The End.

This morning while I was driving to work the radio announcers were talking about the top rated songs of 2010 and it dawned on me that I have not seen, on TV, any 2010 year-in-reviews! I love those shows. I feel the need to watch those shows to properly pay my respect to the previous year before ringing in the New Year. So, I began thinking about MY 2010.

2010 was a roller coaster, filled with highs and lows. Keeping my fingers crossed, the year is already ending better than 2009 ended. 2009 ended with me getting admitted to the hospital and Dave losing his job.

Yea, UGH.

So, since the television networks have failed me in providing a 2010 year-in-review, I decided that I am going to do my own year-in-review…but, I am only going to focus on the highs of the year…lucky you! And, because I'm so long winded, I'll do the first half of 2010 today…and the second half tomorrow! Dang, I must love you guys to give you an honor like that!


January- Started off rough with the doctor telling me that I was going to be out of work for a month; but, turned out great. Dave and I had almost an entire month to spend together! We watched movies; he made omelettes and I discovered that Dave is a Master Omelette Maker!

February- The month the impossible happened! My friends surprised me! Truly, truly surprised me with a limo bus for my birthday complete with chocolate Martinis! We were walking in Old Sac, the bus drove past us and our friend Josh, Mr. outgoing, announced, "I'll get us on the bus!" The rest of the group trotted on behind him like a school of fish. I, on the other hand, hung back with Jennifer, Mr Outgoing's husband, because she does not like to bring attention to herself in public and that sounded good to me. Then, Jennifer suddenly exclaimed, "Let's follow him!" I stopped dead in my tracks, shocked that Jennifer was going to talk to strangers…STRANGERS! I did an about face, ran back to Dave who was bringing up the rear and tried to hide. (Have I mentioned before that I am shy…but, I forget I am shy until I am in social situations and then the shyness hits me like a blunt force trauma? Yea, it's a good way to be. NOT!) Somehow, I got pushed to the front of the group, my memory is a whirlwind, somehow they got me on the bus and the rest...I can't tell you fore I was told what happens on the bus, stays on the bus and if anyone accuses me of flipping off the capital building when we drove by, I will vehemently deny it!

March- *sigh* I was introduced to Mr. Bon Jovi. Well, I didn't actually get to meet him but I got to stare, gaze, gape, gawk, and ogle at him and Richie Sambora while they rocked the stage…and our hearts! Ha, just kidding, it wasn't our hearts they were rocking! OH FOR SHAME, MISSY! If Mr. Bon Jovi's concert was not enough to win me over, him playing Frank Sinatra at the end of his concert did the trick!

AND, in March, my step-dad turned 60! To prove to 60 that he still had 'it', my step-dad conquered a bottle of Jameson that day AND still managed to cook dinner. MY HERO! In the interest of still being welcome at my step-dad's house, I'm going to leave this synopsis at that!

Last, but definitely not least, my Grandma and I met Frank Sinatra Jr…AGAIN! I learned that it is OK to push your Grandma when one sees Mr. Sinatra Jr. walking towards oneself in a casino! That's probably the only time it's OK to push one's Grandma!

Mr. Sinatra Jr. told me, ME, that I was a, "VERY beautiful young lady." OH! I died and went to Heaven right then and there folks. Mr. Sinatra Jr…I love that man; he's kind, nice, generous, talented, smart! *SIGH*

April- Dave's birthday AND our friend Andy's birthday! We had two really fun, epic, kick a** parties at our house in April…this non-cook, non-domestic diva was quite proud of herself! Turns out, music + alcohol = F U N

May- It was an adventurous month for me. For the first time in my lil' ol' life, I cooked chicken in the frying pan! Wait! It gets better! No smoke alarms went off during the chicken fry!

June- June was a…a…a 'month' to say the least! Three GREAT things happened in June.
FIRST: My BFF flew all the way from the great state of Missouri to visit. The trip got off to a rocky start as we could not find each other in the airport! She got off the plane, went to baggage claim, and I was no where to be seen. Meanwhile, I was very excitedly waiting at the bottom of the escalators for my dear BFF, who never appeared! Thank goodness for cel phones! It was the greatest weekend, it was the shortest weekend, it was the fastest weekend…it was pretty cool.

SECOND: My Grandma's birthday this year was celebrated by starting the COOLEST tradition. My Grandma is a fan, just a little bit, of Mr. Frank Sinatra; so, when my Uncle's wife, Trish, suggested we all wish my Grandma a happy birthday by taking turns and singing a line from a Frank Sinatra song to my Grandma we, the family, jumped at the chance! Then, as if perfectly on queue, after everyone had sang their line, the whole family erupted in the same Frank song. I tell ya, families that sing together…ring-a-ding-ding together!

THIRD: Biggest surprise #2 this year! One of my other BFFs deserted me to move all the way around the world! Sheesh! This BFF's mom and I have stayed in touch since Michelle moved; so, when Michelle's mom called me to meet her for dinner, I though nothing of it. As soon as I got off work, I headed to the restaurant where we were meeting. Sandy, Michelle's mom, was waiting for me in the lobby. I followed her as we made our way to a table. We were almost to our table when what to my wondering eyes should appear?!?! But, a BFF and eight tiny reindeer! HOLY COW! I started screaming…right there in the restaurant…all shyness and public awareness just gone! That, my friends, was an epic surprise!


Wow, what a cool 6 months! Wonder what the next 6 had in store?!

