Sunday, August 31, 2008

Things I Love Right This Very Second

1. Golf
2. Holiday weekends

That is all; carry on!

Friday, August 29, 2008

Big plans

I am bad at using my vacation days. I just checked my pay stub; I have 15 left for 2008. Well, I can carry over a maximum of five days, so I guess I really only have 10 days left to burn. Only. Ha.

I plan to use them all. I am not paid enough to let them go to waste.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson last year, when I was in a panic to use up all of my vacation days in November and December.

I’m not planning on going anywhere. Maybe to New York for a few days – if my work BFF, Ashley, wants to go. We could each stay with our good friends who live in NYC, spend some quality time with them and meet up to cause trouble when they are at work. It would be awfully nice to have a good trip to NYC layered on top of the epic journey from hell that Colin and I went on last year. We’ll see if that materializes.

Am considering taking off a few midweek days the week after next for a short staycation.

Staycation. When you take time off of work and don’t go anywhere.

The staycation I am considering would coincide with the release of the Grey’s Anatomy Season 4 DVDs. So that I can spend three straight days obsessively watching 740 minutes of heaven.

Is that weird?

Thursday, August 28, 2008

I wonder what it could be

On Friday, I skipped both lunch and dinner. But when Meg stopped by my house to pick something up, we walked up to Dairy Queen. I got a chocolate chip cookie dough Blizzard. With chocolate ice cream. And ate the whole thing.

On Saturday, Mom took Meg and I to Red Robin for lunch. Then, before Meg and I went to my house for an evening of drunken debauchery, we ordered Chinese takeout.

I went to a wedding shower on Sunday. We had soup, salad, cake and ice cream. I didn’t have a full dinner – just a hot dog and a bag of chips at the golf course.

I forgot my lunch at home on Monday, so I went to Panera for a salad. I had to drop something off at home and ended up eating dinner with Mom and Dad – Mexican takeout.

On Tuesday, I met Lucy and Chet for Ethiopian. Hadn’t ever had it before. Loved every bite.

Yesterday, I had a lunch meeting. Ate another salad.

Last night, we went to Morton’s for dinner. Single cut filet. Jumbo lump crab cake. Sautéed spinach and mushrooms. Morton’s Legendary Hot Chocolate Cake.

I am feeling a little sluggish and a little pudgy.

But I’m sure it has nothing to do with how much I’ve eaten out in the last week.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008


Eight years ago this week, my mom moved me into my dorm for my freshman year of college.

I remember being afraid that she would cry. It wasn't that I thought she would make a scene. It isn't that I didn't want to be embarrassed. It is that I knew that my moving out of the house would be hard on her. I was afraid of making her upset.

I told her that at dinner tonight. She was surprised; I'm not exactly sure why. I have lived my entire life to make her happy and proud. I have based decisions on whether they could make her upset.

She is my north star.

On August 27, 1956 she was born.

Happy birthday, Momma.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Slightly alarmed

"Oh. My. God." Lucy said to me over the phone on Sunday afternoon. "Colleen. Did you hear what Colleen said to me last night? You might have caught the tail end of it - I wasn't sure. And I didn't have a chance to tell you."

"What?" No, I definitely didn't hear it. Colleen had been on her best behavior. ...I thought.

Lucy goes on to tell me that - after a few drinks - Colleen looked her straight in the eyes, and, in her most serious voice said "I am going to have sex with Darren tonight. You just wait."

Lucy talked her down, because that is what Lucy does. "I am all about her getting laid," she laughed, "but she needs to do it outside of the family."

I don't think that Darren would have sex with her, anyway.

Last night, I call Colleen.

"So, what's going on with you and Darren?" She asked it in her best snoopy gossip girl voice.

"Nothing is going on with me and Darren," I sighed. "We work together."

"I don't believe it," she said. "That is what you say but, I don't know, I just get this feeling that you both really like each other."

I could not help but wonder if this was before or after she decided to make having sex with Darren the goal of her evening.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Keeping score

In this great game of life, do you get any points for recognizing your character flaws yet failing to fix them?

I feel like every important person in my life is circled around me, hands cupped around their mouths, screaming.

Take chances.
Live your life.
Let go.
Get better.

I don't know how to change. Maybe I'm not sure that I even want to. I don't know where to start.

I can't hear my own voice over all of theirs.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

More drunken tomfoolery

Here's something about me that you should know: when I drink, I cannot sleep. I went to bed at 3 am and have been up since 7. Pretty annoying.

