I (finally) explain myself. Or something like that.

    

You may find yourself making a trip to the grocery store for butter and sour cream.

And you may find yourself purchasing pickles as well.

And you may find yourself also buying chocolate chip cookies.

You may find yourself in the candy aisle, with a bag of Starbursts in your hand.

You may ask yourself, "Well, how did I get here?"*

And your answer to the above question will probably be one of the following:

1. "I'm stoned, again."
2. "I'm shopping while hungry, again."
3. "I'm shopping while pregnant, again." -or-
4. "I'm shopping while frustrated with work, again."

If you're like me though, your answer to the above question will be

5. All of the above except for #1 (that sort of thing is generally frowned upon while being #3).

Yup, that's right folks, you read that correctly. I... am... (drum-roll please) HUNGRY! Oh, and I'm pregnant too. Thought I should just throw that out there. It's already "Facebook official," so might as well tell the rest of the world. Here, I'll even share my "making it Facebook official" photo with you:

(Well, technically I am, but by default the G-man is too. Or something like that.)

So, that's been my deal for the past so-and-so many weeks/months. Which is another way of saying I totally blame the person growing inside of me for why I haven't blogged in forever. This being pregnant shit can be rough. But I survived the milestones of the first trimester and am now honeymooning in the second. I didn't realize how bad I was feeling during the first three months until I started feeling good again. Like my stepfather always says, "The best part about pain is when it's over." Amen.

In case you're wondering, "Oh hey, OBG, if you're feeling so great now, how come you're still not back to blogging regularly?" Well, now it seems, despite my return of energy and easing up of nausea, I'm suffering from frequent migraines, and if you know anything about migraines, they make looking at a computer screen feel like there are shards of broken glass being driven through your eyeballs.

(You aren't really affected by this, but I had to share that I needed to take two days off from this post in order to nurse a migraine. I'm back now. Again, I doubt you even noticed.)

You're probably wondering,  "What does this all mean", right? Well, it means my life is in the process of changing significantly, and therefore so will my blog. In fact, I think I touched upon that once or twice before. Don't panic yet though. I have no intention of becoming a "Mommy blogger," not that there's anything wrong with that. There are plenty of Mommy and Daddy bloggers out there that I enjoy and who do a pretty damn good job of writing some pretty gosh darn entertaining shit. I would be lying though if I didn't admit that being a brand new shiny mommy (or mommy-to-be) won't seep it's way into this blog. I'm sure it will. I'll try to keep it to a minimum though.

In the meantime, while I'm still trying (and can find the time) to sort out the direction of this blog, let me answer some FAQs before you ask them. When I'm finished, if you still have questions, you may find the comment section to be a suitable place to ask (that's the teacher in me speaking right there).

OBG Prego FAQs (in no particular order)

When are you due?
In August. About mid-August. August 19th, to be more specific. If you're not any good at pregnancy math (and who is?), that puts me at 15 weeks.

What are you having?
Um, I'm not well learned in the matters of biology, but I'm pretty sure we'll be having a baby. Oh, you meant what is the sex of the baby? Don't know yet. Ask me again in about a month, and if I'm in a good mood, I might decide to tell you. Or not.

Will you and the G-Man be getting married?
Geez folks! We've only been together for 10 years. We should probably give it some time to see if we even like each other before we rush into any hasty decisions like marriage.

How are you feeling?
Like there's a human being growing inside of me, and I no longer have control of my body.
Like there's a massive water balloon that has taken up residency in my gut.
But otherwise, not bad. My back's starting to hurt, and I get horrendous headaches, and I have horrible... Oh. You were just asking to be polite? You didn't really want a list of my woes? No problem. I feel great! Thanks for asking!

Do you have any cravings?
Fruit and candy. And pickles, but that's nothing new.

Will you be returning to work after wards?
Uh, yeah! Did you not read this post? Although, I'll admit, I have fantasized about being a SAHM (look! I know the lingo already!) for at least the first six months, while embarking on some creative endeavor that would allow me to do so and still bring in some dough. But I'm realistic. I'll have to go back to work.

Can we see pictures?
Um... if you're family and/or close friends you can. I'm not sure how I feel yet about posting prego pics of me on the internet yet.

But what if we promise not to laugh?
Fine. I'll give you one picture:

(The dreaded "pregnancy mask")**

Alright, well that's enough with FAQs. And that's enough from me. I've got big important stuff to do. Or something like that. 