Christmas Missyism

I was walking around Target the other day, doing Christmas shopping. I had just come from breakfast with my Mom and Grandparents. My Mom just had a hair appointment with my sister-in-law. Like any responsible daughter would do, I asked my Mom if she knew what my sister-in-law and Dave got me for Christmas. Like any responsible mother would do, she didn't answer me! Being the great detective that I am, I deduced that my Mom knew what I was getting for Christmas. So, as I'm walking through Target this thought crossed my mind: (Please insert whine because that's how it went through my head) "It's not fair that everyone knows what I'm getting for Christmas but me!"

You need not worry. As soon as the thought left my unconscious and entered my conscious I realized the silliness of it all.

I would like for you to sympathize with me, though…I live with a man who does not believe in giving Christmas or birthday or any gift hints! He doesn't even like to talk about what we got each other. He acts like it doesn't even bother him that he doesn't know what he's getting. Ha! Rubbish!

I'm a kid at heart. I love Christmas. I love it for all the right reasons…and I love it for all the wrong reasons! I know I'm going to get a present this year; so, I just embrace it. I want to talk about it, I want to guess, and I want hints…what it all boils down to is I'm just a girl who says she loves being surprised but really hates being surprised because I'm NOSY…like Rudolph!

I like to know what's going on and I like to be involved. Sometimes I have to force that upon others, thus ruining my surprises. It's a sacrifice; but, someone's gotta do it!

If you'll remember, this year for my Birthday, my friends and Dave surprised me BIG TIME with a limo bus. As you may have gathered after this post, it's kind of hard to surprise me. I LOVED my birthday surprise! I was so... so... so…SURPRISED! That is so unusual for me because I look for surprises everywhere…not to be a pest…but because it excites me!

Last night at dinner (because I just can't help it, folks), I asked my Mom and step-Dad what they had gotten me for Christmas. It really just comes out of my mouth before I have a chance to talk myself out of it. My step-Dad immediately began playing along and then, I think he dropped a real hint. He told me they ordered something and it's being shipped to my Grandparent's house! Whaa-haa-haa! An answer! A real answer!

The look of shock and horror that flashed across my Mom's face was priceless, folks! She immediately tapped my step-Dad's arm and began saying, "NO! She's the girl you can't tell ANYTHING to, you can't say ANYTHING to her, NOTHING at all!"

Ahhhh, my reputation precedes me! Now, off to my Grandparents house I go!

(Just kidding!)

4 Things

1. I take care of the family finances; so, naturally, money is on my mind quite a bit. One morning while I was brushing my teeth, I had an epiphany. It dawned on me that in 7, 15 or maybe even 50 years from now I am going to wonder why I ever worried about money so much.

2. This is my favorite Christmas ornament; I've had it since 1985!

3. This ornament pretty much sums up my feelings; it reads, "I'm not cooking dinner tonight!"

4. What's that behind the door?

Who says you can't have a little bathroom humor on the Christmas tree?

Apology Letter

Dear Suze Orman,

I must apologize to you in advance for what I am about to do on Friday November 26.

You recommend having a substantial amount of moola in one's savings account (you sound like my mother). While I recognize the importance of that, I also recognize the importance of fulfilling one's own crazy and sick fascination with battling the crowds and cold to score the best deals possible on bath towels and slippers and TVs and dog beds and movies. Ahhh, but at the end of the day, the satisfaction and feeling of accomplishment you feel...indescribable!

So, in advance, I must apologize to you for my spending behavior on November 26. I promise to repent all year, I promise to act cordially to all the other shoppers out there even though they may not do the same...but I do not promise to not go at it again next year...teeheehee.

Sincerely,

One of Your (I guess, not so faithful) Listeners

CRYING part II

FRIENDS.

The TV show FRIENDS first aired on TV the exact month that my parents separated.

FRIENDS ended while I was in college.

FRIENDS was my favorite TV show! It got me through so much when I was looking for thirty minutes to escape in another world, especially in high school!

When I graduated high school and moved into an apartment with my little roommate Jenn, our friends would come over every Thursday night and watch FRIENDS.

Ahhh, those were the good ol' days. FRIENDS. Will & Grace. ER. Great TV shows!

When it was time for FRIENDS to go off the air, my BFF Paula came over to watch with me and Dave. For one hour before the series finale there was a FRIENDS tribute. When the tribute ended, before the show even began, Paula and I were in tears.

Dave, feeling a little uncomfortable with this estrogen fest, didn't know what to do. All he knew is that he didn't want to be in the living room with two uncontrollably crying females. So, he did what any man with a caring heart and clever brain would do. It got him out of the room so he didn't have to sit with two crying females and it got him brownie points!

He got up. He walked into the kitchen. He retrieved a box of Ghiradelli brownie mix and began making brownies, chocolate, for these two devastated girls.

The icing on the cake though...he brought us the left over brownie batter and two spoons! We began soothing our sorrows away, before the brownies were even ready.

Chocolate healing all wounds...pretty much not a myth!

CRYING

It was an unusually rare occasion. It was a work night and I was in bed early! Early! EARLY! Can I get an AMEN?!

Because I was in bed early I allowed myself the luxury of flipping through a few channels before I set off for dream land only to be awoken by the most obnoxious sounding beeping that my ears have ever heard. I would so much rather wake up to the sound of an F-15 engine than beeping that doesn't quit. Why do we do that to ourselves?!

Anyway! (I think I type 'anyway' on this blog more than any other word!) That evening I came across a move on TV, it appeared to be a love story. The heroin had to choose between two handsome men. I was hooked. I'm a sucker for romance. Oh yes I am.

Then, all of a sudden in my movie, the two young lovers weren't young anymore. They were old and the old man was telling the old woman a story. I was so confused! The movie went back to my young lovers and happiness settled in again. But, alas, the movie switched back to the old people, who were now in a nursing home and things were taking an unhappy turn, and fast! But, I was hooked! There was no turning the channel now!

