Sometimes, I drop the ball.

IS IT REALLY JUST TUESDAY?

Feels like it should be at least Thursday....hmm...

SO, I have a tendency to take situations that may not be awkward at all and turn them into moments that make me want to flush myself down the toilet.

It happens more often than I would like to admit, but a few of them - I'm willing to share.


Like this one:

About a year ago my dear friend, Riley, was super pregnant and had a baby shower thrown for her. I was a hostess (one of a few) for her baby shower. There was a boat load of food involved - and food arranging and food eating and food decorating. Not to mention: she RACKED UP on adorable baby things - it was a total success. As being a hostess of a shower goes, I did okay.

We all planned on splitting the cost of the shower evenly among us to keep things fair. I got an email from Riley's sister-in-law, Ashley, a few weeks after the shower giving the total that we were all going to split. Naturally, because I'm so on top of things, I immediately wrote out a check and put it in an envelope to mail.

A few weeks later I got another email from Ashley saying that she was still waiting on her check from me - which couldn't be possible, I thought, because I wrote the check out and sent it. Probably just stuck in the post, I thought.

I got one more email from her - which I totally dismissed because LADY, I SENT YOUR CHECK.

Fast forward to a month ago I was changing out purses and.... YEP... found the envelope. Addressed, stamped and ready to go. I never sent that effing check. I had a moment of shame in my closet as I was completing the purse switch... but decided that it had been so long and I wasn't sure how to approach it yet... so I kind of just dropped it. I've discovered that this is an inherited trait: if I ignore it, it'll go away. I'm not saying it's the best way to handle things... I'm just saying that sometimes I use it.

OKAY - onto the part where I make things weird:

two weekends ago (because that's how my time is officially measured now... by weekends) I was on a plane to DFW to see College Annette, when I hear a very familiar voice with a Mississippi twang say "MELANIE!!!?" - it was Riley... and she had in tow with her, none other than Ashley. I was at the front of the plane (my logic is that I can forget it's a plane when I'm at the front because it has fewer windows... and if something terribly wrong goes down... I'm most likely to just get it over with quickly in the nose of the plane... I'll never know what hit me... as you can see, I love flying...longest parenthesis side note ever) - anyway: I was in the front and they were seated around the middle of the plane. We had a strange yelling conversation for just a second, but switched to texting because we were clearly annoying some of the other passengers who didn't want to be awake so early on a Saturday (don't worry, it was before take-off that we used the cell phones).

We get off the plane and stop at the ladies room.... Riley is still trapped inside the bathroom, so it's just me and this woman who thinks I don't pay for baby showers that I'm hostessing. Which, apparently, I don't. But not on purpose. Eye contact was minimal.

Elephant in the room.

Big elephant.

Finally, it pretty much flew out: "ICLEANEDOUTMYPURSE.....ANDFOUNDYOURCHECK. I never sent it. I'm so sorry. I thought I did.... I'll get you a check..."

She looked at me like I just told her that I had a talking frog in my suitcase.... then she, very sweetly, said "oh, that? I didn't even remember that!"... we both had an awkward laugh, and right then Riley walked out of the bathroom... so I felt the need to make it even weirder and catch Riley up to speed. Riley gave me the same talking-frog-in-the-suitcase look.... then we all moved on with our bags on wheels to say good morning to Dallas.

There was definitely a more graceful way to handle this. I can think of 3.  Right now.

Good grief.

used-ta-could

Wednesday night was ladies night... this meant mostly free drinks and no cover charge.

Thursday night was college night... it's the same as ladies' night - except guys got to experience the same "perks".

Friday night was... well it was Friday night: no school the next day.

Saturday night was anticipation of Sunday... which was the last day of the weekend - or freedom from class. Naturally there were celebrations.

I guess we used to go out. Kind of all the time. (we = my college bestie, Annette, and me. and a few other regulars).

Last night was a birthday celebration for my friend Kristie. Kristie wanted to go to dinner, to a wine bar and then out dancing. That sounds like fun, doesn't it?

Well, not to take away from her birthday extravaganza, because it WAS fun. However, it just reminds me that I'm not built for that kind of night out anymore. And trust me, I was rusty.

Dinner was good. I can do dinner.

The wine bar was PERFECT. I loved it. I had never been to this particular one - I will definitely go back.

The dancing.

This is where I started to feel like a fish out of water.

I was so awkward.

I used to have this fluid motion of handing the bouncer my ID, giving them exact cash and holding out my wrist to be stamped.

That skill has left me.

I handed over my ID - as if they even needed it...
Handed them a $20 - they looked agitated as they had to give me change
Then I walked into the bar without looking back... some guy tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to his wrist. Oops, missed the stamp.

In college, going out meant walking across the street from Annette's apartment to the bar, and playing frogger back home at 2 or 3 AM. (cringing slightly as I realize that my Mother-in-law is probably reading this... what can I say... young and dumb, I was).

Being the responsible adult that I am now - one drink was all I was going to have because I knew I would be making my way to my car and driving home late.

Did you know that these places are not tolerable without getting sloshed? I guess I had never noticed before. The smoking. The dancing.. the bad, bad dancing. The random people who bump into you and say "oh, sorry babe" while uninvitedly (new word) touching your waist...I did what I could to make the most of it - and most importantly, I think Kristie had fun.

