12. I have a toothache that I have chosen to ignore because I am afraid to face the inevitable
13. The words are starting to come back....the new book will be written. It will!
14. The darkness that is now descending at 5:30pm is robbing me of my very soul
Bonus: I crack my knuckles, even though I know I shouldn't

Reason #31

Reason #31 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

Because I just got home at 9:30pm expecting to walk into a dirty house with dirty floors and piles of dirty clothes and a dirty kitchen with piles of dirty dishes and too much leftover candy and a mountian of mail.

Instead, I came home to the hum of the dryer and the swoosh of the washing machine. Vacuumed floors and clean kitchen counters. Organized mail and a clean kitchen table. He even dusted the ceiling fan in the bedroom. He DUSTED the CEILING FAN in the BEDROOM.



I love this man.

Get Off My Lawn!

Ryan spent so much time creating the perfectly mean and scary pumpkin. But. We carved fairly early so that I could have Jack-O-Lanterns for my Boo Bunco party. Therefore, by the time Halloween rolled around, Ryan's scary pumpkin had turned into this crotchety old man pumpkin that hates the kids on the lawn! Darn kids!



Crotchety Pumpkin did not, however, keep the kids off the lawn. We had cute trick or treaters and scary trick or treaters.....even dead ones.

Me, after seeing the cute little girl wearing the Snow White dress and scary make-up on her face: Oh my! Are you scary Snow White?
Scary Snow White: NO! I'm DEAD Snow White.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Still Happy

Reason #3,434

Reason #3,434 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

Because when I asked him to pose for a photo with his mom, he did this:



A man after my own always-makes-a-crazy-face-in-photos heart. Our children will be ruined.

Ryan's sister Leslie got married this weekend to the Great Shawn Hogle. She was gorgeous and effervescent as always - and we all cried and laughed and had huge fun. Those Illingworths.....are awesome. To see some of the merriment, click here.

Boo Bunco

Boo Bunco was a party. A wild party. There were candy cigarettes and a Black Bird. There were Jack-o-Lantern Pizzas and Boo Cups for all. If you missed Boo Bunco, you suck.

Click here to see what you missed.

Self Portrait Tuesday: Happy

1. I'm working a half day today
2. I'm hosting Boo Bunco tonight
3. I'm going to Louisville Thursday for my Sister-in-law's wedding
4. The Cheesecake Factory is open

I'm happy.

FINE!

Ok - so I turned on word verification for my comments. Has the world really come to this?


P.S. Lean Cuisine Chicken Fettuccini is so good - I could roll naked in it (after a sufficient cooling period.)

P.S. I went to Ross Dress for Less on my lunch break. There were two Hispanic young men buying red dresses, three that I could see (dresses, not young men). They made what I can only imagine to be lurid comments in my direction. There were also two blonde ladies who appeared German and spoke German sounding words. There was also a tall dark haired shouting something that sounded Russian to his wife three aisles over. I think there's a quick witted joke here that would involve something about the "Ross United Nations Dress for Less" or something, but I'm not sure what it is.

Boo!

Today we slept in, carved pumpkins and killed a black widow spider INSIDE our house. Aren't Saturdays the best ever?



To see the entire pumpkin extravaganza, clickhere.

To see the hideous spider that could have harmed and maimed - close your eyes and take a deep breath and.....well ok, yeah, it's right here.

Reason #5

Reason #5 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

Because I'm going through something hard. Something that's frustrating and makes me cry and is painful. Something confusing. Something that seems totally unfair. Something that can sometimes feel like an undeserved punishment. Here's the good part: When I cry and wail and shout that it isn't fair and generally overreact and freak out, Ryan takes my face in his hands and looks deep into me, deep into the secret parts of me that are torn and bleeding, and he tells me that I'm beautiful. Tells me that he loves me. Tells me that it's going to be ok. And he means it.

Such a man should only exist in Jane Austen novels. But such a man I have.

I Gots Needs

I saw this on Joy's site and did it for myself. SO FUNNY. DO IT RIGHT NOW. Go to Google and put in: "your name" needs.

Here is what I need:

JoAnna needs tuning
JoAnna needs to go see her loan manager
JoAnna needs your help with outfits
JoAnna needs a break
JoAnna needs to find herself
JoAnna needs to postpone her upcoming album
JoAnna needs more practice in argument
JoAnna needs help
JoAnna needs a cool head and a steady trigger finger
JoAnna needs money

Don't Breathe On My Tots

My personal space got invaded at lunch today.

Perfect Ryan just started a new job down the road, so I asked him if he wanted to meet for lunch. We decided on Sonic for burgers and kisses and Cherry Limeades for all. I got there first and parked in the shade. Even though it’s October 19th, the temperature in Nashville is EIGHTY EIGHT HOT DEGREES so I had my windows down and my sunroof open, enjoying the sunshine and listening to the radio. After about two minutes of my relaxed state, a creepy alley-dweller pulled up next to me in a tricked out white Buick with his stereo BLARING nasty hip hop (the kind without the words bleeped out). He stared at me for exactly 30 seconds too long, then hopped out of his car to order, stereo still blaring. I had to roll up my windows and shut my sunroof just to hear my phone ring. The thing that bothered me most about this was the scores of empty parking spaces – but yet he chose to park right next to me. And stare at me. And be loud and obnoxious and annoying. And stare at me. I had parked in that particular spot because no one was around and I could enjoy the quiet. Why would he chose to park his Hip Hop Heap six inches away from me? I’m certain that if we were at a half-empty movie theater, he would sit down right next to me, not leaving the obligatory empty-seat-between-us. If we were waiting in line at the bank he would stand too close, breathing on me.

