Is today Thursday? Is it October? WTF?

I'm pretty sure this week is the longest week in.existence. I am worn the fuck out, my allergies are kicking my ass, I haven't posted, my reading for school has suffered, my house looks like a tornado dropped the medicine aisle of a drug store on it, and I haven't exercised. Or worn anything remotely sexy or even decent.
My girl's cough is still alive and phlegmy. We are on day 5 of a sneaky-ass fever. I'm waiting on the doctor's office to open, so I can pretend I didn't just scour the CDC's website about the H1N1 virus. I'm trying not to flip flop out.
All that being said, the point of my post is not to think about the damn flu or complain about how I feel. It is for this:


Happy Birthday to my sweet friend, Peggy. Yes, she lives in New York, and no, we haven't officially met, hugged, and Squeeeeee!'ed, but I love her just the same. She makes me smile and laugh, and she's WONDERFUL. Also, go check out her website Lil Foot Designs, where you can buy the softest blankets for your babies EVAH.
(And Peggy, I'm sorry you won't be getting a birthday card from me, since it's still sitting on my kitchen counter, waiting on a stamp. xoxo)

Sweet child of mine

Last year, my girl, you were three. Now, today, with one brief blink of the eye, you are four. I know I sound like a nutcake broken record, but it's gone so fast.

You were just born, for the love of pete, and I just can't fathom that four damn years has gone by since we met face to face.

I feel like you've always been here, always been in my life, sticking your hand in my plate, leaving floaties in my drink, watching me pee, snuggling up to me, slipping your hand in mine.

Since your last birthday, you have done so many things. So many, in fact, that I probably forgot some of them, and that's a sad shame.

You lost two blankies.
You went to the State Fair for the first time.
You learned what it felt like to lose a pet, to grieve, and to heal.
You roller-skated for the first time.

You went to a baseball game & fell in love with the players. You absolutely adore Josh Hamilton, and literally cry for him. You've even asked us to drive by his house several times, & I think it was probably a bad idea that your Daddy told you he lives less than a mile from us, and it wouldn't surprise me to get a phone call from the police someday, telling me you skipped out of preschool, walked across the road, & was found looking in his windows.

Your great-grandmother passed away, & you wanted to see her in the casket, which I allowed (PARENT FAIL? I don't know-I guess I'll ask you in 12 or so years).

You gave us all complete & utter terror attacks when we thought we lost you.

You completed your Daddy's sentence when he said "Mother F" (I will not forget the sound of your little voice telling him matter-of-factly, "It's FUCKER, Daddy. Mother FUCKER").

You started campaigning for a Nintendo DS, a baby brother, & most recently, the chance to have your pacifier back.
You started dressing yourself, and having strong opinions about what you want to wear every day.

You rolled with the punches, and moved a to a temporary house when our house flooded.

You went to the deer lease with your father, several times, looking for deer, cows, turkeys, and anything else you could scare off with your happy laughter. You enjoyed riding around in the Kubota RTV w/ him, which I affectionately call 'The Bubble'.

You learned how to whistle.
You learned the words to so many songs, including Pink's "So What" , Outkast's "Back of the Bus", and All American Rejects' "Hope it gives you hell". Tonight I heard you in your room after I put you to bed, singing "If you're happy and you know it". You have such a sweet little voice.

You are so smart, my baby. You can spell and write your name, and you are recognizing letters all over the place:on street signs, in the grocery aisles, in books, on TV. You love to learn, and spend time every day, on your own, doing pages in workbooks, asking me sweetly "Tell me what I do on this page, mommy".
When I put you to bed, we read a book (or two, or ten) and you insist on reading it to me after I read it. You asked to be rocked, and we sit on the floor in front of your bed, where I pull you into my lap and rock you gently, while breathing in the scent of your hair. You climb into bed willingly, asking for every damn receiving blanket to be layered over you, and placing your Old Man Dog, Daisy, and 17,569 other small stuffed animals JUST SO at the foot of your bed.
You know how to manipulate, and push buttons, and annoy. You know how to get what you want. But just when I am being pushed to the edge of insanity with your whining, bossing, nagging, complaining, I-will-not-shut-up-until-you-give-me-what-I-want-damn-it....you soften the blow with a sweet smile, a soft kiss, and bright eyes. You tell me I am a good mommy just when I need to hear it most. You kiss me at the best times. You say "I love you" so often.

