The Alchemist

(Originally written and posted to my Facebook page on May 30, 2011.)

Wow! Awhile back, a dear friend posted about the awesomeness of The Alchemist. Anxious to try out my local library system's ebook check-out procedure, I put my name on the waiting list for it. What a gem it's turning out to be! I'm not even done reading it yet and am totally in love with it. To make it even better, I found out that a dear friend is also reading it at the exact same time I am! It's even inspired my next tattoo - maktub (look it up!).

I want to take the time to share some of my fave quotes with you. Enjoy!

"I'm alive," he said to the boy, as they ate a bunch of dates one night, with no fires and no moon. "When I'm eating, that's all I think about. If I'm on the march, I just concentrate on marching. If I have to fight, it will be just as good a day to die as any other. Because I don't live in either my past or my future. I'm interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man. You'll see there is life in the desert, that there are stars in the heavens, and that tribesmen fight because they are part of the human race. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival because life is the moment we're living right now."

"I'm going away," he said. "And I want you to know that I'm coming back. I love you because..." "Don't say anything," Fatima interrupted. "One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving." But the boy continued, "I had a dream, and I met with a king. I sold crystal and crossed the desert. And, because the tribes declared war, I went to the well, seeking the alchemist. So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you."

My Favorite Things - Pt. II

It's been almost 4 years since my last 'Favorite Things' post. All of the things on the original list are still relevant, but I think it's time to add some more.

1. Finding/booking travel deals
I've become semi-obsessed with finding (and booking!) the best travel deals ever in life. I'm headed to Playa del Carmen next week and secured my best deal yet! We're paying $522 total for a 5-day/4-night stay at an all-inclusive that consistently garners excellent reviews. We usually pay around $750 for the same time span and I always thought those were great deals!

2. Traveling
I guess this is sort of similar to #1. The trip to Playa will be my fourth major vacay just this year. I went to Jamaica (by myself!) in February, Cancun in April, and Puerto Rico in July. I can get used to this plan of traveling every other month. I also went to Savannah on three separate occasions this year, and to Nashville and Ohio one time each.

3. Apple products
The iPad is now my fave invention. But I also love the simplicity of Apple computers and their native software programs (Garage Band, iMovie, iPhoto, etc.). AND I'm currently still using my horrible cell (even after the contract ran out) as I eagerly await the arrival of the iPhone 5. Yes, I'm finally moving into the world of smart phones!

4. In-town living
For the past 3 years, I've lived in a trendy, in-town neighborhood. Rarely do I have to get on the highway. I can walk to so many places (but often choose not to - it's hot). The best part is that I'm only 3 blocks from a major park here in this awesome city. I mentioned hanging out in that park in my original Favorite Things list. I don't think I could ever go back to living in the 'burbs.

5. Yoga
I just made the decision to not renew my gym membership. I only used it for the yoga classes and figured there were other options out there - including doing yoga at home. Ha ha; I'm not disciplined enough to do anything at home. I'll most likely begin a new membership agreement at my old gym and resume yoga classes there. My favorite things about yoga - the room is so quiet and aches, minor pains, and extra pounds are stretched away.

6. Bacon
I'm really, really close to becoming a vegetarian. I went a whole month without meat earlier this year and the frozen meals I buy for lunch during the work week are vegetarian (and sometimes vegan). But, I can't shake my love for bacon. I prefer to eat it every day, but try to limit it to 3 - 4 times a week.

7. Crab legs
Not only do I love crab legs, but I also love how Kroger (and Publix, I recently heard) steams them for you with a liberal amount of Old Bay seasoning! I hate how they take so long to eat, but once you crack them open and get to that tasty meat...OMG!

8. Babies
I've managed to keep my maternal side at bay for a really long time. But I do have to admit that I love, love babies! I love the way they smell, how peaceful they look while sleeping, their innocence. There's no doubt in my mind that I'll have a baby of my own one day. I still feel no need to rush that.

9. Blogs
My day isn't complete without reading several blogs. Some are serious - http://blogs.ajc.com/get-schooled-blog/about/, some are quite gossipy - http://sandrarose.com/, some are educational - http://sandrarose.com/, some are inspirational - http://www.jamaicamyway.com/. I love to read what everyday people write. We all have something to say!