Thankfully, he got his Sonic Tots to go.

Being Known: Part One

It's an interesting thing, being known. Especially being known by strangers. I spent my entire childhood trying to be seen and heard. Dancing and chattering and interrupting. Trying to establish myself as someone worthy and desired. Someone with an identity, someone wanted. And now I've found myself full circle.
In my first book, I told the whole world my deepest darkest journal bound secrets. The kind of secrets a sane person would go to great lengths to hide, stashing the incriminating thoughts under boards in the floor and then putting a piano over the top. Not me. I took those secrets and published them for anyone to see including crazy relatives and long lost friends whom I had hoped would remain long lost. I spilled them without a full understanding of what might come next. Strangers knowing my details. My idiosyncrasies. My weirdness that used to belong only to me.
Since the release of the book, I've had a few crazies contact me (and some really cool people too). Sometimes I feel flattered. Sometimes exuberant. And sometimes a little creeped out. People I've never met saying things like “we are so much alike” or “my best friend is just like you” or making sweeping comments about how I handled the breakup. It feels like starting in the middle of a conversation I just joined. Feels like someone's been digging through my trash. Feels a little unnerving. I don't know how people like Dooce.com do it. She gets more readers in one day than I've had with a nationally published book. In her blog, she exposes (in graphic details) her bathroom troubles and fights with her husband and the truth about how hard it is to raise a baby. How sometimes she wants to scream and run.
Seems like lately, anyone who's anyone has a blog. Many of my friends have blogs. Zach Braff has a blog. Even Dan Miller from Channel 4 news has a blog. There are blogging groups to join and even blogger conferences where people congregate to talk about blogs. A person could easily spend days on end reading other people's thoughts and opinions. Personal journals by friends and strangers posted to the public. A cathartic, anonymous space for a person to get things off her chest. A post to confess or pass judgment or be the person you can't be in reality. And this popular self-publishing phenomenon has caught on quickly. The personal online journal is the new black...or something.
I'm relatively new to the blog world, but I've stumbled across a few people that I find infinitely interesting - like Dooce. People whose words touch me and move me and inspire. Because of their candid stories, I sometimes feel like I know them. Like we're friends. Because I know intimate details of their lives, I feel a connection. Because I know their hurts and their struggles. Because I've seen their pictures. But in most cases, I don't even know their real names. Some of these bloggers are anonymous or use only a nickname. And yet they put their thoughts - deeply personal thoughts - online for anyone to read. For me to read. And I wonder...what is it about an online journal that makes a person free to be. Free to confess. Divulge.
I wonder if it's the desire to be known. The desire to feel liked. Loved. Understood. Publishing a blog is an easy way to say what you think without facing criticism or judgment. And while people can comment on your post or send you an email, there's always the option to turn off comments or refuse to provide an email address. It's intoxicating, being able to say absolutely whatever you want (anything from what you had for lunch to why you ended your marriage) without any confrontations or obvious consequences. Telling your secrets, even anonymously, can be freeing. I've even seen one woman's blog where she posts a naked photo of herself every Friday. Self revelation at its height.
And I get it. Telling someone a secret about yourself in person can be risky. Confrontational. But posting it on your blog gives you the control. No one can interrupt or give you “the look” or shake their head in shame. You can say it fully, in one breath. You can blather on about boring life details (my particular brand of blogging) without seeing the boredom on your listener's (reader's) face. You can be known - be yourself - without the messiness of relationship.

To be continued...

Reason #2130

Reason #2130 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

Because for the past week, he's gotten up at 5am to take Foxy the Dog out to pee.



Of course, would YOU be able to resist that face?

Powerball

Things I would have been doing today if my numbers had been the right numbers:
-Quitting
-Still sleeping
-Going to a movie in the middle of the day
-Buying a calculator that goes to $240,000,000
-Writing checks to Citibank and MBNA
-Writing checks to family members and adding lots of zeros
-Hiring someone to manage our millions so Ryan and I could think about other things
-Packing for our make-up honeymoon
-Donating, donating, donating
-Thinking about fun ways to give large cash to friends - anonymously
-Changing my phone number
-Buying new pants...ok buying all new clothes from top to bottom


Things I am doing today since my numbers weren't the right numbers:
-Working at my J-O-B...otherwise known as staring into the abyss
-Having lunch with the fabulous Lori Jones
-Walking Foxy the Dog when I get off work
-Wearing my favorite shoes
-Kissing Perfect Ryan

All in all, not too bad.

Update on Harriet:

Here's the word from my friend Englert:

Harriet is better, she was moved out of the ICU to my friend's floor on the hospital. (Englert is a nurse.) She had a bad day yesterday, had fluid overload and some respitory distress but is feeling better today. Thanks for all your prayers!