Needless to say, this movie that I stumbled on was, "The Notebook." A movie that I had vowed to never watch because I had heard that it was terribly sad.

So there I lay in my big bed, it's now past my bedtime because I got hooked into this movie and I'm sobbing because my two young lovers ended up in a nursing home with Alzeimer's and died. Yea, not a happy way to end one's night. Needless to say, the obnoxious beeping the next morning came way too fast.

I had higher hopes for the next evening. Mine and Dave's Netflix movie arrived and we had plans to watch it.

I was very much looking forward to our movie night and when I got home from work, I promptly opened the Netflix package.

The movie was, "The Bucket List."

WHAT?!?! I screamed in my head! This is not going to be happy, I thought, the movie is about dying! *SIGH*

So, Dave and I watched, "The Bucket List," which exceeded my expectations, but still ended with me sobbing. And, if you have estrogen running through your body like me then you know the tears don't automatically shut off when the credits begin to roll because you're replaying that sad, heartfelt, touching scene you just witnessed and you're thinking about that poor family who now has to...well, you get the idea.

It was at that point in time when Dave looked at me (he couldn't see me because I was hiding my tear drenched and snot laden face) and announced in a booming, happy voice, "Well that wasn't too sad, was it?!"

Now, thoroughly embarrassed, because only the best of girlfriends would understand this sudden outpouring of emotion, I stood up, turned my head away from him and rested my hand against my face so he couldn't see it, and began walking to the bathroom so I could cry in peace and said, "(sniff, sniff) Whatever,"! My wittyness sometimes shocks him into silence.

I knew I was an NBC snob for a reason! (Meaning, I usually, for reasons unknown to myself, find myself watching TV shows that are only on that network).

First, The Biggest Loser, which, I must say, almost always makes me cry. The Biggest Loser is socially responsible. It gives hope to people who might otherwise have lost hope. Shoot, it gives hope to me that I might someday fit into those jeans I wore in high school, lol! But hey, I can't complain, the earrings I wore in high school still fit! The bra doesn't...but, that's a good thing! (Did I go too far on that last one?!?!)

Then, last night, I was privy to the TV show School Pride...another show that brought me to tears. Another show that is socially responsible. In this day and age, teachers are villainized, put-down. It's atrocious! School Pride showed how much the teachers care for and love their students...not to mention how much time they put into the classroom (or into the library, cafeteria, football field, music room...). It is atrocious that our society does not respect teachers more.

Another thing I find interesting...I hear parents complaining about the education system of the United States (you see it on the news, you hear a lot about it with this being election season) and it always makes me wonder, do those parents believe the school, classroom, teacher, where they send their child is a part of the problem, too? Hmmm...I'm thinking not.

The only thing School Pride was missing was how the higher-ups in education, who have usually never been in a classroom teaching, treat teachers. Sometimes, they are the biggest non-supporters of teachers. How hypocritical is that?!?!

The only other thing School Pride was missing was how those higher-ups in education change curriculum on teachers every year, every other year, etc. Parents, when do you expect teachers to learn that new curriculum? Just curious. Do you know what their contracted hours are? My contracted hours are 8am-12pm & 1pm-5pm...I'm not a teacher. Parents, do you think I stay at work until 7:30pm or even 8pm? No, I don't. I leave when my contracted hours are up. Parents, do you think teachers have that luxury? Not the good ones. And, trust me, there are substantially more good ones than not.

There's a lot that goes into teaching that the average Joe is unaware of.

Oh, and one more thing, if you can read this...if your kids can read this, THANK A TEACHER!

I SAID GOOD DAY!

It's the Simple things

1. For the first time in my life I went to see a movie, in a big movie theater, all by myself. And, I will have you know, it was quite a comforting experience.

2. One Sunday I had a 2 hour and 40 minute telephone conversation. The only thing better than that would have been a face to face conversation. When I got off the phone I felt like I had woken up from a much needed nap. The type of nap where you wake up not even realizing at first that you had fallen asleep. The type of nap where you wake up hot and sweaty because you slept so good. The type of nap where you wake up happy, peaceful and refreshed because your body really, really needed the rest. The type of nap where you wake up feeling recharged, rejuvenated...and all from a 2 hour and 40 minute telephone conversation.

5. One piece of evidence (out of millions) that I have the greatest friends in the world: I got a text message from my friend informing me that on football game days we will have food that is in theme with the teams. For example, if the Philadelphia Eagles play, we will have Philly cheese steak sandwiches. My friend then informed me that when tuberculosis is playing, in his and his team's honor, we will have lil' weenies!

Ahhh, I love it!

6. If you don't know who I am referring to when I refer to tuberculosis, you are better off, trust me.

7. Dave and I made a bet to see who could go the longest with out cussing. The winner would get sixty bucks. The price of a video game, for him. The price of a massage, for me. By the end of the night, we had both lost the bet! I tell no lie! It was probably a good thing we both lost the bet because we became do-it-yourselfers very shortly after that bet was made...I want you to know that I use the term 'we' very, very loosley. I just had to write the checks. Which was very, very painful. The end result, though...we now have green grass instead of brown dirt in our back yard! Whoop-whoop!

Part of me thinks I would of rather had a massage!

Why I Don't Cook Part 6,423

The other evening Dave and I were making spaghetti. He calls it goulash. I call it spaghetti. Just FYI.

We make spagoulash like every other American family. I buy a big ol' jar of Prego (traditional, of course), ground turkey and whole wheat pasta.

What?

Every American family doesn't make spagoulash that way?