Last night was my soccer team bonding night. And by soccer team bonding night, I really mean: I went out with my friends because I knew the majority of my soccer team wouldn't come.

And they didn't. Shocker.

Darren came out. Actually, Darren is currently passed out on my couch. He has one of the pillows all wrapped up in his arms, which I pretty much find to be one of the most adorable things ever.

Conversation* I had with one of my soccer teammates last night:
Teammate - What's up with this Darren kid?
Me - I work with him.
Teammate - You're not dating him?
Me - I work with him!
Teammate - That's funny, because he was out with you the last time we went out together. He just likes to hang out with you and all of your friends, huh? Likely story.

*This isn't even close to what the real conversation sounded like. But I liked what she was getting at.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Commit me

A few months ago, one of my classmates sent us a link to a wedding that took place in the Detroit Public Library. The venue was awesome – so up my alley – and the shots were absolutely amazing. It turns out that his stepdaughter was the wedding photographer. Oh, she is so good.

The photos were posted at her blog, where she posts favorites from all of the weddings she shoots.

Apparently, this is The Thing for wedding photographers to do.

So now I am addicted to wedding photography blogs. Like, could spend hours upon hours staring at wedding pictures of people I do not, nor will ever, know.

I have lost my damn mind.

Thursday, August 21, 2008


Every day, I wear soccer sandals to work and change into my heels when I get here. In the wintertime, I replace my sandals with my Uggs.

It is only a matter of time until I forget my heels at home and have to go to Target for something suitable for the office. It is a risk that I am willing to pay for comfort.

You know what I am not willing to do for comfort? Wear pants that are too short. This morning, I grabbed a shoe with a sizable heel without putting much thought into the pants that I’m wearing. Pants hemmed for a short heel. Or a ballet flat.

I look like a total tool.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Magic of the mind

I had the longest, most detailed dream about Colin last night. I haven’t dreamt about him in months. I don’t know if I had a dream about him since We became Me, actually. And there were a lot of nights when I went to sleep wishing that he would be featured in my dreams. At least I could have him there.

In the dream, I was at his house. I cannot recall why I was there. But, when I pulled up, there was a lot of old furniture sitting on his lawn. He was cleaning, redecorating. I did not think that he was moving.

Inside, his house was unusually clean. It looked like a real house, not like the disgusting bachelor pad sty that it. always. fricking. was. There was a table with a Monopoly game sitting atop it. That seemed so wholesome, so unlike him. I immediately attributed it to His New Girl. How was it that His New Girl could tame him so easily? I could rarely break him of leaving his natural habitat: his favorite bar, his friends. On his terms.

I found a letter – it might have been in the grass – that His New Girl wrote him. I assumed it was a mushy love letter. I opened it. I read it, sort of, going through the action but not comprehending a word. I handed the open letter to Colin, telling him that I had not read it.

She had an unusual name, His New Girl. Bordering on trashy, I recall. I think it started with a D.

When I was leaving, I reminded him that he could call me the next day to wish me a happy birthday. Happier this year, I snapped, because I wouldn’t be celebrating it with him.

I woke up in disbelief of what my subconscious had cooked up. I fell back to sleep almost immediately, half hoping that I would drift into the same dream.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

15 Things That Are Making Me Happy

1. My shiny brown shoes and the lovely little bag I store them in.
2. Trader Joe's.
3. The amazing iPod playlist I made on Sunday night.
4. I finally have all of my financial aid crap lined up.
5. The lovely conversation I had with Kevin's Replacement earlier this weekend.
6. Brand new white t-shirts.
7. Having the mental strength to skip my way-too-close-to-daily trip to Tim Horton's.
8. My sister was, as she had hoped, invited to play for an astoundingly good hockey team.
9. Organization.
10. The silly story about Blue that my mom told me.
11. Plans to make flourless chocolate cake.
12. Finally making that trip to the post office that I had put off.
13. Indian food.
14. My newly cleaned makeup bag.
15. Having Mom's birthday presents all planned out so painlessly and so far before her birthday.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Oh, hell

I thought that I didn't have a crush on Darren because I had a decidedly more glamorous crush in The Athlete. (Who I expect that I will not hear from again until he is back in town in the springtime and is looking for a booty call.)

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I totally like Darren. (That sounds so 5th grade, but its the absolute truth.) It is a very controlled like. A mature like. A reachable like. One who I don't feel the uncontrollable need to text every two minutes. But wouldn't mind doing so.

