"Um, why is your face painted...?"

So... today.  I have a clown gig.  Except, it's not just the run of the mill birthday party or church function.  Oh no.  Ms. Mary E. wanted me to deliver a fruit basket to her husband in the nursing home.  Now, Marty has dementia.  He does not know who anyone is.  I thought it was such a sweet gesture.  I go pick up the fruit basket and then drive out to Mary E.'s retirement building and meet her in the lobby to pick up a card for Marty before heading over there.  All the little old ladies sat in the lobby and cooed about how cute I was.  Of course I was cute.  Anything painted with pink hearts is cute, right?

They inform me that Marty loves the ladies.  Several times.  I assure them that I'll be cute and give him a hug goodbye, and then call Mary E. for a report when I'm finished.  So, mission initiated.  I arrive at Marty's nursing home, feeling pretty good about all the old people smiling at me.  It was by far one of the more rewarding clown experiences thus far.  I arrive to find Marty getting his nails filed by a a woman.  Obviously not a nurse.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Hello! How are you doing, Mr. Marty?" 

Marty: "Doing pretty good, whatcha got there?"

Me: "Ms. Mary E. sent this for you! Isn't it nice?"

Marty: "Yeah that's great! ... my ex-wife."

Me: *awkward pause*

Other Woman: "I'm what you would call the other woman."

Me: *another awkward pause* *forced laugh and obscenely large smile.*

What. The. Heck. Who introduces themselves to a stranger as "the other woman"?  Especially when said stranger looks like this:

Meanwhile, I run late for everything, so I didn't have time to change before class. Period.  I didn't even have time to pee.  So... I most definitely attended my last class of the year like this.  In addition, I was rockin' striped tights, a polka dotted skirt, hot pink tank top, and black patent shoes with bows on them.

Yeah. You wish you could be as cool as me. 

... and I wonder why I don't have friends.

Kidding.  

I have amazing ones.  Who even choose to walk around campus with me dressed like this.  Yeah, Ashley you're awesome.

Now... I will finally go remove paint from my face. 6 hours after I gave Mary E. my report.  

PS - She's fully aware of the other woman and asked me about her and talked trash on the phone afterward. Awkward. 

Epic Fail.

So today we decided to go for a hike. Just me and R dub and our three beautiful matching puppies. Despite Chelsee's warnings of a thunderstorm rolling through around - okay, exactly - the same time we were planning on going. We get there around noon. About 40 minutes in we're doing good. Aside from the whole Deliah rolling in poop thing. But... these things can be corrected.
It starts to rain. Now, last week it rained on our hike. That's fine. Whatever. I can handle a little wetness. Then it starts to rain. And we know my dog is a pansy. He starts shaking. We're not even halfway through the 5 mile trail at this point. We get to a road. Finally. We're both completely soaked at this point. It's cold. There's no one else in sight. Because they all have brains and have chosen to leave the park. Mentally healthy people don't go play in the thunderstorm with 3 dogs.

We decide to take the road back. Because two and a half miles of muddy rocky trail does not sound like it's going to work at this point. Our dogs are beginning to resemble drowned rats. We set out on the road, completely unsure of where we're going. But there! There's a shelter! A park map perhaps?! A car is parked, and we see two people in the shelter.

We approach said shelter slowly, an eerie music floating through the air and slowing our approach. Who are these people? And why are they on top of the picnic table in lawn chairs? We tossed around several ideas. KKK? Satanists? Polygamists? Naturally, we look for the best in people.

Choking on smoke as we approached, I asked them if they minded if we stood under the shelter for a minute, and explained that we were lost and hoping to find a map. She explained that we should take the access road we had passed coming off the trail and head to the right to get back to the road leading to where we were parked. So we make a quick exit and walk up the nasty gravel road. We make it to the end and find ourselves on the highway. Obviously we can't walk three dogs along a main road with no walkway. So we turn around and try to plan another course of action.