You are so silly. You love to laugh. You love to stuff your face full of grapes, steal my last chip, blow the wrappers off your straw at us, make silly faces and noises, & you NEVER sit still for pictures.
You are such a joy, even in the midst of the frustration. You are so much fun, playing hide-n-seek in the house with us, or duck-duck-goose. Your laugh is contagious when I tickle you until you lose your breath. You love to fart, shake your booty, and play with Daisy. In fact, you love all dogs.
You are my sweet girl, and it saddens me that the time is flying, that you are FOUR, that you are getting so damn long and smart and independent and feisty and fierce and.....I love all these things about you, but I just want it all to slow down. I just want to feel your little hand in mine, and hear you sing "I wanna hold your hand" when you do it.

Happy birthday, my sweet girl.

My ridiculous birthday wish

Well, since I can't have my computer back, nor can I have world peace, or a stable economy, or a horse, or a full day devoted to enjoyable reading, or a bottomless bank account, or endless cupcakes that don't adhere directly to my ass, or a 2 acre lot with a couple 100 big, old-ass trees, or a 1969 Corvette, or my old man dog back, or enough $ to make a big difference in Camden, NJ, or a front row seat to the Northern Lights, or a surprise trip to Italy, or enough $ to set my mom and sister up for life, or a personal chef, or an endless supply of gift cards to some of my favorite places, or all my favorite CDs signed by the artists or all my favorite books signed by the authors, or a cure for cancer, HIV, lupus, & Alzheimer's, or....

You get the point, right? I could keep going, if you want. No? Oh, okayyyyyy.

What I want is for all my faraway friends to come visit me. You know who you are! Chris, Peggy, Nicole, Jodi, Misty, Alan, Holly, Dynamita, ChibiJeebs, Biddy........
And all of the people I read and love, but I guess I can't really consider them friends without sounding like a stalker: The Coconut Diaries, Sundry, Notthatyouasked, La Petite Chic, Sensibly Sassy, Shamelessly Sassy, My Vocabulary, Dad Gone Mad, The Bloggess, Princess Nebraska, Better Now, Moo, Girls Gone Child, Swistle, Fiona Picklebottom.....

I know I'm leaving people out. So if you read this, and am hurt that I didn't mention you in my stalking list, please feel free to leave me a comment with your name, address, and when you are available for said stalking.

So, I want all of you to come visit me, have several shots of tequila with me, a couple of Dirty Girl Scouts, several bottles of wine, and then dance like an idiot with me. Ignore the irrationality of this entire idea. Just GO WITH IT.

How's that sound for a fun weekend? I'll be waiting at the airport. And if you can't make it? Well, a 1969 Corvette should do.

My sister

My little sister's birthday was the 4th. Was I a little teeny bit busy with school work? Yes. Did I forget her birthday? No. Did I forget to post something lovely and kind about her? Well, yes, but....She doesn't read my blog anyway, and even if I did post it on time, she would still hate me. It's that kind of a relationship, apparently.

Let me explain....

My sister just turned 12. That's right: we are almost 19 years apart. That's right-go ahead, do the math......She was born when I was a freshman in college. No, we don't have the same dad, but that doesn't matter to me. Well, wait-let me re-phrase that-I don't consider her a half-sister. She is just my sister. That's it. No 1/2 and a hyphen before it. Now, her dad? Well, that's another whole story. He is a bit of an ass, if I'm being honest (as I always seem to be).

So.

