Seriously, since I moved to Raleigh, ALL of my roommates have gotten married…except one. W-Josh, you’re up next!!

I just got home from L-Josh’s wedding, which was lots of fun. Good food, good friends, good weather, I looked cute, Josh got hitched, there was champagne, and I caught the bouquet. I’d call that a successful day, wouldn’t you? Not that catching the bouquet means much. I think I’ve caught at least four in my life, and…tick-tock, tick-tock…here I still am. But it is nice to have fresh flowers in the house, so I’m not complaining.

The thing about the bouquet toss is that so many single gals make out like it’s such an embarrassment to be up there. They make the announcement: “Would all the single ladies please come to the dance floor? ALL THE SINGLE LADIES, COME TO THE DANCE FLOOR NOW FOR THE BOUQUET TOSS.” And maybe three people slink to the dance floor for what they view as the parade of the unmarriagables. But I decided several years ago that if it’s going to be a tradition you have to do at every flippin’ wedding, you may as well make it fun.

So I get REALLY into it. Like stomping-on-flower-girls-who-get-in-my-way into it. I box out my opponents, which, incidentally, is the only time a basketball skill has ever come in handy in my life, including the years I actually played basketball. It’s more fun that way. You get to engage in a little healthy competition, make a slight idiot of yourself and take home fresh flowers. It just feels good.

So Buddy Towne is now down to two Joshes, and even though L-Josh’s stuff is still here, she is gone. I can feel it. I’m happy for her, but sad for us. But hey, at least I get my own bathroom, right? There’s always a bright side.

I’m not calling it a snow day because there is absolutely no snow outside, but apparently there’s enough ice on the roads for Wake Tech to close. I’m not arguing. I wouldn’t have been upset if I’d had to go to work today – it’s only the 2nd day of class, so I’m not ready for a break yet – but I will pretty much never argue with an unexpected day off.

And I’m proud of Raleigh for having learned its lesson when it comes to ice. When I moved back to NC from NY six years ago, it was right around this time. I blogged about it very briefly here. You don’t have to read it. The important part is that I went to Greenville to buy my car, and when I was driving it back to Raleigh, the same thing was happening that happened yesterday/last night – ice. And it took me NINE HOURS to make a trip that should have taken an hour and a half. It was crazy. It took people 8-10 hours to get across town, kids had to sleep in the gym at school, teachers had to stay there with them, people ran out of gas, people had to stay in hotels because they couldn’t make it all the way home from work, there were wrecks all over the place.

And all because nobody took the weather seriously. They all thought, “Oh, it’s just going to snow a little. We can handle that.” But now they’ve learned their lesson. Ice don’t play. If it’s icy, you stay home. You stay home in your jabambas, and you eat cinnamon orange rolls by the fire.

Done and done. And I think L-Josh and I have invented a new mixed drink. We call it Bourbonade. We haven’t actually made it (because we don’t have half the necessary ingredients, most notably the bourbon), but in our minds, it’s bourbon, sugar, water, and a squeeze of lemon…on the rocks. We came up with it through a series of imaginary conversations with our new neighbor, Jackson.

Because he has such a southern name, we always pretend to invite him over for southern-sounding things in a really thick, sugary, Georgia accent. Or maybe Alabama. Sometimes we invite him over for mint juleps, sometimes for lemonade, sometimes for bourbon. Well, today we combined the lemonade and the bourbon invitations and invented Bourbonade. I think it just might work.

Feel free to experiment with your own Bourbonade recipe and report back. And if you want to come over and sip a Bourbonade by our fire, we’ll be here all day. You’ll have to bring the bourbon and lemon, but we’ve got plenty of sugar and ice.

I’d been feeling like my life had developed a large void where fictional books ought to be. I read a fair amount, but mostly I gravitate towards memoirs, humor, books about writing, and Christian non-fiction. And then suddenly, I needed to read fiction. What probably happened was that my brain knew it was turning to mush because I’d spent several days watching several seasons of Friends, and my brain decided it needed to tell me to read something as a last ditch effort to save itself before it turned to goo and oozed out of my ears.