Passing back by creepy polygamist people, I suggest turning off the main road again in the direction we needed to go. We begin winding around into nowhere, discussing being chased by polar bears. Then Rachel injured herself. I threw her around my shoulders to protect her bum ankle, all three dogs pulling on my arm as I walked 7 miles uphill. Then came the earthquake.
Okay not really. But we really did walk forever down the windy wet road, and eventually come to our trail. I made the call that we should pick up the trail there and take it back to where we began. Again, epic fail. We walk a ways into this trail and have the deja vu feelings. Not entirely okay with this. Finally, we sit on a muddy rock on the hill and plan our course of action. I call some people and have my roommate look up the number for the park ranger. No dice. No one was available to help us. The recording suggested calling metro. So... we did.

An hour later we still hadn't gotten a response from metro. We were cranky, cold, and our girly puppies were horribly miserable. Desperate, we call 911. To be hung up on because we were not in a life or death situation. Whatever. We call Kim and Susan, and they agree to rescue us. Of course, several minutes later, Metro finally returns our call, and we cancel our ride, choosing instead to let the cop pick us and our drowned rat dogs up.

We wait, sitting on a big rock, letting the dogs hang out. The rain has begun to let up and we're freezing but relaxed. Then Laney jumps into the creek and emerges covered in mud. At this point all we can do is laugh at how absurd our situation is.

The cop arrives, we load all our mud and stench into his back seat and accept his ride back to our vehicles. Drenched, cold, and tired, three hours later, we headed back to Kingston Springs, where Kim and Susan took us to get some Chinese, then made us brownies. Here I sit on the couch, finally completely warm and comfortable, 5 dogs cuddling on the couches and chairs with us. All in all, we came out unscathed. We just looked like this:

Here They Are...

A few more pictures from the photo shoot... 

Don't Let The Weasel Pigs Bite!

I love kids.  I love babysitting.  Seriously.  Quitting serving to chase babies was one of the best moves I've made in a while.  No, I don't have as much money.  But I have my sanity.  Shut up, I do.  I am a lot meaner when I'm hustling tables.

I actually think I'm going to miss this gig when I have to get a big girl job.  I can handle the digging for worms, playing endless games of Dora Candyland, watching obscene amounts of Disney channel, and even changing diapers.  Pretty sure I've developed a mom-like tolerance for bodily fluids at this point. 

I can even handle juggling dozens of bedtime routines.  I like reading stories, or letting the older kids read to me.  I don't even mind getting showed up at Xbox or various sports by 5 year olds.  Being able to have picnics in the yard, eat mac & cheese and hot dogs, chase butterflies and bunnies, throw balls straight up just to see how high I can make them go, and listening to 5 year olds play songs on the piano that they have picked out themselves is worth the occasional awkward family or baby that won't stop screaming.

 It keeps me in check.  It's hard to take yourself too seriously when you're making caterpillars out of Floam or hiding out in a castle of couch cushions and blankets.

What. The. Heck.

So somewhere within the past few months I got really stupid. Now, those of you who have been around me longer know that there is a general spaciness that I have always owned up to... I like to think it's endearing.

This goes into an entirely new realm. I'm going to blame my recent bout of idiocy on the stress of doing 837 things at once, all the time. Just because it'll make me feel better about myself. Just a brief sampling of a few shining moments...

1. "Losing" my camera. I spent hours looking. Tore apart my disaster of a vehicle, looked under every seat. Called Belmont's lost and found, campus security, filed a report with the school, etc. Resigned to purchasing another camera, I return to my apartment... to find it on the couch. Where I left it after I uploaded the last set of pictures a couple days ago. Still attached to the USB cable.

2. I stop to get gas this morning. I remember to return the nozzle to the pump. Doing good. I get in the car and get on the highway, and realize that my computer is no longer on the seat beside me. I fly into panic mode, pull over... to find it under my purse. On the seat. In all it's bright blue glory, right where I'd left it.

3. Yesterday, I'm leaving the office to go to a meeting. Apparently, I left the door unlocked, because I most definitely got chewed out this morning by bossman because a songwriter was sitting in the lobby hanging out when he got here. Luckily said songwriter friend got here shortly after I left... or we might be out a few more beers.

The list goes on and on. M has referred to it as "pregnant brain"... I only wish I had that solid of an excuse. So please forgive me for my stupidity... if my theory holds, they will decrease in frequency come August.

Mud, Sweat, and the Mafia...

