So, yesterday I turned 26. My Daddy came in to town on Thursday, before my birthday, to spend a birthday weekend with me. The high was 104 each day. Heat index of 110. We helped my boyfriend move, which was kind of brutal. He was a total trouper though and I'm pretty sure I would have been crushed by H's massive futon couch if he hadn't been there. Which my father would have been REALLY mad about. As would I.
Besides my birthday presents, the best thing that happened was queso flamedo. You know what that means? Flaming cheese. And not just any flaming cheese. Flaming cheese with chorizo in it. It. Was. Awesome. So delicious. And fun. Now I'm trying to dry out (too much to drink) and thin out (too much to eat). But I'm also homesick.
That's the problem with being so far out here, I guess. I really do like it but I miss home. Miss it a lot sometimes. Especially after I see someone from home. Poor H had to hold me while I had a little breakdown. I just get so sad that I don't get to see them more and sad to see them leave. It wasn't like I went home every weekend when I lived closer, or even saw the fam more than I see them now but I just feel the distance, I guess, when they leave. Sad times. After a day or so, I'm back in action though. So more adventures to follow.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
On Living Alone
In less than a week, I will be 26 years old. Too old to be scared of the dark, one would think.
If one was talking about me, that one would be wrong.
I seriously like having my own space. I like wandering around comfy outfits not fit for public consumption. In fact, I went through a leggings-ski socks-large fleece stage over the winter. Cute, let me tell you. I like always knowing where I put things and having the cabinet doors closed. I like talking to the dog (don't judge). What I don't like is when I get creeped out by something, Snapped, Law and Order: SVU, a scary movie, and then I "hear noises" and can't sleep because I'm convinced someone is trying to break in to my clearly occupied and alarmed residence. This is when I feel 8 years old again and I need my dad to come rescue me.
When I was much younger, my bedroom window looked out onto the roof of out porch. It was a relatively low roof, one that I climbed on frequently, either out of my bedroom window or up from the porch. One night, I was sleeping, as children do, and I happened to wake up. I glanced around and saw a weird circular light outside my window, through the curtains. It was flicking on. Then off. Then on. Then off.
I. Was. Terrified.
I lay there, covers up to my chin, trying to figure out what sort of criminal was on my roof, turning a flashlight on and off. I don't know how long I laid there but it seemed like forever. I finally got up the nerve to holler for my dad. He came to scare the criminal away and what did he find?
A lightening bug.
Terrifying creatures, as I'm sure you know. A few nights ago, I was closing up the house for the night and my dog kept staring at the back door. I'd just let her back in from being outside and didn't feel like waiting on her again so I just put her on the bed, brushed my teeth and climbed in. She promptly jumped back down and went to the back door again. We repeated this one more time so I turned on the back porch light- nothing doing. I put her back on the bed and closed my bedroom door. She stared at that door, which really creeped me out. So I checked all the locks, the alarm, my pepper spray, put her back on the bed and locked the bedroom door. Then every noise that my house usually makes seemed amplified and sinister. I desperately wanted a stun gun or a Tazer, though my boyfriend is opposed to them because he's a true firepower man (guns) and also he once got Tazed by a friend.
So I tried to content myself with pepper spray and a dog that would welcome an intruder because she would think it's a new friend for her to play with. And I coveted my friend Anna's matching pink Tazer and stun gun and the 130 lb. Doberman I saw outside of Lowe's last weekend.
If one was talking about me, that one would be wrong.
I seriously like having my own space. I like wandering around comfy outfits not fit for public consumption. In fact, I went through a leggings-ski socks-large fleece stage over the winter. Cute, let me tell you. I like always knowing where I put things and having the cabinet doors closed. I like talking to the dog (don't judge). What I don't like is when I get creeped out by something, Snapped, Law and Order: SVU, a scary movie, and then I "hear noises" and can't sleep because I'm convinced someone is trying to break in to my clearly occupied and alarmed residence. This is when I feel 8 years old again and I need my dad to come rescue me.
When I was much younger, my bedroom window looked out onto the roof of out porch. It was a relatively low roof, one that I climbed on frequently, either out of my bedroom window or up from the porch. One night, I was sleeping, as children do, and I happened to wake up. I glanced around and saw a weird circular light outside my window, through the curtains. It was flicking on. Then off. Then on. Then off.
I. Was. Terrified.
I lay there, covers up to my chin, trying to figure out what sort of criminal was on my roof, turning a flashlight on and off. I don't know how long I laid there but it seemed like forever. I finally got up the nerve to holler for my dad. He came to scare the criminal away and what did he find?
A lightening bug.
Terrifying creatures, as I'm sure you know. A few nights ago, I was closing up the house for the night and my dog kept staring at the back door. I'd just let her back in from being outside and didn't feel like waiting on her again so I just put her on the bed, brushed my teeth and climbed in. She promptly jumped back down and went to the back door again. We repeated this one more time so I turned on the back porch light- nothing doing. I put her back on the bed and closed my bedroom door. She stared at that door, which really creeped me out. So I checked all the locks, the alarm, my pepper spray, put her back on the bed and locked the bedroom door. Then every noise that my house usually makes seemed amplified and sinister. I desperately wanted a stun gun or a Tazer, though my boyfriend is opposed to them because he's a true firepower man (guns) and also he once got Tazed by a friend.
So I tried to content myself with pepper spray and a dog that would welcome an intruder because she would think it's a new friend for her to play with. And I coveted my friend Anna's matching pink Tazer and stun gun and the 130 lb. Doberman I saw outside of Lowe's last weekend.
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