Pish-posh!

The ground turkey was browned to perfection and the noodles had just been drained. At this juncture in our cooking extravaganza I informed Dave that I had this under control, I got it, I did not need his help and he could go sit down (I'm such a good cook I don't like people watching me. Yea, that's it...)

I got a lil' cocky.

I'm the daughter of a fighter pilot, it happens.

The noodles were back in the pot and I picked up the frying pan to dump the ground turkey in with the pasta. I gently tipped the frying pan on it's side, over the pot of noodles and then, with my black plastic spatula that has a corner missing because I once tried to use it to flip a pancake in a frying pan, thus melting the plastic, I began pushing the ground turkey towards the edge of the frying pan.

I had planned on the ground turkey falling gracefully into the hot pot of noodles.

I had not planned on the ground turkey going all over the stove, under the burner, down the front of the oven and all over the kitchen floor.

CRAP, I thought. Crap, Crap, CRAP! I could feel Dave's eyes rolling behind me.

I cringed as I began to hear him speak.

"You don't have finesse. You strong arm everything when you cook."

And then he chuckled.

Finesse? FINESSE? I've known Dave for ten years. In ten years, Dave has never once uttered the word finesse. Finesse is the type of word that I expect to hear from a male hair dresser whose wardrobe and shoes are far superior to mine...not from my husband...describing the reason for my kitchen catastrophes!

Lack finesse...

Hmmm...sigh...yep, I guess I do, lack finesse, but... only when it comes to cooking, baby!

I then preceded to laugh at my husband for using the word finesse. Wide-eyed and innocent he acted astonished by my amusement and he informed me that he indeed has quite a large vocabulary and that he is not 'eyegnorant'! Ahhh, victory was mine again! And, I will have you know, my 'strong arm' came in very handy when picking up all of the spilled ground turkey and his 'eyegnorance' didn't help a bit!

A Happy Soul

Have you ever felt like you were on the right track amidst a sea of uncertainty? That's pretty much how I feel on a daily basis what with the new job and all.

I decided awhile ago to take a class that peaked my interest. The class will be on Thursday nights for nine months...big commitment! Especially since I am working ten hour days (plus Saturdays) and my mind is just plain beat!

Last Thursday, September 9, was the first class. I was stoked all day about attending...until about 5 PM when the tiredness hit! To make the temptation of giving up on this class even worse, Thursday was the first football game of the season and none other than Mr. Brett Favre's team would be playing. Oh how I love Brett Favre!

I began the internal debate of beginning a new class or watching football. Class or football, class or football??? Then, I discovered the class was a two hour class! OMG! Two hours?!?! I didn't know if I could make it! But, through the helpful advice of family, I decided to give it a shot and see if it was something I would be interested in continuing.

Best piece of advice I've ever been given, folks! (Well, accept for all those other times I've needed great advice!) I went to class and this is what strikes me as funny: I always forget that I am shy! And, boy, am I shy! I hate going into situations where I don't know a lot of people! I always forget this about myself because normally, I am not in situations where I don't know a lot of people. At my old job, I used to give presentations, and it never bothered me, talking in front of groups, presenting. But, you put me in a room with strangers where I have to interact and put my best personal, not professional, foot forward, I clam up big time!

So, imagine my surprise as I approach the parking lot and begin to get 'the' nervous tummy. The parking lot is full! Darn-it! I want to leave. But, I don't. As I am walking towards the classroom my inner voice keeps telling me to turn around, go back to the truck, go home and watch the football game in the comfort of my own living room.

I suck it, put on my proverbial 'big girl panties' and walk into the class, which for me, is one big sea of uncomfortable as there are a ton of people. The class is set up so everyone has to sit at a round table, you HAVEto interact with strangers, you can't just sit in the back of the room and blend in..."CRAPOLA", is what I'm thinking. Luckily, my grandpa attended the class with me and he found two available.

I just hate that! Walking into a room and there not being any open chairs! At college I was so neurotic about not having a place to sit, I got to my classes AT LEAST thirty minutes early! So, imagine my college horror when I didn't have thirty minutes between classes! Yes, I ate a lot of TUMS! :)

ANYWAY, my Papa finds us two spots and he strikes up conversation. Which is a relief to me for two reasons. The first being, he is a pro at striking up conversation and perfectly comfortable doing so. Second, he's my Papa, he has white hair, he can pretty much do or say anything and get away with it because of his age; so, basically, I'm safe, nothing embarrassing can happen to me.

I make it through the class and the 'ice-breaker' exercises that force you to get to know people. For the record, I think 'ice-breaker' exercises are next dumbest thing invented next to TB jerseys!

Throughout the class, I became thoroughly involved, and was really enjoying it. I felt excited about this new endeavor. I felt content. I felt peace. I felt exhilaration.

I felt as though my soul was excited and happy. My soul was doing back flips and giving the proverbial 'high-five.' No joke. I felt on track. Who knew how reassuring that could be.

I don't know how to properly honor or pay tribute on this day.

I do know that I believe it is important to remember.

I remember.

I don't know if I feel this strongly because I remember this day like it was yesterday and the thought of this day, the memories, still brings tears to my eyes.

I don't know if I feel this strongly because I think about 9-11 a lot.

I don't know if I feel this strongly because I am an Air Force brat and I love this country, our troops, and civilians who strive to make this country a better, stronger and safer place.

But, I do know, that it is important to remember, no matter how sad, out of respect for those who died.

I have the freedom to type this with out persecution.

You have the freedom to type/post/say whatever the heck you want with out persecution.

God Bless America!

I remember.

...and I'm still angry at the bastards who did what they did...