I wanted a good story I could just lose myself in – a page turner – nothing that required a degree in philosophy to fully enjoy, but nothing so vacuous and formulaic as Nicholas Sparks either. So I turned to my facebook friends for advice, and here’s what I’ll be reading this year:

• The Help by Kathryn Stockett
• Rescue by Anita Shreve
• Her Mother’s Hope and Her Daughter’s Dream both by Francine Rivers
• Into the Woods and The Likeness by Tana French
• Silent in the Grave by Deanna Rayborn
• Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
• The Magicians by Les Grossman
• Monster by A Lee Martinez
• His Majesty’s Dragon by Naomi Novik
• My Old True Love by Sheila Kay Adams
• The Ground Beneath Her Feet by Salman Rushdie
• The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest and The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson
• The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins
• The Confession by John Grisham
• Lush Life by Richard Price
• The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery

I don’t know if I’ll actually get to them all, but I’ll try to give y’all a book report after each one. Starting now…

At the advice of another friend who did not chime in on the facebook discussion, I just read Phantoms by Dean Koontz. Now. I asked him specifically if it was a book girls would like, and he said he didn’t see why not. What I should have asked was, “Will girls who are reading it alone late at night in a quiet house like it?” But he probably wouldn’t have seen a problem with that either.

Y’all. That mess freaked. Me. Out. It’s not even that the writing is all that good. It’s long-winded, he repeats details unnecessarily, homeboy’s editor seriously should have removed half the profanity (he actually probably did, and what was left was quite minimal in comparison to the original manuscript, which is frankly scarier than the plot itself), the characters’ names stole the spotlight from the action, he used the word “said” almost every time someone said something (answered, replied, stated, exclaimed, queried, asked, wondered aloud, whispered, breathed, shouted – just a random sample of alternatives), and don’t get me started on his flagrant overuse of adverbs.

However, when you’re reading a plot like that in a dark, silent house alone, it doesn’t matter that the writing isn’t perfect. All that matters is that you don’t want “it” to get you like it got everyone in Snowfield.

I got into it. So help me I got really, really into it. Then Whitney got into it too.

I was telling her about it as I was getting ready to go to bed on Saturday night, and she agreed that it was not a good suggestion for me to read. But then on Sunday afternoon, somehow we started reading it aloud to each other, and before we knew it, we’d read nearly 200 pages. I won’t lie. It was better than TV. You might feel silly at first, but seriously, try it. If you have a spouse or friend or roommate who’s willing to read with you, go for it.

In our case, reading aloud made the monster less scary, I think because we weren’t left alone with our imaginations. But it was really fun to get into the story together. Also, there were several parts where, alone, we might have just glossed over the wording, but when we read it out loud, we could hear just how ridiculous it sounded. This provided us with some levity as well as a great deal of entertainment.

All in all, on a scale of one to five, I’d give Phantoms by Dean Koontz two stars for holding my attention from start to finish, keeping me guessing until the end, and freaking me the cuss out. **

Even if what you win is a random object from a complete stranger’s bedroom or a made-up award, it always feels good to have won something, to feel validated in some way, to feel recognized as a human being. So the other day when my friend Andrea gave me this Beautiful Blog Award, well that just made my day. Thanks, Andrea!! Right back at you!

So apparently there are rules to being a Beautiful Blog Award recipient. I’m trying to follow them. Here we go.

1. Thank the person who nominated me for this award and post a link to her blog. Yes!! I’ve already done that. Here. I’ll do it again. Lil-Kid-Things.

Whew. Okie dokie. Congratulations, BBA recipients!! You deserve it! Now everybody get back to work.

Wow. My month of employment with the 2010 Census is almost over. Tomorrow is my next to last day, and honestly, y’all, I’m kind of sad. I mean the Census and I have had some good times sitting around for the last month. I feel like I just got all the numbers memorized that I have to write on my time sheets, and now I may as well clean out that wrinkle in my brain to make room for the lyrics to Lady Gaga’s next hit. Dag.

I wish I had a video montage or slide show of my time there set to Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You” to play for you. Here’s how it would go (start the video, enjoy Sarah’s face at 0:11, and then read [reeeaaalllly sllllooooowwwwwlllyyy] through the list while you listen):

• Test day: Staring blankly at the test administrator.
• Test day: Cheesy grinning, pointing at the post-it note with my score (28/28 – 100%)
• A calendar flipping three months over to show how long it took for them to hire me after I took the test.
• Training day: Taking the oath of office.
• Training day: Getting fingerprinted.
• Training day: Me and Al eating granola bars.
• First day at my site, setting up my table, hanging my banner.
• Showing off my ID badge and giving a thumbs-up.
• Filling out paperwork with a goofy grin on my face.
• Talking to after-school program kids.
• Reading a book.
• Typing on my computer.
• Writing poetry to my Census office supplies.
• Standing outside, talking on the phone.
• G-chatting on my phone.
• Schlepping up the hill with my bag-o-Census-goodies.
• Asleep on my arm at my table.
• Helping my roommate do her taxes.
• Helping a kid count change for the vending machine.
• Explaining to a kid that two dimes and a nickel are not a quarter, although they are worth the same amount of money.
• Reading a different book.
• Putting away my supplies.
• Schlepping back down the hill…into the sunset.

