Made in Richmond

Professional:

• 100% pass rate on Science, Reading, and Writing SOLs
• Helped form the Kindness Committee at school which has been a huge success
• Started to love teaching again (years 2 and 3 were chaotic and nondescript, respectively)

Personal:

• Made some great new friends and got closer to old ones
• Fell even more in love with Ross
• Got a new brother
• Got a new hobby which has given me more stress relief than any medication could
• Finally dealt with some family issues-can’t tell yet if they are resolved, but I think we are on the way
• Learned once again that marriage requires you to make the decision to love your partner as best you can everyday-luckily for me that decision is usually not very hard to make
• Became part of a new church that seems to be just what Ross and I have been looking for all along
• Realized that Ross and I are growing up together quite nicely

Looking at this list I’m seeing that 2006 was a positive year. It wasn’t perfect: there were losses and setbacks, but it’s all part of the game, I guess. I’m not making any resolutions for next year. I feel like I’m on the right track at this point. However, I do hope that I spend next year loving people better and getting even more comfortable in my own skin.

Friends, I hope you all have a great New Year’s Eve and I wish you many blessings for 2007.

I just cried my eyes out while watching The Family Stone. Like clogged up nose, ugly-faced cried. What the hell.

I had to take my car in for its state inspection today. I always wait until the last possible minute, so getting it done on Dec. 29th is a HUGE improvement from when I used to beg them to take me on Dec. 31st. Normally I take the car over to the Goodyear on Three Chopt (I have no clue why) but I decided to stay in the city this time, mostly because if there was something really wrong with the car, whoever had to pick my ass up and take my ass home wouldn’t have to drive very far to get said ass anywhere.

So, I took it to Ferguson Autosomethingorother. I took it there because I found it on the Internets and it was on a street that I knew. Little did I know that I would find my new best friend sitting just inside.

This little slice of heaven sits between Broad and Clay Streets (two places known for their classiness) among several other automotive repair/parts establishments. As soon as I walked in I knew I had made the right choice. First of all, there was a huge plaque showing that this very place had been named by Richmond Magazine (a.k.a. the River City Consumer’s Bible) for being on of the best mechanics in town. Seriously, Henry Ford himself could have come back from the grave and pointed his bony, rotted, crumbly finger at the place croaking “Don’t go in there!!!!!” and I would have gestured to the Richmond Magazine with a smirk on my face – I mean, he was from Michigan, what does he know?

Anyway, after settling in and finding out that Mr. Bill Ferguson, owner and manager of the shop, could not let “such a nice lady” (that would be me) leave the premises without new brake pads. After calling me a nice lady, he could have told me that my bigdaddymackerator needed a new cylindrical cup cap and I would have believed him and handed over my credit card to pay for the job. But no, new brake pads just needed to be located and installed, a process that ended up taking longer than Bill would have liked. However, if it hadn’t taken so long, Bill and I wouldn’t be as close as we are today.

Our chatting started with Bill barking random questions at me such as, “So how tall are you, anyway?” as if it were something I had been go on and on about, because, you know, I’m huge. He also asked me if I like to cook, where I went to high school, if I had given my mother any grandbabies yet, what my husband did for a living, what I did for a living (notice which one he asked first), and whether or not I like computers. I answered the last question with an affirmative nod and a shrug. And that’s when the magic happened. Bill spent about 45 minutes showing me all of the “crazy” forwards that his daughter-in-law had sent him, as well as pictures from his son’s wedding in which he kept pointing out the 6’11″ bridesmaide who was from the “Ukraine or one of those crazy Eastern European countries where the ladies get real big.” He also told me that if I was ever around at 10:00am the “oriental vendor woman” from down the street would be by with what the guys at his shop call the “CHINK TRUCK” in case I wanted a snack. Yeah, you read correctly.

All in all I ended up waiting for 4 hours for everything to get done. Ross road up at around 11 so we could go to Hardee’s for lunch (I know, I went to the gym for 1 1/2 hours after I got home to make up for it in my mind). By noon everything was done and Bill and I bid farewell until next December. Needless to say, it was an eventful/fun morning. Except for the whole racial slur thing.

It seems that I have a security sensor somewhere in/on my person that was never removed/deactivated prior to my mother bringing me home from the hospital. Why do I think this, you ask? Well the thing is, whenever I walk into or out of a store, I am the one who sets of the alarm. Yeah, it’s me. Pretty much every single time. I visited two stores today: Target and CVS. And guess what happened. I set of the security alarm walking into and out of BOTH STORES. But the funny thing is, never once did anyone demand to search me or my belongings. Instead they just looked at me, smiled, and shouted over the din of blaring sirens that I was “ok” and could move along. How do they know I’m ok? I could have $4k worth of lifesavers stuffed in my girl parts for all they know.

(Please note, I do not have $4k of anything stuffed in any of my parts.)

*This blogger is a real person, not a paid actor.

I am in love love love with having a gym. Maybe this is because I have a really nice gym. Granted, the only gym I have to compare it to is the fitness center at U of R, which, let’s be honest, I only went to like 3 times in my four years there. Anyway, I love my gym. To the point where I kind of want to be there all of the time.

When I signed up at Gold’s they asked me what I wanted out of a gym. I said I wanted it to be safe, clean, and for the people to be friendly. That’s all. Not a particularly tall order but, hey, I’m a girl who knows what she wants. Anyway, Brad (my super-nice orientation guy who sent me a thank you letter for joining-I like to think that he doesn’t do that for everyone) said that I would definitely get that there. AND BOY WAS HE RIGHT!

Watch out, friends, here comes a list. Why I lovey love love my gym:

• PARKING LOT IN THE CITY.
  
• Big, huge spotlight shining down in said parking light like a beacon from God saying, “You will not get attacked at a place as magnificent as this.”
  
