Yesterday

A coworker of mine was writing the date on something yesterday.  He turns and looks at me and says "What's today's date?" 


 I responded, "3/14.  It's Pi day." 


 He looked at me like I'm crazy and I said, "You know, like in geometry?  3.14...."  


He and my boss both look at me with blank stares. 


 As I walked away I said, 'And thus concludes the mystery of why Amanda was dateless in high school."

Problems With Song Titles

I was having a bad day (well, days to be honest) a couple days back.  And not the kind that could be fixed with a pint of ice cream.  No, my friends, the solution probably lay in a shot of whiskey.  Or 12.

But (don't worry Mom) I wisely chose not to go that route.  Instead, I decided to turn on my iPod on the way home and sing along.  Loudly.  To this song.  It happens to be one of my favorites.

I contemplated posting a status update claiming there was nothing it couldn't fix.  I even almost titled the blog this.  Until I realized that it may be misunderstood.

Why?  The title of the song is "Gunpowder and Lead."

Somehow I thought posting a status update that said, "There's nothing Gunpowder and Lead can't fix" may not go over so well.

Maybe it's just me.

But probably not.

A Year Ago...

...I had finished shoveling out my car and was dealing with the aftermath of 20+ inches of snow.

As was the entire Chicagoland area.  Which I talked about here.

Today it was in the 40's.  Earlier this week it was almost 60.  I left my apartment before 10 in the morning without a coat.  In January.

This winter we have had days that look like this:

What you can't see is that it's about 60 degrees here.  In the middle of January.

Last winter:

Yes.  This was taken at about the same location.

It's astonishing how different these two winters have been.  And, in an odd way, there was something kind of cool about going through a winter that felt like winters you always hear about.  I could kind of appreciate how much some people love winter.




Okay.


I'm kidding.



You can stop looking at me like that.

Cooking And Baking

Today was one of my days off this week.  Which means it's my one day to cook for the rest of the week.  I would like to say that this involves meticulous planning on my part.

It doesn't.

Usually it involves me sitting on the couch, suddenly sitting bolt upright shouting, "Crap!  What do I have in the kitchen?"

So I rush in, putter around, and throw something together.

At the moment I have chicken thighs marinating in some concoction that I pray tastes good.  Why?  I can't remember what the hell I put in it.  Unfortunately, if it tastes good, I won't be able to recreate it.

This is the way it always goes in my kitchen.  There's a flurry of bottles and jars.  And the end result, usually, is pretty tasty.  But I can't recreate it.  Ever.  You'd think I'd learn.

Now baking...that's an entirely different story.  I plan it out like a general going into war.  I always know how much butter, flour, sugar, baking powder, and baking soda I have on hand.  As well as chocolate chips, eggs, cocoa powder and extracts.  I measure everything to a T and take notes if I tweak it.  I can always recreate what I bake.

I'm sure there's some psychological reason to it.  And, if I had time I'd try to figure it out.  Frankly I don't care.  I'm much more concerned if my dinner is going to taste good or not...

New Year's Eve

The clock had just struck midnight and "Auld Lang Syne" was playing on my laptop.  Amy has mentioned each year that she always wanted to know the words.  So I pulled up a YouTube video that displayed the words.  As we clinked glasses and sang along, fireworks sounded outside.

In a flurry we threw on our shoes and coats.  Halfway outside Amy turned, "Are you coming?"

"One second!" My hand wrapped around the Maker's Mark bottle and we headed down the stairs.

"Ooooh...I like your thinking!"

I smiled and took a sip as we ran down the stairs desperate to catch the last of the fireworks.  Narrowly we dodged the firecrackers being thrown out a downstairs window from some new neighbors.  We walked a few more feet and hopped up on a park bench overlooking the river.

To the southeast there was a large fireworks display.  And houses all along the river shot off their own.  The colors bounced off the water.  Behind us the firecrackers continued.  It was beautiful.  And odd to be sitting outside without any snow.

I handed the bottle to Amy, "I think this will be a good year."

"Why?"  She took a sip and handed it back to me.

"Because we're starting the year off doing something different.  We've never done this before. "

"So you're saying my house is cursed?"  She laughed.

I gently slapped her shoulder, "No, you goof.  Just this isn't our usual rut.  It's different."  I took a sip and craned my neck to look at the stars.  One last firework went off as I handed Amy the bottle.