Wait! One more thing. If you're so inclined, pop back and reread my New Year's Resolutions. I promise you you'll see them in a whole new light.

* Swiped from Talking Heads.

** FYI this was at 13 weeks. There's a bump there, but mostly this will serve as a basis for comparison for all the future bump pictures I'll be taking for close friends and family.

Mountain Girl, meet City Girl

"Well, I guess you're the city girl."

Or so says my mom, the last time I spoke to her.

I guess she's right.

I couldn't imagine returning to my hometown for any extensive length of time. A weekend is fine, a night is better, but anything more than that is just unbearable.

I grew up in a small town in the Adirondacks in Northern NY. As in, two hours north of Albany (yes, NY State continues beyond Albany, and I'm not talking about Buffalo either). I suppose it could have been worse. I mean, if we're talking crime, well, crime was pretty much non-existent in my hometown. A picturesque town boasting a population of 1,250 (2008), my hometown is one of the most serene and non-threatening places you could raise a family. Of course, it's also one of the most boring, uneventful and seriously lacking in opportunity towns to grow up in. It's no surprise that very few young residents stick around after graduation. In fact, as soon as I graduated, I cut out of there as fast as I could.

 My hometown. Yes, this is actually a picture of the town I grew up in. Believe it or not. 

In case you're wondering, my homes (yes, plural) were miles away from here. In the mountains.

Ever since I left, I've been trying to find my place in the world. So far, that journey has taken me to five different regions in NY state. It seems the closer I get to large, metropolitan areas, the happier I am. Despite my introverted tendencies. I'm pretty positive I was born to be a city girl. I blame the ADD in me. I crave activity and nightlife and excitement and chaos and attention and sushi at 10 pm and pizza at 3 am. I want it all. I need it all. That wasn't always the case, however.

I am a born-and-raised, true-blue, mountain girl. I spent my summers barefoot. I swam in mountain lakes and rode four-wheelers down mountain roads. I picked blackberries with my sisters, while keeping an eye out for bears. I can drive a stick-shift, and I know how to drive in the snow, ice and rain. I know what it's like to have to hike up the driveway because it's too muddy/icy to drive up. I've seen deer gutted, skinned and hanging from the rafters of a garage. I know what poutine, Red Hots and Michigans are and I know where to get the best of both.

The house my dad built. Literally. I lived here for a majority of the first 15 years of my life. 
My dad used to own over 100 acres of the surrounding forests.

I've partied in the woods, around a bonfire, with mosquitoes nipping at my ankles. I've partied on the Lake while middle-aged women parade around in their obscenely small bikinis. I've partied in run-down bars in the middle of nowhere featuring strippers who were missing their teeth (a story for another day). I've partied in bars with rednecks, hicks and townies. I've partied at pig roasts. I've partied in fields with guitar-playing, bongo-pounding hippies. I've partied with the band. I've partied with the cooks. I partied on the Swastika (there's a story behind this). I've partied in the snow, the rain, the sun, the sleet and the mud. I've partied in tents, in trailers, in trucks and in back-woods camps. Oh yes, I have partied in the mountains.

In the mountains, function comes before fashion. In the mountains, sometimes you have to bathe in the lake when your well has dried up during a particularly dry summer. In the mountains, you know how to live with no power for a week when there's an ice storm. In the mountains, you can't get cable, high-speed internet or cell phone coverage. In the mountains, your neighborhood is the woods.

Growing up, my sisters and I spent hours playing in the woods. I loved the smell of the woods, and I loved to wander through them and imagine that I was in some other country or fantasy land. The woods were my refuge when I was sad, angry or lonely. Being so surrounded by nature was calming and peaceful. Of course, it was also very isolating and restricting.

 The areas of NYS that I've lived in. See how I've been making my way down the state? 
Obviously the city has been calling to me for years and drawing me closer and closer.

I fell in love with big cities after my first trip to NYC. It only took two more trips to NYC and a trip to Philadelphia to solidify my desire to live in a metropolitan area. In a couple of days I'll be moving to the outskirts of DC. While in my heart I will always be a mountain girl, I'm super excited to become a city girl. I can't wait to explore the DC area and discover new things. And hopefully find a job along the way as well. Call me crazy, but I love the idea of walking everywhere and riding public transportation (I'm sure that novelty will wear off pretty quickly).

