Congratulations!!

You are unequivocally the DUMBEST Bachelorette ABC has ever put on this show.

Hey, there network execs. Maybe it's time you go looking for some fresh blood than just old show cast offs. They were cast off for a reason. What happened to the days of the pro football player, or handsome hier, or prince? Now we get second-rate airline pilots and dental school drop outs. Let's get back to our roots, shall we?

"Just remember, bee yourself".....unless yourself is an overreacting idiot

Annoyed I was slightly dozing during the lonnnnng introduction to the conference keynote speaker. How you would need an introduction for the person who is going to introduce the keynote is beyond me. If I had to guess, there were probably a thousand or so people in this massive ballroom at the Mascone Center in San Fancisco for the speech. So to avoid the crowd, I opted to sit in the middle of the very sparsely populated rows on the perimeter of the room. People don't generally move to the middle of a row, you know. They see a completely emptily row or bench and plop down on the outside, forcing the awkward "crawl over" on people wanting to get to a vacant seat inside the row. It baffles me, but I've seen it a hundred times at church, school and work, this conference being no exception. Sure enough, a minute after I claimed a seat in the middle two older men capped the row taking the end seats. It was good though because with half a dozen perfectly empty rows in front of me I figured it granted me the the ability to sprawl out and spread my stuff out on the chairs around me. But a couple of loud morons ruined that when they, two women in stuffy pants suits undermined by the ample cleavage they were rockin, climbed over the men and sat their generously proportioned asses a seat away from me. I saw the two men looking around just like I was, searching for a reason why, with so many empty rows, did these two feel the need to be right up on us. So, I allowed myself to doze, calming my annoyance with the overly perfumed morons and their mind-numbing convo about why orange juice pulp is icky. A few minutes passed and the long drawn out intros had just gotten over when I felt a violent shove. Moron #1 was practically on my lap and staring, horrified, at a bee that was crawling on the back of the seat in front of her. People were staring and I was still trying to figure out what the big deal was when the damn bee started to take flight. Moron #1 then jumped off my lap/shoulder and attempted to run mindlessly down the row. With no regard to my feet, knees or bags, she tripped immediately over my legs, landing on top of my knees as if she was due for a spanking (or a paddlin' as my mom would say.) Even so, she was still not far enough away from the bee so she started air-swimming/crawling with her legs doing flutter kicks on my knees and then, after getting off my lap, loudly grabbing the backs of chairs, tripping, falling, and then getting up again, all the while whimpering like she was being chased by a killer. She was so loud that the keynote, who happened to be the Under Secretary of Education, stopped her address and said "Is everything ok over there? Do we need to check that out?" Conference officials quickly came over and calmed her in hushed tones and eventually she returned to her seat. I figured since she had practically given me a lap dance we were familiar enough for me to ask if she was ok. But it came out, "Are you allergic to bees or something?" "No." she said. "I was just scared."

40 days and 40 nights...left

Where is the time going??

{this is just a little preview to the amazing engagement pics Amelia took}

Goodbye old friend, for now..

For the past two days I've been roused to consciousness around 7 a.m, despite the fact that I've gone to bed post 1 p.m. Being spoiled with blackout blinds for a few years makes even muted morning rays hard to get used to. My muscles are yet to completely recover from the move and I have limited clothes to wear because I can't bring myself to tackle the beast of unpacking anything that doesn't reside on a hanger. But after spending over two hours in a luxurious massive bath tub, going on a jog on the nearby scenic river path and having an entire fridge and kitchen to myself, instead of just a few shelves and cupboards, I have decided I could get used to couples condo life, for a little while anyway.

I have moved around my whole life, and the time I spent on Argyle, after buying the place five years ago, was the longest I have ever stayed in one spot in my life. It was there I first learned the hard way that a house has a thing called an air filter and it needs to be changed every few months. It was there I felt so empowered when I fixed a leak and learned about pilot lights and sprinkler systems. My originally "black" thumb started showing hints of green and I learned that garage door openers don't grease themselves, vinegar removes hard water and that RoundUp is the next best thing since the lawn mower. I think it was there that I really became an adult and realized that "yeah, I can wear these big girl pants."

So during the 24-hour span when a new girl decided she had to have my room and J and I got the green light to lease the new condo for a year (yes that all happened together) I may have had a panic attack. Or two. I mean, sure I am getting married to a great guy and picking out a dress and planning an event for this summer where there will be cake and some dancing. That's an idea that I have been used to for 6 months. But woah. Leaving Argyle? And Gloria, Edith, Monica and Jim? (my plants) Leaving my veritable child, 2fresh, and my sister, Tanya, and our late night talks/mean girl brawls, and my black out blinds and walk-in closet? That took another 48-hours to get used to - for all of us.

Fast-forward another three-weeks after a grueling yet socially-intensive move and a few days of unpacking non-clothing items....

I dig it. Dig the place, the pool, the hot tub, the locale, the fact that I am living across from one of my besties (who I lived with before I bought my house). Yep, I could definitely do this for the next year. Then when J finishes his engineering degree and green construction certifications next spring, we will figure out what to do after that. Maybe back to Argyle, maybe somewhere else. We'll see. But for now I am just trying to summon the courage to conquer my boxes of clothes. Come help me/do it for me. Please? I'll make you dinner and we'll watch an Arrested Development marathon. Any takers?

Secretariat....only not a horse..

.....But if my 17 year-old baby brother were a horse he would most definitely have won the Triple Crown. This month he casually announced that he was voted prom king, and student body president, and if also being Yearbook Editor and a 3.97 honors student, while taking college credit, wasn't enough, he also was accepted as a delegate for Idaho Boys State this summer. How he stays humble enough to be my butler every time I go to visit my parents, I will never know. But Toad, I want to be like you when I grow up!

Triple Crown: three top thoroughbred races, Preakness Stakes, Belmont Stakes and Kentucky Derby, only 11 horses have won the Triple Crown in the last 100 years and there hasn't been a Triple Crown winner since 1978.

(I only knew that because Amelia took us to see Secretariat.)

I was laughing out loud for 20 minutes...

It's a sad day when I actually feel a tad sorry for the Donald. It had to have been a tough night for him. Seth Meyer and Obama took him to the wood shed.

Que Aproveche!

I have been on my dad for years about cooking fish. Unlike me, my family members aren't big seafood eaters. But as a lure my dad would always say "if you come visit us I will cook you a fish dinner." It rarely happened, save one time, in a stretch of three years or so. Well this weekend he was uncharacteristically gleeful about our arrival. He was calling literally every 15 minutes to find out where we were and when we would arrive because he had "dinner" waiting. I walked into this.....

Yes, that would be a boiled egg, carrots, a few sardines and a chocolate strawberry. You have a sick sense of humor Dad, and opening a can does not constitute "making seafood."