I remember, for those who lost their lives so they weren't lost in vain. It's a small thing; but, it's better than nothing.

I remember...for you...I remember

My DELISH Sunday

Last weekend was the type of weekend that all folks who work Monday through Friday dream about...it was a THREE DAY WEEKEND! Whoo-hoo! Crack open a bottle of champagne!

My Sunday began as one of the most perfect Sunday's in the world!

This year, for whatever reason, I have been on a "Pretty Woman," kick. When I have time to watch a DVD I pick, you guessed it, "Pretty Woman." When I catch it on TV, the world stops evolving, the tables don't get dusted, the floors don't get vacuumed, my clothes don't get put away. All I do is snuggle up on my comfy red microfiber couch and indulge in the entertainment that is "Pretty Woman."

So, Sunday morning, at the ripe ol' hour of 11:30AM, I drag myself out of bed, make my way to my red, over-sized, over-stuffed microfiber chair, grab the remote control and turn on the TV. There is a message on the TV. It reads something like, "This film has been formatted from it's original version. It has been formatted to fit the screen of your TV, yadda-yadda-yadda."

I thought, "Hmmm...did I leave a DVD in last night?" I can't remember...

Then, the screen changes and the Touchtone pictures' emblem slides across the TV.

"Could it be," I anxiously wondered...

AND IT WAS!

"Pretty Woman," was just beginning! I was in Heaven...this Sunday was going to be PERFECT! I just knew it!

Well, as most of you know, tis the season of football! Whoo-hoo! It's my favorite season! But, there is one thing that I don't love about football. Actually, it's one person. And, if you know me, you know who that person is and as much as it pains me, physically causes me pain, to type his name here on MY BLOG, I feel I have to, to let you know who I am referring to, in case you don't follow my football ramblings.

His name is tom brady.

I don't capitalize his name because I don't think he deserves it.

I just vomited in my mouth a little. Just from having to type that loathsome name.

So, imagine my horror, disgust, shock when a commercial comes on in the middle of my movie featuring none other that the big scum sucking baby himself, TB...coincidentally, the same initials as the communicable disease, Tuberculosis. Hmmmm, go figure.

The worse part is, this person, TB (I can capitalize his initials because they are a communicable disease) is now a spokesperson for my cable company!

OH FOR SHAME!

Comcast doesn't know it yet, but they made a big mistake...big...huge! I just might switch cable companies!

The movie starts again and I calm myself down and get lost in the world of rich, handsome businessmen who sweep women off their feet. Then, my phone rings. It's my Grandma. We start talking football, of course, tis the season. I happen to mention my favorite player on the Miami Dolphins.

That's when my Grandma hit me with a blow. The kind of blow that needs to come from a grandparent or one won't be able to take it, one's world will come crashing down and fall apart.

My favorite player on the Miami Dolphins, Jason Taylor, has...

*sniff, sniff* I can't bear to type it...

...has left the Dolphins and now plays for the NY Jets!

OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SACRED IN NFL FOOTBALL, LAWSIE MERCY, I HAVE A FREAKEN MIAMI DOLPHIN JASON TAYLOR JERSEY, WHAT IN THE H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS AM I GOING TO DO WITH THAT NOW? HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME?

My grandma hung up on me.

No, not really, it was pretty much an estrogen cry fest after that.

To cheer both of us up, I informed her that our glorious Dolphins would be playing Monday night football on Oct 4 and I wanted her and whoever else wanted to watch it, to come to my house for game night. To confirm I was correct about the October 4th date, I went to espn.com to check it out.

Just when I thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse, when I clicked the link for the Monday night October 4 football game, I was taken to a page that had guess-who's big, ugly mug staring right at me?!?!

Did you guess TB?

UGH.

TB was trying to taint my perfect Sunday. I was all kaflootzed. I made my way to the freezer. When I opened the door, let me tell you, the clouds parted, angels began singing, and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Polar Swirl sat waiting underneath the prettiest spot-light you've ever seen.

I snatched the ice-cream goodness out of the freezer, curled up in my red over-sized, over-stuffed microfiber chair and immersed myself in the world that is "Pretty Woman," forgetting all of my football woes.

The world would be a happy, happy place for another few hours.

ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?!?!?!?!

The effects of 'dieting,' or rather, 'healthy lifestyle changes'

Before I knew I was getting laid off I bought myself some beautiful, spectacular bedroom furniture!

And a couch.

And a chair.

And a coffee table.

And an end table.

And another end table.

And a painting.

And another painting.

Shoot.

I think I have a problem.

It's called compulsive spending.

I must go now. I have a date with Suze Orman. It's more like a beating. She is going to beat my spending desire right out of me. I'll let you know how it goes...maybe you should try it sometime.

Oh, I forgot! My spending got cured when I got laid off!

Hmmm, but, I had to go and get another job...

I needed new clothes for my new job. So I bought a pair of jeans...

And another pair of jeans.

And another pair of jeans.

And a shirt.

And another shirt.

And a pair of shoes.

And another pair of shoes.

And, oh let's just keep this simple, I bought 2 more pair of shoes...and one more shirt...and luggage...and a purse....

Crap, I think I need to keep that date with Suze Orman.

I'm gonna have bruises...the emotional kind...sigh...Calgon, take me away!

*Certain spendings may have been exaggerated for entertainment purposes.

**Guilty bloggers may write side-notes that are lies to ease their conscience.

Thank goodness for Daffy Duck

So, one morning before I left for France, I was blow-drying my hair so I would look drop-dead gorgeous, like I always do, for my new job! Ah, I kid, I kid...I blow-dry my hair every morning so I don't look like a hobo!