10. Jamaica
So this at least indirectly relates to numbers 1, 2, and 9 above. The country has mesmerized me since my first trip in 2005. Like the commercial says, "Once you go, you know." But exactly a year ago, I learned that my great-grandmother's family was from Jamaica. Hmmmmm; that may explain some things.

I just realized I can go on and on and on. Simply put, I love so many things in life. I make conscious efforts to surround myself with the things (and people!) I love. I may have 6 years left on the face of Earth or 60 - that's up to Him. But what's up to me is living it to the fullest and enjoying every single vacation and piece of bacon that comes my way.

The Word

While I have nothing against it, you don't have to head to church on Sunday mornings in order to hear 'the word'. Listen carefully; you may hear it from a close friend or even from a complete stranger. Words I heard from an author of a book I recently read made my world come to a screeching halt.

"With your blog, Twitter, and everything else you have going on, how do you even make time to write (more novels)?", someone asked during the Q & A portion of the event.

She giggled before proceeding.

I can't recall her exact answer, but it was quite profound. She said we all need to begin cutting people out of our lives and eliminating commitments that are keeping us away from our passions.

Regrettably, I then tuned completely out of the rest of the session. I was stuck on her words.

It annoys me when people say 'I wish there was more time in the day'. We have what we have, but how we choose to use it is entirely up to us. I immediately realized I'm halfway there. I've already cut many people out of my life. Many of them were amazing in so many ways, but were just not healthy for me. I just can't give valuable real estate to folks who aren't contributing to my health and well-being. But I have serious ground to make on the issue of allowing commitments keeping me away from my passions. Heck, I'm so busy with random tasks that I don't even know what my passions are.

A long-term commitment comes to an end next February. Normally, I'd immediately replace it with something else. But her words today were just the antidote I needed. It certainly won't happen overnight, but from here on I vow to analyze my commitments and keep only the ones that allow my life to be filled with experiences that provide fuel for my life, liberty, and my pursuit of happiness.

Register to Vote

All I wanted to do was go listen to jazz while drinking the random beverage that I would smuggle into the park. But all she wanted to do was go listen to jazz while holding up a random clipboard that said "Register to Vote". She won. The catch was that our impromptu voter registration drive had to take place outside of the park - but lucky for us, the band had amplifiers.

After two hours, I walked away with a handful of completed forms to turn in. I also walked away with the realization that not all of us are optimistic about Obama. Eight out of every ten people claimed to already be registered and gave me an appreciative smile. The ninth out of those ten stopped to complete the form or ask a question. But that tenth person, oh my!

There are people who actually believe that their one vote doesn't make a difference! Others say that our future is going to suck for the mere reason that our past did. A few think that Barack doesn't have a chance of winning, so why bother? The first time I got a response like this, I was blown away. Unfortunately, I got used to it as time went on. But I'll never be alright with it.

My only hope is that my words sunk in as those folks walked away. I let them in on the big secret that our past can't be changed, but the same is not true for our future. The teacher in me came out and gave them a quick math lesson - if we added up all the people that say their one vote doesn't matter, then that would equal a whole lot of votes that did matter. Because of the high stakes, I had to do this in a way that wasn't condescending.

We're almost there - by my estimate 90% of us are on board to exercise the right that our ancestors fought for. Vote for who you want, that's not the point. But while you're making that decision, make sure others around you know that their decision is just as important.

Honest to Blog

Always tired. Big Brother. Condo owner. Dad's mad. Eckhart Tolle. Forwards suck. Georgia Rose. Hazing allegations. iPhone raffle. Juno's great. Kerrie's back. Lovin' Midtown. Mac Book. Night Crawlers. O Ambassadors. Phone's broken. Quiet nights. Really single. Sigma crush. Trader Joe's. Underwear shortage. Very hairy. Without Haillie. Xerox's inoperable. Yahoo mail. Zeta burnout.



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Potty Mouth

My brother and I were taking a casual stroll through our neighborhood. He was probably 12, that would make me around 9. "I dare you to cuss," he taunted. If I remember correctly, I refused. But maybe I did; that was a long time ago.

Fast forward 20 years. While I don't resemble a sailor, I do use 'bad' words on a regular basis. Mostly I use them in the car. My poor kid. I can just imagine her during driving lessons when she's 15 1/2, screaming "Watch out, dumb a**" when someone pulls in front of her. I can't tell you how many "I'm sorry, I shouldn't called that driver a mother f****r" I go through during each car ride.