He's just fun. Fun and down-to-earth. He's nice. Honest. Good with kids. Decent. He isn't afraid of who he is. He has this very easy, unassuming self-confidence about him that I appreciate.

My latest plan is to talk him into coming with me to Kevin's Replacement's wedding in September. I have mentioned it before and he was all about it. We will see if he comes through. He hasn't done/promised anything that he hasn't come through with. But I'm jaded. I know how much fun we would have and I'm afraid to look forward to it too much.

The other plan? Our joint birthday party. His birthday is Monday the 29th. Mine is Thursday the 2nd. We've been joking about our joint birthday celebration - even going as far as to ask our company's marketing manager to come up with a theme - for weeks now. It would be fun, right?

Now, don't go telling me to make a move because I'm just not going to. I invite him to the bar every flipping time that we go (I don't think he has ever turned down an invitation). So the wedding will be just about enough. I will not scare him away. He is still a coworker. It can't get weird. I will nudge this to the edge, but he will have to be the one to push it over the cliff.

He's fun.
He's a good guy.
He dresses well.
He is responsible.

He's who Colin could have been if he was...well...completely different.

Sunday, August 17, 2008


As far as things I don't need go: my mom nagging me is in the #1 slot.

I know that I am a trainwreck.

Further pointing out that I am a trainwreck. Adding in that my grandma also finds me to be a trainwreck. Not helpful. Not welcome.

I am really good at making myself feel like shit. Please don't help me.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Planning, planning

My BFF at work, Ashley, and I have this wonderful system. It consists of exchanging at least 100 emails and spending at least 20 minutes on the phone with each other every workday, except Thursday (when she is off) and Saturday (when I am off).

It is great fun. I'm lucky to have a work pal with whom I am so close. She's an awesome girl.

I emailed her as soon as I got in this morning.

1. At some point in the next year, we should probably fly to NYC together, visit our respective friends and also wreak a bit of havoc.
2. We should also get tickets to the Outdoor Classic and go to Chicago for New Years Eve/Day.
3. We should quit our jobs and become wedding planners. We're very organized and also experienced at getting yelled at. I think it may be the ideal career path.

Her response?
1. Yes
2. Yes
3. Ummm....I like planning things, but I think weddings would depress me after awhile. Haven't you ever seen The Wedding Planner?

I wasn't really all that set on our wedding planning business, so my heart isn't terribly broken.

But New Years Eve in Chicago followed by the Red Wings/Blackhawks outdoor hockey game? That has potential.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Always a thrill

I am crazy in love with my life right now. August is treating me very well - a raise, no school, lots of wild fun with my friends and my family, decent weather and a change from the hectic pace at which I choose to live my life.

It is such a wonderful break. I needed this, I think, to recharge for the home stretch towards my degree.

I was exhausted. I just didn't realize it. Or I didn't let myself.

I might be having a bit too much fun. Too many late nights. But I don't even care. Is this what it is like if you're 25 and normal? When your every second isn't scheduled for work, skating, homework, commuting, school, blogging, soccer, sleep, showering, hockey, packing lunch and watching Grey's Anatomy.

My soccer season is over. My summer season is my absolute favorite - so I am a little bummed. We had a good season. We had great fun. And we're going out as a team next Saturday to get drizunk and celebrate our second-place finish.

Living in this town has turned me into quite the drinker. There is something magical about being able to drink as much as I damn well please and walk home in the moonlight.

When I say magical - I really mean catalyst for shenanigans. For real.

This Michael Phelps phenomenon is amazing, isn't it? I'm having a lot of fun watching it - especially with his Ann Arbor connection. My sister has some amusing Phelps stories from her UM days...but I don't think it is my place to share.

Watching all of this swimming renews my interest in adding swimming to my workout routine. My gym has an amazing pool that is always open. You burn an amazing amount of calories. And it would be nice to give my joints a break.

I remade those bran muffins. Much better the second time around.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Am dumbass

I was so excited to bake bran muffins last night.

HR just rolled out a healthy lifestyle initiative. I just got a raise. I had time. It wouldn't be too hot in the kitchen. And I was feeling domestic.

At some point during preparation, I thought that I might've put in too much baking power and baking soda. Would it really make any huge difference? I doubted it. Continued baking. Packed up the muffins to bring to work.