I hate working out.  A lot.  Basically it's the process of going to the gym.  Probably because it's outside and I don't have to be in the presence of those "gym people".  Or the bacteria-ridden equipment.  However, hiking I can do all the time.  I get to be outside and be with friends and my dog and spend as much time as I want playing in the woods.  Four of us hiked Saturday morning, pit bull and basenji pulling us the entire way.  The last 2.5 miles were definitely in the rain, and basically, I didn't care. It was still fabulous.  Even though I had mud up to my knees and both dogs had a panic attack.  Apparently they melt in the rain - must have some gremlin in them.

Yesterday was even more perfect.  Nicole joined us for our incredible Sunday morning routine, which was followed by Tony's senior recital photo shoot.  Here's a preview of the results...

Mafia much? Godfather style rings and all...  

And there might be nothing I love more than Sunday afternoon cookouts.  My life is good.

Is it strange...

... that I have to fight my dog for my pillow every night?

Snakes, Snails and Puppy Dog Tails...

From A 5 Year Old Boy's Mind: Wildlife adventures in suburban Tennessee.

1. Lifting up every single rock in your yard and your neighbors yards to see what lives under them is clearly the best way to start outside time. (PS, Tennessee has some of the largest critters you've ever seen.)

2. Big black birds sit on the other side of the fence and plot attacks against unsuspecting robins.

3. We HAVE to put birdseed all over the lawn and in bowls on the deck or every bird will starve. 

4. Sitting on the deck and screaming "TWEET TWEET!" to the tune of Mary Had A Little Lamb will make the birds come join our picnic.

5. Planting a feather in a pot will grow birds.

6. All "big orange bees" (aka wasps) can be defeated with daddy's hat.

7. OBVIOUSLY holly bushes are too prickly for robins to make nests in, so it doesn't make sense to look under them for robin eggs. Duh.

8. Hot dogs in ranch dressing and a peanut butter sandwich is the best lunch ever.

9. The big black bird with a bluish neck is a nickel. Definitely not a grackle.

10. Striped plastic dinosaurs must have an afternoon snack of hanging ferns before you can lay down for your rest.  Which by the way, is "stinky".

The Taxman Cometh. Or H&R Block Cometh.

I don't know how to do taxes. Therefore, I just... don't. This year the economic stimulus motivated me. I was pumped. I was gonna do it early.

Alas, two employers couldn't get it together. They didn't get me all my 1009's and w2's until the end of March. I picked up the last one after I got back from Easter. Highly illegal, but I digress.

PS - 1099's are the devil. That money is NOT TAX FREE. What. the. heck.

I was too busy being a rock star this week to get around to it. April 15th rolls around. I wake up feeling like I've been hit by a truck. Taxes? What? I'll file an extension. I don't know how to do them. I lost a W2 that I'd spent 4 months chasing down. 

9:45 am: Walk outside to look for lost W2 in the car... it's right on the seat. No more excuses.

10 am: Should be leaving for work. Sit down and start to look at my different procrastination options.  File an extension. Do it when I get home from work? No, I'm useless at night. Crap. Let's get started. 

10:30 am: Go to H&R Block online. Enter in my name. Quit. Go to work.

10:40 am: Hear about a rapid extension service at the Ryman. Seriously contemplate going there and letting them file an extension for me.

11 am: Get to work. Feel guilty. Start messing around with H&R Block online. Enter my social security number. Quit. Check messages and make a couple phone calls.

11:30 am: Enter in a few numbers. Get $.37 back. But wait, I'm eligible for what? a $930 credit for being an independent student? Yes please. 

12 pm: Celebrate my victory. I fought the tax gods and won. 

Horrified

So I was browsing this blog and stumbled across this video. It was produced by Wayout TV, which is a Damon Wayans project. I'm not gonna post the video because it literally made me sick to my stomach, but here's a quick summary. A guy finds out his girlfriend is pregnant. She's unsure of what to do. He tells her he's ecstatic, and she starts to get excited and says she's going to call her mom and all her friends, etc. Guy gets off the phone and calls "Abortion Man", who flies over to this girl and beats her until what we are to believe is a bloody fetus flies across the screen.  Enter Guy, who says "Thanks Abortion Man, you saved my life".