I am trying to cuss less. Part for the sake of the kid, part for the sake of my vocabulary. I just think there's other things I can say. Such as, "Observe your surroundings more carefully, you tactless, imprudent imbecile!"

I usually don't mind when other adults cuss, even when they do so a lot. But if I'm being honest, I often think those adults could also come up with other things to say.

I recently began talking to a new guy. He's got a potty mouth. He cusses a lot, but he's never inappropriate. All I have to go by right now is our phone conversations. A few days in, I did begin to wonder if he had anything else to say. Then I noticed the most peculiar thing. This man was using 'big' words just as often, if not more, than 'bad' ones! Words like "delectable" and "accentuate" came spewing out of his mouth as easily as the unmentionables.

Now that's what I'm talking about! This man unknowingly just rewrote the 'Code of Cussing'. For each 'bad' word used, one must also use at least one 'big' word!

Hearken, bitches!

Down from the Crane

I need the local newscast like a pregnant woman needs folic acid.

After years of watching Atlanta news a minimum of 2x/day, I've come to realize that like history, the daily news repeats itself every now and then.

"Let his a** f****** jump!"

That's what I screamed at the TV last night when I learned that, yet again, some crazy guy had climbed to the top of a construction crane and threatened to jump. You should have seen the chaos surrounding the attempt to get this wacko down from the crane. APD had a chunk of Peachtree shut down and even inflated one of those gigantic water trampoline thingeys.

My creator cheated me in the area of compassion. But even if I did have my fair share, I can't imagine wasting any of it on this freak. I'm so sick of f****d up adults acting like they're actually f****d up more than anybody else. Wacko shouldn't have climbed up a Buckhead crane; instead, he should have climbed into the elevator of a Buckhead high rise and visited a therapist! Let's face it, every adult on the face of this planet is messed up in one way or another. But, as adults, we need to take steps daily to heal ourselves. Attention-seeking acts like this are just plain stupid. If you want to kill yourself, go ahead. But clogging up Peachtree was wrong on so many levels.

Find your version of folic acid - prayer, meditation, a nap, laughter, a long drive, therapy, etc. - and take it daily. And recognize a construction crane for its intended purpose - a piece of machinery used to build something bigger and better than what's there now.

A sign

My grandma passed away yesterday morning. She was 91 years young and lived a full life. Earlier this week I learned she had taken a turn for the worse. I broke down numerous times and grieved for her before she had even passed. But after learning of her death, I immediately felt peace surround me. I know it's cliche, but I know my grandma is in a better place. She's with her 4 children that went before her, she's able to walk even faster than me and see even better than you. She's home, wherever that may be.

While part of me truly believed she was in a better place, another wanted confirmation. I wanted a sign that she had made it to her final destination. I actually prayed that she would come to me in my sleep, brushing my locks from my face and whispering in my ear, "I'm okay." I slept for 12 hours last night and 1 more this afternoon; I wanted to give her a large window of time to come to me.

But she had other plans.

Over two weeks ago, I met a new guy. He and I have emailed a few times and talked on the phone twice. We had already planned to meet today. But after my grandma passed I had to decide whether or not to keep those plans. After much thought, I decided to go along with it. Yes my grandma, my heart, is gone; but I still have to live. So he and I are enjoying dinner and out of the blue he tells me that his birthday was...yesterday! I've never believed in coincidences; as the saying goes, everything happens for a reason. I know that my grandma was sending me a sign. My date's birthday being the date of my grandma's death was my confirmation of her delivery to heaven.

Just as peace enveloped me at the time of her passing, may she forever rest in it.

My Favorite Things

1. A pint of half banana, half peanut butter ice cream with walnut mix-ins from Marble Slab Creamery
2. Hangin' out in Piedmont Park on a sunny afternoon w/take-out from Rolling Bones, a few bottles of wine, a comfy blanket, an iPod with a set of speakers, and a few pals
3. Fireworks
4. Receiving a card or hand-written letter in the mail
5. Visits from Kyrston
6. Uninterrupted naps
7. TiVo
8. My Cabbage Patch Kid, Selena, who I've had since I was six years old
9. Cedar Point
10. Frieda Falcon (okay, and Freddie!)
11. Ceiling fans in bedrooms
12. Drinking tall drafts with Kim and Jessica

Permanent Custody

Before, it was unofficial, just "temporary". But on Thursday it became official. Permanent custody. After reviewing the nearly five-year-old case, a judge, probably an old white guy in a black robe and bifocals, ruled that I should be in charge of her permanently.