I still remember the day my mother told me about my sister. It was one of the last weeks of summer before I started college. I was out all night, slept in when I wasn't working, and getting ready for an abnormal college life (I wasn't going to be living on campus; I was staying home). My mom and I weren't talking every day since she had left my dad almost a year before. Not that we weren't still close, but, well, it was different.

My father arrived home from work to tell me that my mom really needed to talk with me. By the look on his face, I could tell something was wrong. I immediately asked about her health, as she had several strokes when I was growing up. He didn't comment.

I arrived at the house my mom was sharing with my grandmother. My mom was sitting on the back of her car. She calmly told me that she was pregnant, and that it was a girl. She stated that she had just found out, and she would be having the baby in a couple of months. I vaguely remember her showing me a sonogram picture, and telling me that her profile looked like mine.

As is true form for me, I was supportive. I murmured encouraging, kind words. But inside? I was a bit numb, I guess. I just didn't really know what to think or feel. This was all brand new territory for me.

She later told my brother, and he took it hard. There were several outbursts about her, before she was even born, and many, many more after her birth. It was hard.

I am sad to say that I was not present when she was born. I didn't even know she had been born. By that time, my mother and I were having some issues (all pertaining to her disappearance from our family for awhile), so we didn't talk for days on end. It wasn't until 3 days after her birth that I went to my mother's house for help on something that I felt I couldn't go to anyone else about. When I walked into her room, there lay my little sister, Angelina, in a bassinet. She was so teeny tiny! I remember her head fit easily in the palm of my hand. She had the prettiest green eyes.

I will admit that I was not awe-struck right away. I had to sort out my emotions first. But pretty quickly, I was smitten. She was a happy baby.

I was the one that picked her up from daycare when my mom couldn't. I was the one that took care of her when my mom couldn't. I was the one that bought her clothes, food, toys, when my mom couldn't.

My husband taught her how to drink out of a straw when she was about a year old. He also taught her to say 'Aw, shit'. I fed her PopRocks for the simple, perplexed look on her face. I spoiled her, just as I had done with my brother when he was little.

Over the years, we have remained close. Up until I told everyone I was pregnant with my girl, we spent a lot of time together. Our relationship changed when I became pregnant. Both my brother and sister seemed put out by my pregnancy, like I had screwed up their lives by starting my own family. With the hormones and all, I wasn't always very supportive, or full of encouraging words. Sometimes, I was outright pissed off that they were literally mad at me for being pregnant! I mean, REALLY??

It was a hard transition for my sister and I, when my girl was born. I look back on the pictures from that time, and I see that she really was still such a little girl, only 7 when my girl was born. And it strikes me that she was near the age my brother was when he found out about my mother's pregnancy.

We are still learning how to be sisters to each other-we fight, we argue, we laugh, we giggle. There's no sister I would rather have. She is smart and funny and talented. She tells never-ending, no-point stories. She is a good aunt to my girl. She drives me crazy, but at the same time, she makes me smile. And as my mother always reminds her, I will get her back for all the hell she has given me over the years! Just wait, Angel! You will be an adult before we know it, and I will pop your bra. You will be pregnant someday, and I will be sure and make up a song about how you are a 'cranky, miserable woman'. Don't you worry.

Isn't she gorgeous!!!??

Birthday wishes

[This is my 2nd post of the day, just in case you were wondering. Scroll down for my first fanfuckintastic post.]

Almost 7 years ago, I met Kristy at work. We were in the same unit, and we had 4 offices between us. She was pregnant at the time, with her first child. She was quiet, but appeared sweet. We sat in the little breakroom during lunch, and chatted about cases, and other workers in various offices. It seemed that we had several things in common. She was someone I could go to with questions, and I never felt like I was imposing.
One day, a few months after working together, I mentioned that I was going to a friend's graduation commencement in Lubbock, and she told me that she went to the same school. When I told her the person's name, we found another common thread. She hung out with my friend while in college.