• TVs on the treadmills. Hello. This makes exercising easy like Sunday morning, rather than like you are walking/running to your death.
• Said treadmills go up to an incline of 50%. Amazing. I’m gonna say it, my butt is looking more fabulous than ever, and that’s saying a lot considering what a fan I already was of my posterior.
• Sauna in the ladies’ lockeroom. I haven’t used it yet but I love knowing it’s there!
• Free classes. That’s right. Free. And no signing up.
• No kids. We all know I love kids to the point of A)wanting to eat them or B)having my head blow up from cuteness, but I really appreciate not having them there as a distraction.
• Great magazine selection. Again, makes it easy like Sunday morning.
• They have a rack for you to hang your keys when you go in. And since it’s Richmond, no one would be so rude as to steal from you. (As we all know, in Richmond, people won’t be rude. They might kill you, but they won’t be rude).

Hopefully I’ve convinced you all to drive straight down there and sign up. I don’t even care if you use me as a reference (even though if you do, my name *does* go into a drawing for a “big screen TV.”)

Ok. I’m not really a mall person. I don’t like the parking and the walking and the having to carry your coat around and what not. It’s just not for me. But, as it was the Christmas season and with the Christmas season comes gift cards and necessary returns, I decided to bite the bullet and just venture out to Chesterfield Towne Centre (they spell it that way to make it seem fancy) to take care of my errands. Why the CTC, you ask? Because, frankly, I’d rather drink my own urine (hell, I’d drink your urine) before going out to Short Pump on the day after Christmas. One can only take so many David-Yurman-jewelry-draped, Tide-with-lavender scented West End mothers and croc-clad children in his/her lifetime.

Anyway, I felt like things were going to be ok when I got there. I found a parking lot very close to the entrance and took that as a good sign. Maybe I wouldn’t end of shaking my fist at complete strangers at the conclusion of this trip.

Well, I didn’t shake my fist, but I will tell you that after making a return and buying some jeans (25% off, helloooooo!!!), a trip that took all of 15 minutes, I left feeling genuine hatred for the following people:

• Anyone under the age of 23
• The fitting room attendant at GAP who seems to think that the fitting rooms are in the pants of the “cute boy” working at the register
• Grown women who wear oversized, fleece sweatshirts embroidered with any cartoon character that doesn’t wear pants (e.g. Pooh, Daffy Duck, etc.)
• People who walk around the mall like they are taking a stroll in the park and then suddenly stop in front of a store to discuss whether or not to go in there and as they stop they block the way for everyone in their vicinity because, I’m gonna say it, each member of their strolling party passed 300lbs. a long time ago

So there, I’m a city snob. I apparently cannot be in any area other than my place of work or within walking distance of my home. It also seems that I’m only friends with people that are my age or older and who I feel are attractive, in-shape, and well-dressed (but not too well-dressed-see my previous comments about people who live in the West End). It turns out that deep in my black heart of judgement I have found myself to be a jerk. Why don’t I feel bad about this?

The Christmas holidays have gotten off to a spectacular start. Ross and I spent the evening alone which happens about as often as Halley’s comet graces us with its presence. We cooked beef tenderloin in the crockpot and played Scrabble and Dominoes. All of that sounds like we’re 85 years old until I tell you that whilst playing these games we kissed a lot AND watched Kill Bill vols. 1 and 2. I must say, while I loved the movies independently, watching one right after the other is amazing.

Ross and I woke up this morning before 10, only so we could get to McDonald’s in time for breakfast. We came home, got real fat, and then opened our presents. I got a Dust Buster (I asked for it, seriously), Amy Sedaris’s entertaining book, and a pair of fancy boots (which will have to be sent back because they are too small, but I’m more deeply in love with Ross than ever for even trying to buy me shoes). I also got lots of deodorant in my stocking, as well as a toothbrush, dental floss, and candy.

Ross got an NCAA official football (because he’s 8), a copy of Moby Dick, and the Stuffed Cougar cookbook so he can make me dinner. He too got deodorant in his stocking, as well as candy, a spatula, and, the pis de resistance (I have no idea how to spell it and I prefer to say it like that anyway): plastic army men and a T-rex to be part of our nativity scene (pictures to follow soon, I’m sure).

Today will consist of me not cleaning up the mess from last night’s dinner, Ross throwing the new football around with Justin Morgan, us going to church, and then dinner/presents at Ross’s parents. I hope I get more deodorant.

I finished Christmas shopping today. At least I hope I did. I have this nagging fear in the back of my head that I’ve forgotten someone very important. If that turns out to be you, I’m very sorry. You shouldn’t be upset anyway-it’s not your birthday.

Ross and I will be doing our couple’s Christmas on Christmas Eve morning. He will then go play football and I will go back to sleep. Church is at 4 (I’ve never gone to church on Christmas Eve and I’m very excited) and then we have dinner with his parents.

Christmas morning doesn’t start until 11am this year (God Bless my sister-in-law who knows how to lay down the law in the most diplomatic of ways), followed by a lasagna dinner at my dad’s. I am very very very excited about all of the festivites, I must say. Especially the lasagna.

Oh the absurdity of it all.

I joined the gym on Wednesday. I went Wednesday night, Thursday morning, and this morning as well. I think that’s a pretty good start. I’m focusing on cardio (bike, treadmill, etc.) so I can build my stamina back up. And with the built in TV on the treadmills at Golds, the time passes really quickly. I feel so much better already.

I think I’ll go for a little bit tomorrow morning and then take a break for a couple days. That is, I’ll go if I can kick this cold that seems to be creeping up my throat. I DO NOT WANT TO BE SICK FOR CHRISTMAS. But oh well, now I’m going out in the cold with my cold to finish up Christmas shopping.