And then, as the song comes to a close, imagine the screen goes blank, and then the words “We all count” fade in to finish us off. Good times. Good times indeed. And a single tear falls to the floor.

Ahem. Do I look any older today? Any wiser, perhaps? You may notice that I have a new banner up at the top there, which is all thanks to my awesome sister, who is much better at that sort of thing than I am. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

This is my ONE THOUSANDTH BLOG POST. I wish I knew how many words that was, but I have no idea. To be sure, it’s enough to fill multiple books, which is very encouraging. I know that I am capable of writing a book. It’s just going to be a matter of time and diligence. And that leads us directly into today’s actual post. I’m not really going to list 1000 ways I’m better because of blogging. You can read back through the past six years to see my journey if you want to. I’m just going to hit five highlights that I think encompass them all.

I’m More Confident in My Writing Ability

I started blogging in 2004 after meeting some girls in NYC who had blogs and couldn’t believe I didn’t have one. I think we’d met just once or twice before they both recognized that I would either love it or be good at it (I’m not sure which – maybe both). And for the first little while there, I really didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t set out to make this website what it is. It just evolved. In the first few months, I blogged about two things: Christianity and community league hockey. And while the hockey was a lot of fun for me, I’m not sure anybody else got it. But my more spiritual writing was what got people’s attention. Those were the posts people read and said, “You know, you’re a really good writer.” I didn’t really believe them (still have trouble with it, actually), but taking the risk of putting my words out into the world began to build a confidence I hadn’t known with anything before.

If you read any books or blogs or articles on writing, one of the things you’ll have read over and over again is that in order to be a better writer, you have to write. Just write and write and write. Every day. And it’s funny – I never really considered what I do here writing. Not “real” writing anyway. Not writing that matters, but it does. It matters to me, to my craft, and hopefully to at least a few people here and there. And I’d like to think I’ve gotten better at it over the years, but even if I haven’t, even if I’ve stayed at the same level or even regressed, it doesn’t really matter because I love it more every day, and the more I fall in love with writing, the more confident I am in my ability to do it. And maybe that’s what improving is.

I’m a Better Problem Solver

I know things about HTML that no Psychology major or ESL teacher should know. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve screwed up this website to the point where I thought I’d lost everything and would have to start all over. And then, miraculously, I fix it. Sometimes this requires the assistance of several people who are clearly much smarter than me, but I think that’s part of problem-solving – humility and the support of people who still love you even though you suck at something.

So first of all, to everyone who has helped me solve a technical issue, I’d like to return the favor. If you ever need anything edited, or if you have a website you want me to advertise, or if you’d like some vegan cupcakes or cookies, you just let me know.

And the other part of problem-solving is just not being afraid to fiddle around. Granted, that’s how I get myself in trouble, too, but it is how I learned to do 100% of the things I now know how to do with my page design, and it spills over into the rest of my life. When I started this thing in 2004, I was not the kind of person who ever would have dreamt of going vegan, writing a book, walking marathons or cutting up/refashioning her clothes. I did what I’d always done, ate what I’d always eaten, wore my clothes the way they were made, and didn’t often push myself into territory that was dramatically different or uncomfortable (sometimes, but not often).

But as I’ve learned to solve problems better, I’ve gotten more comfortable with experimentation and challenge because I’ve realized that (A) it is very hard to screw things up entirely, (B) I am very luck to have an amazing network of people who are always willing to help me out, and (C) that’s how I learn.

I’m No Longer Afraid of Commitment

If you are one of the, like, three people who’ve been reading this since it began, you’ve been with me through two phone companies, eight moves, thirteen roommates, *cough cough* boyfriends/quasiboyfriends, countless crushes you didn’t even know about, three churches (not counting any of the ones involved in Church Search 2010) and at least five jobs. And there have been times when I’ve been more committed to blogging than others. I hope you’ll have noticed that over the past year or two, I’ve become more consistent. This is a phenomenon that is slowly taking over more aspects of my life. I’m living in places for longer, I’ve been with the same phone company for several years now, I try to blog every day, but if I can’t, at least three times a week, and in general, I’m looking for places to be and people to be with for the long haul.