ANYWAY, as I was drying my hair I noticed one stray strand of bleach blond hair on my forehead.

Yes, I color my hair.

First of all, I live in California...and EVERYONE colors their hair in California. Second of all, my sister in law is a hair dresser...and I'm blessed enough to get the family discount. And, NO, it's not to cover the grays! Who told you that? They're lying to you! Lying!

So, as I am blow drying my hair I notice this stray strand of bleach blond hair and I run my brush across my forehead so the hair can get mixed back in with all the other hairs.

The hair doesn't move. It doesn't even budge.

"Hmmm, that's strange," I think. So, I repeat my actions, running the brush across my forehead, only this time trying to get underneath the hair to grab it and put it back where it belongs.

Same thing happens again...the hair doesn't budge.

Now, I'm no dummy; but, I've also heard the old mantra, 'third time's a charm', and so I give it one more go-ahead.

Still, nothing. I have one lone lost hair stuck to my forehead.

At this point I turn off the hair dryer and lean in closer to the mirror to inspect this stubborn hair more closely and that is when I made a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad discovery...

this was no stranded hair on my forehead...

this was a WRINKLE!

OH FOR SHAME!

I made a very, very strong pot of coffee that morning...and wore lots of extra makeup! Yeesh!

I think it's very fitting that this is my hair dryer:

I'm going to France alone?

Thankfully for me...and maybe to your disappointment, I can't really think of any Missyisms that occurred to me during my trip abroad. My poor little sister, though...it is so apparent that we're related as Missyisms galore tormented her! I don't want to bust her out; so, I will keep them to myself. But, believe you me, I felt enormous sympathy for her, and tremendous relief and amusement for myself! She's a sweetheart, though. She was my side-kick, my little buddy and my roommate on the trip. She scratched my back and I scratched hers.

Come to think of it, I scratched her back an awful lot but I don't think she scratched mine once...hmmm....

I have to tell you this one little story about my dear, sweet little brother. The day we left for France was a little crazy and there was a lot of excitement and stress. We had a 5 hour car ride to the airport and we left the house 30 minutes to an hour late! Oh for shame! Where was the 'S.A.' there, dad?!?! Huh? Huh?

Ya see, I can kid him like that because he lives on the opposite coast as me...and he never reads my blog...so, I'm safe!

There was a recurring theme on our France trip, which was my Dad constantly lecturing about 'S.A." Situational Awareness.

Fun.

(It really just turned out to be code for, "I can't multi-task; so, just leave me alone for a minute until I get this (S.A.) figured out!")

So, we leave for the airport late...not good S.A. About 3/4 of the way to the airport my dad starts giving us instructions. He tells my brother, sister and I that he is going to drop us off at the airport, curbside, where we are to get our boarding passes while he goes and parks the car. He then tells us to make our way through security and go to the gate, where we will meet him. This all sounds good to me, I am an airport pro, after all!

I didn't realize he was about to drop a bombshell.

This next part is where I, a 29 year old female, almost had a full fledged heart attack! My dad, in a tone that resembles the way one speaks of the weather, tells us that if he does not make it to the gate in time that we, my little American brother, my little American sister and my American self are supposed to board the plane and go to little French Paris... without him!

O M G!?!?!

BACK THE TRUCK UP!

Excuse me? I'm supposed to head to this foreign county where they don't speak English, where the words aren't even English words, where I've never been... with two kids in my care??? It was too much for me to take! My blood pressure surely sky rocketed to danger-will-robinson heights!

I tell myself to calm down. After all, I am a pro at airports, and I decide we will just wait for him at the Paris airport. Phew. Crisis averted. Good S.A., Missy. (I even gave myself a little pat on the back.)

My dad then precedes to tell us to head to the hotel and he explained to me how to take buses and trains and metros to the hotel and how to ask, "Where is the bathroom," but all I really heard was "wah-wah-wah-blah-blah-blah," because as soon as I heard I might end up in a foreign, scary country with out a leader, in charge of 2 kids' safety and finding the hotel, I immediately started talking to God!

We get dropped off at the airport and of course, my brother, sister and I make it to our gate and through security all with out a hitch and much to my chagrin, the plane has already started boarding.

As the gate agent is handing us our boarding passes, my cel phone rings. It's my dad. Liam, my brother, takes the boarding passes and he begins scanning them like he is looking for winning lottery numbers. I am not really paying attention to this as I am playing middle man between the gate agent and my dad hoping and praying that we don't have to go to freaken France with out him!

They seem to get things worked out, my dad and the gate agent...but the plane is boarding and he still has a long trek to make and he has instructed us to board.

Crap!

So, there we stand. Liam, Lara, and their fearless leader who is sweating like a pig and blinking back tears. Liam hands me a boarding pass. I glance down at it and notice that he handed me his boarding pass.

Before I continue, let me explain something. My Dad is an airline pilot, so when we fly, we get to fly on stand-by status because it is more affordable. Yes, this can be a little bit stressful; but, if you're rewarded with a first class ticket, the stress is well worth the pay off.

So, there we are in the Atlanta airport, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my Dad. Liam and Lara could actually care less about the situation at hand. Children, they have no fear.

I notice that the other passengers who were boarding the plane were showing the gate agent their passport along with their boarding card. So, I tell Liam that he gave me the wrong ticket. Liam begins emphatically trying to persuade me into keeping his ticket. We get into a little argument, easy to do as I'm already stressed. But, the kid won't give me, his big sister, her boarding pass! Great, I'm thinking, he won't listen to me in America, what's he gonna do when we're in Paris without Dad?

Finally, he relents. He tells me that I didn't get a first class seat; but, he did and he wanted me to have his ticket so I could sit first-class.