It's done in the style of a Mad TV or SNL sketch. I'm absolutely horrified on so many levels.  Does someone out there really think that's funny? What would possess someone to be a part of producing that?  I'm completely stunned that something like this can be passed off as funny.  

Listening.

Sometimes my heart breaks because I feel like I'm giving up so much with any decision I make. Like it did when I started crying in class this morning for no apparent reason. I did decide to leave Nashville. Then Monday night reminded me of how much I love the music business, and how much I love things here. How much I love the music and the excitement and the live productions and the glamour. I am questioning how willing I am to give it up. How do you decide between between your dreams and your heart? I feel like they should go together. But my heart is in North Carolina and my dreams are in Nashville.

Sometimes I think I do things just because I need to prove to myself and to other people that I can. I'm sick of the distraction. I've finally achieved some level of confidence, and I know that I'm going to be alright in either place. I know what I'm good at. I know what I love. I'm trying to figure out how to turn that into a decision. I've realized that I've just been begging God to give me an answer, when I'm the one not paying attention. So my focus has shifted to listening. I'll let you know how that works out for me.

CMT Moments...

What a weird night. I was posted outside of the Miley and Billy Ray Cyrus dressing rooms. Which basically meant that I held up the wall in hallway and pointed people in the right directions, and got Miley and Billy Ray and their entourage anything they needed. Some highlights from my night:

* Running into Snoop Dogg when I got there. Quite literally. It was terrifying.

* Turning a corner to see Miley screaming and running at me with her arms up over her head.

* Watching 3 guys carry Paula Abdul down the hall, while a girl walked in front of them, pointing out anything she could trip over... it was strange.

* Naomi Judd telling Taylor Swift to "keep her head on straight"... um... okay.

* Miley's grandma asking us who EVERYONE was...

* Miley's AGENT asking us who everyone was... including Naomi... I was like um, look at that freaking hair she's a Judd. Isn't it his job to know this stuff?

* Being in the same room as Reba. Period.

* Emily West making Kenny Chesney talk to her mom on the phone. I love her, but did anyone else think she maybe looked a little bit like a drag queen tonight? Holy green eyeliner. But you should still go listen to her stuff on myspace, she's incredible.

* Running over to Belmont's cafeteria to make Miley a sandwich because she wouldn't eat any of the catering in the green room. And no one had time to go to Subway.

* Sugarland, Little Big Town, and Jake Owen performing Life In A Northern Town. Don't know how it sounded on TV, but it sounded amazing live.

* Taylor Swift doing a barefoot victory dance all the way down the hall after winning. She was so freaking spastic. But pretty cute, I suppose.

* LeAnn Rimes reprising Nothin' Better To Do after they got off stage while she and her dancers all bounced down the hall. She's gorgeous. And this song is amazing.

* "Where's Bobby Brown? WE NEED BOBBY! HE CAN'T BE OUTSIDE SMOKING!!"

* Kenny Chesney touching my shoulder and smiling at me, and me not recognizing him. Awkward moment.

* Faith Hill being a total sweetheart? What?

* Pillaging dressing rooms after everyone left.

* Miley walking out of her dressing room with her shirt pulled up asking for salt water to clean her infected belly button piercing...


That's all I got. I'm tired.

***EDITED TO ADD***

* Hearing one of Snoop Dogg's guys say that Paula Abdul USED to be hot when she had the cartoon cat with her... haha! She didn't look bad... at least I didn't think so.  What do we think?

* Nicole Kidman is flawless. And her husband isn't so bad either.

* Sara Evans needed more dress and less black hair... holy hooker.

* Tom Arnold looks seriously old.

* Kimberly from Little Big Town is a dollface.

This is how a rock star's weekend goes:

Friday Morning: Meet Trisha Yearwood.

Friday afternoon: Enter mountaintop resort. Hang out with the girls, drink good wine in the observatory, have a dance party on the porch, and fall asleep in the massage chair watching movies. (Try to not feel guilty about the fact that you passed out before you could give J directions. Wake up at 3:30am and realize she called you 3 times and feel like crap, but go back to sleep on the sleeping porch.)

Saturday Morning: Wake up and call J. Give her directions. Lay around and eat french toast until 3pm.

Saturday Night: Go visit friend who had surgery. Watch cheesy Drew Barrymore movie. Go back to The Resort and fall asleep in massage chair again.