This year would be different because it already started out beautifully.

 I was at home.
With my best friend.
Drinking whiskey.
Watching fireworks.

Hiatus

So....that was a longer hiatus than I was planning.

Okay.

I didn't plan it.

It just sort of happened.

But...I'M BACK!

One Year

Wow.

It's been just over a year since I started my blog.  And, hoo boy, have things changed.

And yet - not much has changed.

When I started my blog my car was in the shop and cost me $2000 to fix (a fun story I'll be sure to share with you) I was the sickest I'd been in years, and had the world's worst sinus infection.  I had only been in my apartment for 8 months, had Norma Jeane for 5 months, and was just beginning to get my feet under me.

Now, I am happy to report that my car is not in the shop (although it was for the whole month of July and part of August - another fun story), I am not sick, am quite happily settled into my apartment as is Norma Jeane, and feel quite comfortable with my life.

Hopefully in another year my update will be just as nice.  Except, I'll mention that I'm driving a super amazing new car....

Here's to another year!

French Manicure

I am not a high maintenance girl.  I'm very low maintenance, in fact I'm practically no maintenance.  Which definitely has it's benefits.  If push comes to shove I can get ready for work in under five minutes ( (and it often does since I only live 5 minutes from work).  Also - this comes in handy because where I work my hands and nails get dirty.  In case you guessed, yes I have a terribly glamorous job.

So, it's a little shock to me that I'm jealous of women with beautifully manicured nails.

While I was grocery shopping I decided to pick up a french manicure kit.  It was only $5 and I figured it was better than buying another thing of Nutella (man, oh man I could write an entire blog on the chocolate hazelnut goodness).

On my next day off I vegged out in front of Food Network and decided to paint my nails.  Then something happened that I can't quite explain.  There is no logical reason that shiny nails with white tips and sheer, pink polish should make me feel glamorous.  Girly.  Pretty.  But they DO.  I can't quit looking at them.  I'm sure my coworkers are sick of me admiring my nails.  I work with mostly men, for chrissakes, I get to feel pretty!

Who knows maybe this will inspire me to start doing my hair and wearing make-up.

Ha, made myself laugh there for a minute.

I can think of a bajillion better things to do with that time.

Like sleeping, for instance.

But I'm totally keeping the nails.

Stories from the Front Lines of Retail: Rules to Follow

So, I took an unplanned hiatus.

What?  Don't look at me that way.  You've done it too.

As has been no secret, I work in retail.  And I have been trying to spread the word of how to act in a retail setting since so many people seem to forget basic things.  Like manners.  And intelligence.  Now, I' not saying that all people act this way because I know that not everyone does.  So, if you know somebody behaving this way quietly point out the error in their ways.  Trust me - every retail person in a 30 mile radius will thank you.

Rule 1:  The store is not your ATM.  If all you have is $100 bills, don't break them on a purchase around $15.  I don't think you're hot stuff for having them.  I think you're an enormous PITA (Pain In The Ass) because now I have 10 singles and a drawer full of change for the next person.  If you want smaller bills I'm sure the bank would be more than happy to oblige you.

Rule 2:  Know the store hours.  If you're not sure, call.  Or check the internet.  Do NOT come in 5 minutes before we close just to browse.  Or if you have a giant list.  Trust me.  I can make your shopping experience delightful or a living nightmare.  If you come in 2 seconds before we close just to browse only to tell 20 minutes later that you have a honking huge list, I will not be nice.  Nor will any of my coworkers.  And, rest assured, we will talk about you when you leave.

Rule 3: Trust me.  Seriously, folks.  I'm not trying to undermine you.  If I do, you'll figure it out, tell your friends, and never come back.  Which means that I eventually will be out of a job.  I don't want this.  I understand that you're being cautious, but when you are clearly doubting everything I am saying it's irritating.  On a related noted: I also know the product line better than you ever will so don't tell me that I'm wrong when I tell you that we never carried that product.  If you don't believe me, ask me to name our current product line.  If you have 20 minutes to spare, I can do it.  Most likely alphabetically.

Rule 4: This is not your store.  Do not go through our stuff.  Use our computer.  Go upstairs.  Go in the back.  Stand behind the register.  Come in the back door.  Set your children on our counters.  You would think this would be self explanatory, but no.