Welcome to my Sassiness

Guess what? Jo's got a brand new blog (drumroll) WITH LINKS. All Hail Cool Meridith for helping me accomplish my dream. Ok, maybe it wasn't my dream, but I am quite excited.

Update on Harriet: I haven't heard any word yet. I've left a message with Englert and if I hear from her, I will post news. Thanks to all of you who are praying.

Shameless Plug: I wrote a book, and I think you should read it. Click the link (THE LINK!!) and enjoy. Makes a great gift!

Self Portrait Tuesday: OK

Please Pray

Calling all friends/lurkers/anyone who reads this:

My dear friend Heather very unexpectedly and tragically lost her father last summer. She was very close to him - and the loss was quite difficult to deal with (still is...). She is also very close to her mother - and the two of them have pretty much been there for each other during this hard time. I found out this morning that Heather's mother is in the ICU from a bite from a brown recluse spider. She was bitten Friday while out in the yard, thought she had a stomach virus, and by Saturday morning she went into septic shock and was rushed to the ER with a BP of 60/30. She is in the medical intensive care - her kidneys shut down at one point and her respitory status is not good. PLEASE PRAY for her. Her name is Harriet Englert and my friend's name is Heather Davis. Thank you.

Dad's 55 Today

Happy Birthday Old Man. You are now officially 55. Only five more years until your birthday is 10-10-10. I don't know why I always thought of that as a child. Maybe because 2010 seemed like a year out of a sci-fi movie. Maybe because I couldn't imagine you being 55, let alone 60 years old. Maybe because your briefcase combination was always 10-10-50 - your birthday - and I wanted the numbers to match. Maybe I was trying to prove that I'm a math whiz - but we all know the truth. (Hey, you're no math whiz either!)
If I were going to write a proper tribute about you it would be long and thoughtful and would bring everyone to tears talking about how you've always been there for me and always loved me like no other. But I'm not usually proper - which is a trait I inherited from you. I'm usually silly rather than serious. I look for the laughs in every situation. I'd rather watch a comedy than a documentary. I'd rather make up a song than learn a new one. These things (and many more) make me your daughter. Your puddin. Your Girl.
You're one of the few people I know who truly lives out their faith. You love Jesus with your life, always have. Even in the hard times. Even in the HARD times. I've never had one moment when I wasn't proud of who my father was, when I wouldn't point to you in a crowd and say "that's my dad".
You've been a dream father, truly. I think I've always known that, even when I was a little girl and you took me on dates to McDonalds. Even when we made forts in the living room out of blankets and encyclodpedias. Even when we sang together at those tiny country churches in the sticks. Even when we watched Home Alone and laughed ourselves silly. Even when we worked together at Chick-fil-A yelling "hot fries!" Even when you married me to the love of my life.

I love you Dad. More than you know. More than I let on. More than some silly blog could convey. (Especially since you don't know what a "blog" is and have never seen this one. Maybe I'll print this out for you so you can read it with your reading glasses that you wear as real glasses and chuckle the way only you can and then drown me in a Dad hug. I would like that.)

Punkey

Ryan loves monkeys and Ryan loves pugs. Guess what Ryan's getting for Christmas?

Oh Vile Hunger!

I’ve been doing so well. Eating less than my weight per day. I’ve now exercised 3 days in a row, and plan to again tonight. I’ve had 8oz. of carrot juice four days in a row. (If you know me at all, please re-read that last sentence and offer up a Hoorah for me and my carrot-juice-drinking-awesomeness.) I haven’t eaten chips in over a week. People, I’m even drinking water. Water. I. Am. Drinking. Water. I’ve limited my beloved Diet Coke to one, maybe two per day. All in all, I am a champ. A Do-Gooder. An amazing example of strength and determination. But the hunger. It gnaws at me with multiple rows of tiny sharp teeth. Ordering me to find some Reese’s Peanut Butter cups if I know what’s good for me for crying out loud.

Links

I would like to add links to other blogs - but I do not know how to do this. Can someone help?

Things you should know before helping me:
1. I do not know HTML
2. I can only manipulate this blog because it's easy and foolproof and just short of coloring by numbers
3. You will have to dumb it down
4. See #3

The Number

If you follow the show Lost, even slightly, you know there’s a current debacle involving a series of mysterious numbers. Chat rooms are all aflutter with theories and hypotheses and screen shots from the show that are analyzed and re-analyzed. Serious Lost fans are obsessed with these numbers and what they might mean. How these numbers might affect the characters and their outcome. And even though I love the show Lost, it’s a different series of numbers that I obsess about.

Now that I’m 31 (Can you hear the echo…31…31…31…) I no longer obsess about turning 30. There’s a new number that haunts my dreams. A number that shouts its defiance in a loud, mocking tone that sends shivers down my spine. And like the crash survivors and their deviant digits, The Number shows itself at the exact moment I’ve almost forgotten about it.

My Number? My debt.

I think about it every day. The Number. I think about how and when I can pay it off. How it got here in the first place. How I can mask it or avoid it or burn it at the stake. I think about The Number when I buy groceries and when I pump gas. When I watch TV and when I pop my Pop-Tarts. My number makes me grouchy and irritable. And poor.

