AWESOME!

Don't know if it's food poisoning or what, because I felt just fine last night and then woke up at about 3am to wild projectile vomiting. Called out of work today, b/c I couldn't stop throwing up. So I get docked the day and half pay for Christmas vacation- have to take PTO instead. GREAT! What was I going to do with those 40 hours PTO I had banked up anyhow, right? Not to mention I am covering for Ann this week, so me being sick today was a total inconvenience for my coworkers. I suck and everyone probably hates me. Jane called me to tell me to get my ass in there, or else I'd not get paid for Christmas, but it just wasn't happenning. I told her the money wasn't worth puking in my lap on the drive out to Hamburg. Finally starting to feel a little better. It's been a good hour+ since I've hurled, so that's good news.

On a brighter note (pun intended), Rob and Jimmy came over today right before what would be lunchtime if I were able to eat, and set up my new dining room light fixture. I'd almost forgotten how much fun those guys are. They kept asking me for beer (which I didn't have), Christmas cookies (didn't have those either), and tacos (when all I had was re-fried beans). I'm pretty sure they were kidding. They told me I should be ashamed of myself (I was), but it was funny as hell to watch those two on their step ladders in my dining room, arguing amongst themselves about nuts and bolts, tool boxes, etc. Jimmy wanted to install the light live, but Rob insisted on turning off the power. Baillie was in a panic due to stranger danger while Max was loving having houseguests.

The light looks great- it's three little stainless steel spotlights- and those guys arranged them all nice, wanted to move my dining room table into the middle of the room, but I told them no; I like it by the window, and I never eat there anyhow. I'm kind of barbaric like that. I'm a coffee table in front of the tv type girl. The old fixture was very nice, but it had 12 light bulbs- each of which cost about $8 per lightbulb, and due to my financial situation, I had just one lightbulb left, so this one will be much more managable.

AND- Sam Russo from Select One just now called my cell phone, but I didn't know who it was, so I said Caryn was unavailable. OMG- a new job opportunity! Maybe there is hope for me yet! I haven't heard from this recruiter in over a year. How about a job in the Northtowns, Sam? That would be GREAT! Especially considering the lame ass blizzard out there today. I would love to have a job where I don't have to drive 20 miles there and back every day. But there are a few people at Bailllie that I would miss terribly. I'd still take a job nearby, if the compensation was adequate. In fact, I'd almost be willing to take a pay cut. My days of Southtowns living are a thing of the past, and I'd like to put it behind me, but for maybe the occasional daytrip to the farmers market to catch up with Jane. Wish me luck- I am gonna call him back right now!

Awesome. On an eveing such as this....
Notice that I'm not around.

Ah Christmas... you crazy sleep stealer!

So I was very lucky this year. It looks as if Santa's sleigh blew up in my living room. It took me four trips to get all this loot up here. My family is insane. Overboard on the gifts, as usual- not that I'm complaining! My sister asked me why I sounded so grumpy when I left her a voicemail today, and I was like, "Eh.. I was getting ready to leave Keith's, and I've got the dogs, and a boatload of presents from Keith and Ellie, not to mention all the presents from you guys in Keith's truck that I need to load into my car, plus it's raining out." Geez- if everyone could have such problems! I feel like a jerk. I really am lucky as hell.

Presently listening to Steeley and thinking about how I have to get ready for the Scotch & Sirloin family extravaganza this evening. My dad is so excited. But I don't think Tom is coming. He texted me last night and said he'd call me tomorrow (which is now today), and I've not yet heard from him, so doesn't look good for the eldest of the siblings showing up. But you never know with him. Sometime's he'll surprise you. And as if on cue, he just called, and IS coming. It's a Pritchard Christmas miracle!

The only missing thing is Ria. Betting and hoping she had an awesome Christmas, and we'll see each other soon. I guess I should get me groove on. I'm not the biggest Steeley Dan fan to begin with. Best wishes, loves!

Random- just like my thought process on most days

Couple of moments while Christmas shopping with Keith this past Tuesday...

Walking up to Home Depot across the slick and snow studded parking lot, I blurt out,

"I have this unshakeable feeling I'm going to wipe out and fall on my face at some point this evening." He laughs and tells me he was just having the exact same thought, and from his laugh, I couldn't help but believe him.

