If I were to write a (very late) blog today, this is what it would say:

3 months of silence.
Followed by 1 week of crazy.
Beat.  Sapped.  Tired.
But happy.
Ate so much.
Ran so fast.
Didn’t really sleep.
Got something I was hoping for.
Love my friends gobs.
And gobs and gobs.
Like, hug-you-in-the-sunny-parking-lot gobs.
Gorgeous in Nashville today.
Flying to Austin tonight.
Val’s picking me up.
Hooray, Val!
Joey and Sam are getting married tomorrow.

But it’s snowing back in Colorado.
And Mom’s in the hospital.

I can’t really focus.  Social whiplash and emotional incongruity.  Reasons to cry while the sun shines down.  And I think that’s just like life.

It’s all going to be okay.  Right?  It’s all going to be okay.

Well, well.  You people sure love your grilled cheese.

Thanks for all of the suggestions – I can’t wait to try them!

Now… any chance you have ideas for oatmeal?  My requirements: not from a packet, low in sugar, tastes good.  Anyone?

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A quick update on the reading front:

I finally, FINALLY finished “Eclipse.”  It was 620 unremarkable pages, with about 9 good ones toward the end.

Then, I read Don Miller’s “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” in two days.  It was fantastic, and inspiring, and made me want to cry and choose differently and live a good story; incidentally, Abby on “The Biggest Loser” has the same affect on me (who is with me on this??).

Now, I am reading “The Time Traveler’s Wife,” which I received as a gift for my birthday back in August.  This past summer, I saw previews for the movie and my heart stopped in my chest – boom: arrested.  But I did not see the movie because I wanted to read the book first.  I always like to read the book first – it stretches my mind more, and gives me the freedom to create the images of scenes in my own imagination.  So, currently, I am having my heart stopped by sentences instead of visuals – although I fully intend on seeing the movie later.

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Southwest is having a mega-sale on fares right now.  Too bad that none of the dates are when I need tickets – because I could stand to get some good deals.  Something is not right when I live in Nashville working all week long just to spend every penny on tickets away.

On my way back from Boston last night, flying between Chicago and Nashville, I looked out my window to the west.  The gloaming light was punctuated by the remains of the sunset, blazing melon and pink, both and the same, swirling like tie-dye.  As we headed further south, the colors settled into a solid stripe of vivid orange, dimming into a hazy rust, and then, eventually, just darkness.

I don’t know that I will ever shake my wanderlust.

But if you are using Internet Explorer and you CAN read this, then please disregard – the problem must be fixed?  In any case, down with IE.

Let me tell you about a couple of great things that have happened.  Warning: this post has no unifying thread aside from my two hands, my ten fingers, and my blathering brain churning it all out.

First of all, I had a perfect, flawless, divine flight experience on Monday.  I thought that because it was Labor Day, travel would be a nightmare.  But here are the amazing things about the day:
-    When my parents drove me from Colorado Springs to the airport in Denver, we took E-470, a tollway – but all of the tollbooths were closed.  Free!
-    I made it through security in 10 minutes – probably because I had no frozen meat in my purse.
-    DIA has free Wi-Fi, and I got one of the stools at the table where you can plug in your laptop.
-    I met the aforementioned songwriters.
-    I was reading Stephen King’s “On Writing,” which the songwriters noticed, and thought I was really cool for.
-    The flight left on time.
-    I had a free drink ticket, so I ordered a plastic cup of Chardonnay.
-    The flight arrived early.
-    My suitcase was the first one out at baggage claim.

Come on.  All of those things NEVER happen all in the same day.

When I got home and discovered my driver’s license missing, I thought that my perfect day had been torpedoed.  But the next morning, the airline called and told me that they had found it at security, and they were mailing it to me.  Southwest Airlines, FTW!

Tangent:
my co-worker Danny recently told me
that one of his friends thought that
FTW stood for “for the wind.”
I laughed so hard, I snorted.
I’ve tried to tell my non-internetty friends,
and they don’t find it funny.
If you find it funny,
please validate me and tell me so.
If you don’t find it funny, well.
You’re probably using Internet Explorer.

Last night I went to the gym, and Tuesday nights at the gym are the best, because on Tuesday nights from 9-10pm, they play reruns of “The Office” on TBS.  I spent an episode and a half on the elliptical machine, all alone, but allowing myself to LAUGH OUT LOUD whenever I wanted – which meant that I was laughing for 45 minutes straight.

Another tangent:
for the longest time,
my friend Joey thought that
LOL stood for “lots of love.”
This made me laugh, too.

I have had my buddy Del Barber’s songs running on repeat in my head for a couple of days now – and this is the furthest* thing from a problem.  A few weeks ago, he and Dreadlock Dave stopped in Nashville to crash on the floor of the JAM House, and we had a regular hootenanny (hurray!) in the living room – Del and Neal and I taking turns playing songs.

It was so Nashville.

And finally, speaking of music, my EP is almost finished.  October.  Get ready.

*A free EP to the first person who knows the difference between “furthest” and “farthest.” 

If there’s anything that I love about blogging, it’s the possibility of a connection.

And no, not just for me.