Even though I know it’s not entirely true, there are large parts of me that believe getting rid of The Number would fill my life with infinite and permanent bliss. That I would suddenly be the perfect weight and have straight teeth and shiny hair that’s constantly blowing in a cool breeze. The perfect, glittery Number-free life.

The Number could also be how many pounds you want to lose, feeling sure that life will be perfect if you just lose 12 more pounds. Or The Number is years of school left until the doctorate is earned. Or miles on the odometer before the car finally dies. Or doses left until you’re well again. Or weeks left before giving birth.

So. What’s The Number for you? And what will happen if you achieve it?

Self Portrait Tuesday: Angry Toe

If you do it with your foot, is it still a vulgar gesture?

Hideout

I think I may have discovered the Suburban Housewife Hideout. I went to Target on my lunch break to try and find some gifts for Boo Bunco.

Sidebar: Bunco is a dice game that I play once a month with eleven hilarious women. Every woman in the group hosts – and this month is my turn. And it’s Halloween. So it’s Boo Bunco. And if you haven’t played Boo Bunco, you haven’t lived.

So, when I turned into the back of the Target parking lot, I noticed about six different cars with about six different women sitting in them. Doing nothing. Just sitting. They were kind of scattered in different spaces, way in the back. I thought maybe they all just like parking in the back for the exercise. But when I came back out, they were all still there. Still sitting. What were they doing, all these women, sitting in cars in the back of the Target parking lot at 12:36pm on a Monday in October. Meeting a lover? Hiding out? Escaping from work? Feeling fat? Listening to Dave Ramsey on talk radio? Contemplating their wasted youth? Calculating their next move? Crying? Enjoying the silence for once?

The world may never know.

Reason #112

Reason #112 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

Because he took me to eat this.....

Happy October 1st!

Today is the first day of my very very very favorite month - OCTOBER!!!! YAY!!!!!
Last night Ryan informed me that he made reservations for us at the Melting Pot for tonight!!!! I said, WHY did you do this? He said - to celebrate October!!!! THIS IS WHY I LOVE HIM!!! THIS IS WHY I AM USING EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!! I LOVE OCTOBER AND I LOVE FONDUE AND I LOVE MY HUSBAND!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, to celebrate, I'm finally cleaning the office in our house - after five months. Here is my progress after two and a half hours. Can you see why I put it off for five months? Ryan gets home from work in three and half hours - my goal is to be finished by then.

How To Embarrass Yourself

While riding in a car with your mother-in-law and two sisters-in-law.

Older sister-in-law: Well, who knows what I will get at my next bridal shower. Those girls from work are crazy. WILD crazy. They will probably give me edible underwear!

Younger sister-in-law: What is that? What is edible underwear?

Me: Oh, it's like a fruit roll-up.

Very long, very awkward, very horrifying pause.

Me(realizing what I've just said): Sorry Dawn.

Things I Wonder: Vinyl

Is it possible that a grown man in 2005 doesn't know that a 12 inch, black, 2-sided round disc is a vinyl record and NOT a CD?

Yes - it's not only possible, but probable. It happened to me today. I had a courier in L.A. picking up 120 vinyl records to take to another location (and with urgency!) - and he called his dispatcher to say "these are CDs, not vinyl".

So I asked the important questions:
Q: Is what you are looking at 12 inches across?
A: Yes
Q: Is what you are looking at in a carboard sleeve that is also 12 inches X 12 inches?
A: Yes
Q: Is what you are looking at black vinyl with a hole in the center?
A: Yes
Q: Does it have two sides?
A: Yes

My friend, that is a vinyl record. NOT a CD. Please stop bothering me.

Inner Self Portrait Tuesday: Nature vs. Nurture

In lieu of the traditional Self Portrait - I've decided to post my Inner Self Portrait today. For the argument of Nature vs. Nurture, I think this photo is a classic example of why I am who I am. (You might want to click on the image so you can see it larger....) Notice that every Harris in this photo looks crazy and unstable. Family Portrait indeed.

Reason #700

Reason #700 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

He got down to one peg on the Cracker Barrel peg game. He's genius ya'll!

P.S. - I had four pegs left. By Cracker Barrel standards, I am an egg-no-ra-moose.

Ohyeah.....HAPPY FIRST DAY OF FALLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Fall is the best.) (All hail Fall.) (Only eight more days until my favorite month - OCTOBER.)

Worse than a Lurker

Raise your hand if you think Eavesdroppers should be banished to the island on Lost and made to fend for themselves against The Others.

If you are an eavesdropper, and you do not wish to be banished, please follow these simple rules.
1. DO NOT comment on conversations you are not a part of
2. DO NOT make commenting noises (ie "mmmhmmmm" or "huh" or "yeah") about conversations you are not a part of
3. DO NOT EVER EVER EVER comment on someone's PHONE CONVERSATION that you are OBVIOUSLY not a part of - THIS IS THE WORST OFFENSE!
4. Do not point out that I am ending every rule in a preposition or I will boil you in hot oil

Reach Out

I’m a big believer in saying whatever it is you want to say. Don’t beat around the bush with a bunch or words that have no meaning or depth. So, I present to you the phrases that (in my opinion) are aggravating, annoying, overused and IRRITATING. Yes, I am guilty of using some of these phrases.

