New Adventures

Today is an exciting day for me. I am going to be going to a New Members Meeting with our city's local JL chapter. I am excited, nervous, and truthfully, a little scared to be venturing into new territory to learn about becoming a part of such an exciting and strong group of women.

I haven't been part of a group of women in a long, long time. I don't have very many close friends anymore, mainly due to regular life events...my "clique" of girls in high school have long since disbanded and I keep up with only a few of them via email and Facebook. I became close with a couple of girls during my college years, but no real lasting friendships. I have one best friend who I met when I was 21 and I love her to pieces - the infamous "Chelle" that I mention in posts. Through her, I met some other great girls that she's known since high school and they are wonderful women to be around. And of course, I have my great work girlfriends that make my work days happy - shout out to Frick 'n Frack! And lest I forget, I have my family - my cousins and SIL.

One of my work friends has encouraged me to join the JL for a couple of years now and I am finally taking her advice. I really feel like I need the chance to branch out and meet new people and families...people who are in the same place as me - recently married, in newer careers, and thinking of starting families or have young families. More importantly, I want to give back to the community that has given so much to me.

Volunteerism is such an overlooked and vital part of life, whether it's doing something for someone you know or doing something with a group for a larger organization. It's something that I haven't done on a regular basis and now is the time to do it - no full-time kids and a supportive husband who is busy with school work and won't miss me too much.

It's a win-win...not only do I get to help people by volunteering, hopefully I'll meet some new friends in the process. But just thinking of going to this meeting alone makes my palms sweat...

Say a little prayer! :)

Waiting For Spring

It is cold today here in SC. The wind is gusty, making it even colder, and wreaking havoc on hair, which is why mine is pulled up in a pony tail. The trees are bare, the grass is brown, and, even though the sun is shining, the whole world seems to be holding its breath, waiting for Mr.  Winter to breathe his last of the season. Unfortunately, he seems to be on a roll right now.

But sooner or later, spring will come. It always does. And I am so ready for it. I'm ready for weekends at Lake Hartwell, cook outs, Rainbow flip flops, bare feet on freshly mowed grass, boat rides, and spring thunderstorms that shake the windows but leave the world outside fresh and steaming. I'm ready to tuck away my sweaters, scarves, and all things wool and pull out some cotton and linen.

I'm ready for days like this:

And nights like this:

Come on, Spring.

Resolution Broken #1

With every New Year's there are resolutions and with every resolution there is failure. I have YET to go an entire year keeping New Year's resolutions. This year it was supposed to be the end of the cigarette.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you're out there turning up your noses, thinking I'm some white trash trailer park girl with a Marlboro between my lips, yellow nails, and the start of gum disease. Um, I am so not. I am, however, a former college student who spent a year and a half in school in Charleston, SC where smoking cigarettes was just as normal and acceptable as joining a sorority or surfing at Folly's. But since I'm now in my mid-twenties and generally unhealthy, I came to the conclusion that smoking was just adding to the entire demise of me as a person. And the thought of yellow nails scared the crap out of me.

So as of January 1st, I quit.

Except I really haven't. But I have cut back quite a bit, as in, now I just bum off family members and co-workers when I am having a nicfit. I am now down to 2 or 3 ciggies a day, which is good since I had pretty much turned into a smoking chimney right around Christmas time.

Save your judgement. I don't have yellow nails or halitosis yet. And it's only February. I still have 11 months to make good on my resolutions.

Fever

Everyone in my life seems to preggers. Or post-preggers. From my sister-in-law who is close to her third trimester with baby Brayden, to Chad's cousin-in-law who is due any minute now with baby Emerson, to friends from high school and college who have recently given birth to beautiful little mini-thems who are tiny and perfect...it was only a matter of time before I got the fever myself.

No, Mom, we're not trying for a baby. Yet.

But I did put a picture of Chad and me together...just to see...and this is what came up:

Hmmm....

Two Thousand & Ten

I haven't blogged in a while. There are many reasons why, but really, I just didn't have the time to devote to doing what I love to do the most - write. Luckily for me, my time in these past few months have been spent with the people I love the most doing various holiday things...pumpkins at Halloween, turkeys at Thanksgiving, a glorious Christmas filled with surprise and our real Christmas tree, and topping it all off with New Year's this past Friday...complete of course with collard greens, black eyed peas, and corn bread, made by my mama, as has been the tradition in our family for years and years.