I had a feeling this day would come. But I have to admit that I've always secretly hoped her mother would get her life back together again and petition the courts to reclaim her. When I agreed to do this, I honestly didn't think it would be forever. If I knew then what I know now, I wonder if my decision would be the same. But that doesn't matter now.

She'll loose her first tooth, start Kindergarten, get her period, have her first kiss, graduate from high school (early, I hope), and choose which college to attend...all with me as her mother. In my future, I've got dozens of boo-boo's to kiss, hundreds of bedtime stories to read, and countless pieces of advice to give. All this for a little girl who's not even biologically related to me. And I look forward to it all.

Underdogs

Appalachian State 34 - Michigan 32

Who in the **** is Appalachian State? And how in the **** did they beat Michigan?

Arguably the biggest sports story of the weekend was this monumental loss by the maize and blue; it was the first time in college football history that a Division I-AA team beat an AP Top 25 ranked team.

Ha Ha, Michigan!

And I'm not just saying that because I grew up in Ohio, therefore naturally prefer the Buckeyes. I'm saying that because I know the Wolverines had all the confidence in the world, perhaps too much, as they went into that game.

As a graduate of a decent-sized school with a less than decent-sized chance of getting a Top 25 ranking, I'm very familiar with the money-making opportunity of smaller schools playing powerhouses. Everyone knows the outcome of these games well before they're played. But the financial benefits more than outweigh the 'L' on the scorecard.

But apparently Appalachian State had other plans. They realized that not only can they walk away with a gigantic check for their football program, but also with a 'W' on the scorecard! Those boys also had all the confidence in the world. They weren't going to let a Top 5 ranking and crowd of 100,000+ opposing fans intimidate them. They were the underdogs and were proud of it.

I'm not a huge college football fan, but this story intrigued me big time. I love when life works out this way. I love how it equalizes us every now and then. After all, we're all the same really. The ASU boys have probably played the game since they were seven, same as the U of M boys. Throughout the years the talent level obviously improved at a different pace. But the players on both sides ended up with equal hearts, pride, and most importantly - confidence.

From here on out, let's all go through life like we're the underdogs. You never know what historical feat is in your future.

I Heart Michael Vick

The football player, that is. Not the guy who's 'bout to plead guilty to dogfighting charges.

I arrived in Atlanta a year before he was drafted with the #1 pick. I saw pro football here go from a simple recap on the Sunday night news report to an all-out celebration, steeped with nothing but excitement. We all know that his career didn't fully take off until '03, but from that draft day on the city was in love. I heart Michael Vick, as did many around me.

For the past 4 years, the only way you were getting a seat in the Dome was if you knew somebody who knew somebody or if you knew somebody willing to pay waaaaaaaay more than face value for a resell ticket. Not wanting to be left out, I excitedly added my name to the 10,000+ other ones on the waiting list for season tics. My number was finally called this past June, shortly before my birthday. As a gift to myself, I catapulted my Sunday plans from a six-pack and the couch to some drafts and an upper level seat in the Dome, baby!

Then the barking began.

I, like Mike, thought the latest allegations against him would just blow over. Hello! He is Michael Vick! Arguably the most exciting player in The League! Flickin' off the crowd @ a home game...nothing. Trying to smuggle something onto a plane at the Miami airport...nothing. He is Michael Vick, you know. So I had no trouble spending that kind of money on the opportunity to see this on and off the field scrambler live and in action!

No need to rehash the top sports story of the summer. Even non sports fans know the climax of this one. While we're all still awaiting the ending, it's pretty clear that he will forever be seen in a completely different light.

When you grow up in a town where every newborn baby boy is given a plastic orange and black football shortly after birth, the sport is bound to stay with you for life. I love the game. I appreciate how a player like him can elevate the game to a level a city has been craving for several years.

But what I don't appreciate is a man that does the things Mike is accused of doing. You'll never catch me with a PETA membership card, but I do have love for our four-legged, furry friends. But more importantly, I have love for the law. And in this country dogfighting is illegal and if an average Joe isn't above the law, he shouldn't be either.