Over the past eight or nine months, I have made several trips to NOVA and the DC area, and I'm psyched to become a part of the city lifestyle. While I have some reservations about my move, these reservations are limited to the personal aspects of my life. I have no reservations about living in NOVA/DC. The food, the nightlife, the hustle and bustle and excitement of it all (and hopefully better job prospects)... I can't wait!

Me, in the mountains. Some of you might remember this picture from my first ever blog header. 
Or was it my second?

Of course, my change in lifestyle will inevitably affect my blog. While I hope to maintain a constant presence in the blogging community, I can't guarantee that I will be able to follow through with that. That being said, here's what I anticipate for my blog down the road:

• I hope to make "Previously on the OBG" a regular feature on Mondays, but those posts are a lot of work and not always worth it, but I anticipate my weekends to be more fun and exciting, so I'll probably have more to write about. Eh, let's see how this one goes.
• Random Shit Tuesday will stay. I always have random shit to say.
• I expect to dedicate my infrequent weekend posts to the shit that I like. For example, my I ♥ Etsy posts and other things that are more for me as a way to document me and my style preferences. No one reads blogs on the weekends anyways, right?
• As for the rest of the week, I expect to still bring you the intelligent, insightful, clever writing that I've been bringing to you all along. Wait, what? Yeah, you heard me. I'm insightful, intelligent and clever. And you will be hearing from me. I just can't guarantee it will be every day. Like I said, we'll see how it goes.

I'm sure I'll have lots of tales to tell and experiences to report upon. Maybe I'll find myself a job and regale you all with work-related posts. Or maybe I'll make tons of new friends and share my wild times with you. Or maybe I'll just bitch about the horrors of moving and starting over. Or maybe I'll become one of those bloggers who talks about my personal relationships. No I won't. Don't worry, I'll never be that person (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just not for me). 

In the meantime, if anyone has any NOVA/DC advice or suggestions, I would love to hear them. I'm talking about good places to live. Good places to eat. Good places to go on the weekends. Good places to shop. How to survive the Metro. And so on and so on.

I hope I'm making the right decision with this move. This Mountain Girl is about to become a City Girl. Wish me luck!

One Blonde Girl 101

When I started this blog, it began as a place for me to reflect on "my journey through life". At the time, I was at a much different place in life (read: happier). My blog was not meant to be humorous nor was it meant to be bitter nor was it meant to be what it has become. It has since evolved into what you see before you. A place for me to rant and rave, bitch and moan, tell funny (hopefully) stories and bond with other bloggers about the woes of life. 

One such blogger is The Naked Writer over at The Writing Womb. I find her ability to be open and honest with the world about the trials and tribulations of her life admirable. She recently wrote a post, The Naked Writer 101, which was both informative and inspiring. Influenced by her frankness, and her "utter disregard for couthness" (yeah, I quoted myself. What of it?) I present to you...

One Blonde Girl 101

       

Because what's a post without a pic? And yes, that is me. (Source)

1. I love pickles. The tangier the better. I love pickles so much that if you leave a pickle on your plate unaccompanied, I will totally eat it on you and then pretend I have no idea what happened to it. True story. Your pickles are not safe with me.

2. I buy clothes with pockets because I never know what to do with my arms in social situations. Pockets are safe and comforting. In a perfect world, every article of clothing would have pockets.

3. When I was in high school I hated being blonde and wanted to dye my hair black but then a friend of mine told me that if I did, my hair would be black permanently, and that scared me, so I didn't.

4. I once hit a flock of birds with my mom's car and killed at least three of them. I've also caused the deaths of a bat and a cat via vehicular manslaughter.

5. I'm a night owl. I'm most productive and energetic after 7 pm. Some nights it will last until 4 am. This makes it very hard for me to be productive in the real world.

6. I function the best on 6 hours of sleep. Any more or less and I'm useless.

7. I dream of being a tattoo artist. Unfortunately, I have a thing against needles.

8. I can't stand to watch any scene in a movie that involves cutting a person. Any other kind of violence is fine, but not cutting.

9. I love horror movies. Especially haunted house and zombie movies. I hate Sci-Fi though. Hate it.

10. I'm constantly changing my mind. Which probably explains why my blog goes through so many transformations. And why I can't decide what to call myself. "April"? "One Pea"? "One Blonde Girl"?