After dinner at Applebee's we get in his truck to head back to my apartment, and I start thinking:

Really... How come he never opens my car door for me? Yeah, we've been together a while now, and I guess some guys are into that kind of crap in the beginning, and then it sort of wears off, right? RIGHT? But there ARE guys who always do that sort of impressive thing, every time, and mean it. But then again, wait a minute... think of all the awesome things he DOES do for me. Am I really THAT girl? I mean, as much as I'm a neurotic basket-case, I'm pretty self sufficient. Do I really give a crap that this guy never opens the car door for me? I guess I don't. I'm capable of opening my own car door. When we're walking out of my place to go somewhere, and I am screwing around trying to lock the door to my apartment, he always waits and holds the door to outside for me, no matter how long I take. He brings me yogurt for tomorrow's breakfast every night he comes over. Scratch and win lottery tickets for us weekly. Makes me dinner as much as I cook for him. Made me a goofy/sweet handwritten book of coupons for Christmas last year (that can be our little secret, ok?)...

And mid stream of consciousness, I hear him from the driver's seat, "I hope you know I'd like to let you in my truck first, but the lock on the passsenger side door doesn't work." Was he reading my mind, or do I wear my heart on my sleeve to such an extent? And the truth is, as soon as he said it, I remembered that that was the case, because I've tried to unlock the passenger door of his truck a bunch of times with his keys, and I know the lock really doesn't work. I always have to go over to the drivers side to get in. Guess I just forgot for minute. I hope he was reading my mind, because I'd hate to think I am so much an open book. And the thing is, while he may get in the truck first because of the broken lock, he doesn't just lean over and pop the lock- he pops the lock and then opens the door from the inside. Bravo!

And let's face it... if he were to start getting in his truck, popping the passenger lock, and then coming back out and around to let me in, that would be a bit too much in my opinion.

What I'm trying to say, in far too many words, is that we may be a pretty sweet match, all things considered. Ups and downs are okay. And I guess whether he read my mind, or my manner, or my body language or facial expression, it's pretty evident he gets me. And at the end of the day, that's what it's all about, no?

Just felt like the right place to write tonight. What with everything seeming so inconsequential and all :p (yes, that is my sad attempt of a "smiley" sticking out his tongue.)

So I'm not often on this site, and I see a tab named "monetize" up top. Haha- really?? Is that decorating the page with ad links? Well, Monetizer, there's no money to be had here. I think I have given out this address to ten people- tops- at least half of which probably have forgotten about it, so I guess the joke's on you!

So right about now I am getting a facebook beating for being a WVU fan. Go Mountaineers!! Although I suppose I am as equally fond of PITT. What a conundrum.

If you know me well, you know I keep to myself a fair amount of the time. I don't know when I closed myself off to the general public, as I used to be downright social, but it is what it is. Keith's been critical as far as enticing me to occasionally venture out. So have his friends, who over these past few years have become near and dear to me.

It makes me laugh, because I remember when we were first getting together, how I panicked. I was still living in Hamburg:

Gee whiz... this guy brings over cd's every night and leaves them here, and he's got a tooth brush and deoderant in my bathroom. Our cd's are mixing together, and becoming this giant melee of who's whose?? He's willing to drive out here from Tonawanda any night of the week and have to get up that much earlier for work in the morning. This is too much too soon! Abort- abort! Oh man, I was crazy over it.

What a ridiculous fool I was. That really was my thought too~ "This will never work out- he's stifling me." Apparently Keith was a bit more engaged in reality than was I back then. I'm thankful he's had the patience to stick it out and not give up on me through all of this. And when I say all of this, I'm not kidding. This man has the patience of a saint and the forgiving nature to go along with it. Almost like he's known what we were supposed to be to one another for all this time, and he's just been willing to step back and wait until I figure it out.

Sure took me long enough, eh? From first kiss July 2006 thru spring of this year when I accepted us for what we are to one another. He's the one. Without a doubt.

Perfect sick-day sky. Washboard clouds/hopeful/despondent.

At a look, you might think my street has not many trees, but in truth, it's just that little patch. The October storm was not kind to Lovering west, mid-block. The rest of this street is filthy with trees.

So I wake up a lot during the night. So does Keith. Maybe b/c he has this tendency to constantly wrap himself up like a cocoon when he rolls over, and this leaves little in the covers department for me. So then I tug back and try to wrap us up equally. Summertime, I don’t care, but in the fall/winter, my feet get cold. Funny thing is, he talks in his sleep. Among other things last night, I heard, “Put it on your toast, for Pete’s sake!” Not sure what in the hell he may have been talking about, but the thing that got me is after he woke up a minute later I heard him click open his cell phone and saw the dim light from the display screen. So I ask the obvious question, “What time is it, baby?”

He fires back, “6:15.”

I’m like, “AWWWW,” because the alarm goes off at 6:20, and he immediately follows with, “It’s 4:30.”

Asshole that I love. Who wakes up from a dream sleep and immediately fucks with his lover like that?