She was the person I called when things were not going well on specific cases, or if I needed advice on how to deal with a child on one of my cases, or if I simply needed to vent. We were both there for each other at work, over and over, when all of our co-workers, and our boss, went home and left us high and dry. We could cry out of frustration in front of one another, with no fear of being made fun of. We went to lunch together, walked together, spent time giggling in court together. We helped each other out, covered each other's asses, and had each other's backs. We were pregnant at the same time, which was fun. She was the first person I told (besides my husband) when I found out I was pregnant.

She is my daughter's godmother. And I couldn't have picked a better person. She loves my daughter as if she were her own. Her sons are both kind and brotherly to my girl. She is the person I call when I'm frustrated about both simple and complex things in my life. She is the person that motivated me, by her own actions, to get my ass back to grad school. We've drank together, we've driven all over the state together, we've worn fake eyelashes together, and it's a toss-up which place is our favorite to eat: Olive Garden, La Madeline, or Mexican Inn. She's loyal, sweet, honest, intelligent, kind-hearted, and very comfortable to be around. I am so thankful to have met her, and so thankful that she shares her family (her 3 boys are just precious, and I secretly hope my daughter marries one of the three someday!), and her life with me!

Happy Birthday Kristy! Thank you for your friendship! I appreciate you!

(Don't ask. I swear we are sober.)

My bugaboo-

1096 days ago today, you were born. After almost exactly 9 months of thinking about you, you finally arrived. We had a rough start, but you came into this world strong, alert, and hungry (which doesn't surprise me, considering your parents, and the fact that your momma hadn't eaten a meal in about 12 hours!).

From the moment I saw your intense little face, I loved you.

You didn't cry right away, and I remember holding my breath. You had one little squeak of a cry, and then you seemingly locked eyes with your Daddy, and all was silent. As he checked out his baby girl, you examined him.

Those nights in the hospital were rough, but you seemed quite comfortable to be outside in our world.

Those first months were filled with joy, amazement, intense love, gratitude, relief, and grace. You were the easiest baby I ever met, other than those first weeks of breastfeeding struggles, which thank the good Lord, we changed up the day I finally broke down and bought formula. You filled my days with so many new things, and I loved watching you explore your 'firsts'.

I would be lying if I said those first months were not also filled with frustration, exhaustion, tears, confusion, and loneliness. The screeching phase was not a fun one for me. Nor was the 'I must have you in my eyesight at all times, even when you pee' phase. But for each frustrating, confusing time, there was something just as beautiful to cherish: your giggle, your silly cooing, the sparkle in your eye upon recognition of your Daddy, the way you pushed your head into my neck, the brightness of your smile.

I was a new mommy, honey, and you never seemed to mind; I just didn't know what the hell I was doing, even when I did. I have never stopped being so grateful that you have been so easy-going through this wild ride we call your life. Daddy and I have flown by the seat of our pants at times, and you just fly by right along with us. You have been sassy, silly, and laid back through everything, even when you broke your ankle 6 months ago. It was my heart pounding wildly in the doctor's office, not yours.

The past 1096 days have flown by. There were days when I just wished the sun would set, your father would come home from work, and you would go to sleep. Those days dragged by, but mostly, it has flashed right before my eyes. Last night, while bathing you, I realized you are all arms and legs now. You are so tall, so a little girl. And I am sitting here amazed that you are no longer a little baby, but a little girl, with thoughts, dreams, imagination, and desires, that you make known any chance you can.

Tonight I stood in the store, browsing little girls' birthday cards. I found one that had a big 3 on the front of it, and for the tiniest split second, I thought 'Oh wait, she's not 3! She's just a baby!', and then. I realized that you are not a baby, and you are 3. I actually got choked up at this realization again, as I do each time it smacks me in the face.

Bugaboo, you have stolen my heart, and your Daddy's as well. And I can speak for both of us when I say this: We don't mind at all. We love your sass, your independence, your intelligence, your personality, your affection, your charm, your smile, your love.