Rule 5:  Use your words.  Look, I get that our product line is exhaustive and overwhelming.  I'm even willing (and happy) to help you find something.  However, when you ask me a question like this:

 "I'm looking for something...I mean I saw on Oprah...Well, actually, Dr. Oz said that we should...No, wait, it was on the Food Network...Anyway, I think it was red...or was yellow like turmeric, but it wasn't turmeric...anyway I heard that it was good for me and my daughter Jane really likes to cook and she used to be a vegetarian but she's eating meat again and just moved in with her boyfriend who really likes to cook and is originally from Kentucky but has lived here for the past 5 years and I think they're going to get married so I wanted to get her something that's good on chicken."

Yes, friends, I have had actual questions like that.  Please.  I don't mind your personal stories - I really don't.  In fact when I'm getting your stuff for you or ringing you out, they're nice.  But if I'm on the phone with you or I haven't even helped you find something yet, ask me the question first.  Then share the story.  We'll both be a lot happier.

Seasons

I love the seasons.  Really.  Each one has their merits.

Okay.  Find.  I'm lying.  I HATE winter.  Moving on.

I really enjoy fall.  I think fall is one of the more interesting seasons because it's so drastically different from beginning to end.

It starts off really bright and kind of crisp.  The sky is a gorgeous shade of blue, the leaves are beginning to turn, and the humidity and heat start to go away.  Then it fades into fall: the deep colors on the trees, more clouds in the sky, and there might be frost.  Once it gets into Novembers, it's an entirely different animal.  It's grey - but there's still colors on the trees.  Then there's that first November day, where it's grey, windy (oh, so very windy) and the contrast between the trees and the sky is awesome.  It really is amazing to watch the sky change.

Very rarely is there several days of down pouring rain in September.

I know, I know.  At least it's not snow.

10 Years

I know we have all seen the specials and the articles and the footage of today, ten years ago.  To be perfectly frank, I'm tired of seeing it.

So I'm not going to bore you here with my story.  I can remember where I was when it happened.  And how I felt days and moments after it happened.  If I close my eyes I can take myself back there.  What I remember most is wondering how we were going to get through tomorrow, let alone 10 years.

The stories from that day that I remember most are the ones of kindness.  How everybody just wanted to help one another.  And we held hands and put one foot in front of the other.  Then one day had passed.  Followed by a week.  A month went by.  Before you knew it, it had been a year.  And now?  It's been 10 years.

I don't think we should ignore what happened or forget it.  But rehashing and revisiting that day isn't going to help anyone. After the crippling fear and overwhelming anger subsided what lasted was pride.  Hope.  Love.

Those are the very things that we should look back and reflect on.  Those are the memories that we should hold onto strongly.

Those are the things that should be celebrated.

Always Check The Lower Level

Sometimes there are moments in my life that I realize are perfectly good metaphors even if I don't intend them to be.  Today was one of those examples.

In the town I work in, there was some fancy-schmancy car show.  Which meant that there was ZERO parking in the garage behind the store.

Let me rephrase that:  people assumed that there was ZERO parking in the garage.  Because the upper two levels were all full.

I pulled in the garage and watched people frantically drive in circles looking for a spot.  Or stalking some poor soul as they walked to put something back in their car.

When I got into work, my boss asked me if I had any trouble parking.  "Of course not," I shrugged, "I parked in the lower level.  Nobody ever parks there."

One of my coworkers walked in and apologized for being late because they couldn't find parking.  They watched people circling and drove away to park waaaaaaay far away from the store.

I laughed to myself and realized that when you are watching other people go in circles or want to run the opposite direction, turn left.  There's probably parking in the lower level.

Stories from the Front Lines of Retail: How You Can Irritate Me Immediately

So, it's a busy day at work a couple days ago.  I'm out in the front of the store and the phone rings.  Naturally, I answer it.

"Store Where I Work, this is Amanda.  How may I help you?"

"Yes, I just have a simple question.  Do you have sweet paprika?"  Now, I should have had a clue here that this was not going to be "simple".  Nobody prefaces a simple question with saying it's simple.


"Yes.  I have Hungarian sweet, California sweet, and Spanish smoked sweet."

"How much is it?"

"Well, that depends on how much you get."

"I want about a cup's worth."

"Alright, that will be about $8."

"Okay.  Is it cheaper if I don't get in the jar?"

"Yeah, I can put it in a plastic bag.  It'll be $1.75 less."