Sunday Morning: Sleep until 10. Watch America's Next Top Model (Cycle 8 - does anyone else want to punch Natasha and Jael?) for SIX HOURS.

Sunday Night: Go to awards show rehearsal and act busy. Get irritated with hearing Carrie sing All American Girl for 45 minutes. Leave and have dinner with friend. Go back to rehearsal because you feel guilty for bailing. Realize Toby Keith is on stage and ask to go home. Return to resort and drink wine and eat cheese. Actually fall asleep in the incredible bed.


*Resort had no internet connection. Sorry I've been out of the blogosphere for a few days. :-)*

Random Installments: Episode 2

1. I'm working the CMT awards on Monday.  It's gonna be a long day and I really couldn't care less about most of it... except I really hope I get a chance to meet Miley Cyrus.  Is that strange?  I don't care, I kinda wanna be Hanna Montana when I grow up. I will totally geek out and try and get a picture.  Don't doubt me.

2. I will never understand why they have to teach me calculus.  Ever.  Nothing any teacher or anyone else can say will ever help me rationalize why I need to understand the quadratic method or derivatives or why I need to be able to find the slope of a tangent line.  Really, I cannot even get past the whole multiplying letters thing.  This is a huge amount of unnecessary stress for me.

3. My dog is jealous of my computer.  3 times last night I was sitting on my couch writing, and he would charge across the room, stare at me and whine for a second, then proceed to pounce on the top of my computer and slam it shut.  He was very deliberate about his intentions - and he achieved his goal, I suppose, because I played with him every single time he managed to slam it shut on my fingers. After I yelled at him, of course.

4. Leaving a two hour gap between my MWF classes was the most brilliant thing I have done since entering college.  Seriously.  At first I thought it was stupid because I had a huge empty slot to fill three days a week, but in reality I have these glorious two hours to sit on my butt and blog, eat, nap, facebook stalk you, do homework.

5. Anyone remember this show? It's kind of creepy now that I look back at it.  My favorite part is where they misspell "medicine".  

Eulogy

My Toyota is for real on its last legs.  And to be entirely honest, I'm ready for it to die.  It's lived a long, fulfilling life.  257k miles of life, to be specific.  So, in honor of this money-absorbing hunk of metal I call a car, here are a few highlights from its life:

2 weeks after I acquired it: A friend of mine had come from North Carolina to audition for the music program at my school.  He stays with me for the night, and we get up early to get him to his audition to find "snow" on the ground.  There was all of 1/4" - and that's being generous - but unfortunately ice created a fun little slip and slide on the way to the school.  It took on the curb and lost miserably. $1200 later, we're up and running again. I use that term loosely.  Basically, it means that the wheels spin and it stops and goes when I tell it to.

End of last summer: I'm sort of notorious for leaving my lights on.  The Toyota's battery finally

 rebelled and ended its life.  I suppose they can only handle so many jump starts before it's just too much for them to handle anymore.  I made very good use of the AAA that my boss bought for me.

Early Dec.: On my way to a friend's house.  The brake light and battery light come on.  I was fairly sure that batteries were supposed to last more than a few months, and that my brakes were in working order, so I was perplexed. I make a few phone calls.  General assessment? We have no idea, ignore it it's probably nothing.  I turn off the highway.  Toyota starts making horrific clicking sounds.  After a few blocks, it putters and chokes it's way to a halt in a church parking lot. A cute couple with a daughter about my age stop and help me and my smoking, useless vehicle.  

Christmas: Midnight.  It's dark and cold.  I need gas.  I'm somewhere in Western, NC - and that stretch of highway is in desperate need of gas stations.  I finally find one - the only light off this exit.  I pull off and make my way into a parking space.  I'm surrounded by scary mountain people, one of which is the hunched old man taking out the trash.  I try to take my car out of park and it's stuck.  It will not shift.  I call mom and her transmission-specialist boyfriend, who can really do nothing for me. Scary old trash man comes to my aid, and finds a little hidden button called a "shift over-ride button".  I still have to push this button every time I shift my car out of park.