Happy birthday, baby girl! Your momma loves you more than all the stars in the sky.

Two good friends

Alright, so somehow I started this tradition of posting something nice about my dear friends on their birthdays. However, I missed two people's birthdays, and not because I forgot their birthdays, but because I.....forgot to post! Jeez, I suck!
Anyway, a day late, a dollar short, blah blah.......



First off, my dear friend Zelvis (and yes, he is as unique as his name!) He was the first person I really remember meeting in 2nd grade. He was an awesome breakdancer, and I remember a whole group of kids circling around him to watch his moves during recess.


Zelvis has a smile that lights up the room. He is so very smart, sensitive, funny, talented....I could go on and on.


We were in band together all through middle school, and in high school, until we both dropped out (me because I was sick of being a band geek, and him because he was in like EVERY sport). There was this one time I remember he punched a guy that was bugging me in band. It was awesome! He always had my back.


In 8th grade, over the summer, he was not allowed to leave the house. But I was having a pool party, and my mom went and picked him up anyway, and brought him to the party. My mom threw his clothes in the dryer, and dropped him off before his parents got home.


In 5th grade, our math teacher caught us passing a note across the classroom. Not only did she read it in front of the class, not only did she post it on the door of her room, but she also said to me, with a straight face: 'White girls should not be talking to black boys'. No really, she said that. NO.REALLY. And I immediately told my mother, who immediately called the school. I was livid when she said that to me. Like I gave a crap what color anyone's skin was?? And what the hell right does anyone have to tell me who I can and can't talk to?? Oh, and why the hell was she a teacher???


One of the absolute best things about Zelvis is his ability to enlighten me, empower me, and bring me closer to God. He has a faith that I can only hope to grow into. He has a powerful voice, and a huge heart. Every time we are together, or even just every time we talk, he teaches me something about God, faith, hope, or the Bible, that I didn't know before. He has eased pain in my heart before, whether he knows it or not. If I am feeling lost, or upset about a situation in my life, I can call him, and not only will he provide kind words, but he will pray with me, and he will ease my fears.


For the past several years, we seem to have been connected spiritually. When I am going through things in my life, I will have a dream where I am looking for him in a huge group of people. I can hear his voice, see his bald head, catch a glimpse of his laugh, and I'm pushing through all these people, calling his name. When I finally reach him, he's got this huge smile on his face, and all he does it open his arms, to embrace me. And each time, in my dream, I say 'That is what I needed'. And when I next talk to him, he will tell me that he'd been dreaming about me, or I was on his mind.


There is a connection there that speaks strongly to my heart. I don't want to think about what life would be like without him.


He is my girl's godfather. Who else would I think to ask? And my girl adores him, just as everyone else in my family does.

He has a gorgeous daughter who is about 7 months older than my daughter. They don't see each other much, but they seem to like one another. It makes me so happy that our girls are growing up together, and also sorta awes me.










***





I met Stephanie in 3rd grade. I don't even remember how we met, but I do know we were in the same class, and she laughed at my frustration when the teacher butchered my last name, over and over.


Stephanie was shy, a bit quiet, and much more reserved than I. I'm not really sure how we bonded, but we did! We had great sleepovers, we went to our first concert together (New Kids on the Block), and we were insanely silly in school together. Over the years, I think I may have had some effect on her personality-I seemed to draw her out a little bit, and I know for a fact I 'educated' her about stuff she probably didn't need to know! (jeez, makes me sound like a whore, but I swear I wasn't!) I urged her to tell a guy she liked him in high school; I made her try out for the drill team; I made her talk to people out in public.


Stephanie's family is wonderful. They always made me feel very welcome, and I actually feel like I am one of them when I am around them.


Steff moved back and forth from here to Houston several times throughout our childhoods. But, we wrote each other, called each other, and always got right back into our comfy friendship when she moved back.


