I can't sleep.

I'm watching old episodes of Sex & The City (t was either that or Sell This House on HGTV) and I cannot sleep.

Chris left this morning for Tampa and I leave tomorrow morning and it reminds me of the days when we were dating and we'd only see each other on the weekends.

I can't sleep.
I'm sure I'll be singing the praises of Red Bull tomorrow morning.

Old Comfort.

I've reverted my old comforts -- a handmade blanket, frozen oreos and sappy movies. A few years ago, when I didn't quite know how to cry for things that were worth crying about, I would watch sappy movies and cry from the first scene till the last credit.

If I couldn't cry for myself, I would cry for some ridiculous wanna-be heroine.

Today, however -- well, the last few weeks -- I can't seem to stop tearing up for the greatest heroine I've ever known. And so, I am now eating frozen oreos and drinking sweet tea straight from the jug. It's okay, the eating of the oreos and the snuggling under a blanket.

It's okay because I'm not sure how else to get through this.

You Are My Sunshine
My only sunshine.
You make me happy
When skies are grey.
You'll never know, dear,
How much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away

Snaps!

When I was young, I had the paparazzi (aka Mom & Dad) snapping pictures constantly. In high school, I usually had the latest innovation - the throw away camera - in my backpack. And in college, I had friends who took pictures (lots of pictures) and would even go the extra mile to post them online. But now, I need to be own paparazzi. Who'll take pictures of our life?

This stems from seeing pictures of my grandmother and her friends at parties. Full skirts and rocks glasses -- lots of smiling young faces. K. and I have been rather social lately. I was joking that in the last two months we've had more people over than we had the previous year.

So, I'm not sure what to do. I feel like I should hire Snaps! the function photographer that took many pictures of me in the years 1999 - 2003. It's sort of amazing what pictures do - what stories they tell.

So, Snaps -- if you'll travel to Tallahassee, I've got a job or two.

New Hampshire 1.0

"I asked him how he'd expect the American people to give him loyal fellowship if he was having a hard time getting it from his own family."

Giuliani's response: "There are complexities in every family in America. The best thing I can say is kind of leave my family alone, just like I'll leave your family alone.

Apparently, a NH woman asked the above question to Republican candidate, Rudy Giuliani. There's a lot of that going around -- Obama's wife claiming that if you can't run your house, you can't run the White House -- it's starting to get personal.

Shouldn't it?

Katherine, the woman asking in NH, was honestly wondering what makes Rudy so unfit that his own children won't support him. And his response - well, it hit me in the gut. "...Just like I leave your family alone." But, as president, he wouldn't be leaving my family alone. He'll be leading policies that will not only affect my immediate family - but all generations to come. Will my son go to war? Will my daughter have a good public education? Will my grandchildren have clean air? Will my husband and I have health insurance in our old age --- He's doing a lot to affect my family, God forbid, he gets elected.

And why is it so off-limits? Why aren't we asking what these folks are doing in their personal lives and their fitness for leadership? If a man can't stay faithful to a woman he pledges his life to (or even the second woman), what does that say about his decision process?

Why can't we question? Poke? Prod?

Dinner Conversation.

"Do you have the remote?"

"Yes."

"Would you please set a reminder for Big Love? I don't want to miss it."

"How could you miss Big Love? It's in my pants."

Shithead.

I'm not sure if I shared this story... My grami - the one and only - gave the blessing at my wedding reception. She stood, all five-feet-four of her, and while asking God's graces for my new union, she called me a Shithead. Honestly, I'd have to watch the DVD to recall if she actually said or just spelled it out -- but she did it in some way or another.


She also called me by my nickname - and she is the ONLY person on this earth I let do so.

I'm sure some folks were shocked to see this sweet little old lady curse. However, I know... She taught me how (and when and where) to use the word "fuck," along with how to love family, trust in God and believe in the people around you.

I am so lucky to have her in my life.

The Tongue.

I'm not a huge KISS fan -- not that I don't like some KISS, it's more that I just don't have a feeling either way.

However, I adore The Family Jewels on A&E. Kramps has decided he needs to found a rock dynasty so he can be Gene Simmons. Meanwhile, I could totally be a mom like Shannon Tweed. It is hysterical. Smart.

Try it. Sunday nights.

Three Months.

I've been a married woman for three months today. I feel silly -- as though a part of me was still the high-schooler celebrating a month-a-versary.

This quarter feels somehow more like a milestone. We made it! High FIVE! We haven't killed each other yet! We've only mentioned the word "divorce" seven times if you don't count that time at Po' Boys...