11. I'm not a cat person. There. I said it. I don't like cats. I'll take a dog over a cat any day. The bigger, the better. (I once had a cat that I loved with all my heart. He had six toes on each foot and the funniest looking face. But then he up and died. One minute he was frolicking outside, and the next, he was dead. I don't think I ever got over that.)

12. I've never (knowingly) been involved with or pursued a guy who was already in a relationship. That's the biggest no-no ever. In my opinion. In fact, discovering that a guy was already involved was an instant turn-off for me. He could have been my soul mate and looked like Clive Owen, but as soon as I found out he was married or had a girlfriend, he turned into Steve Buscemi.

13. I've never had stitches. Thank god, because I don't know how I could handle that (see #7).

14. The first time (and unfortunately, not the last) I ever felt violated by a boy was in the first grade when a classmate who liked to look up the girls' skirts hugged me during nap time. It took me many years to get over that.

15. I've never finished a piece of art work. Never. Ever. It's a mental thing. I just can't do it.

16. I'm envious of people who have close relationships with their parents. I don't.

17. I don't do makeup. Possibly because no one ever showed me how. Or possibly because I can think of better, more important things to spend money on.

18. My knees are always hairy. Always. I can't seem to figure out how to work a razor around the knobbiness of my knees.

19. The most traumatic years of my life seem to end with 5s.
1985- I started Kindergarten and hated it and my teacher so much. I cried and cried and cried. The only way they could get me to go peacefully was bribing me with reading time with the other Kindergarten teacher.
1995- Well, in a nutshell, it began with the development of an eating disorder and accumulated with my dad booting me from his house. And a little bit of everything else thrown in for good measure.
2005- Well, I'm not quite ready to talk about this time of my life yet.
Needless to say, I dread 2015.

20. I have a twin sister.

21. I hate Lima beans. Hate 'em.

22. I hate housework. If I ever have a house (and a job), I'm totally hiring a housekeeper. I don't care. I'm doing it.

23. I don't watch ANTM on a regular basis, but anytime there's a marathon on, I'm glued to the TV.

24. I can't really pin down what makes me happy. Not specifically, but when I am happy, you'll know instantly because I make up little songs and dances and I spin.

25. I can't remember the last time in my life I was really, truly happy with my life.

26. I'm a really good multitasker, except when it comes to the big things, like education and relationships and career, then I have to choose one to focus on.

27. Most of the decisions I've made in my life were based on what other people wanted, not what I wanted myself. It's made for a very miserable life, but I'm working on living life for me now.

28. I live in constant fear of settling.

29. I don't trust words. I trust actions.

30. My favorite life advice comes from Magic Hat beer caps.

31.  I can't figure out if I'm more afraid of succeeding or of failing. I pick the middle road by not even trying.

32. My dad used to be the captain of a cargo ship. I was a world traveler until about age 8.

33. My dad's family owns a button factory in Iowa and were innovators in the pearl button industry. I think that's awesome.

34. I hate shopping. Any kind of shopping. Hate it.

35. I love helping people and making their lives easier. It makes me feel good, productive and accomplished.

36. My first real boyfriend was abusive and cheated on me frequently. That was the first and the last time I ever allowed a guy to treat me that way.

37. I love my feet, my knees, my hips, and my collar bones. Basically all the bony parts of my body.

38. Mind-altering substances scare me a little. Not that I'm afraid of their effects, but that I would enjoy them too much and would end up on an episode of Intervention.

39. I hate stuff. I don't understand why people insist on having so much stuff. Every time I move I purge more and more useless stuff and it makes me feel so good.

40. I feel guilty over my grandfather's death. It's totally irrational and illogical, but I often wonder if he would have still fallen down the stairs if I had chosen not to move away.

41. I don't know how to want things. In my mind, wanting something is wrong and a sign of weakness. I can't explain this. Well, I can, but we don't have the time to get into it.

42. I have to have a million and one things going on at once in order to not be bored.

43. I love strawberries.

44. I love music.

45. I love driving a stick shift. It makes me feel strong and powerful.

46. I'm terrified of having kids.

47. I hate spending other peoples money.

48. I often wish I could see myself through other people's eyes. I'm sure they don't see me the way I think they do.

49. I don't regret breaking up with any of my exes.

50. When it comes to intimate relationships, I think bodily functions should always remain private. Always. There are some things I just don't ever want to hear, see or smell. Ever.