One time, (and I have to tell this story because I know it will make Steff laugh), I went on a family vacation with her family. We went to Houston (of course!) and stayed in a fancy hotel. I don't remember all the details, but while we were in the hotel, she kept saying 'Like a big dog' over and over. I told her that if she didn't stop saying it, I was going to 'give her a knuckle sandwich'. She said it again, and....I gave her a knuckle sandwich. Right in the belly.


And she proceeded to cry and lock herself in the bathroom.


Now, how nice was I to do that, on HER family vacation??? Jeez, who was I?


Anyway, I'm pretty sure that's the only time I got physical (and we were in 6th grade, I think), and somehow, our friendship withstood my mean streak.


Steff & I have not been able to hang out as much as we once did. She's been in different places during her marriage, and now she lives in BFE (in Anna, Texas, which is like 70000000 miles from my house, I swear!) (Okay, it's probably 70 miles?, but come on!!!) We did happen to be pregnant at the same time, and there is a picture of us somewhere, with our bellies touching. It's adorable. (Wouldn't surprise me if my dog ate that one too-frickin' dog). Our girls are only a few months apart, and they are just crazy about each other, once they warm up to one another.


Steff is an awesome friend. She makes me feel like I might know what I'm talking about, when she calls me and asks for advice. She makes me laugh at her innocence (I really don't always mean to giggle, but I do!) and I love her friendship.








***

When I feel shitty, or down, or in a funk, or just pissed about stuff in my life, I try to remember that I have some very wonderful friends that have been with me through a large part of my life. Steff, Zelvis, Jill, Amanda, Kristy....they are all so special to me, and they have all helped keep me sane, in so many ways.

Nat-a-leeeeeeee

So really, the weather is making.....me.....sleeeeeeeeeeeepy. Two days in a row of waking up to pounding rain and dark skies. I love when it rains, for the most part (other than the times I lived in Springtown and I thought I was going to float away!), but I can't really function as a normal member of society with such heavy eyelids.

So anyway, moving on, while I have this brief spurt of energy (thanks to peanut butter cups, I'm sure).

::

I have another friend's birthday to recognize. Seriously, I need to ask: Were all of our parents a bit on the horn-ball side back in September 1977???, because I sure do know a lot of people with May birthdays. I digress....

Natalie's birthday was actually Cinco de Mayo, but apparently I was too busy blogging about something else.

Natalie and I met in a very interesting way back in high school. I briefly dated a guy named Erick, who was a nice guy, great body, big d....oh, sorry. Too much info? Well, anyway. He was a nice guy, but I quickly realized that I wasn't ready for a nonchalant bed-buddy type of relationship. So, I broke it off, but we were still friendly. However, during our brief trysts, Erick told me about a girl he had briefly dated (in the same nonchalant bed-buddy type of way, apparently), named Natalie. He said she had just moved here from Cali, and she was gorgeous. Apparently he really liked her, but didn't know how to tell her. And, the nice girl that I am, I offered to help him out with her, if he would show her to me in the halls. Which he didn't......

So one day in English class, this new girl walks in. Long unruly hair (amazingly, like mine!), great legs (unlike mine), beautiful eyes. She sat behind me. At some point in time during the period, one of us said something about Erick, and we began comparing notes, to see if we were both talking about the same guy. That is when I realized that this was his Natalie!

We clicked immediately. We began hanging out non-stop. We hung out in her pool, we drove all over town in my convertible, we drank, we went to the playground in the dark, we spent nearly every Saturday night at different clubs, but mostly the long-gone Eden 2000......

There was this one time we decided to go ride go-carts. And we were peeling out and being a bit crazy. Some dumbass rammed into the back of my go-cart going 42.5 miles an hour, which caused me to slam my face into the steering wheel. I have pictures to prove the injury-a bloody nose and HUGE fat lips. Natalie laughed forever about that one, and took the pictures.

Another time, we hung out in an old friend's abandoned house, with sleeping bags, flashlights, and alcohol. Zimas with skittles at the bottom. Purple Passion. Lots of vodka. Always with the vodka. We had the greatest time telling stories in the dark.