I like tradition.

In taking a break from the blog, I have reevaluated why I'm writing in the first place. To be funny? To account for important events in my life? Or to be popular in the "blogosphere"? I have struggled with these questions because I want to be on here for the right reasons - not to say that I ever gained popularity in the blogosphere by any means! The blogs that I love the most are the most simple and tell the best stories. They keep it real.

I like to keep it real.

I am excited about two thousand & ten. I have a lot of resolutions, some which I will probably not keep and will look back and feel like a failure when the clock ticks to 2011. I think that's pretty much the case with everyone. But hopefully this year will be more about conquering than failing. And I am in charge of keeping an account of it.

I'm glad I'm back.

Week Off...

Today is my last day at work, which is great because at any point I do believe I could make my head spin around, a la Linda Blaire in that movie. I am taking some much needed time off, which included a jaunt down to the family beach house for several days of fun in the sun with my hubby and Jake 'n Lucy.

BUT I will return, filled with stories about going apple pickin' at a beautiful orchard, etc.

Y'all have a great week!

We Broke A Promise

Because I was all, "oh, we haven't put ANYTHING on credit cards all year," I felt really guilty and compelled to let you in on something...Hubby and I had to put two things on a credit card this month.

I am feeling your judgement, trust me.

However, I must explain because even though the situation could have been avoided if we had followed Dave Ramsey's $1000 emergency fund plan, we did have a pretty good reason.

Because Chad is going to school on the GI Bill, we depend on our government check every month. Which sucks. Depending on anything for money sucks, but being dependent on a large dumb machine run by crazy beaurocrats in Washington for money to pay our mortgage really, really sucks. Hilariously (not really), Chad was able to switch to a new GI Bill program, which means better benefits for he and our family, but guess what? Our family didn't have the almost $1200 it normally has to pay bills every month.

Uh, yeah. How did we eat? Well, we did (and well, I promise), but in addition to being short on regularly planned money, we also had to spend more - as in $415 more for college text books, or as I like to refer to them, the "highway robbers." Cue Chase to step in and save the day. At a ridiculous APR.

 Oh, and the second purchase? Evidently, you need good anti-virus software for your laptop and when ours began giving us really creppy messages, like "if you don't install this anti-virus program, your computer will shut down, rendering you useless in today's society" we caved and purchased Kapersky 2010. So another $80...yup, we spent it.

Don't worry - some of that money will be going back on our credit card when the money comes in - this week to be exact! I just wanted to let people out there struggling with finances know - sometimes you slip up, whether it's necessary or not. Things happen. Just pick up and keep on going.

"Psyched" Out

So in the quest of trying to rid myself of the plague that is also known as OCD, I have my very first psychiatric appointment tomorrow. Anxiety Level - 150%. Concern over what to wear so that I don't appear to be crazy - 98%. I may be slightly nuts, but by God, I am going to look good. I would rather be the well-dressed crazy than the bag lady crazy, ya know?

In all seriousness, I am pretty freaked out about going, and not just because I'm afraid a movie will be made called What About Kel? or something. I'm just scared. Like I've told y'all before, I've done the therapy thing and I know deep down that I'm going to be okay, but I feel like my whole mental illness thing has been taken to the next level with going to see a psychiatrist. It kind of sucks that they have gotten such a lousy rep, but they have. You say psychiatrist, I think Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. (I'm sorry, I don't really know what's up with the movie references in this post. But since I'm off topic and willing to go completely on a tangent about movies, hubby and I saw Forgetting Sarah Marshall last night and it was hilarious. Seriously. Rent it. But be prepared to be bombarded with crudeness and bad language. Such are the ingredients of a wonderful Judd Apatow movie. Love him. Also, the girl from "That 70's Show" stars in the movie. Why did she drop off the radar - 'cause she is so gorgeous and funny, too. If I could look like a movie star, it would be a mix between her, Megan Fox, Angelina Jolie, and Charlize Theron. Just saying.)

