Keeping in touch from Virginia to Texas

After high school, I moved to Virginia, and my BFF stayed in Texas. We don't see each other much, but we talk on the phone and chat online regularly. We laugh a lot. Good times.

Don't do that!

Grumble, grumble. It was a rainy morning. I took a deep breath and decided to go grocery shopping and just get it over with already. It's my turn this weekend. Unfortunately, everyone else in town had the same brilliant plan. (It's supposed to clear up, which it is trying to do right now, and then be glorious and perfectly spring-like all day long tomorrow. A nice gift from God on Easter Sunday, I guess. Overachiever.)

As I drove around the Wegman's parking lot and parking garage for 20 minutes looking for a parking space, I told myself "don't get upset - it's fine". Let's chalk this uncharacteristic zen attitude up to the yoga I did earlier this morning. My tree pose is getting better.

I shopped. Wegman's has these new shopping carts. There are two different sizes. One is like ... picture two baskets stacked on wheels and kind of slanted out like a step-ladder. The bigger one is a behemoth version of that. I chose the behemoth for this trip. We needed toilet paper and that would take up a whole basket/shelf thingy on the smaller one. It's SO big and since the lower basket/shelf thingy juts out, you have to remind yourself that it's there, and not run into things. It's a little disorienting when you have to redefine how much space you require to maneuver through aisles, in-between people, and all the miscellaneous things like stacks of cheese on a table. On top of all of this, everyone in town is here at the same time - don't forget that patience-testing factoid.

About halfway through shopping, I remembered that I can never hear my phone ring in there, so I put in an earbud with the iPhone-answering button on the side, and listened to my Genius playlist created based on "Come On Come Out" by A Fine Frenzy. It was all light, airy, songs and I blissfully tuned out the rest of the world while I finished up. I didn't take the earbud out until it was my turn to check out. *Must remember to shop while iTuning. Much better for my mental health*

So, I paid, I left, I stepped in a cold puddle. I picked up my jeans legs, knowing they would fall down and be cold and wet on my skin in 30 seconds, but I did it anyway. Ick. No problem, almost done. The yoga is still with me.I unload. Le camry is packed and ready. I turn around to take the cart to the cart barn (I just made that up - what is that place called? The cart shed? The cart house?) and what do I see? A car. A car has been waiting for me to unload, take the cart to the cart barn, come back to the car, and leave. The nerve. That is the equivalent of tapping your foot while you wait for someone. Seriously! It would be different if it was just for a second. But I had to unload, arrange, make sure the bread wasn't getting smushed, take the cart to its rightful place, come back and drive away! All the while, this car was sitting there, staring at my backside, tapping its foot at me. You go get your own available parking spot. Don't act like this is your spot, and I'm in your way. No, no, no! I played the musical chairs game in the parking lot an hour ago, and I got a spot. I didn't cheat. This was cheating. Grumble, grumble! And look how they probably think they're so virtuous for patiently waiting for a spot to open up instead of driving around in circles like insane people. They're putting me on the spot! I've been stared at without even realizing it. I am UPset. Don't do that. Don't you tap your foot at me! So, what could I do? I blushed (partly because I'm shy like that, and partly because I was ANGERED) and hurried up and drove away. Except I couldn't hurry up and drive away! Some old lady was also being tapped at and I couldn't leave the parking lot until she finished her unloading and driving away because the toe-tapping car was holding up traffic! Not only was I stripped of my grand exit, do you know what she did? She left her cart right there. She did NOT even walk across the lane to the cart barn. Picture me rolling my eyes at the old lady, tapping my fingers at the steering wheel, windshield wiper wiping. Tick-tock, people. The yoga has left Diana. In the words of GOB from Arrested Development, "COME ON!". I hate grocery shopping. This is why we have to take turns. This is why I need to do more yoga. Grumble, grumble!

Operation Hot Mother

Le husband has been trying to make me watch LOST on Netflix with him, and I am so not into it. I fell asleep during season two/episode three last night, but I don't think he noticed. (I don't really get why they're pushing a button every 108 minutes. Why don't they just see what happens if they don't push the button? It can't be worse than being stranded on an island. I'm just saying ...)

So here are some of my faves, by category.

Favorite foreign series:

Coupling on the BBC - it's like Friends, except they have cool British accents, obv, and it's more focused on what happens in romantic relationships instead of anything like how their jobs are going (bleh). One of my favorite conversations is when the guys of the show are talking about how girls always have "tiny pants" when they start dating them, but the longer they date the girl, the bigger her pants get. HA!