"But you don't have a bag I can put it in?"

For a brief second I pull the phone away from ear and look at the phone, blinking.  "Well, I can put it in a jar but, as I said, that is more expensive."

"I understand that.  So you can't put it in a bag."

"I can, it's a plastic bag."  Maybe you can see where this is headed.  I couldn't.  I was purely confused.


Exasperated sigh from her, "I heard you.  So there's no bag."

I bite my tongue to avoid screaming, "I have a glass jar or a plastic bag.  It zips closed and is plastic.  They come in various sizes."

"Honey, that's called a baggie.  Say it with me: baggie."

"As I said I can put it in a bag-"

"Baggie."

"Bag.  Or a glass jar."

Loud, unnecessary sigh, "I'm trying to avoid plastic."

"I have the glass jar-"

"You don't have a paper bag to but it in."

"Not that's food grade, no."

"What if I bring in my own container?"

"Unfortunately, I can't fill something that came from outside the store.  Health department regulations."

Another LOUD sigh, "You don't even have a paper cup?"

"Not that's going to hold a cup's worth.  I have Dixie cups."

HUUUUUUUUUUUGE sigh, "FINE.  I'm just going to have to think this through and contemplate my options since you are so unwilling to help me.  Is there a manager there I can speak to?"

"Actually, ma'am, I am the manager here."

Long pause.  "Well, I'm still going to have to think this through."

And she hung up.

Things Not To Do At Movie Theaters

Apparently, we need a refresher on how to behave when watching a movie in public.

Folks - it's not the same as when you're at home, okay?

1) Cellphones.For all that is holy, put it away.  Got that?  Put.  It.  Away.  I don't care if you're checking a quick text message. The theater is dark and that bright screen is searing my retinas.  If it's that important, go outside.  Oh.  And if you forgot to put your phone on silent...you will be flogged.  And humiliated.

2) Keep Your Shoes On.  Good God, man, I do not need to see and/or smell that.  Especially if you're sitting next to me.  Look, I get the need to feel comfortable.  I do.  However...if you can't go for about 2 hours or so without taking off your shoes - that is a serious problem my friend.  One that should be addressed.  Immediately.

3.) Sit Still.  This is only exempt if I am at Pikachu Meets My Little Ponys At Disneyworld On A Magical Rainbow Of Bubbles And Candy.  At that point I can expect to be surrounded by a gazillion hyper, sugar fueled children.  If I am sitting in a theater waiting to watch a non-children movie, sit still.  Don't mimic the horses galloping by pretending you're riding one.  I don't care if you're 12, your parents should have taught you how to behave in public.

4.) Open Your Snacks BEFORE The Movie Starts.  Okay.  So this one isn't  a crime so much as a courtesy.  I know it's not your fault that they have sealed your chocolate covered cheese doodles in the world's loudest plastic.  But you are aware of this when every time you move the damn bag it breaks the sound barrier several times.  Just do everyone a favor, and open it beforehand.

Please, keep all of this in mind.  And, if you don't, do not be surprised if my foot goes through the back of your chair next time you're at the multiplex.  You've been warned.

Psoriasis and Me

I try not to do this.  I really don't.  It's not something I like to draw attention to, because I have spent so much of my life fighting it.  Forcing people to see me and not just my skin.  For most people, this isn't an issue.  But for me - it is.  I have had some truly horrifying experiences.  I have chronicled a few here.  Honestly, the list could go on.

But that's not my point.

This morning, I was having a lovely morning.  Contemplating what I wanted to post.  Perhaps and amusing chinchilla story or about how much I love thunderstorms.  And then I read this: http://health.yahoo.net/experts/dayinhealth/psoriasis-linked-dangerous-health-threats

Just an article detailing all of the things that can be wrong with you if you are diseased with psoriasis (which, by the way, is just a correlation NOT a causation).  That everything is doom and gloom and there is no cure.  You are as screwed up as you think you are.

Boom.  Morning shot.

For those of you who do not have psoriasis, it may not seem like any big deal.  But, let me tell you, as someone who has had it for 20+ years it was like diving head first into a cold pool of all the negative things anyone has ever said to me about my skin condition.  When I stumbled into the bathroom to put on my make up, the reflection staring back at me was not mine.  It was a woman, yes.  With dark hair, side-swept bangs.  She had my eyes.  A nose that resembled my father's.  But what stood out was her skin.