About a week ago:  Toyota starts shuddering horribly. Even more than usual.  Oil light comes on.  I make a note to add more oil asap, but stop at my bank first.  Oil is dripping, and leaving a rainbow-trail across the rainy parking lot.  I freak out, call M and make plans to go car shopping that afternoon, and head over to the gas station to add more oil, so I can make it home.  There is no oil cap on my car.  I apparently left it off when I added oil the day before, and without a cap, the engine had spewed what was left of the oil in it all over the inside of my car.  It still smells like it's burning up every time I drive it.

So Toyota, these are the memories you leave me with.  Several other cars have left their mark in my life - you will not be nearly as missed as Jeep Comanche or Saturn.  Goodbye.  I hope you can find your purpose as a hunk of scrap metal somewhere.

Wait, have you done this before?

So there are some circumstances when you really just don't want a person who is in training to be involved.  For example, someone in a position to handle my money.  Or a lawyer, were I ever to be accused of murder.  Or a surgeon, were I ever to need major surgery.  That would be bad too.  

This same principle applies to anyone in a position to draw blood from me.  I donate pretty regularly, and have for years.  Now, granted, I'm not the easiest person to draw blood from.  I generally give people who draw my blood a heads up.  I'm not entirely sure why.  It's a pretty safe bet that they'll figure it out soon enough (I always imagine them thinking "oh really? I can't even SEE your veins without beating on your arm and tying it off with a rubber band... do you even HAVE veins?..."), but I feel compelled to share this bit of information every single time I donate.  My first clue should have been when she responded to this statement by shaking her head and saying "Woo, girl, don't do this to me..."  I probably should have been like, can I have that one? Anyone else?  Here, I'll do it myself, hand me the iodine.  Instead I laid there calmly and drank my orange juice, waiting.

She begins by nearly bathing me in iodine and betadine.  My arm now looks like it belongs on Lindsay Lohan.  After a few unsuccessful attempts to stick me, she declares rather loudly that I'm a slow one.  I apologized, because apparently I had some sort of control over it.  The neighboring nurse (I guess they're nurses? Not sure...) comes over and looks at my arm.  She decides that the problem is that the needle was not in far enough, and proceeds to push said needle further into my arm.  

I resisted the urge to punch her (mainly because I was afraid I'd knock out the needle and be subjected to a "re-do" of sorts...), chewing angrily on the straw in my orange juice. But... I survived it, didn't pass out, and rather enjoyed the excuse to have a cookie and sit for a few minutes.  And be late for class.

I am NOT, however, enjoying these track mark looking bruises on my arms and the depleted muscle capacity in my right arm (it's been FIVE DAYS)... definitely gonna be a chore hauling babies tonight.  

Random Installments: Episode 1

1. I HATE when the bottom of my jeans get wet in the rain.  It pretty much ruins my night.  I wish I was exaggerating.  I have a habit of always sitting on my feet, and when my jeans are wet and I sit on my feet, my butt gets wet, and being in class with a wet butt and wet legs until 10pm is really unfortunate and makes me hate being in International Business even more than I already do, because we all know that there are SO many other places I could be right now.

2. I babysat for a 4 year old weasel pig today.  We played with transformers for an hour (side note: can ANYONE actually make those things work? I really won't even discuss what a miserable failure I am as a transformer-fixer), until he got bored with them and insisted that I read 637 Golden Books.  By the end of the last book about trucks or firemen or something, my throat was raw, and I convinced him to choose a game.  Any game.  I needed my voice.  So, he chose "jail".  Basically, we took turns "handcuffing" each other and locking each other in his bedroom, then breaking out and running like idiots around the house.  I was definitely mid-tackle when mom got home.  

3. Southern Drivers + Rain = Stupid.  I'm not sure what it is, but there is definitely some sort of stupid switch that gets flipped in our brains when it's raining outside.  I'm totally among them.  There were some pretty substantial storms blowing through here today, and it was dang near impossible to get around.  I am pretty much always late anyway, but rain automatically adds at LEAST 10 minutes to my late-ness.  I really don't know how to explain this phenomenon.  But it's a fact.

4. I would be barefoot all the time if it was acceptable.  Which is sort of ridiculous if you're familiar with the absurd amount of shoes I own.  However, at any given point throughout the day, I will not have shoes on my feet.  Even at work.  With my suits and jackets and dresses... it doesn't matter.  I can't explain this one either.