Favorite drama:

Prison Break on Fox - it's the best drama ever! I watched a few seasons of 24, and this is so much better. I care about every character's storyline, and when I start to stop caring, they get rid of them - just like that! We started watching on Netflix and then we watched on PS2, and now we're all caught up and ready for the next new episode ... which is next Friday! There better be a really good ending to the series or else I'm going to have to revise this post.

Favorite comedy:

Arrested Development on Fox - it was sad when they cancelled this show. It was so under-advertised!

Buster: My Army training tells me... that this is going to be a hot mission.

Michael: What? A hot mission?

Buster: Yes. I create a diversion, and you grab George Michael and go. We need a name. Maybe "Operation Hot Mother".

Michael: No, le-let's try to top that.

Narrator: They never did, and later, "Operation Hot Mother" was underway.

If only it had been marketed better. Good thing I have the DVDs.

The Dudle

Le husband and I had to take The Dudle to the vet yesterday. All is well, but I just thought he deserved a shout-out for his traumatic experience. Last night, somebody told me a story about a dog who pees all over the kitchen when the owners leave it home alone. I'm so glad we have an awesome dog who would never do such a thing. In fact, when we go for a walk, and he smells where other dogs have peed on fire hydrants and lightposts, he snuffs and prances away. The Dudle is really civilized. Plus, he smells like my grapefruit shampoo.

Work It

My favorite thing about working out is listening to music at the highest volume I can handle without wincing. Since it's so loud, I can't tell what I sound like, and I'm in the zone, clearly, so I don't really care that much what I look like, either.

This is all fine and dandy when you have your own personal treadmill in your own private space. Since we moved, we now live above some other apartment and I feel like it's rude to run on their ceiling when we have a perfectly nice gym downstairs.

So what's my point? Oh, nothing, except now I can't sing along, or pretend like I'm punching a punching bag, or anything fun!! When Pat Benatar says "hit me with your best shot", I want to do it! It's hard to behave.

p.s. this girl has an awesome ponytail

The Mondays

I haven't had much to say lately. Today is no different. Don't get me wrong - I'm not depressed or anything. In fact, I've laughed at a lot of things today. It's just the weather! I need some sunshine and warmth STAT. Mondays are tough, but especially when it's gray and gloomy all weekend long, and all day on Monday. PLUS, the week's forecast has little gray clouds all over the place. MEH!

Le husband and I are going to Bermuda in June.

I wish it was June.

June. I just have to wait until June.

Short Skirt/Long Jacket

Okay, so I've copied and pasted the lyrics (from my handy dandy iTunes widget that fetches lyrics for me) for the verses from the song "Short Skirt/Long Jacket" by Cake. (anybody need a back-up singer for the game Don't Forget the Lyrics?!)

Can I just say ... I want this girl too?! She is awesome. Except for maybe the burning eyes part. I don't want my eyes to burn like cigarettes. (stop smoking right now if you do!!! it's disgusting pleaseexcusemewhileivomitatthethoughtofanyonesmoking)

A mind like a diamond - a girl who knows what's best? Yes, please.

The right allocations? Fast, thorough, and sharp as a tack? Yes, please. Especially in this economic climate. Where has my 401(k) gone?!

Uninterrupted prosperity? Yes, Yes, Please!

Here's the part that gets me, though. "A voice that is dark like tinted glass".

This isn't a girl. This is a woman. Now, I'm the first to admit that I'm guilty of calling everyone a guy or girl regardless of age. (4, 40, 400, I almost always just say "girl".) But, I think I'm finally going to stop that. I just turned 29, and I should try to embrace maturity. I'm a woman already by some standards (legal, I guess since I'm over 18. Fine, so make it by ONE standard.) But nobody really refers to me as a woman. Young lady, young woman, fine. I have a baby face, so people don't even think I'm over 25 usually. And to old people, 25 is young. Getting married changed me from a Ms. to a Mrs., which made me feel a little womanly. But, how often do I need to use the Mrs.? Hardly at all! (not that I'm complaining. I don't really like Mrs. ick. it sounds old. and frumpy. kind of like 29 sounds.)

So, no wonder I feel empowered whenever I hear this song on my Genius playlist. I want to be a woman who cuts through red tape and picks up slack. I want to be a woman who can handle it all and still fiddle with my hair and be girly in a womanly way.

Maybe what I need is a briefcase and a new suit. Ixnay the briefcase. I just got a new Nine West bag. Maybe just a new pair of heels and a blazer. Yes. This feels right.