OH! And there was this time we decided to go to the after-party of some crazy guys we met at a club...and we jumped up and down on the motel beds, acting like dorks!

Oh! And then-

Oh. You don't need to hear all of it, lest you decide I sounded like a filthy whore back at the ripe age of 17.

So anyway, Natalie moved back to California to live with her best friend, so she could have her senior year with all the people she had grown up with in Cali. And I desperately missed her. But, then I started saving my money and going to Cali on a regular basis, where we drank, drove around town, danced drunk on picnic tables, did lap dances for random white trash guys....oh, the filthy whore thing again, right? She has come back to Texas a couple of times to visit, and we made great memories: flashing my nosey neighbor in Saginaw one night (filthy whore! filthy whore!), toilet papering Cia's house....and we even met in Vegas for a few days to be in Cia's wedding. We were hot together, in our flapper dresses! Oh, the days of the pre-baby body.....

Two years ago the hubby and I went to Cali for her wedding. [I cannot explain how Cali makes me feel. I get so excited; the blood practically buzzes through my body. If it weren't so expensive, and I wasn't so attached to my family here in Texas, I would move in a heartbeat. I actually have in my heart the desire to buy a small little beach house there....Pacific Beach, Mission Beach, La Jolla, somewhere along the coast by San Diego. ] Natalie was a beauty, and I really need to post some pictures of her in her beautiful dress!!!

I have finally given up any hope that Natalie will move back. I know that she belongs in California; it suits her. I cannot think of one without the other. But I miss both desperately.

We have been friends for 13 years. Natalie is amazing. She is smart, kind, loyal, gorgeous, motivated.....If she wasn't my friend, I would be totally jealous! (Actually, I'm still sorta jealous!) She brings the party-girl out in me, more than anyone else.

She is non-judgemental. I could tell her all my secrets-and she knows most of them-and she would never judge me or look down on me. I can tell her my mistakes, and she will not judge me, or make me feel worse than I already do. Maybe it's the distance between us, but I don't think so. I think that most of it is this: she can accept me for all that I am because I accept her for all that she is.

Her husband threw her a 70's Boogie party for her 30th birthday. I wanted to go soooo bad. I know I would have had an awesome time, and Natalie and I would have been great together in our go-go boots.

Nat, Happy 30th Birthday! Welcome to 30! I have no doubt that you will make it look simple, sexy, and fun. I love you and miss you!

(Doesn't she look all sexy & gorgeous!? Damn pre-baby body.)

Cia

Today is my friend Cia's birthday. Cia and I met when my hubby and I moved into our first home, in Saginaw. We lived at 453 Asbury, and their house was being built at 453 Cambridge, one block over, right behind us. As soon as our mailbox went up, the mailman started delivering Cia's mail to us. That's how we met Cia and her now husband, Justin.

We hit it off pretty quickly, and all 4 of us hung out all the time. Cia and I began walking all of our dogs together (she had 1 and I had 1, but we both added labs to our 'collection' not long after meeting). Our dogs didn't much get along with each other (because my Kooter is freakin' anti-social, apparently), but we walked them anyway.

I have a ton of memories about my time with Cia:

There was the time our dogs were on their leashes and ran in circles around us, squishing Cia and I up against each other, with the leashes wrapped so tightly around our legs that we fell in the middle of my front lawn, unable to move, laughing our asses off.

Or the time my hubby and I, and a couple of other friends, toilet papered Cia's house, including her little 4 foot trees. The next morning, there was a wet toilet paper wad the size of a car stuck on our garage door. Justin had wet the toilet paper we used, and thrown it on our house.

Or the time we went to some white trash bar for 25 cent shots-Justin and my hubby dropped us at the front door before they went to park the truck. Cia and my hubby were arguing about something (playfully), and my husband grabbed her shirt, pulled it over her head, and hit the gas. There was Cia, running along the truck, blind, with her girls out for all the white trash to see.