51. I have scars on my body that make me severely insecure, force me to be extremely conscious of the way I do things at all times and make me fear the moment someone notices them and asks me about them.

52. I love getting dirty (you can interpret that any way you want).

53. I hate making small chitchat and will avoid encounters with people just to avoid meaningless chitchat.

54. I don't like day-hikes. If I'm going to put in the effort required to go hiking there better be a tent and a cozy sleeping bag at the end of the trail. And a campfire with S'mores.

55. I don't see the point in watching sports on TV. Unless it's the Super Bowl and I'm at a party with lots of alcohol and pizza. Otherwise, what's the point? I do enjoy the excitement of watching them in person. Except for baseball. And golf. And probably curling too.

56. I hate red roses. Hate them. I once got red roses for my birthday from a boyfriend. In November. My birthday is in January. Epic failure. I once received a bouquet of daisies from a guy I was dating. For no reason other than he thought I would like them. Epic success.

57. I'm severely indecisive and can never make up my mind about what I want or like. My brain literally becomes paralyzed whenever anyone asks me what I want or like. I'm trying to work on this. It's not going so well.

58. I have a hard time not judging people for their choice in music, reading material and other entertainment choices (like TV). Sorry.

59. I have sacrificed more of my life for relationships than I would like to admit. I'm trying to work on this.

60. I miss the friendships I had in high school.

61. I have an irrational fear of getting my haircut. Which is why I only get it cut once or twice a year. I've had so many bad experiences. Some day I would like to leave the hair salon with the hair cut I went in there expecting to get. Some day.

62. I have an irrational fear of birds.

63. It's easier for me to be friends with men than with women. I don't get the drama that comes along with having female friends. And I have a hard time relating to women. I'm not sure why.

64. I'm a chronic procrastinator.

65. I love sushi. I never thought I would, but I do.

66. I often wish I could get rid of all my stuff, jump in my car and drive away. Far, far away and start a brand new life where no one knows me. Kind of like Delia Grinstead in Ladder of Years by Ann Tyler. Tyler's books always give me perspective on my life.

67. I love the cartoon, Chowder.

68. I once dated a musician. He wrote a song about me. His band broke up not long after, before they even had a chance to perform the song in public. I was more bothered by that fact than the fact that we broke up as well not long after.

69. I've never had a successful one-night stand. And by successful, I mean, one in which the guy didn't want more. Some of my longest relationships were the result of failed one-night stands.

70. I love gumballs. I've never met a gumball I didn't love. Even the stale ones that have been sitting in the machine for 6 years.

71. I've become more spontaneous and less controlled as the years go by. And here I was afraid it would go the opposite way.

72. In college, I once allowed others to believe that I had slept with someone because I would have felt bad for the guy if his friends had found out the truth. (The truth was, I refused to sleep with him after discovering how small his penis was. I lied and told him I was having my period. And then I slept in my roommate's bed. He had a rep to maintain, and I didn't want to become the source of any suffering for him.)

73. I rarely ever give a shit about what others think about me in any given situation (see #72 above) because I know the truth, and in my mind, that's all that matters.

74. I hate it when I'm forced to justify my actions to someone else. I would love it if I could just act of my own accord and only have to answer to myself.

75. After years and years and years of being in relationships, I feel like I'm all used up.

76. It's easier for me to tell this stuff to strangers than it is for me to tell this stuff to the people who love and care about me. I can't say I'm really trying to work on this.

77. I rarely wash my hands. Not properly at least.

78. I can't stand Molly Ringwald.

79. I can't stand anything really sugary sweet. Like girly drinks. And fancy pastries (egg issue aside). And frosting. And sweet tea. And sweet coffee. (Chocolate is the exception. As long as it isn't gag-me sweet)

80. I have four sisters and a brother. My stepfather always complained about being outnumbered when we were growing up. Now he has four grandsons (officially. Six unofficially, as in, not belonging to my siblings but to their significant others) and a granddaughter. Coincidence? I think not.

81. Only one of my siblings is married. But he's currently going through a divorce, so I guess it no longer counts.

82. Life just won't let me forget the person I'm trying to forget. Stupid life.

83. My mom bought me and my twin the Betty Crocker Cookbook: Bridal Edition years ago, claiming that we'd never get married, so she might as well just buy it for us while it was still available. (Thanks Mom. Your faith in us is so uplifting and inspiring. And don't think I don't know what you're getting at when you hint that you'll never have anymore grandchildren. I get it. I'm an epic failure. I've accepted it. You should too.)