I would love to see him play in the NFL again; preferably here where he started it all. But some things have got to change with him and others coming into the same status. Dogfighting, along with 'making it rain' in a Vegas strip club (that darn Pac-Man Jones!), are just two examples of activities that shouldn't be done by anyone, let alone a pro baller - new to money, new to fame, new to scrutiny on a national, heck international, level. Just as many professions, including my own, provide mentors to newbies, pro sports leagues should too. Many of these players come from backgrounds where the difference between right and wrong is not emphasized, yet that difference in their actions, again on or off the field, is paramount as soon as that contract is signed.

Yes, the blame for his situation lies squarely on Vick's shoulders. He is a grown man! But for the sake of the game and the millions of fans that love it, the NFL should immediately hand these boys two playbooks - one for the game and one for life.

Diesel

I just committed the dumbest act of my adult life.

On the morning of Saturday, August 12, 2007, I had to drive from Atlanta to Macon for a sorority workshop. In the meantime my aunt and uncle were on their way from Augusta to Atlanta to run errands and drop Hai back off. They wanted to meet me at 1pm, but I couldn't leave the workshop 'til 12:15. That gave me 45 minutes to make a normally 70 minute drive. Tough, but do-able.

So after the workshop I realized that, surprise surprise, I desperately needed gas. Rushing, I pulled into the nearest station, swiped my card, and grabbed a nozzle. I went to shove the nozzle in the tank and the darn thing didn't fit! Red flag #1! "This thing must be broken!", I thought as I then decided to keep pumping. You should have seen me holding the nozzle up to the hole! As I watched the amount tick up towards $20 I noticed the other three available nozzles at that pump were skinnier. Red flag #2! "Just my luck that of all the nozzles, I choose the broken one." After I had enough to get me back to Atlanta, I finished up and started back on my way.

After exactly 1/2 mile, my car totally shut down. It had just enough uuumph left for me to steer it to I-75's shoulder. What the ****?! I got out, walked around the outside of the car, and didn't see anything. I hopped back inside, no 'Check Engine' light. "Hmmmm," as I guzzled the last of my bottled water. Then it hit me...check the receipt from the gas station.

The dumbest act of my adult life was unintentionally putting diesel fuel in my gasoline tank!

It went from bad to worse after that. 104 degrees, 2 feet away from a busy interstate, 45 minute wait for a tow truck. Then, my cell phone broke - probably from a combination of the heat and my sweat since I was using it the whole time. I gotta end this story now because retelling it is sending me back into a deep depression. But after a 90 minute tow truck ride back to Atlanta that day, 5 more days in the repair shop, and a $700 bill - my nightmare is over.

Once I was able to think clearly again, I desperately began searching for the lesson that cost me almost a month's mortgage payment. There were certainly mini-lessons coming to light. 'Look before you leap.' 'Be prepared.' 'Thoroughly investigate red flags.' But none of these lessons are worth the price of a trip to Jamaica!

So I'm going to chalk this one up to a lesson on slowing down! So what if my aunt and uncle would've had to wait an extra 30 minutes for me! (They wound up waiting an extra 3 hours!) Life already moves too fast. Now I know there's big time consequences at stake for speeding it up even more.

34D

My girl Oprah told me that 80% of us are wearing the wrong bra size. I believe her and know that I am part of that statistic. I've been wearing a 34B since I was 20 years old, but can tell by the spillage that it's just not right. I know lots of useless info, such as how to measure your boobs for the correct sized bra. But I don't have a loose tape measure laying around the house.

Last week, a co-worker announced to a group of us that one of the most exciting things she did this summer was going for a bra fitting. That served as my inspiration. So today I grabbed Haillie and we were off for a day of new bras.

Usually I hate when store associates come up to me, especially the second I step through the door. But today I was grateful for Dawn; for she would soon become BFF with my boobs. I love the uniforms at Soma. Black pants and a kimono type of top, so they can pop out one of their own camisole-covered boobs to show you that the bra is indeed seamless. Love it! So Dawn prances over and I tell her my blurb about what O says and how I'm one of them and how I need some new bras. With a smile, she whips out her trusty tape measure and measures me right then and there. Then, her - "What kind of bra do you like?" Then, me - "Um, the kind that separates, not squishes, and goes kind of low, and that's it."