Hmmmm

I'm thinking I may make it a regularity- posting on here. Now that I've facebook befriended a boatload of family members, including my mom, I have to warm up to the kind of faceboook sharing to which I am accustomed, and with these people in mind. How odd is that? I just don't want to wonder when I post something, "What would my mom and aunts think?"

I hope that doesn't make me a bad person, although it wouldn't surprise me. I try hard, but I leave a lot to be desired in the good person department sometimes. So I've heard.

And here's how I know I'm depressed- ha

Oh sweet depression, how I’ve missed you. Our quiet nights alone—no contact with society but for the television and an occasional text message.

(Side note- “Oh shut up, Mackenzie Phillips on Oprah being aired on HLN right now. I’ve heard just about enough.”)

As the reality of autumn descended upon us, I’ve noticed all week how much sooner the darkness settles in. Further, it’s not escaped my attention that lately when the sun dips down below the rooftops on the west side of Lovering, I become some kind of wraith, shuffling around my apartment in the dark, lacking the will (and failing to see any good reason) to turn on a light.

I’m starting to sense it coming from Baillie now too. Instead of lounging on the couch or in his bed, most of this evening he lay on his stomach under the coffee table near my foot, nose down on the shag rug, sighing from time to time.

(Side note- “Okay, Nancy Grace, usually when I’m in such a state of despondency I turn to you, in order to lose myself in your unique brand of tabloid sensationalism and barbaric behavior to your guests and callers. Oh, and of course, the pictures of the twins. Tonight, however, your shrill voice is far too much for my bruised soul.” [MUTE])

Today on the way home I stopped at the Valero for a pack of Monarch ultra light 100’s and a 6 pack of Genny. Yes, Genessee beer. Tall boys in all their majestic aluminum can glory. I have no problem buying ghetto like that. As I wait in line behind the two chicks ahead of me, I am hearing a conversation between the cashier and first chick in line. Turns out the credit card machines are down. Motherless F, I say (in my head). So I am forced to use the gas station ATM, which means at least a $4 charge after the convenience fee and my subsequent bank fee. I really hate my bank. I bitch about it all the time. I should totally switch banks, but it just seems like too much of a hassle. I digress, and far too often. What I was getting at, is that I just lost all the financial savings of going ghetto with my cigarette/beer purchase.

I continue on my way home, and as I’m heading up the Skyway I’m graced with the sudden cognizance that yes, three out of five work days a week, I am stuck behind a large, lumbering semi on the Skyway. A lovely added feature of this week has been the subtle grinding of my rotors, as I’m fairly certain my brakes need to be replaced. Which makes me think this afternoon, in my already gloomy state, “I could have used that $4 I wasted at the ATM for my brake repair fund (which I’ve yet to establish).”

None of that crap really matters. I was using above petty grievances in a lame attempt to find some humor in the fact I gave one of my dogs up last weekend. What the fuck was I thinking?? Yes, Max was a barker, and yes, Baillie often snarled at and terrorized him, which made me feel bad for Max, while he was just as much an antagonist. Sure, I hadn’t slept in my bed in my bedroom more than five times since early springtime due to Max’s incessant barking in the night and disturbing my downstairs neighbor and friend. And of course Max's life is better now… he’s with a family with kids, in a house, goes on five walks a day, has someone home all day with him so isn’t alone 11 hours at a stretch, eats gourmet canned dog food, has his choice of three beds at night in which to curl up (while I’d been insisting he sleep in his dog bed recently, instead of with me, or me and Keith the nights he's here). Now Max has got a new collar with his new phone number listed. Hell, I still had him wearing the tag with my old number at my second last place in Hamburg, where I haven’t lived since April 2005.

I’m in some eerie stage where I’m trying to adapt, and it’s not happening yet. Hate this. Good thing I'm able to sleep in my bed again, because the only thing I want to do is sleep. I'm thinking now might be a good time to quit smoking and drinking once and for all, because I really couldn't be more depressed. I think I heard on Jane Velez Mitchell that this month is National Recovery Month or something. What else do I have to lose but some raging addictions?

Of course I don't mean that. I'd never quit smoking and drinking. And of course, prior statement was another weak attempt at dark humor. But seriously, I'm not so ill-affected to think I don't have anything left to lose. I'm just wallowing in grief at present. I'll figure it out. If I didn't think Max would be better off, I would never have made such a move. He loves everyone, anyhow. So different from Baillie. It was at the point where I guess they needed to be separated, and the one who could survive without me was Max. End of story.

So why does all this sound so much like I'm trying to rationalize my decision to myself?