Awwwww.

At this point, I have tears in my eyes for a whole other reason.

What a good lil' brother.

To make a long story, well, even longer, we board the plane with out my dad...who is on his way...the gate agent has his ticket and knows he's coming...but still, nervous nelly here was twitching like she was having drug withdrawals!

Low and behold my dad makes the plane and he even scored me a better seat on the plane! I breathe a sigh of relief and pig out, because, after all, I am on vacation.

Phew!

My Dad, as it turns out, led Liam, Lara and me everywhere in France. We followed right behind him so as not to get lost, to get to where we were going, and to make sure we got fed, just like ducklings follow their parent...

Malestroit: A quaint, small beautiful town:

Le Mont St. Michel...strikingly gorgeous...an abbey built on an island to have natural protection (the sea). The whole "island" is Mont St. Michel

In Josselin, a Medieval castle:

Me thinks this one explains itself!

This was my first view of the Eiffel Tower in Paris and I made Liam get in the pic!

FUNNY PICS

Liam...posing for me...Liam and Lara were SO patient with me, never once complaining when I wanted to shoot a picture...and that's a lot to be said...I took 900 pics! :0

Liam and I...jet lagged...our first night in France in a little town called Roissy.

The 'Shaw ears' are infamous. In high school a classmate referred to me as "Dumbo" when I would wear my hair in a pony tail! Our ears stick out, what can I say?!?!

In Giverny, at Monet's garden, where I died and went to Heaven, Lara and I came across the elephant ears plant...we took advantage of the photo op:

I spent over an hour taking pictures and admiring Monet's lily pond and she never once got antsy or itchy...and, to top it off, we hadn't even eaten lunch yet! She must not have inherited my propensity to become the Wicked Witch of the West when hunger strikes:

More Trip Pics

OH THE FOOD! I MISS THE FOOD!

















A brother who thinks he's a rock star = a happy, amused, entertained Missy

A Bed and Breakfast...a Chateau that is a few hundred years old!

Fragonard at the Louvre:

I'm BAAAAACK!

Here are a few pics/teasers from my trip to France.

I cannot keep the time nor the day of the week straight and have made 15 typos writing these 30 plus words; so, I must wait to post ground-breaking, earth-shattering writings that will blow you away, leaving you feeling as though your life is complete.

Le Boat:

Monet's garden, where I literally died and went to Heaven:

Beautiful:

Liam, Lara and Missy; climbing the Eiffel Tower...can you say OWW?!?!

Last but not least, it wouldn't be France with out escargot!

BONJOUR

I am in France! I will have many exciting tales to report, as well as some new Missyisms for ya!

So, please, check back in a couple of weeks! Thanks!

:)

Our family celebrated the fourth of July on the third of July...we like to be punctual. After the fireworks show, as tradition dictates, we go inside and devour dessert.

The last three weeks of my life have been a lil roller coaster ride...and in case you did not know, on what was supposed to be my last day of employment, because I got laid off, I got a job offer and promptly began the new job the very next day.

Needless to say, after fireworks on the third of July I helped myself to a serving...or two...of every dessert available! Apple pie a la mode, brownie sundae...mmmm, mmmm, good!

When people eyed my plate horrifically, Dave, with out missing a beat, reminded my gawking family members that I had had a stressful week!

Then, the very next day, Dave...'the Man, the Myth, the Legend', suggested that we take a spontaneous trip abroad...

...and so we did!

This is how we felt when we left:

But, after one second of this:

We were at peace!

Yay for short get-aways!

This little light of mine

I'm gonna let it shine

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Ain't gonna make it shine

Just gonna let it shine

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Sucky Lessons Learned

4 days; 3 interviews; 2 evening presentations; 2 day-time presentations = 1 exhausting week!

I have had friends who have had to go on interviews; I have had friends who lost their job. I was always, ALWAYS the first one in line saying, "You'll be OK, everything will work out," or, "It's for the best," and, "Hang in there." When it came to interview advice, same thing, "Don't be nervous, you're gonna do great!" or, "Give it your all, be yourself, you'll be great."

I didn't realize how unhelpful all of that crap was until the last few weeks!

Interviewing is freaking exhausting (emotionally) and it's nerve racking! I have this large inner dialog with myself where I try and reason with me and talk me out of being nervous. It doesn't work. Freaken inner dialog!

Additionally, in my head, I know I am going to be fine and that this lay off is not the end of the world...I'm kind of tired of people telling me that, though! (I am only partially kidding.)

I have learned that there's a lot to be said for a little sympathy!

When I told my father that I got laid off, he sounded as though someone punched him in the gut, and that made me feel better! (I know, I'm a sicko)

I am very blessed as I have a lot of supportive people in my life encouraging me while at the same time being sympathetic.

Those few that weren't, those few that acted like me losing a job that I have had for 4.25 years was no big deal, was karma coming back and biting me in the big ol' fat arse, making me eat my words, big time! Oh, karma's a B****! I now more so than ever, realize the power of words...and how much I sucked when I was giving my friends those meaningless sentiments, "You'll be OK, everything will be fine," when life threw them a curve ball that gave them a black eye. They needed ice, I gave them water. Still, better than nothing; but, I have learned that those sentiments do not offer comfort!

SO! I pledge to you here and now, if something sucky ever happens to you, I promise to give you sympathy and comfort... and to help you get revenge on the bastard that hurt you! (By 'bastard' I am not implying 'man', no sexism here, folks! By 'bastard' I am referring to whatever entity caused pain.)

And, I'm not really serious about the revenge part...cause I don't want any more karma!