Shoot me an email
– Until Microsoft Office adds a “shoot” icon or some sort of weapon I can use, I will continue to send emails and not shoot them at people.

Let’s sit down
- I used to work with a girl who was always wanting to sit down and talk about things, even if we were already sitting. She would say “well let’s sit down and talk about…blah blah blah”. It made me want to sit down ON HER FACE.

On the table
– Same girl who was always wanting to sit down about things also wanted to put everything “on the table”. She would say “well let’s just get everything on the table and….” …and I would drift off into thoughts about Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.

At the end of the day
– My boss’s personal favorite. He can’t seem to finish a sentence without letting us all know that at the end of the day, things will……WHO CARES. I WISH IT WAS THE END OF THE DAY SO I COULD GO HOME AND KISS MY HUSBAND INSTEAD OF LISTENING TO YOU BABBLE ON AND ON ABOUT THE BLESSED END OF THE DAY

Reach out
- A new one that’s come up quite a bit lately. There’s a certain sect of people I’ve been working with the past few months, and these people do not call other people – they reach out.
Ex: I’ll reach out to her and see if we can get a connection. Let me reach out and see if he’s available.
Does this creep anyone else out? What’s with all the reaching?

Grab dinner/Grab a bite
-This phrase has always irritated me. I love food. I want to spend time with it and hang out with it. No grabbing!

To be honest with you
-Why do you need to specify that you are being honest? Are you lying all the other times that you talk to me?

Fell in love with
-I want to scream and run whenever anyone says they fell in love with something.
Ex: I saw this cute puppy at the pound and just FELL IN LOVE with it!!!!! I found this new ice cream flavor at Ben & Jerry’s and just FELL IN LOVE with it!!!
You are not, I repeat, not in love with the puppy or the ice cream. Please calm down.

Again, I am guilty of using some of the very phrases I hate. Please join me and admit what phrases you overuse – or what phrases crawl up under your skin and make you want to scream no-no words. Both will be equally enjoyed.

Bonus: WHAT are these kinds of phrases called in the literary world? I have a minor in English from a liberal arts university. You would think I’d know.

Self Portrait Tuesday

This is a wedding gift from my husband - the charm says "Ryan". I never take it off.

Spring Hill Patient

Several people this morning have asked how my weekend was - and my response – hazardous.

Exhibit A: I burned two knuckles on my right hand while getting something out of the oven. (Yes, I cook. Yes, my husband likes my cooking. And yes, now that I will have hideous scars on my right hand, I will be forced to start wearing one glove.)
Exhibit B: I stubbed/BROKE my little toe on my right foot. I had actually gotten dressed to go exercise and was just walking to the laundry room to add another load and WHAM. Of course I didn’t make it to the park. Instead, I worked out by lying on the couch crying (read: wailing loudly) and watching bad TV. (You know, like when the English Patient comes on the WB afternoon movie, and it was boring the first time you saw it and there's not one reason on earth you should watch it ever again, but for some reason you can't look away even though you should be writing wedding thank you notes and painting the bedroom.)
Exhibit C: I burned my left arm on a cookie sheet fresh out of the oven
Exhibit D: While grocery shopping at Wal-Mart, a strange man said Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere? NO!, I said.
Exhibit E: 24 was grossly overlooked at the Emmys. Only three more months until Jack is back.

But Jay Z owns Roca Wear!

I just got back from a work trip that was less than desirable. I don’t know how to fully describe some of the events (and I would like to, believe me) so I’ll just list the lowlights.