When I got here, I started thinking about that tiny, insignificant error that I suspected that I might've made.

So I tred one.


And of course some coworkers already saw them sitting at my desk. Which then required me to admit my baking failure.

My mom and grandma might kick me out of the family.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


I got a raise today.

I had a performance review scheduled; I didn't see it coming.

It was a pleasant surprise.
I still don't make any money.

I walked to the grocery store.
I baked bran muffins.
I am watching the Olympics.
To celebrate.

Because I am a baller.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Foolish foolishness

We started Friday night at Buffalo Wild Wings, which we chose for three reasons:
1. We could watch the Olympic opening ceremonies
2. We could drink
3. We could walk there

It was Anna, Ashley and me. Darren met us later.

We ate the painfully mediocre food. Talked. Watched the opening ceremonies and made bad jokes. And we headed back to my house.

Somewhere in there - Anna pointed out the fact that the wheels on my bed aren't locked. If you jump onto my bed, you'll roll across the hardwood floor.

Somewhere in there - Anna and Ashley came to some ridiculous agreement about how I should be hooking up with Darren.

And then Darren is showing up at my house and Ashley is running into my room, pretending to lock the wheels on my bed. So that the bed doesn't roll straight out the window while we are having hot sex.


It isn't going to happen. Not with me and Darren.

"He wants Anna," I remind Ashley.

"He doesn't know what he wants," Ashley tells me.

She calls me Little Miss Doesn't Take Chances. Because I don't. Because I am not willing to throw myself at Darren.

I would be okay if he decided to throw himself at me.

I have never even said so much as a word about having a crush on Darren. And all of a sudden they're suggesting this to me?

Here is the plan:
a. Don't get hopes up
b. Let Darren make first move
c. Try to shake Little Miss Doesn't Take Chances nickname

I like Darren as a friend. I adore Darren as a friend.

I won't count it out. And I won't hope for it.

I get too invested. And a little bit obsessed. I will not scare him off.

He is my friend.

It is okay if that is all he ever is.

Sunday, August 10, 2008


I played soccer for nearly two hours tonight.

In the pouring rain.

Wearing white shorts.

I feel like maybe we should charge for admission? Or the spectators should throw money.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

No control

I would've been perfectly happy with staying home and watching the opening ceremonies.

But, no, Anna wants to go out and Darren wants to go out and Ashley wants to go out and now I'm supposed to drag Anna out of bed so we can leave to go Up North in an hour.

I'll letcha know how that goes.

And also - I might have done something stupid to make Ashley - my best work friend - pissed at me. Well, I know I did it - the question is whether or not she's pissed.

So that is the story. And also: The End.

Thursday, August 07, 2008


Blogging is a secret that I keep.

No one in my real life - not Meg, not Lucy, not Colin or The Athlete - knows that I blog.

I intend to keep it that way.

I hope that, at some point in my life, my blog is printed and bound...or otherwise that it can be read. By a grandchild or a niece or the kind social workers who save me from my Cat Lady squalor.

I'm not sure that I want to be alive when it is read by someone who knows me outside of the kind playground that is the Internet. Maybe. Maybe when I am old and confident in who I am and who I was.

Keep my blogging private, when I am in a relationship or married or sharing my computer with a preteen, will be a challenge. But maybe I will find that ideal guy, who I can tell that I blog but who will not ask for my URL (even though I will offer it up). Who won't mind if I write about our fights, our baby, our ins and our outs, for all of the world to read.

Who will support my blogging and all of my other hobbies.

Who will be mostly perfect, but not annoyingly so.

Will will be very wealthy.

Who will be named David Beckham.

Wednesday, August 06, 2008


Lately, I've had this feeling that I'm wasting my time in library school.

I don't know why - I think it has something to do with the fact that I have a 3.94 GPA without really trying all that hard - but the feeling is stuck in my head and I am having a hard time shaking it loose.

What if I go through this whole program and can't land a job?
What if I go through this whole program and don't want a library job?
What if all I ever land are a few adjunct, hodge-podge positions and I can't get in full time anywhere?

I am more than a little scared.

I don't want to finish my degree if all it will ever serve as is the glaring proof of my failure. Failure to finish. Failure to follow through. Failure to know what I want to do with my life and go for it.

I hate doubting myself like this. But, in this economy, in this state, in this political climate...I'm pretty damn scared.

I'd rather not be wasting my time.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

WPGA, here I come

When Meg and I expressed an interest in learning how to golf this summer, my dad came home a few days later with a pair golf shoes for each of us.