Alrighty, back to my post on going to see a pyschiatrist. I'm not really sure what happened up there, but whatever. I'm nervous. I need something to wear that says "Hi, I'm more in control of my mind than you think" rather than "Hi, I'm nuts and need help." Even though the latter sentence is the most accurate.

I'll let you know how it goes. Maybe I'll see Bon Jovi, a la, Carrie Bradshaw on that "Sex & the City" episode. If so, I'm totally making him sing "Livin' On A Prayer." I think that would be really appropriate.

Like The Wind

I tried not to, but I couldn't NOT blog about the sadness that struck the world last night with the loss of Patrick Swayze. I found out about it this morning reading Fox News and I must say that it put a damper on my Chai Tea Latte from Starbucks.

'Ole Patrick and I go way back, you see. He was the love of my life when I was the tender age of 5 and my semi-irresponsible babysitter let me view Dirty Dancing. That movie was my first exposure to the saga of Johnny Castle and Baby Haussmen and their love affair. Luckily, it wasn't until years later that I learned that the movie dealt a lot more with bad 80's costuming choices, promiscuous behavior, and abortions than true love, but with a soundtrack like that and Patrick Swayze's fantastic dance moves during the finale, all the bad seemed to overshadowed to the catchy beat of "Hungry Eyes."

After seeing that movie, I somehow talked my mom into buying me a poster of Patrick Swayze to hang on the wall of my playroom. As I recall, it depicted Patrick in a pair of overalls with no shirt underneath. Classy, no, but I was in love. My mom and I laughed about that today, as a matter of fact. I asked her why she thought it would be okay to buy her kindergarten aged daughter a poster of a 36 year old man and she saucily informed me that that poster was just as much for her as it was for me. Twenty one years later, the truth comes out.

Patrick Swayze - still bringing families together, one merengue at a time.

Running On Empty

So after my doctor's appointment yesterday, where I was informed that the pain on my side was not cancer, but, in fact, probably a gall bladder issue and I was to eat bland foods and take a stool softener, I really have no more words. Because of this strange pain which feels like someone is stabbing me for my love of all foods either fattening, Mexican, or both, I am unable to sleep in my normal position and thus, I have been awake for the majority of two nights in a row. Having one large dog and one tiny feral dog that likes to curl up in between your legs probably doesn't help matters one little bit.

I am tired. I feel old and rundown and sorry for myself because I haven't been putting my health first, hence the dissatisfaction of my gall bladder. So I am signing off until I have something more positive to say.

Feeling Romantic

I'm feeling a little sappy now that I'm 3 days and counting until my one year wedding anniversary. Sorry.

I remember when I was going through a bad breakup with my college boyfriend (he who shall not be named) and I knew that I wasn't supposed to be with him for numerous reasons, one being that my dad was about to threaten him with a shotgun. (I used to have questionable taste in men. I also broke up with/got back together with he who shall not be named several times before finally coming to my senses.)

 I used to listen to this song and dream and cry and pray...that God would send me the person He created just for me.

Maybe you're in a single girl situation, waiting, and really not understanding why the man of your dreams hasn't knocked down your door with his trusty steed. It's okay to wait, even though it's the hardest thing you will do. Don't forget - He is faithful.

Just A Day, Just An Ordinary Day

I'm on my second cup of coffee this morning. Work pressures are mounting as I have a project to complete today and as of right now, I am two people short. My new shoes that I was in love with at 7:00 this morning are hurting my feet and they squeak when I walk - so loudly that my boss and co-worker joked about it.

But I couldn't be happier or more content.

Sometimes ordinary days are the best days. No drama, no worry (thanks to Cymbalta  -the medication is doing its thing) - just another pretty fall-like day in my favorite part of the world. And I get to go home to the best husband in the world at 5:30. Not a very fancy home - a pretty ordinary one. But sometimes ordinary is good. Sometimes ordinary brings out the extraordinary in person.

This morning, hubby called me and asked me what a methadone clinic was. Even though I watch "Intervention" with the best of them, I am not really that up to speed on what methadone is or what it's used for or why it's so important that there is an actual clinic for it. Turns out, it is a clinic for recovering heroin addicts who use methadone as a substitute to endure withdrawals. Why do I even care? Because my husband and his kind hearted self picked up a young, pregnant girl that he saw walking on the side of the road when he was on his way to class this morning. That was her destination - the methadone clinic.