- I almost missed my flight to D.C. because Long Term parking was FULL and Overflow Parking was FULL and then I had to turn around to get to the Economy Lot but I got stuck in traffic because there was a massive wreck
- I encountered about 15 to 20 people who were working in a customer service oriented way – WHO COULD NOT SPEAK ENGLISH
- The flight attendant on my flight to D.C. had trouble reading from the safety guidelines card, kept having to sound out the words (which she did over the intercom). I decided that if we encountered some sort of peril, I would have to take over
- On the flight to D.C. I sat behind a couple with a small child. The child kept reaching through the seats trying to touch my face. The parents did nothing to stop this - FOR TWO HOURS
- I experienced subtle racism (against me) for the first time in my 31 years of life
- I got lost driving around D.C. – which isn’t hard to do since the city is laid out like a 2000 piece jigsaw puzzle with 30 pieces missing
- I yelled at my artist to SHUT! UP! RIGHT! NOW!
- He did not take kindly to the yelling
- I only yelled because I was at the literal end of my rope and he would not shut-up
- I considered stealing the hotel hairdryer because it was THAT awesome
- I was involved (by accident) in a heated debate about who is worth more money – Jay Z or R. Kelly
- I learned that those who think Jay Z is worth more money than R. Kelly are “trippin’”
- I learned that urban record stores display their pornagraphic videos right next to the Beyonce and Mariah CDs
- I saw George Huff, the one and only American Idol contestant I’ve ever voted for
- I saw a woman in her sixties wearing a tube-top dress and no underwear to speak of. The tube dress was so incredibly tight, she could only take tiny 1 inch steps very quickly, sort of hopping. While wearing the tiny tube and doing the tiny hop, she was dragging a 75 pound suitcase, the old school hard shell kind that’s not on wheels. She also appeared to be seven months pregnant, although I’m sure that was simply a result of the no-supportive-underwear-tube-dress scenario
- While I was openly gawking at the Tiny Tube Lady, another lady stopped next to me and said “I just can’t take it anymore. I cannot follow this woman one more step. Do you mind if I stand here next to you for a minute?”
- “Of course not” I replied
- I was almost thrown out of BET by the rent-a-cops because I didn’t have proper “credentials”
- I did not see George W. Bush
- I almost missed my flight back home due to incompetence at the Washington/Dulles airport
- I rode six different shuttles in 24 hours
- I sat next to a sharp dressed man with INCREDIBLE B.O.
- When I got back to Nashville, the Economy Lot shuttle dropped me off (at 11:30 at night) in a HUGE GIANT LOT with no people. It was dark. Scary. Lonely. I couldn’t find my car. Then I noticed a suspicious man (suspicious: no luggage in an airport parking lot, didn’t seem to be looking for a car) who was lurking in whatever row I happened to be in – I thought I would be killed, or worse
- I finally found my car and was SO READY TO GO HOME (and not be killed, or worse) and I got onto the interstate to SIT IN TRAFFIC BECAUSE OF CONSTRUCTION

Reason #20

Reason #20 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

He just called me from the grocery where he was picking up milk since I've been scatterbrained and busy and haven't bought milk. (Note to Internet: Ryan LOVES milk. Illingworth Manor should NEVER EVER run out of milk.) While checking if we needed anything else, he said "would you like me to have dinner ready when you get home?"

Pencils down people. I win for greatest husband ever.

Self Portrait Tuesday

DSC00353
Originally uploaded by Glamorous Jo.

Because of Self Portrait Tuesday (and the subsequent lack of original ideas) I've discovered something about myself. (Is this the hidden point?) When I think I'm smiling - I'm not. It took me about 50 tries to get this photo - in all the others I look grouchy or angry when in my mind, I was smiling pleasantly. To summarize:
1. I'm thankful for digital and its immediate results - which I can quickly delete
2. My mental smile does not often make it to my face
3. People who don't know me must think I'm in a perpetually bad mood
4. I love red

Reason #2

Reason #2 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

He's my best friend.

Self Portrait Tuesday

Here is the final hair color – which is finally the correct (desired) color. Thankfully, it is no longer orange/green/zombie grey. Although, yesterday my mother told me that I looked “funny”. Thanks Mom.

Highlights/Lowlights from the long weekend:
-Watched my hot husband play some rock ‘n roll
-Ate Betty’s famous grape salad
-Slept in
-Colored my hair for the third time in a week - the burning sensation has finally subsided
-Shot a rifle with my redneck relatives
-Hung out with my brother and his fabulous wife
-Unknowingly started a rumor that I’m pregnant – which I am not
-Found gas for $2.89 in KY
-Drove a 4-wheeler through the KY woods which was both dangerous and exhilarating
-Watched The Three Amigos and angered my husband when I said “I guess this movie is only funny if you’re drunk or 12 years old”.
-Felt hope and hopelessness while watching the news
-Felt truly loved

Katrina

I can't stop watching and reading the news. I can't stop thinking about it. The plight of people just a few hundred miles south - it's struck me silent. Most of what I'm seeing and reading is devastatingly negative. Horrifying and sickening. Things are starting to seem hopeless.

Then this afternoon as I made my home on I-65, I was passed by a military convoy of loaded trucks, heading south. Then I passed three different church vans filled to the roof with water and blankets and snacks - headed south. I know more than one convoy and three vans is needed. But - seeing these people - soldiers, retirees, married couples warmed my heart.

Gas-o-LEAN

I just paid $2.99 a gallon for gas. This morning it was $2.68. At 1:00 it was $2.89. Right now it's $2.99. I think it's time for hitchhiking to come back in vogue.

Shake It!

I don't know what this says about me, but I CANNOT GET ENOUGH of the song "Erfquake" by Family Force 5. It makes me wanna dance inappropriately. And I mean inappropriately in a appears-to-be-drunk kinda way, not in a works-as-a-stripper-for-extra-cash kinda way. So, if you wanna SHAKE IT LIKE AN ERFQUAKE...check it out.

http://www.myspace.com/familyforce5 - all the songs are good but Erfquake is SO MUCH FUN. Listen right now. And dance inappropriately. Do it. Now.

(P.S. - I do not know how to make this link an actual link....and I do not know how to put links up on my blog of friends or whatever. I have searched and tried and only been exaperated in the process. Does anyone have a step-by-step for someone who is not HTML savvy? Or, let's be honest, someone who isn't savvy at all?)

SHAKE IT YA'LL!!!!