Kidding aside, I'm proud of us. We've gotten so much better at this thing. I know things I didn't know a few months ago. Dude, I am so excited about the next quarter.

The weeks ahead.

It's August. And there's always something about the start of August that makes me remember when I was starting school. (How long ago was that?)

I walked through Target this morning and there was a huge sign welcoming students back to town -- specials were everywhere: cheap bookcases and pillows, extra-long sheet sets and let us not forget the economy-giant-size easy mac boxes. Meanwhile, I was struggling to open my eyes, gulping my Target latte (which, no matter what, is never as good as real starbucks).

Chris is heading back to school. He's taking a few credits to finish up his masters. I keep kidding him that it's been a long time since I dated a student...

I cannot wait for football. And Fall. And when it's 93 degrees at 10 am in Tally, autumn cannot come soon enough!

Daily Stuff

I'm not gonna lie - this marriage stuff is tough. I've asked my friends - the ones that got married last year -- what their first year was like. My first month was tough. It wasn't so much us, as much as it was the crap that was thrown at us.

But then again, life always throws crap at you. It's more how you handle it that matters. It's not going to stop - it never will. I'm amazed at the folks around me -- the ones that handle things well, that struggle and manage and get through the very stuff that's hard.

I'm not sure I always do. I got an email from Lynda today - and instead of ignoring it like I usually do, I responded. Nothing all too emotional - just a response. We're human. I guess the best thing about that - it didn't bother me all too much. I didn't get upset afterwards. I remember once - while I was still in college and trying desperately to disentangle myself from their craziness - she sent me an email that said, "Hello Gorgeous." I cried for HOURS. HA!!! Dude, who has time for that sort of emotional upheaval? Not me.

My last night in Tallahassee.

Last year - on August 8, 2006, it was 8 pm and I was leaving this town - driving back to Columbia. I did not want to leave. I was scared to death of returning, petrified of the major shift my life was about to take. I had a ring on my left hand and I had made a promise.

It was a Tuesday night. I bought an eggplant pizza from Decent and met my new fiance in the park at Lake Ella. It was raining and we ate in the back of his new car. I needed to get on the highway - up I-10 to 295 to 95. Up through Savannah all the way into South Carolina where I would merge onto 26 back to Columbia. Six and a half hours. And I was procrastinating.

I got in my car, my brand new shiny little car, and headed home. I was exhausted - emotionally and physically. I drove for ever - returning to my rented room in Shandon at a little past 3 am. My roommate, if you could even call her that, had put the keychain locks on the doors and it was nearly four before she woke up to let me in.

I went to work early, left even earlier. And that was the end of that story.

I got back in my car - which was loaded up with various things: good shoes and shorts and party dresses and one interview suit. I had mascara and some random cosmetics. I brought a picture of my grandmother. And I left.

I left Columbia, the life I had known, my state. I had left once before, but this time, I knew I wouldn't be returning. And, it was amazing. Difficult? God yes. But so very amazing.

Tomorrow, I will have been living in Tallahassee a year. Not quite a resident or a voter -- but very much living here. Wow.

Aw Naw.

Hell Naw! Man
Y'all done up and done it

Willy's is closing for good? What? What will Columbia do without cheap Miller Lite and boiled peanuts?

Oh, yeah - we're probably okay.
The buffalo chicken fingers were my favorite.
Ah, memories.

I deserved it.

Last year, in an attempt to be funny, I made a MySpace account for our puppy, George.

Do you have a pet? Have you ever thought about what their voice sounds like? Some dogs are little toughy dogs and some are whiney and George -- well, George sounds like a cross between a drunk Kappa Sig and one of the guys from Flights of the Conchord.

Anyhoo, the MySpace profile was written in George's voice -- his profession was a "pooper" for goodness sakes! And today, I got an email from MySpace alerting me that George's profile had been deleted for a Violation of the Terms of Service.

I'm pretty damn sure there were wasn't any nudity -- but George has been home alone a lot more lately. Lesson learned: You never know.

Heating Pads

I wrote the other day that "Heating Pads are God's way of telling us that everything is going to be okay."

And it's true - there's nothing like it. It's not often that I am in need of a heating pad's healing powers. But this week - OHMYGOD - I need the heating pad.

It's ridiculous - this overwhelming feeling of feeling like a GIRL. Ridiculous.
I cannot imagine people who handle this every month.

Anyway, K. got me a fantastic new one. It has ~moist~ heat. Perfect.