Did you know that two different couples have met in the comments section of this blog, and dated for a bit?  I mean, people with NO prior association, and I had nothing to do with it – I didn’t even know it was happening until it was happening.

So, if nothing else, let that be a lesson to you: comment on blogs – you never know whose internet eye you’re going to catch with your wit and thumbnail picture.

Then again, you could wind up like me – just the ring-leading moron.

Anyway, she might be someone I have never met face-to-face.  But people, Dawn is a Hootenannie reader – she is ONE OF US – and she is trying to get to Antarctica.  I love her passion and enthusiasm for a place that so many of us think of as totally barren; this passion has led her to enter a contest in which the grand prize is a trip to the polar regions.

But she needs your votes!

Click here to vote for Dawn – to support someone you didn’t even know you were connected to – and help her dream come true.  It will cost you nothing.  And honestly (I’m channeling Ira Glass here), what kind of a person do you want to be?  Someone who sits back assuming that someone else will do it for you – or a person of ACTION?

I might be putting words in her mouth now, but I am telling you that if you vote for her, she will bring you back a baby penguin.

The cruise ship is a battle zone, and I am at war.

I refuse to gain a pound a day.

But this is proving to take some serious combat.

I wake up each morning and put on my armor: a reasonable breakfast of one egg over easy, a small bowl of cereal, and an Americano.  But after that, it is clear to me that the ms Zaandam wants me guillotined.

Their battle cry:
Free food! All day!
Stuff yourself at the buffet!

Over and over.  And over.  And starts again at 11pm.

I am notoriously thrifty, hate to waste anything, and to hear that something is free makes me want to take full advantage.  You mean to tell me that I can order three appetizers, an entrée, AND dessert?  Get down on it, mama.

Thankfully, there is a gym at the front of the ship, and I’ve been running off 19,000 calories every day.  I have also taken on the identity of Elevator Hater, and walk the 8 flights of stairs at least 12 times each day.  In heels.

This is my martyrdom.  Because if you haven’t gorged yourself on mussels, bread, scallops, cheese trays, salmon, filet mignon, cookies, papaya, guacamole, pasta, and hot fudge brownie sundaes, washed it all down with wine and mojitos and margaritas, and then navigated 8 flights of stairs on a swaying ship in a cocktail dress and heels, then I’m sorry, my friend.

You do not know sacrifice.

Me: “I cannot believe how much money I just spent.”

Julie: “But think of all you GOT.”

Black dress.  Black heels.  Hair dye.  Passport cover.  Earrings.  Toenail polish.  Face wash.  Sandals.  Tank tops.

Also, a huge jug of almonds.

Look out, Northwest.  The week is finally here.

One month from yesterday, I will be leaving here…

… and flying here.

One month from today, I will be on my way here…

… onboard this.

One month from tomorrow, I will be watching these…

… with wonderful family members, including them.

We will welcome her back from Haiti.

I will buy her one of these.

And upon re-porting in Seattle, I’ll be a bridesmaid for them.

Who might as well be them.

All of these things make me feel like this.

A notorious over-packer, I recently flew back from a 2-day trip to Seattle with a suitcase weighing in at 49.5 lbs. – one shoe away from the overweight charge.  And that’s not to mention anything of my second suitcase.

Travel this weekend, I was determined, would be different.

Flying to Kansas City on Friday night, I did something I have never done before – I ONLY CARRIED ON.  One small roller suitcase in the overhead bin – and no waiting at the baggage claim!  Brilliant!

But on the way back, things were a little different.

Remember how my mom is especially fond of sending me away with a suitcase of frozen food?  This time, it was a pork tenderloin – a large, cylindrical, vacuum-sealed piece of meat.  I am not entirely sure how to cook a pork tenderloin, but still: lucky me!

Until I got to security.

Wouldn’t you know, the guards saw something a little “suspicious” in the x-ray of my suitcase.

And there, in front of God and everyone, they unzipped my bag to find the culprit.

“Uh, Ron, we’re gonna need to run this through again.”

“What is it?”

“Looks like a piece of meat.”

I stood by, compliant and taciturn, as my precious hog was passed from hand to hand, back to the beginning of the machine.  Everyone in line behind me looked at me with a collective, “Seriously?”

Seriously.

I made it to Pennsylvania, and am currently in a true, authentic farmhouse in Amish country. I am so tired, I can barely type.

The drive was very long but fairly uneventful, save me holding my breath for an entire mile of highway, and Paul and me adding whistle solos to various songs on the radio, and Graham calling my choice of tunes “sad bastard music.” We kept ourselves awake listening to podcasts and eating my secret shame, Ritz Cracker Cheese Sandwiches.

I held up really well until about 4am, when all energy, logic, and self-esteem flew out the window. For example, when Paul asked me what kind of a car I would be, if I could be a car, I answered sadly, “Probably a minivan, because it’s slow on hills, and sensible, and large.” I followed this statement with the declaration that I will probably never get asked out on another date ever again. Both guys rolled their eyes and DIDN’T EVEN PITY ME.

I’m about to slip into sleep for a bit, but I will have to wake up in time to combat the mange that is my current physical state.