I was furious at Chad. He was ruining my ordinary morning with what I thought was stupidity. It made me worry for his safety, and, truth be told, his sanity - picking up a strange person who obviously has problems. But then I stopped and thought about it. Who doesn't have problems? Some are just a lot more obvious and noticeable than others. Some people can't help that there addictions and vices are displayed for the whole world to judge. And where would the world be if there weren't people like my husband, people who will still stop and ask if a stranger needs help?

Just an ordinary day with an extraordinary act of kindness thrown in for good measure.

Mark 12:31 (The Message)


29-31Jesus said, "The first in importance is, 'Listen, Israel: The Lord your God is one; so love the Lord God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy.' And here is the second: 'Love others as well as you love yourself.' There is no other commandment that ranks with these."

First Days

My mom says she had to walk me to my classroom every day of first grade. And that finally, when second grade started, she had to lay down the law and send me to Mrs. Darrity's classroom all by myself. I can remember walking those huge halls to my classroom, eyes on my saddle oxfords and what felt like the weight of the world on my seven year old shoulders. Oh the fear of the first day of school!

I think that same nervousness followed me through college. The scenery changed, but the nervousness didn't. First days are always scary.

Today my sister started her first day of 3-K. To say I feel that time passed by too quickly is an understatement. Chad and I went to see her last night and I watched her walk into the kitchen to get something off the counter. That little show of independence made me sad because not too long ago, she was just crawling, and then toddling, the kitchen counters still a world away. Now she is running and reaching and growing even more. If growing pains are this hard for me as I watch my sister, I can't imagine what they must be like for a parent.

I talked with my stepmom, J, and I could tell that the thought of sending GJ to school was really tough on her. So she's making my dad take her and deal with the tears that will soon follow when GJ realizes that today is going to be a little different and she's going to be taking the next step away from being a baby into being a big girl. I think Dad is just as nervous as GJ is about this whole first day of school thing.

I am anxious to see how she does on this, one of many in the waiting line of "first days" in her life. If I know my sissy, she will be just fine. It's really the rest of us, the ones watching it happen and wishing back time, that I worry about.

Good luck today, GJ!

Meds

Well, for anyone who has been following my battles with OCD and coming off of Cymbalta, here is an update:

I am back on my meds. Wow, quick update, right? Unfortunately, it wasn't because the withdrawal symptoms were too much to handle, but because my brain just can't process and filter thoughts like a normal person (but really, who is "normal" per say?). Because I feared for my sanity and my husband's sanity, I went back to my doctor and both of us decided that it would be better for me to go back on the meds and seek further help - namely, a psychiatrist.

Let fear strike a chord in the inner chambers of my heart. I am scared.

Although I am not a stranger to child psychologists (saw 2) and therapists (1 in my twenties) and am a strong advocate of getting the help you need, I have also seen "What About Bob?" one too many times and would very much like to not become Bill Murray's character, alone, with a goldfish and taking baby steps. Yeah, I know it's just a movie, but when you deal with obsessive thoughts that automatically lead you to the WORST POSSIBLE SCENARIO, you think the WORST POSSIBLE SCENARIO.

But, because I love my husband, my family, and above all, ME, I am going to chart new waters and see where that leads me as I continue my journey through OCD. If anyone out there is suffering with the same thing, please drop me a line. Support and understanding is much appreciated.

Wish me luck.

I've Lost My Sense of Style

Remember that scene in Lady & the Tramp where the Scottie dog, Jock, is explaining what's wrong with the Bloodhound, Trusty? How he lost his sense of smell? Well, I felt that way tonight at the mall, except instead of losing my sense of smell, I felt like I had lost my sense of style.

My husband is sitting right next to me and I think he thinks that the metaphor I just used is a bit ridiculous and over the top, but whatever. He was not with me in New York & Co. as I wandered around looking lost for 45 minutes. And the store is NOT that big. I seriously had no idea what to buy - not one clue. So I just bought what I came in for - two pairs of pants - BOGO. No tops, no accessories. Because I was absolutely clueless on what to buy, even though I just wrote a pretty good post on how to transition a wardrobe into fall.