It looked alright, mostly.  Except along her hairline and beside her nose.  Places where your skin tends to dry out.  Her ears.  In these patches, the skin was a different color.  Pink.  And it made me want to know what happened to her.  That's when I realized - this was me.

Dear God.  Was this the me that people see daily?  Suddenly, I was 12 again.  Fighting the words, "Freak" and "Monster" and "Hideous".  No - I'm not kidding.  I've heard those words in regards to me.  Trust me, people are that cruel.

So I closed my eyes and shook my head.  That wasn't me.  No.  Not the girl who moved out on her own.  Decided to take guitar lessons.  Has taught herself to make some damn complicated desserts.  Can read Spanish from 1492.  Jumped into a management position with no experience.  Who graduated college.  Who had her heart broken and put it back together.  Who battled depression and won.  Who can recite both Shakespeare and George Carlin.

This woman in the mirror was a stranger, defining herself by her skin - she wasn't me.  Not the girl who decided at 16 that she would never let people see just her skin.  And those who do?  Are shallow and not worth her time.

So I opened my eyes.  And that woman in the mirror?  She was gone.

I was back.

A Bottle of Wine, Some Chocolate, and Disney Movies

I got together with my best friend last night.  It was a nice, low key evening.  We grabbed dinner and then bought a bottle of wine, chocolate, and decided to have a mini Disney movie marathon.  It was bliss.

While we were watching Sleeping Beauty, Amy turned to me and said, "Did you ever notice that in these movies the King and Queen usually only have one child?"

I nodded and took a bite of my chocolate, "But isn't that the point of Sleeping Beauty that she was their only child?"

"Yeah, but if you think about it realistically they would've popped out a whole bunch.  Kids died easy then.  You had to have spares."

"Well, she might have sisters."

Amy settled into the couch, "She could have a brother.  After all, Phillip is clearly the heir to Hubert's kingdom so she still would marry well and inherit all that.  Aurora's a princess after all.  They'd still want her taken care of."

"True.  Although it depends on the type of monarchy.  She could still be the heir to the throne in her kingdom and then they'd combine the two for a honking huge one."

Amy nodded and topped off her glass of wine and offered me the bottle.  I topped off my glass and took a sip.  I leaned back to watch the movie enjoying how nice of an evening it was and thinking that it was criminal we hadn't done this sooner.  I popped a caramel in my mouth.

"You do realize," I said when I was done chewing, "we just analyzed the sociopolitical status of a Disney Princess movie."

Amy took a sip of wine and nodded.

"I think there might be something wrong with us."

She grabbed a chocolate, "Not as much as Maleficent.  Why do the villains live in such crap places?"

I laughed and stretched out on the floor, deciding that if there was something wrong with us I really was content to leave it alone.  After all, that's how you know you're best friends - you have crazy conversations and don't judge the other.  In fact you go along.






And, seriously - why do the villains live in such run-down places?

A Small Laugh

So tonight I went to Meijer to pick up stuff for dinner.  Because I was not cooking tonight.

It wasn't anything special - just fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

So as I was going through the self checkout station a coupon printed out for $4 off a Benefiber product.

Touché, coupon machine, touché.

Happy 4th of July

Hope everyone is having a FABULOUS Independence Day!

I don't know how the weather is where you are, but it is absolutely gorgeous here.  It's nice, warm, sunny - and - supposed to be clear tonight for fireworks!

Go outside - eat hot dogs and hamburgers.  Grill some chicken.  Have some corn on the cob.  Perhaps listen to a baseball game.  Enjoy a beautiful summer day. Indulge in some ice cream.

In case you're having trouble getting in the spirit (I can't imagine why) listen to this song:



Happy 4th of July!!!

Scattering the Pieces of My Heart and Soul

A funny thought struck me recently.

I was sitting on my couch watching TV and I realized that I missed Tennessee.  Yes, I was only there a week ago but I was missing it.  Which got me thinking - why?  How do I miss a place I haven't spent much time in?

I also miss New Orleans.  And Florida.  And Memphis.  I can close my eyes and am instantly transported to these places.  What is it that happens that makes it feel as though I am right there?