Slobber

My friend Heather was just here with her new baby Preston-So-Cute. Now I have baby throw-up on my shirt and slobber all down my arm. But instead of grossing me out, this only makes me happy and fills me with cheer - which I'm pretty sure is a bad sign. Now is not the time for a Mini-Illingworth. I must resist the urge. Or at least wait until I've been married for two months.

Self Portrait Tuesday

Yes. Here is the Punk Rock hair, otherwise known as horrifying orange. I called Clairol to ask them when I could color again. They gave me a home remedy and told me to color again. I did. Now my hair is orange at the roots and kind of zombie grey on the ends. I feel pretty.

And just in case you had us confused, the above picture is me. The below picture is my parents' dog, Foxy. Even though we have the same hair color, we are different in many ways. (Although we are both Foxy, clearly.)

Results: Part Four

Went to yet another doctor on Friday. Sat in the ice cold exam room, waiting for my fate, shivering both inside and out. I was afraid this doctor might want me to have a test that can only be described as pure evil. I know this, because I’ve had this test before. Granted, if it would contribute to my well being, I would endure it once more. But no one would ever happily sign up for such torture. While I waited, the sky went from bright and happy to a fearful blackish grey. Given my current hysteria I wondered if I was the only one who could see the dark clouds or if they were merely a reflection of my own thoughts. The doctor came in and (surprisingly) sat down and really listened to me. Really talked to me. He said he doesn’t think I need the dreaded test (YES!) – but, I do need a substantial amount of rest. This deduction came from my answer to his “do you have anything stressful in your life right now” question. When he asked, I took a deep breath and said……. “well…

-I just got married
-I just bought a house
-My job is more stressful than ever and there may be stressful changes coming
-I signed with my publisher for another book
-The manuscript is due in eight, no seven months
-My husband is looking for a job and currently working an in-the-meantime job that’s no fun
-A family member is going through some scary health issues/surgery
-Money is tighter than my favorite jeans
-My jeans are too tight
-My hair is orange
-I have….

He stopped me there and sighed. Then I sighed. Then we both looked out the window at the big black clouds racing and rumbling across the sky. I felt a small ripple of relief since he saw them too. Then I had to put on the paper gown that’s not fooling anyone while he poked and prodded. (This was both painful and embarrassing, equally.) (Why is it that doctors make small talk while inflicting pain? Does this ease their conscious? Do they know that it’s difficult to answer trivial questions while holding back the screams of agony?) Then I had to have blood drawn by a jolly woman with stuffed bats hanging all around her desk. (And yes, my first thought was that she was either really early or really, really late for Halloween. I’m slow.) Then I was sent out into the torrential downpour with a prescription of immediate rest. Immediate rest when there are no less than fifteen crucial deadlines at work and I feel as if the weight of the world is resting on my temples and behind my eyes and in my stomach.

Punk Rock

I'm a natural brunette, but I've been coloring my hair bright blonde for the past five years. I like the blonde. Blonde is fun. But, blonde is no longer in the budget - so I decided to go back to brown. I went to Wal-Mart and bought two boxes (long hair takes two) of Nice N' Easy - Brown. I got home late last night, but Ryan was working even later, so I decided to color my hair so that I would look gorgeous when he came home. Right?

Before I went blonde, I colored my own hair, often. I'm a pro. I've done this millions of times. I barely read the directions and just went directly to work, covering my beloved blonde. Then I waited. Then I rinsed. Then I conditioned. Then I looked in the mirror. Then I noticed that my hair was not blonde anymore. It was also not brown. It was red/copper/blonde/almond/chocolate/red/orange. I just stared at myself and then Ryan walked in. Before he could say anything I shouted "DON'TWORRYICANFIXITIPROMISE". He just said, "You look so pretty!" I don't know if he meant it or not, but don't you see why I call him Perfect Ryan? So today I've decided that my hair doesn't look crazy, it looks punk rock.

I AM PUNK ROCK!

Well, from the neck up. From the neck down I still look like a former Gap employee who is broke and can't afford new clothes.

Self Portrait Tuesday

My friend Jen and I went to Kentucky this weekend to talk to some high school girls about sex and boys. On the way there, we stopped at a gas station to get some Pop-Tarts. At the entrance of this gas station was a giant, angry ceramic gorilla.





We're not sure why the gorilla was at the gas station. We're also not sure why he was angry. But the Pop-Tarts sure were delicious.

It's Just Nerves

I think, at some point, we all become (supposed) card-carrying physicians. Believing ourselves to know the cure of whatever is ailing our neighbor.
I’ve been under the weather lately and haven’t talked about it to too many people. But after a while, people have started to assume that I am in a permanent bad mood (which might be partly true) so I’ve decided to tell a few people here and there that my health isn’t so great right now. Several people’s immediate response has been to tell me exactly what’s wrong, exactly why and exactly what I should do about it. They blurt out all of this in one breath and then stare at me, waiting for me to say thank you, I suppose. The laughable part is that everyone who has done this has been WAY off base about what’s going on with me. Granted, I’ve only given them one or two symptoms, but aren’t they my symptoms to share? One person went on and on giving me one diagnosis after another in rapid fire while I shouted No.. It’s … NO… IT’S NOT THAT PLEASE SHUT-UP. It makes me want to keep my mysterious aches to myself. But of course, I am unable to keep anything about myself to myself, so I’m sure I will blab about it again in the near future. And I’m sure there will be someone handy to tell me that “it’s just nerves” and “you should probably start taking a Vitamin B every morning”.