It's easier for me to just write about fashion and go online and dream than to actually go out and buy real things to fit my all too real body. The actual purchasing of clothing items poses all kinds of anxiety for me, for some reason. Am I making the right decision about these shoes? Should I buy this in black or jump in on the lima bean colored bandwagon? Is this shirt cute and funky or just flat out hideous and tacky? Oh my, look at my muffin top! It gets to the point where I would much rather run away than face my demons at the register...or, more truthfully, my demons in the dressing room.

One of the timeless questions women ask is why in the world would they make dressing rooms the way they do? Isn't the point of the store to sell the clothes instead of ushering women into tiny caves with zero space, awful lighting, and three way mirrors? NO ONE deserves to see their body in a three way mirror, y'all. I would not wish that on my worst enemy. And anyone who studies their hind end in a three way mirror and still decides to buy those pants - well, you have a pat on the back in my book!

And what is up with the sizes? I feel like the sizes in stores just shrink, shrink, shrink. I would rather think that than to think the other option...that I have just gotten a whole lot bigger. Luckily, there are shoes...shoes never fail, whether you're a size 4 or a size 10. Maybe from now on, I should just skip the clothing store and head straight for the shoes. We'll see how that works out.

Career Women

Yesterday was one of those hellacious days at work where I went cross-eyed from the computer glare, had a headache that could only be cured by copious amounts of wine, and all I wanted to do was put my head on the desk in front of me and nap. Days like yesterday make me really begin to envy all those trophy wives that don't work and spend their days getting facials and driving in their luxury SUV's. You know the gals I'm talking about...while you're running around on your lunch break trying to fit in the actual eating of food with a million other errands, they pull up beside you looking calm, cool, and collected in an SUV that usually sports leather seats, an iPod that Apple still makes, and obviously a really good makeup artist because your five minutes in the bathroom trying to put some paint on the old barn doesn't even begin to compete with their perfectly applied lip liner, baby.

Everytime this happens to me and one of the trophy wives pull up beside me, I look at the reflection of myself in the rearview and just say a prayer that nobody in Wal-Mart or Target notices the straggly gray hair staring pointedly at me because I haven't had the time or money to go get my hair did. Or the fact that the five minutes allotted for morning makeup application was vetoed this particular morning (and, truth be told, pretty much every morning) in favor of extra sleep. Thankfully, Wal-Mart seems to be much more forgiving of a less put together look. Target, not so much.

The life of a career woman - how different it is in real life as compared to, say, Anne Hathaway's character in "The Devil Wears Prada." Yeah the responsibilites are real and the people in charge can be really scary, but instead of looking fabulous all the time and reaping rewards like clothing from The Closet at Vogue, you are trying to pay a mortgage and credit cards charged up on a whim and make sure the dog hair didn't get on your pants that most definitely didn't come from the Calvin Klein showroom. I can't imagine doing this and trying to raise kids, too. Hats off to my mama, who was a career woman in heels every single day of my childhood and even on into my early adulthood. And she had to deal with '80's shoulder pads and spiky pumps. At least now shoulder pads are left to history or people on "What Not To Wear" and a girl can wear some awesome ballet flats and still be considered in style.

To all my fellow career women out there...keep your chin up because I know y'all too have had days like the one I had yesterday. In our own small ways, in our own industries, in our own companies, we are doin' our thing and making our own way.

In ballet flats, of course.

A Photo

I want to tell all of you about my amazing weekend with my husband and his family because we had too much fun and I will fill everyone in later in the week, but something caught my attention this morning that can't be ignored.

All of you know that I read Nie and have talked about her and her story on my blog before. Yesterday was the first day that she released a picture of herself AC (after crash, as she calls it). I think all who read her regularly were curious as she recovered enough to blog about how different she looked and how she was working so hard to accept herself. But my heart broke into a million pieces when I saw her post that showed a picture of her and her husband, her love, as they are now, forever changed both inside and out by the tragedy that struck them a year ago. It has to be the most intimate picture I've ever seen - a woman, so young, whose former life had been yanked from her looking so vulnerably up at her husband. They aren't looking at the camera, they are looking into each other's eyes - gazing at each other as if their lives depend on it. It is the quintessential portrait of marriage, in my opinion, and it made my heart ache in my chest. I wanted to weep as I gazed upon a devotion so intense and consuming and accepting to allow for all of life's tragedies and changes, even the ones that are so deep and heartwrenching that it makes you gasp for breath.