I think it starts when I get to go out and see the area around where I'm staying.  When I get to know the state and it's geography.  Sitting at an intersection and looking around.  Seeing it's lumps, bruises, bulges and valleys.  Watching the way the sun reflects off the stream or hides behind it's hills.  How the wind whistles through the trees or glides around the buildings.  Listening to the birds sing and the cars rumble by.  Feel the way the heat bounces of my skin and the humidity makes my hair stick to my neck.

It's having my best friend next to me and laughing.  Making our own inside jokes and surviving heat and terrible storms.  Eating fabulous food.  Seeing and hearing things that I can't experience at home.  Learning how people drive in cities other than your own.  Smiling at people you don't know.  Being a little loud.  Trying a new cocktail.

And then I realized: it's all these things that make me leave part of my heart behind and have a fragment of my soul stay without me.

People talk about travel making you feel more whole.  I disagree.  If you're traveling correctly, you should leave parts of you behind (no, not your toothbrush).  The more you travel the more you should have pieces of yourself scattered about.  To me, that's what travel is about.

CMA Music Fest: Day One; Or How I Almost Became A Statistic

Oh, dear Lord.  So many stories to tell.  So, so, so many.  But, I will try to keep this (relatively) short.

For those of you who don't know the CMA Music Fest is an outdoor music festival where all the country singers come out and there are concerts, meet and greets, and autographs.  The city of Nashivlle, TN is overrun by a bunch of crazed country music fans.

A bunch of sweaty country music fans.  But I digress.

This year my best friend and I went.  I've actually been here since Monday, but the festival officially started yesterday.

I was so excited.  Gary Allan was the first one I was going to see.  I looooooooooove Gary Allan.  So, of course, do several hundred other people.

Mmmmm....nothing like the smell of sweat and beer at 10 in the morning

Amy and I stood patiently as several other people shoved their way by.  I don't know why....it's not like we were standing in the back for fun.  Eventually, Gary Allan took the stage.  And I was excited and started taking pictures.  Except, well, due to the sun I couldn't see my display.  So I had to use triangulation to try and find him.  I think I got a few decent ones...

This is a game I like to play called "Find Gary".  He's in the bottom left corner.

 Hmm, okay.  No.  Not so much there.  Jesus, it's hot out here.  Maybe I can get a water bottle....Oh!  Oh!  He's playing a favorite song!

Better...you can see him but he's not in the middle

 Good, God.  It feels like I've been standing in the sun for hours!  It's had to be at least...15 minutes.  Splendid. 

Ignore the man's shoulder and - BOOM!  Pretty good pic!

Okay, I can do this.  It's his last song - another favorite.  I can make it.  The nausea is perfectly normal.  I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

I can't do this.


I knew something was wrong then.  I took off to find water or Gatorade.  Anything, really. As I walked away from the river and old, familiar feeling creeped back.  I was going to pass out.  In the middle of a crowd.

Immediately my mind began to concentrate on what I knew: Gatorade, shade, food.  Preferably in the order, but any order would do.  So I kept walking as my vision faded.  And, by faded, mean was practically gone.  It would flicker in like cable during a bad storm.  I had to use various things to guide me and keep me upright.  Which was tricky because I was going down.  As I was walking I kept saying to myself, "You can do this.  You are not passing out here.  Amy will kill you.  You can't afford to go to the hospital.  You can do this.  Just get some sugar and liquid in you."

I found a shady corner that I could duck down in.  So I did.  While the people around me started talking.  "There's going to be a lot of people suffering from heat stroke today."  "Yeah.  Look at this one.  I don't think she's going to make it."  "Yeah, she doesn't look so good."

Yes.  There was a group of adults looking at a young woman who was not doing well and all they could do was comment on it.  Not offer a chair or a bottle of water.  Now, there is one more helpful thing to do when you're about to pass out (or are 99% there in my case) get your blood pressure up.  Well, my friends, this got my blood pressure up.  I grabbed money out of my purse and stumbled (yep, still have practically no vision) and found SOMEBODY that was selling food.

Those were the best damn fries I have ever eaten.  [Side note: the guy selling them was super nice.  They were $5 and I got them for $3 - probably because he could tell I was not okay.  Unlike the weasels in the corner.]

Oh - Yes, Mom, I'm OKAY.

I get some Gatorade and head back over to Amy.  Who then left to get her own Gatorade.  Which is when I had my brief brush with fame.  Which I'll tell you about later.

For now, I have to hop in the shower and get ready to do it all over again!