I've been really busy updating my resume, getting things in order, etc; but, wanted to give you some payoff for checkin' out the blog! So, for your viewing pleasure...(hope you enjoy)

Pooped after a day at DisneyLand

A long, long time ago...

Aging bodies! UGH!

What dorks ride "Space Mountain" enough times to know where the camera is...and then pose for the picture in the middle of the ride?!?!

Girls

Family

He looks how I feel when the alarm starts ringing

I'm so proud of him!

Sheesh

Sheesh, the range of emotions that I feel because of this lay off is quite surprising to me. My tummy is in knots; but, my head feels fine. I mean, I'm not too worried, in my head, about what is going to happen...but, I must be for my tummy to be in knots.

It's hard for me to fall asleep at night and then, when I am asleep, that's all I want to do. I just want to stay in bed. (I know, that's healthy, right?!)

Yesterday it hit me that I am going to have to start all over again. ((SIGH))

A slew of caring people have told me not to stress, because that's not good for my asthma and I'm in the middle of fighting a cold and fighting off my cough; so, to stress now, would be to exacerbate my asthma. What a freaken pain in the neck!

So, I have not cried and I am taking all asthma medicine that I can. I have not cried because 1) I hate crying and 2) the mucus (I know, lovely) that crying creates is a recipe for disaster with my asthma, I feel. It's the same reason I didn't let myself cry when we found out my doctor thought, in January, it would be one month before I could return back to work while Dave was already out of a job.

As I am typing all of this, it makes me feel resentful of a certain person. So, to you, person in my life who likes to call me weak, I'd like to say to you that you really have no idea what you are talking about. All you have managed to accomplish is to show me that 1) you don't know me at all, nor respect me and 2) you don't care about me. I'm not going to be anybody's punching bag. I have no room for that in my life.

I think that's about all for now.

Laid Off

This week I was informed that I (along with others) am being laid off from my job. Thank you California economy! (I hope the sarcasm does not taste too bitter.)

I knew this was a possibility and unlike last year, I stayed quite optimistic and had faith that whatever was going to happen, was going to happen, that it was out of my control and that I'd be OK no matter what. I decided that in the mean time, I would do my job to the best of my ability and if I did get laid off, I would have no regrets.

It still didn't soften the blow.

Have you ever had something happen where the ensuing quiet seemed excruciating loud? The air in the room bangs on your eardrums and it's as if you were in the front row at a KISS concert.

I have so many mixed feelings.

#1, of course I'm bummed. I have grown quite accustomed to seeing certain familiar faces 40 hours a week now for four years straight. I will miss certain people.

#2, of course I'm stressed about money. When you don't live with mommy and daddy anymore, stressing about money is just one of those realities, right? Or, am I doing something wrong?!

#3, there is a teeny, tiny part of me that is excited, anxious, to see what the future holds for me. I hope and pray that, like my Mom said, I am on to bigger and better things! I hope that whatever is next in store for me is something that I truly love and something that makes me uber happy.

I guess it's that #3 that keeps me going.

Easy Peasy Chicken Fajitas!

OK! Since I successfully pan fried chicken for the first time ever (Go, Me!) AND the meal didn't make us sick, was affordable, healthy (to my standards) and tasty I am going to share with you, my folks!

First, you need a good, strong helper who isn't afraid of fires and hot oil. A helper who laughs in the face of danger!

Here is what else you need:

For this recipe, you will actually need 2 bottles of Italian salad dressing, you'll use the other one later. And, soy sauce...but, I don't have a picture of that, sorry!

To make this meal healthy, we need veggies:

FYI, I cut those green peppers, red peppers and onions all by myself. For your information, I had never cut an onion before this night. For your information, I did a pretty good job!

Ya also gotta have some refried beans:

To make said Chicken Fajitas, one must cut up defrosted, thawed, (whatever) chicken and marinate in 1/4 cup soy sauce and 1 bottle of Italian Salad Dressing. I don't care how little or how long you marinate it because this is easy, simple and care-free cookin' Missy style! But, if you must know, my chicken marinated for at least 4 hours.

Before you pan fry the chicken (yes, I know I could have just said, 'before you cook the chicken' but since this is the first time I successfully pan fried chicken, I am going to keep saying, 'pan fry' mmmmkayyy???) dump it in a strainer in the sink and let the marinade drain down the sink. I was told not to pan fry chicken in the sauce used to marinate it. Something about salmonella and getting sick.

Put a lil' soy sauce and Italian Salad Dressing in your frying pan (I used it in the chicken frying pan and the veggie frying pan) and start cooking at MedHigh heat. I, because I'm finicky, toyed with the temps a lot and I stirred the veggies gently and the chicken every now and then...'every now and then' is my technical term: KISS (keep it simple silly; remember, this is Missy, we're talking about , here!)

Look at me go! No smoke! No flames! No fire! AND, I'm taking pictures!

WHOOP WHOOP!

After the chicken pan fried (haha) for 15-20 minutes I cut into a piece to make sure it was done (I didn't want to see any pink):

And, then, eat...eat to your heart's content...

I know this is dorky...but, that's what I am, dorky...dorky and proud of it!

If you try this, I hope you like it. My mom made these chicken fajitas when I was growing up and I just love them and now, so does Dave!

Picture Worth A Thousand Words

I ran an errand with my sister-in-law who has two little boys, ages 3 & 5. This is what her shopping basket looked like: (I found this quite humorous)

Berenstain Bear Books. $10

Cool outdoor plates for kiddos. $5

Big bottle of Margarita Mix. PRICELESS!

Hey! You know what they say...If Momma Ain't happy, Ain't nobody happy!