Over the summer, we've gone to his country club a few times, to the driving range a few times and practiced putting on the living room floor a few times.

We're both liking it okay. And picking it up fairly quickly. Meg, of course, is better than I am - she is such a natural athlete and she is really intellectual in the way she pays attention to the lay of the ground, her body mechanics, etc. I just wind up and smack the ball.

My dad is clearly infatuated with the idea of us taking up his favorite game.

He bought us each a set of golf clubs. A complete, shiny, fancy set of golf clubs for each of his girls.

No pressure or anything, eh?

Monday, August 04, 2008

Maybe you're onto something

I keep thinking about the comment Accidentally Me wrote last Thursday.

I'll post it case you missed it.

I have a working theory about The Athlete...(and I think you will like it;-)).

You noted that it is rare for you to be openly hit on by guys. Now, we have all seen pictures of you...and we know you are eminently hit-on-ible (i.e., plenty hot:-P).

So here is my thought...I think guys assume you are out of their league. Don't laugh! I am serious! It happens all the time...for whatever reason, they just assume that you wouldn't be interested. It is a combination of hotness and confidence and coolness. we have a guy who was likely always the best looking, strongest, most popular guy in his own world, who now has one of life's great pickup lines ("I get payed to play sports"). So, he would never assume that ANYONE was out of his league, and therefore he is the one who finally has the stones to try and pick you up.

Which can only mean one need to start hitting on more boys!!!

So that is what she wrote.
And then everyone chimed in to agree.

I am not entirely convinced.

Here is what I know for sure.
1. The Athlete has a subtle arrogance about him. Do you want to know that he's a professional athlete? He'll tell you. He will definitely tell you. And, no, he has probably never had any problems asking girls out.
2. I am not confident. I am not at all confident but I do a pretty damn fine job of faking it. The vibe I throw out, I think, is a pretty independent one. Regularly coming across as disinterested? In the short term - it is much easier than potentially being rejected. In the long term - it will be so easy to paint me as the bitter old maid.
3. Of course I like this theory!

Sunday, August 03, 2008

Wearing out my weekend

Every muscle in my body aches. The tips of my toes even hurt. I am so damn tired. And so damn alive.

I have the tendency, I think, to observe life more than I actually live it. It is nice to have a weekend that I lived the shit out of.

Friday night was spent at the bar with my soccer team, with Darren and with Anna after she got off of work. It was fairly low key and still oodles of fun. I was Darren's designated driver, which provided me with many entertaining moments. Including putting a band aid on the toe he injured walking up the stairs to my front porch.

I skated on Saturday morning, despite going to bed at 3:30 am. I went directly from skating to an afternoon of family time. I crashed for a few hours at home, went on a short shopping trip with Mom and Meg ate some ice cream and went to sleep.

Darren sent me a text or two before I went to bed.

And he called me at 2:11 am. The gist of what he said to me: I'm really drunk. I lost everyone I went to the bar with. I can't drive.

I went and picked him up. He was at a bar that is two blocks from my house. But I was at home. I drove 20 minutes to pick him up. 20 minutes to his house. 20 minutes back home.

I can't say that I wanted to do it, but I can't say that I was terribly angry, either. I would much rather get out of bed and get him than feel absolutely sick because he died/got a DUI/killed someone else as a direct result of my refusal to pick him up. So that it is what I did.

He is still harboring a major crush on Anna. I don't mind too terribly much. I think we have the potential to be good friends. I'm not really feeling the relationship potential. Is it because I'm busy pining over The Athlete? Well, maybe. I never claimed to be perfect.

We won our soccer game today. Darren called me to thank me, profusely, for taking care of him. Mom, Meg and I made a trip to Target. I read. And now I am in bed, fresh out of the shower and quite satisfied with life.

All weekends should end like this.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

Things change

I went out with Darren from work last night. Eight days earlier, I would've been peeing my pants. I spent the night thinking that he'll be a really great friend. And hoping he'd tell me a story or two about The Athlete.

He has known The Athlete for a long time. I won't get into the details - but if they were girls, I would describe them as frenemies. Actually, I'll describe them as that anyway.

Speaking of The Athlete: I got an email from him. Wheee!

I had other things to write about. Work, plans for my month of no school, next weekend, Lucy and Chet's new house. But I got four hours of sleep last night.

Maybe later.
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