But I truly believe, as I look at their picture and read their story, that they are not concerned because they don't look the same as they did on their wedding day. They are rejoicing because they defied the odds and are still together, a couple chosen for each other by a Loving Father before time began.

I sit here looking at this couple...my age and going through so much and I am ashamed. I am ashamed for being materialistic, shallow, and not stopping a million times a day to thank God for all my blessings. I often find myself doing what a lot of women do...comparing. Oh, her life is so much easier, oh they have so much more money, oh she's so much thinner...does it matter, really? No, not at all. What does matter are the people I take for granted every day...including my husband, whose heart is so big that it threatens to overtake him and who loves me with all that he is. In this world, so full of tragedy and sadness and imperfections, what else does a woman really need except to have the man that she loves gaze on her like she is the most beautiful thing on earth, loving her not just for the physical, but for everything else.

As my marriage to Chad comes to its first year's celebration, I pray that I continue to be worthy of his love and devotion. He is a prince among common men, a fighter and a beautiful soul that touches lives. I get angry because the sheets aren't washed or there are dishes in the sink, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that we can look at each other and share a thought without a word being said...what matters is that he makes me laugh and holds me when I fall apart...what matters is that we can sit and hold hands and be content. Or look at each other and forget about the rest of the world.

Please continue to pray for Nie and her family as they recover. Read more about their story here.

The Gap

Yesterday, I went with my husband for his orientation/registration at the four year college he begins attending in just a few short weeks. Yes, hubby's college career is halfway finished and I could not be prouder. In two more years, he will be a middle school teacher...and I will relish that day - trust me.

As we drove up to the student center where orientation was being held, I saw a young guy walking in. He was probably no more than 19, slouchy pants, devil may care attitude. You could just see that he had the whole attitude thing going on. I looked at Chad and burst out laughing. I was in my cute new Talbots shirt and capris, hair in a pony. Nothing too conservative, but definitely a lot more conservative than the tiny denim Abercrombie skirts I used to frequently sport. But, as we walked in to the building, I realized something - I am so not in college anymore, sporting the abovementioned skirt. Both of us were surrounded by...kids. Pretty, young girls in short shorts, guys sporting their Hollister and American Eagle best. Chad and I stuck out like a sore thumb...an "old married couple" in a sea of hormonally charged children. These kids were there with their parents to start out this new life journey...Chad brought moi, his wife.

We sat down at a table with a young guy and a lady I presumed to be his mom (she was either his mom or he was into older women). Some of the student organizers came up to introduce themselves and talk about their major, etc. Most of them had graduated high school in '06 or '07. I felt like my newly discovered crows feet were glowing around these youthful creatures. These kids were in fourth or fifth grade when Chad and I were receiving our high school diplomas. For some of them, this was probably their first presidential election (and yeah, it was mine, too, but that's only because I became interested in politics later than some). They are all about iPhones, iPods, and PS3's. I tried to work an iPhone at the AT&T store and finally just put the dang thing down it was so confusing. To these guys, it's second nature.

I sat there looking at this fresh faced group and started remembering the girl that I was when I was in their place in life and even now I find myself praying that their decisions will be better than some of mine were. I see their carefree innocence (or ignorance) and it makes me sad because those days are so fleeting and then they are in the "real world" - which can be a cold and lonely and EXPENSIVE place to be. Mom and Dad may have accompanied them to college registration and may be footing the bill, but after this last hurrah, it will be up to them to make the right decisions. I mean, it's just not cool to have the 'rents show up at a post college job interview, y'all.

I wish that the administration had allowed me to say a few words...a college grad four years out of the gate. I would have told them these things:

1. Ladies, don't fall for every cute boy you meet. Don't get all worked up over it. It's all going to work out when it's supposed to, not one second before.

2. Guys, stop the nonchalance and stupidity. Focus on developing character and morals. It may not be the "cool" thing to do, but a good man to a good woman you will be because of character you develop now.