84. I often feel like the black sheep of the family.

85. I once had a student removed from an elective art class I was teaching because he was sexually harassing me. True story.

86. I hate it when people ask me for advice or expect me to comment on a predicament they've gotten themselves into. People rarely want the truth in these situations, and that's usually all I'm willing to dish out because I hate blowing smoke up people's asses.

87. My sexuality often scares me and sometimes feels like more than I can handle (see #88 below).

88. I have a hard time remaining faithful in relationships. I'm trying to work on this.

89. I have a hard time letting people down/disappointing them/breaking their hearts/and so on and so on. It's a guilt thing. I blame my childhood. More specifically, my parents. I'm trying to work on this. (It's not going so well)

90. I believe that dying is like sleeping, but without the dreams.

91. I have a hard time believing in anything that isn't tangible.

92. I love to bake. And plan parties (but not necessarily attend them. I prefer to be behind the scenes. Unless it's of the beer-drinking variety. And especially if there's a bonfire.).

93. I once played a nerd in my class' senior play. I loved it. It fed the acting bug I had been harboring since the eighth grade, but I was realistic, and I knew that where I grew up, the opportunity would never present itself.

94.  I love to cook but I only think it's worth the effort when I cook for someone(s) other than myself.

95. I have a bladder the size of a walnut. This isn't backed by any medical evidence, just by the fact that I have to pee ALL THE FREAKIN' TIME.

96. I have a heart-shaped uterus. This is backed by medical evidence. You would think this would make for a more loving uterine environment. This is not the case. Apparently it makes for a more inhospitable one. Whatever. We'll cross that bridge if we ever get there.

97. I once had dreams of becoming a soccer superstar. But then I hurt my knee and lost all confidence in myself (FYI, this was just one of the many downfalls that occurred in 1995).

98. I love my sisters. We're not all that close, so I often fear that they don't know this, but I do.

99. I prefer to make my own wrapping paper.

100. I don't eat fast food nor do I drink soda. I have no regrets about this.

101. I used to hate my first name, but now I kind of like it. I just wish it were easier for people to remember it (Seriously, it's a month. What's so hard about remembering a month?).

This post has been very therapeutic for me. It won't even bother me if you didn't read through all 101 items because it meant more for me to write it than it did to have anyone read it (quite possibly related to #73?).

And that is that.

I ♥ My Grad School Friends

    

Today I took care of the last few things necessary to take care of in order to be eligible for my degree. It was a very bitter sweet day for me. While I'm super-psyched to be done, I'm also super-bummed because being done with grad school means I won't be spending the summer with all the awesome people I met over the past two years. This really breaks my heart.

Starting grad school was a very pivotal moment for me. I'd been putting it off for YEARS, unsure of where I wanted to go and really not that excited to return to school. Of course, great old NY State told me that I HAD to get my Masters or I would lose my certification to teach, so I really had no other option. 

When I started school, I was nervous, scared, and really unsure of what to expect. I had enrolled in a summer intensive program, and I was really terrified of the schedule and the work load. I have to tell you though, grad school has been the best experience of my life. It wasn't so much the classes that were so great (because they really weren't), it was all the great people I met and friends that I made. Spending 12, 13, sometimes 14 hours a day with the same people day-in and day-out, 7 days a week for 6 weeks, you really get to know one another. Sometimes more than you would prefer. Or not.

My experience in grad school as well as the friends I made have really helped me to discover who I am, and has allowed me to be really comfortable with and embrace who I am. I met so many great people, all of whom I hope to encounter again in life. I met my soul mates, SMos, Stormey, and Pooh, all of whom I can't imagine not having in my life. It's sad to think that this is the end of our time together. I know people always promise to stay in touch and get together, but you know how that goes. I'm afraid that without the bond we formed as suffering comrades trudging through grad school hell to hold us together, we'll slowly drift apart. We've already lost a few along the way.

In honor of our good times, our great collaborations and our constant support of each other, I'd like to share some pics (but not many, since apparently we were all too busy working to take pics. Or something like that) of us while at "Summer Art Camp." (because that's truly what it felt like). Enjoy.