5. This little girl is the cutest thing in the whole world. 

. 

All for cheap beer...

So this morning was hectic.  I was up early, doing school work.  I get to my babysitting gig late, and on the way in to the office stop to have lunch with a friend.  My boss calls me and asks when I'll be back to cover the office.  I was like, since when is that an issue?  We have machines for a reason.  But I got there as soon as I could.  

So I'm sitting at my desk, the phone's ringing off the hook, and one of them is from boss man's girlfriend.

"How's the office?"

"Um, fine."

"Really?  It was broken in to."

Um, huh?  I had no idea.  I did a quick scan of the office - all expensive stuff, i.e. the recording equipment, computers, CD drives, phones, and instruments are in place.  Thom shows me the door - clearly jimmied.  The dead bolt had been ripped out.  Explains why we needed someone at the office.

Their prize?

3 cans of Milwaukee's Best and a Dell laptop from 1987.

Seriously?  Why go to the trouble of breaking and entering for 3 cans of cheap beer and a useless laptop?  I could think of so many other things to do with my time.  Even as a homeless person.  If you're going to break into an office full of expensive equipment, make it count.  

I freakin' love music row.  It reminds me of last summer.  I was in a meeting toward the back of the building and didn't hear someone enter through the main entrance.  My boss finally heard something and we walk back to my office.  A homeless guy is standing in front of my desk.  

Homeless Guy: "Can I sweep your parking lot?"

Boss man: "Well, we have someone that takes care of that.  Thanks, I think you'd better go."

Homeless Guy: "Come on man, can I rake the yard?"

Boss man: "No, we're good thank you."

Homeless guy: "Can I get a drink of water at least?"

Boss man: "Sure."  

We gave him some water and sent him on his way, only to find out later that he'd stolen a couple hundred dollars cash out of my purse (I was a waitress at the time... and carried a ridiculous amount of cash on me.  I learned quick.)

Yeah, I work in the ghetto.

Crossroads? ,

So I spend an inordinate amount of time planning my future.  My mom yells at me for this, because I'm sure it's exhausting.  I have tossed around cities and jobs and general life plans endlessly, praying and thinking and trying to get the next chapter of my life mapped out.

So far, I've looked at NYC, Chicago, Nashville, Raleigh, and Austin as potential destinations. 

Yes, I have even looked into Australia.  (Which is not entirely out of the running, depending on the results of the election in November...)

I've come to the following conclusions:

Chicago: Entirely too cold.  I don't do winter very well. I am not entirely sure I can grasp the concept that people actually function in single digit winter.  I would probably not work from November to April.  Snow on the ground is clearly God giving me permission to stay in bed. 

New York: Falls under the entirely too cold for a southerner category as well.  Not to mention the fact that I would die in the city.  I like to drive and play outside too much.  But B is there. And the job market is better.  

Austin: I know I'd do well in Austin. I'd love it. It's warm, dry, and full of cowboys and live music.  The issue? Proximity to ANYTHING I am familiar with.  Which may not be altogether a bad thing.

Nashville: Still not completely out of the running.  I'm pretty established here.  I have great friends.  It's a good place to live.  Well, at least Williamson County is.  But the job market here is pretty unfortunate, and I just don't think I can play this game forever.

Australia: Aussies are crazy. Although, I'm not entirely opposed to the idea of being a beach bum.  And I might pick up a sweet accent.

Let's face it... I'm going to end up back in NC.  So what the heck does that mean?  What will I do there?  Because once I get my $90,000 piece of paper I will not be waiting tables or changing diapers for strangers. The short story is that I have absolutely no idea what I'll do.  Honestly, I'm not the best at making life plans.  I change my mind daily.  I'm emotional about it, I sometimes let my forthcoming freedom and my curiosity get the best of me.  I get so excited about what I CAN do, and want to do ALL OF IT.  RIGHT NOW.

Basically I try to do God's job, without asking him what His plans are.  

A good friend of mine pointed out tonight that every time I go home, there is something different that seems to pull me back in that direction.  A different opportunity, a different relationship - something new every trip. She's right.  This pull I feel toward home isn't an accident.  

I've got to go where I'm being led.