Three minutes later she has six bras ready for war. We proceed to a dressing room and she shows me the proper way to put on a bra. Listen up ladies - First put both arms through the straps. Next, lean over and let your breasts fall into the cups. Then comes the tricky part, while still leaning over, reach around and use the middle hooks to fasten it. Next, stand up erect (tee hee!) and check for three things. 1. The straps - They should be snug enough to just get one finger underneath. 2. The back - It should go straight across. 3. The spillage - There shouldn't be anything spilling out of the cups. I call that the third (or fourth) boob, not cute. Please note that #1 is the only one that can be adjusted; that's Dawn's first job when she re-enters the room. Yes, that's right. I didn't know this but a bra fitting is not like a jeans fitting, where the associate asks "Everything alright?" and gives you another size from the other side of the door. Nope, Dawn gives me about four minutes to put each bra on the proper way and comes on in. I very quickly get used to her analyzing each fit. 34C - Wow look at me, errr...look at my boobs! The bra feels good, but I have spillage in a major and unattractive way (Not that anybody but me is seeing my bra these days, but that's beside the point.). The spillage is not good, I tell her and maybe we should go for a fuller, but still sexy, cup.

Then that girl crushes my spirits. She tells me that the reason I have spillage on one side and not the other is that...my left boob is smaller than my right. Oh, I want to cry buckets. I've always said that my left was lazy, kind of like a lazy eye. It doesn't wander around, but it gets aroused way after the right. The right quickly responds to stimuli like cold, wet, and a yummy guy. But the left just kind of sits there like "I'm so not interested." So now not only is it lazy, but it's also smaller than its twin. This may be just the thing that forces me to therapy.

Dawn tells me that in my situation (which is common, thank you very much) she likes to cater to the larger breast. So she leaves and returns with a (drum roll, please) 34D! Oh my! I know for a fact that I'm not going to fill up a D cup, but how many chances in life do you get to try one on. After she left I squeal and lean over. I'm in shock as I stand up and thought I may fall over, but my boobs certainly weren't going to fall out! Not only does it fit perfectly, but it looks great! Sexy even! I turn around, do jumping jacks and a head stand (okay, j/k) just to make sure it was staying in place. It was official, my true bra size is a 34D!!!

After giving her approval, Dawn brings me six more. I finally decide on a memory foam one and their best-selling seamless, t-shirt one. She even throws in a free panty (lacy hipsters, yum!), a laundry bag (complete with a mini-lesson on laundering), and a spiel on storage.

This is a win-win situation; I find comfort in knowing my true bra size and my boobs will find comfort in falling into my new bras! As for the size difference, no one's complained yet and I doubt no one ever will!

Go get fitted, ladies!

Hot Mess

If that's not a man on a mission, I don't know what is. His bicycle, in surprisingly good condition, was leaning up against the large, metal container as one of his feet rested on the ground and the other remained on the pedal. His stance allowed him to ride off on a moment's notice. Despite being surrounded by 98 degrees, despite being in the middle of a busy parking lot, I stopped. And stared. And wondered about his situation. Mess is bad anytime, but hot mess...What in your life forced you to rummage around in a restaurant's dumpster on an August day in Hotlanta? Where did you go wrong and what can I do to not go there? I'm not here to judge you, bicycle man. But I will sacrifice getting back to my air-conditioned car faster for the chance to watch your intense mission. And silently send the universe a request for change on your behalf.

My Mask

I'm going through life with a mask on. It fits flush to my flesh; there're no gaps, my peripheral vision is just fine. My body and my soul are Siamese twins; two separate entities forced together as one. I am my soul, my body is simply my vessel.

When you look at me, squint and look intensely for my soul. Look past my unmanicured nails and make-up free face. Look past my mask and find me.

Perception

"Just dropin by showin some luv, u have a great life ..c-ya." My family and friends often stop to leave comments on my space, but this one blew me away. Specifically, "u have a great life." Great, are you freakin' kidding me? I just spent most of the evening moping around the living room, pissed at the world for giving me a sucky life! I've got bills that I don't feel like going online to pay. I've got a house that I own that I no longer want to live in. I've got a full-time job that begins again on Monday that I don't feel like preparing for. Surely you agree, this is a sucky, not great, life. Right?!

Gosh I'm so wrong.

Lamar didn't intentionally school me on perception this evening, but I'd love to thank him for doing just that. He probably reads my survey-type bulletins and scopes out the pictures I post. From those and the rest of my page, he guessed it...I have a great life.

Now it's time for me to start believing that too.