And I’m not scared of it. I am sometimes scared of not having these things ever, of always being this sort of nomad who blows in and out of people’s lives, is never truly known and then easily forgotten. But I know that’ll never happen. I’m too good with a telephone.

I Have a Voice

…which I use on the phone for hundreds of minutes each month. If you haven’t heard it, email me your digits, and I’ll call you. For real. But mostly I’m talking about two things:
1.    My writing voice.
2.    A platform.

I was at my new Thursday morning writing group yesterday, reading a chapter from my book-in-progress to two listeners. One of them has read/heard a lot of me, and the other was a woman I’d just met. And one of the things the new lady had to say was that she loved how my voice on paper was exactly like my speaking voice. I don’t always achieve this, but as my confidence grows, so does my authenticity. And perhaps even more exciting than having a voice is having people recognize it and like it.

I hate to tell y’all this, but only about 7% of what I do here is for you. Mostly what happens is I see something noteworthy in the world or inside myself, and I want to document it. I don’t put it to you for your approval, but for your participation. But when you do approve, well that feels really good. And the more people approve of what you have to say, the more they want to hear, and the greater the opportunity for you to speak on the topics that really matter to you. I don’t do much of that here (mostly it’s just general ridiculousness), but on the days when I do have something important to say, I’m glad y’all are here to listen, and if I’ve said something that resonated with you, feel free to pass it on.

I Know Who I Am (and So Can You)

I feel the most like myself when I am genuinely laughing – not laughing out of politeness or discomfort or as a way to fill a void, but really cracking up. In those moments, I’m not self-conscious, I’m not worried, I’m not dissatisfied. That’s me being myself fully and completely.

These have been good, good times, friends, and if you weren’t around for some of the earlier ones, I want to invite you to see the hilarity for yourself.

Ode to a Weather Man – My poetry really is one of my favorite things on here.
The Zimmerman Limmermacht dream – You know you’re crazy when this kind of thing goes on without you even thinking about it.
Hey, remember when I was a pole dancer? Good times.
The one in which I shake my head violently.
One of my all-time favorite poems, God is NOT a Temp.
The one where Whitney imitates a porn film.
Goodness gracious how many haikus did I write that day?
That’s Racin’!
The one where I talk to Jane Austen, who, sweet as she is, is really quite thick.
Roy Orbison + Clingfilm = Endless Entertainment
Why I’m becoming a Jehova’s Witness (It took me 3 tries just now to type ‘witness’ instead of ‘Whitney.”)

Here’s to another 1000 posts!! Onward Hoe!!

Thirtieth birthday – Check. And now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I can go back to being 29. Here’s what I’ve decided: There is nothing wrong with the number 30 or the age. I’m not upset that I’m 30. I don’t long for younger days or miss the glory of my youth. No no, there are parts of years past that I’ve learned from, and I’m glad they happened, but I don’t know that I’d call them glorious by any means. It’s just that I guess I’ve always had in my mind a picture of what the life of a 30 year old looks like, and that is not my life, so until it is my life, I can’t possibly be 30. It’s just not natural.

Whitney and I had this conversation the other day:
Me: From now on, whenever people ask me how old I am, I’m just going to tell them how old I feel in that moment.
Whitney: Buddy, what’s wrong with your actual age?
Me: Nothing. I just feel like it’s not accurate.
Whitney: That’s the most ridiculous thing ever.

Really, buddy? Ever? Ever? Need I remind you of Joey Deadweight, “Trained to Avoid the Bulge,” The Glaze, The Daze, The Laze, poop cupcakes, Zimmerman Limmermacht, God Is Not a Temp, and whatever this was about? And those are just the things we’ve come up with. That is not counting Weng Weng, The Best Fight Scene Ever or Ain’t No Weather Man. I mean come on. Let’s keep things in perspective.

But seriously, “30 on 40″ was awesome good times. I got to see lots of my favorite people, who gave me really great gifts. Brookie and I performed our traditional reunion jumping dance. I got out of my house for a few days, which is always good for me. I didn’t make out with anyone, but there was plenty of cake. All in all, I’d call it a successful beginning to a new decade.

Honestly, by the time I get around to talking about the boat show, no one is going to care (if there’s anyone even now who cares). But I still haven’t found the cord, and SOMEbody still hasn’t sent me The Picture, so today, I have two topics I’d like to discuss.