I do it too. If a friend has an irritable ache I’ll try and immediately identify the source and offer some crude cure to help. I suppose it’s all about the fight against feeling helpless. The overwhelming urge to be in control. For nothing to happen that’s unexplainable or scary or different. I wonder why it’s oftentimes so difficult to say “I don’t know”.

Dawn

Family is the one thing you don’t get to choose or refuse. Families usally come complete with crazies and crooks and cry babies and creeps - and usually only a few good eggs sprinkled in for good measure. The hope is to balance the good with the bad and come out with something tolerable on the other side. And even though my family has its fair share of characters, I’ve always been blessed to have amazing parents and an over-the-top brother. Therefore, I thought I had already hit the family jackpot. After all, you’re born with what you get, and that’s all you get.

One of my many surprises in marriage has been getting a new family, and in my case a wonderful Mother-In-Law. I’ve seen the movie Monster-In-Law and I’ve heard all the mother-in-law jokes from late night talk show hosts. I’ve heard tale of the cement bond between mother and son, and how a newcomer is not typically favored. And I’ll admit, I was nervous about meeting Ryan’s mom the first time. Especially since I was not only the new girlfriend, but college student Ryan’s 30-year-old boss. I don’t know what Ryan’s mom thought about me before we met, but she had plenty of reasons to be suspicious given my age and occupation. If she was suspicious, she didn’t show it. Since we’ve met she’s been nothing but gracious and welcoming and supportive - truly lovely every step of the way.

Last night she called to check on me. She knows I haven’t been feeling well and was concerned about my upcoming doctor’s appointment. She was so sweet and kind, making me feel better about the whole stressful thing. It reminded me what a gift I’ve been given. Because it’s not just Ryan’s mom I could rave about, it’s the whole family. I never once felt like an outsider but welcomed from the first minute. I should have known a guy like Ryan would come from such a loving, giving family. And it’s good. So good. An emotionally unstable girl like me needs two great moms and two great dads and two extra sisters that are instant friends. It helps the balance.

Things I Hate: Eyebrows

Things I Hate: Eyebrows

-if you pluck them, they just grow back the next day
-if you wax them, the waxer forgets to get all the wax off and your skin gets BURNED
-the burning is painful and leaves a giant red burn mark
-the plucking doesn't feel that great either

Can’t we all just have bushy brows and be beautiful?

Rain

It’s raining, and I’m so glad. I swear I saw a tumbleweed roll across my driveway this morning. My yard needs a drink in the worst way, especially since I’m a negligent homeowner and don’t water when I should. I’m looking out of the window and hoping for that pounding kind of rain that takes you by surprise with both delight and fright, equally. Sideways rain. Rain that stops traffic and forces bikers to hang out under overpasses kicking themselves for not watching Storm Tracker the night before. My yard needs a good cleansing, healing, wet rain.

Me too. I wish rain could wash it all away. Health scares and lost jobs and bills due and rotten floors and sick parents and spouses and not enough rest and too many responsibilities and nagging despair and on and on. All the things that wear on us. That wear on me. I’d rather have rain on my cheeks than the wet, hot tears that seem to have taken up permanent residence behind my eyes and spew forth at the worst possible moments (and the most embarrassing). When I heard the afternoon thunder coming, it almost made me feel hopeful. Like the impending rain would wash it all away. That all the things clinging to my tired body would slide off and run down into the huge drain next to my office building. And I would watch them all roll away and wave good-bye, feeling twenty pounds lighter. Standing taller.

Self-Portrait Tuesday

mailbox
Originally uploaded by Glamorous Jo.

Aliens descend...

Reason #3

Reason #3 Why I Love Ryan Illingworth:

He calms the storm.

Crying While Eating

If you need a laugh, or 50, go here:

www.cryingwhileeating.com

Top Five

I was tagged by Joy for this “5″ meme.

5 names I can’t use for my future kids: (because Illingworth doesn’t go with just anything)
Ella
Bill
Jill
Pam
Kelley

5 Movies You’ve Seen Recently:
Must Love Dogs (hated it)
Constantine (interesting in a “this is weird but I’ll keep watching” kinda way. And kinda dumb.)
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (LOVED it)
Hotel Rowanda (was disturbed and moved by it – still)
Mr. and Mrs. Smith (liked it a lot – although the tabloid drama was on my mind throughout)

5 Nice Things That Happened To You Lately : (In the last week)
I’ll be honest. This past week has sucked beyond measure. But…
Ryan helped me paint the bedroom
We found a box of wedding stuff that had been lost, and inside was a HUGE bag of Reese’s Pieces
We celebrated our one month anniversary at P.F. Changs!!!
My friend Breeon paid me a VERY nice compliment out of the blue
I laughed some – even in the midst of it all

5 magazines I subscribe to:
Us Weekly
Entertinament Weekly
Relevant
InStyle
Fitness
(but now that I'm married I find that I don't read them anymore....)

Hey AJ and Lori - tag you're it.