There were a ton of drunken silly nights. We even flew to Vegas to be in their wedding when Cia and Justin decided to have a 1920's Gangster wedding, complete with the Italian hats, cigars, and the bridesmaids in flapper dresses.

I could describe many funny incidents, believe me. We hung out all the time. And then she got pregnant with their first cutie patootie, and we had a falling out. I won't go into details, but it wasn't until her son was born that we spoke again. And even then, we weren't back to our normal silly selves. It was uncomfortable and familiar, all at the same time. It was a relief to be talking again, and was also sad to realize we had killed so much time.

It took another year before we really started talking again. Each time we talked or saw one another, it got easier. She backed into my 4 foot magnolia tree out in Springtown. I watched her kiddos for her. We started getting back into the groove of things.

As is with most things, we both have busy lives. We don't see each other, nor do we talk to each other, as often as either of us would like. But I still consider her a friend. I know that if I needed her, I could call her right now, late on a Sunday night, and she would come over if I needed her. She's just that way.

Cia helped me grow as a person, without really meaning to. She's taught me a bit about sucking it up and just taking what life has handed you and making the best of it. She taught me to relax and not worry about what others thought. And she also taught me that I can forgive and forget and continue with a good friendship. We had a bump in the road, we both dusted ourselves off, apologized, and we remained friends.

Cia Pia, I love you! I'm here for you, whenever you need me.

A week late, but still just as sincere

To my sweet husband, who doesn't think I ever use the word 'sweet' in a non-sarcastic manner in front of the word 'husband':

You turned 30 just a mere 6 days after I did this year, exactly a week and a day ago. And it is normal form for me to be late, isn't it? I know you wouldn't have it any other way from me, now would you?
I need you to know that I have loved a large majority of our last 10-odd years together. And the small minority of time that I didn't love?: Well, it was when you weren't here. But I still loved you, even then.
In the beginning, you made me giggle, made me feel pretty, and had this easy way of making me feel cared for without being overbearing. You let me cuddle in bed, let me put my freezing-ass feet on your legs under the covers, and I do remember sleeping pretty damn good on my old-ass bed with my head in the crook of your arm. I will not forget when the lady at that grocery store said she could see the love between us.
Now, you still make me laugh, whether you know it or not. You still make me feel cared for, even if you do tend to be a bit of a 'father bird' every once in awhile; I know you mean well. You don't seem to like to cuddle so much under the covers, but who can blame you when all I want to do is tickle you or put my cold-ass hands and feet on your warm body? And now, at the ripe old age of 30, it is not so comfortable to lie with my head in the crook of your arm, but I still like feeling your presence in our bed. (Plus, you are soooo my personal heater!)
I know you like to joke that you have always liked older women, and here I am, your wife who is 6 whole days older than you. But really, we were both pooping our pants every other hour and eating every other other hour at the same time. Yeah, I might have had 6 days' experience on you, but really, we were newbies together, honey.
I truly am glad to be with you, after all this time. I do think we are like oil and water, but sometimes, oil and water are the perfect combination. You are just what I need; I am just what you need. You ground me, whether you realize it or not. All I have to do is look at your face when I'm getting upset about something that isn't really that big of a deal; I don't want you to think I'm a nut, so that grounds me. (although I know you probably do think I'm a nut-you have seen what tree I fell from!) I hope that I ground you at times as well, and not in the bitchy-bossy-wife kinda way.
You still surprise me with things you say and do. You still put a smile on my face, just like my 17 year old Will did. And although you are sometimes crabbier than I imagined you would be ,I am so very glad you are my Wyoming King Crab, and no one else's.
You are a great daddy. It seems to come so easily for you. When I am strung out from our girl's bossiness, you seem to be so calm. She adores you. She must have gotten that from me.

I love you honey, and I can't wait to turn 40 & 50 & 80 with you.
~always, me