First of all, I FINALLY went to see Up in the Air last weekend in Raleigh, and y’all, I loved it. There were some present who found it depressing and nightmarish because it’s all about a guy with no friends who fires people for a living. But I saw it more as a wake-up call to people who don’t have any real relationships in their lives, people whose lives are all about reaching bizarre, pointless and/or silly goals like flying 10,000,000 miles, and people who are stuck in jobs they don’t really care for because it’s safer than pursuing what they love. Life is too short, man. You gotta make it count. Do go and see it if you haven’t already.

And second, I have these weird little dry patches all over my arms. They’re each maybe half an inch in diameter, some of them are reddish, and some are kind of scaly, but they don’t itch or hurt at all. At first, when there was only one, I thought maybe it was due to the drier air up in the mountains (the skin on my hands was really dry at the time, too, which happens to me in the winter), but now there are lots of them, and it’s weirding me out. I think I have leprosy. What do you think?

First of all, I’d just like to add to the title – That’s what she said.

Ok, now that that’s out (that’s also what she said), I was just lamenting yesterday how I had no birthday plans, and now I’ve got THREE parties in the works!! That’s one for every decade! I love it. So what appears to be forming is a weekend-long progressive party road trip with an Asheville party on Friday, a Raleigh party on Saturday and a Wilmington party on Sunday! And just like that, I’m happy to be without a day job (for now) because I can come back into town on Monday and not have to rush any of my birthday festivities and visits.

Hooray!!!! (She might have said that too.)

On account of it’s her birthday today, and in honor of that fact, I’d like to share with you all this email that my friend Amaris received long, long ago on this dating site that I think her mom signed her up for. Not sure about all the details there, but maybe one of them will enlighten us. Anyhoe, I think you’ll enjoy it. I sure have. It’s been in my inbox since June of last year, and I do not know how long she’d been enjoying before she let me in on the fun, but I think it’s high time you all got to meet RELSKYDADDY!! He writes:

Hi Sexy BabyDoll,

Yes You Are A Very Sexy Classy Beautiful Woman, and Your Profile Shows It!

I Think Southern Women, Are The Most Beautiful Classy Women, In The World!

Yes You Are A Very Beautiful Classy Woman, Doll!

I Would Love The Opportunity To Be Your Friend?

I Just Hope You Are For Real and Not A Game Player or Just A Teaser Period!

You Sound Like A Fun Sexy Classy Woman To Know and Be With?

Would Love To See More Photos, If Possible?

If You Would Like To Take The Chance, and Get To Know A Fun Sexy Classy Guy?

Let’s Chat? Send Me A Message?

You Got The Real Deal and No In Between, TRICK or TREAT, and You Be Too! Ha Ha Ha

SweetDreams BabyDoll

You Have:

” THE REAL TRUE AIRBORNE GANGSTER ”

SKYDADDY

I have so many things to say about this, I don’t even know where to start. I guess the most obvious thing is that every line is a self-contained title of some sort, with the capitalization of every word and the blatant refusal to type more than one sentence per line. I also like how everything is either an exclamation or a question. This guy does not mess around with simple imperative or assertive sentences. He’s all about him some interrogatives, though, even when they don’t seem to make much sense? They look like regular ol’ sentences? But then they have a question mark at the end? I’m Ron Burgundy?

My next favorite thing about this email is the words that are obviously his favorites: Classy, Beautiful, Sexy, Doll, Fun. He uses them to describe both her and himself, which to me shows that they are clearly a perfect match. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why she didn’t go for this guy.

Next up on my list of reasons I love RELSKYDADDY is his use of random and nonsensical word combinations:

• Teaser Period – Ok. He’s proven his ability to use commas (albeit incorrectly) in the lines, “I Think Southern Women, Are The Most Beautiful Classy Women, In The World!” and “Would Love To See More Photos, If Possible?” But in this case, he doesn’t use one, which indicates to me that a Teaser Period means something totally different from a Teaser, Period. Now, I have my own ideas about what a Teaser Period might be, but I’m not sure that’s what RELSKYDADDY has in mind. Curious.
• Man. At the end there, he totally loses it. I think this is my favorite line of all: “You Got The Real Deal and No In Between, TRICK or TREAT, and You Be Too! Ha Ha Ha” It’s just downright maniacal. I don’t think this message was composed anywhere near Halloween, so the TRICK or TREAT part is totally lost on me, not to mention the “and You Be Too!” part, which leads me to believe that the man fell in the middle of typing this line, hit his head, and couldn’t think straight enough to finish it out completely.

Here’s to you, REAL TRUE AIRBORNE GANGSTER. And here’s to you, Amaris. Happy birthday.