 (left: the best looking group of ceramists EVER)

(right: Oodles, Bubba, K-Dub, The Canadian and Without Hair experiencing the pains joys of crit day)

(left: more critiquing)

(right: some of my work on crit day. Which wouldn't have been what they were if it hadn't been for Stormey)

(left: me and Oodles sitting next to more of my crappy colorful work, inspired by SMos and Bubba)

(right: at the scene of the crime where the most hilarious "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" spoof occurred)

(left: four lovely ladies)

(right: and the Three Musketeers)

(left: celebrating T's birthday on our lunch break)

(right: me, Cutter, Stormey, Pooh, SMos and Miss Gabs-a-lot)

(left: With Hair and Stormey at our Last Night get-together)

(right: Cutter, Pooh and Derby discovering that cheap plastic chairs can only hold one drunk ass, not three drunk asses)

I think I need a drink now. Otherwise I'm going to start bawling.

That is all.

My Easter story.

      

I don't really do Easter anymore. Maybe some day I will again, but for now I view this day as a day for kids (I don't have any), a day for the religious (I'm not), and a day for loving families to get together and spend a glorious spring day showering each other with sunshine and love (and let's be honest, my family DOES NOT come even remotely close to being this kind of family). Plus, I hate pastels. And I can't eat eggs.

Once upon a time, Easter was sort of a big deal. My family would head to Long Island, where my grandmother would drag everyone to church, all done up in our new Easter hats and dresses. My cousins would be there, which was always exciting. We'd struggle through the service, all the while knowing that when we returned back to grandma's there would be Easter baskets and candy waiting for us, because THE EASTER BUNNY HAD COME! 

The Easter bunny always came to my grandmother's house during church. Interestingly enough, my uncle always left church earlier than the rest of us. My tiny little cynical brain may have been suspicious of this, but it wasn't until years later that I finally made the connection. At any rate, we would always linger after the service and converse with people I didn't know. There was probably a lot of cheek pinching and many comments like, "Oh, look how much you girls have grown," or "Oh, look at that blonde hair." All the while, we were probably secretly dying inside, eager to leave so we could hunt for our Easter goodies. But, like the good little girls that we were, we stood patiently and politely and hid behind our mother whenever someone came at us with cheek pinching fingers. 

Hunting for the goodies the Easter bunny left behind was always exciting, however, it always amazed me at how uncreative and predictable the Easter bunny was. I mean, that sonofabitch hid my Easter basket up in the same tree EVERY YEAR*! And he always hid it so high up I couldn't reach it. I thought it was unfair that out of all the grand kids, I was the only one who couldn't retrieve my own basket from it's hiding spot. That job always fell to my only male cousin, who didn't have to wear an Easter dress and pretty patent leather shoes and could easily scale up a tree. 

When my grandmother sold her house** and moved to the mountains with us, Easter was never the same. For one, it was still snowing in the mountains at Easter time, and apparently the Easter bunny had issues with snow because he always hid our goodies indoors. I don't recall going to church in the mountains, but if my grandmother was with us, I'm sure that we did. Oh, and our Easter outfits weren't nearly as sweet and pretty as they were on Long Island. Fortunately for everyone, I don't have pictures with me or I would totally bust them out and do a side-by-side comparison. You're welcome.

Any way, if you're into such a thing... Happy Easter!

(This isn't an Easter picture, but it's the only one I could find that demonstrates the cuteness and level of pinchableness that our chubby little cheeks had. We were such adorable little dorks.)

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* I do recall one year when the Easter bunny hid my basket somewhere else (I think my uncle and cousins were MIA that year), and I was devastated! I remember crying in big, gasping, hiccuping sobs, "but... he hides... my basket... there... every year." That's probably the year I stopped believing in the Easter bunny and became a holiday-hating cynic.
** which was quite devastating for me. I wasn't so naive that I thought good things couldn't come to an end (my parents divorced when was 6 or 7, so they had already ruined the fairytale, happy-ever-after fantasy for me), but I thought Grandma's house was FOREVER! I have a pretty clear memory of wandering through her house once, kissing the walls goodbye of each and every room.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

   

So, I told you how I like change, right? Yeah, well, I'm sure you've noticed some more changes have been taking place. It's a process. Feel free to let me know what you think. 

In the meantime, enjoy some Bowie... again.