3. Don't sleep with everyone just because "you're in college." Time doesn't stop because you've decided to attend a four year school with on campus housing. The decisions that you make will haunt you for the rest of your life (and you're just at the beginning of it - you will have many years to mull over why you were so dumb).

4. It really is okay to like to learn. That's why you're at an institution of higher learning, after all.

5. Don't pick a stupid major unless you intend to live off Ramen noodles or the government. You will be kicking yourself in the butt when you are starting all over at age 22 because you felt compelled to major in German freshman year.

6. If you can, work while you're in school. It shows that you have drive and will also come in handy when you need beer money.

7. Don't start smoking. Yes, it relieves stress, yes, it feels GREAT to do it and it's a very social thing. But when you reach the age of 26 and still sometimes crave that ciggie and then that ciggie makes you unable to breathe during Jazzercise with women in their 70's, you will feel like an idiot.

8. Don't take advantage of your parents' generosity. Call them, bond with them - take. their. freaking. advice. When you end up living back at their house with your sweet 'lil diploma, you will be thanking them profusely for their everloving kindness and hoping they don't kick your sorry jobless butt to the curb to live amongst the vagrants.

9. Don't forget about God. In the Sodom and Gomorrah of college, it's really REALLY easy to forget. Or to just ignore. Don't make that mistake. There will be some days when you have never felt so alone. You need Him.

10. Don't fall into the habit of napping all the time. Four years later, I still want to sleep at 1 pm in the afternoons.

11. DO NOT USE CREDIT CARDS FOR ANY REASON. You will be paying for those jeans at 23% interest for the next 10 years of your life. The guy you're trying to impress won't even notice them anyway. DON'T DO IT!

And this is my advice for all those iPhone texting kids I saw yesterday.

Spanx you for asking

My Spanx are cutting off my ability to breathe. Perhaps they shrunk in the wash, perhaps I have expanded in the three years since I first purchased them. I don't know. All I know is that I finally understand what Scarlett O'Hara meant when she was laced up and on her way to Twelve Oaks for the barbecue..."I don't know how I'll get through the day without belching!" I feel ya, girl, I feel ya.

If anyone out there doesn't know what Spanx is, please visit www.spanx.com and then punch yourself in the face for missing out on this wonderment of an undergarment. Not quite a girdle, but more than just a pair of panties...they truly will change your life. And your respiratory patterns. They smooth, they hold the pooch in, and they don't show through clothes, such as my light cotton capris that I tried to wear WITHOUT Spanx last night, but after popping a button and stretching some (semi) important seams, I donned the Spanx underneath this morning and went on my way.

So despite not being able to take deep breaths and making funny noises when I'm in the bathroom because they are NOT easy to pull back up, I am looking good today. Thank you, high rise mid-thigh shaper from Spanx. I would have split my capris without you.

The Weaning

It's been a month and a half since my first meeting with the doctor who is helping me become ME again. I have been weaning off Cymbalta since that time and it has been going okay. I am down to 20 mg, every other day, and that will go down even more next week when I visit with Dr. A again. I think the next step, since I've done alright with every other day, is to start to move to every two-three days. Dear Lord.

Do I have side effects? Not like when I was trying to go cold turkey once upon a time. I have had an ongoing stomach ache this week that could be an ICS flare up, since it seems I have eaten nothing but salads that include tomatoes and dried cranberries and tomato saucy things even though I'm not supposed to. Shame on me. But who knew that so many of the things I love were tomato based? I heart tomatoes. And evidently my bladder does not.

It's scary to be rid of my SSRI of choice, something I believed was my sanity for so long. I hope that my body and mind will be leveled out enough for me to take on life unmedicated. I don't know. I do know what it's like when my anxiety levels and OCD obsessive thoughts take control, like a poisonous snake wrapped around my brain. It is truly terrible and oh so hard to explain. I've considered cognitive therapy if the anxiety comes back. And IT has always come back.

I must admit that I have not been exercising. I took a month off Jazzercise. Although I felt awesome after class, I was not losing weight. I plan on going back this month. I know that I will need the endorphin rush, especially if the withdrawal symptoms rear their ugly heads. I hope that I will see results when I begin again, but I may have to keep on keeping on just to keep my mind under control. Hopefully my body will follow.

And the weaning continues...