Of course, I probably would have had more fun if my hubby had been there to be silly with me (he was home with Luke - typically I wouldn't go out without him, but it was a birthday thing).

I guess something happened to me after I got married. I'm pretty sure that anytime I'm out sans JD, I assume someone evil is out to get me. Someone is going to come out of the random darkness and try to chase me, steal all of my money, grab my engagement ring and band, leave me in a ditch beat up... probably in a puddle, too...and haul ass driving away in my car. Please note that I think I've "gone out" without JD 2 or 3 times. ever. Bottom line: I'm paranoid.

How paranoid, you ask?

Paranoid enough to take a teeny-tiny wristlet that doesn't even match my outfit to hold my ID, key, 1 lip gloss and money instead of a purse like normal. Paranoid enough to wear shoes I can run in. Paranoid enough to keep my ring upside down and out of sight (which I suppose can be misleading... but trust me, I give out no signals). Paranoid enough to have a plan that involved elbows and crotches in the event that I am attacked as planned.

Typing it out like this make me think it's not so "paranoid" and it is so practical, though. Not all bad ideas!

The good news: Nobody attacked me AND my thighs got a good workout from all of the dancing. 

Anyways... I went out this weekend and it was fun but I realize that there is a reason I don't do that all that often (read as though I'm saying it in one breath, because that's how I'm typing it).

Happy Birthday, Kristie! I am happy to call you my friend, and working with you keeps things FUN! :)

Open Eyes. and punching bags.

Tomorrow is Friday :)

Tomorrow Luke comes home :)

We have a ton to be Thankful for.

I know we're past the whole "holiday, I'm so thankful for everything including nose hair" season - but...truthfully, we should have those moments more often than just Thanksgiving through Christmas - I think. No, don't stop reading - this will be good, I promise.

I work in property management... which keeps things.... interesting (to say the least). There are days when I come home wondering HOW a resident can act the way they act... or, sometimes, smell the way they smell. It's definitely not an easy job - being involved in something as important as an individual's living arrangements comes with heavy dealings. My position involves training other employees, but a big part of my job is also being a buffer between the maintenance/office teams and the resident. I love my job - but I left there today choking back some tears... and desperately needing a shower.

We've been installing fire extinguishers into alllll of the apartments this week - so we've seen things. This also gives us an excuse to check out the properties in detail and do an inspection. We've seen nasty, unclean homes. We've seen spotless, obviously recently bleached homes. We've seen people attempt to hide their pets. We've seen one particular bathroom completely decorated in Dora the Explorer gear.  We've seen strange displays of "art". We've seen kitchens with dinner on the counter from 3 nights ago (or more). We've seen bugs. Big ones.

It's easy to forget as a very blessed, very fortunate person that some people are really just trying to get by.  The whole "put yourself in their shoes" thing comes into play often with this job, but it becomes real once you walk into some of these homes.

I inspected an apartment today that I know belonged to a family. 2 little girls... both probably under 4 and a little boy. This is a 2 bedroom apartment. The living room had a pull-out sofa bed (this is the first room I could see... my immediate thought was "oh, they've got more people living here than they have documented on the lease"... because that's just where my mind goes first) - so, pull-out sofa bed and a small table. Nothing in the dining room. Nothing in the kitchen except a sippy-cup. One bedroom had a mattress on the floor... and that's when I saw a little pink tricycle in the corner of an empty bedroom....

I know we're all dealt different lives and situations (this was my best attempt to not say cards... cliche and all). I also believe that not everyone is equipped to survive all situations, meaning: some people may be be given rougher lives because Someone greater knows they can pull through... when others cannot. It's the only way I can rationalize it. Yes, I have to try...

It's just... I came home from my really great job to my fully furnished, warm home. I know not everybody gets that. It's easy to get sucked into being greedy and materialistic (I'm willing to admit that it is for me. I definitely struggle with it)... it's not that I forget how privileged I am. But some days my eyes seem to be open wider than normal. Today is one of those days. 

Not to take away from the above, but I have to include this:

One apartment had a giant punching bag in the living room and I REALLY wanted to kick it as soon as I saw it... but I maintained my professionalism and did not... UNTIL: my maintenance guy forgot his drill and had to go back out to get it... as soon as he rounded the corner out the door I gave that punching bag my best kick.

I felt pretty smug. I also felt like I needed one of these punching bags!

I turned around to see the camera that the resident keeps in the upper living room corner. I waved. Caught.

Just then, my maintenance team member walked in to catch me waving at the ceiling. So I had to explain myself.
Busted.

Avoid the "R"

I'm not particularly good at driving in reverse....

And when I say "not particularly good", what I mean is: I totally avoid it. I don't even parallel park. Ever.

So when I backed into our garage after a trip to the grocery store on Monday, people were impressed. Well... I was impressed. My husband was impressed. See? People.

We don't have a short, flat and easy driveway. We have a monster, steep, insane driveway* (side note to come).

I also have a little problem hitting idle objects. In fact, I've only ever hit idle objects (mostly going in reverse... of course). My first incident occured when I was 17... backing down a driveway that I had only been parked in for less than 5 minutes... I hit a friends truck and knocked it into the street. I was driving a teeny tiny car and knocked a truck into. the street. Dad was upset, but I'm pretty sure he wanted to laugh.  

About a year and a half ago I managed to side swipe one of those cement platforms that gas pumps sit on... making my back passenger door difficult to open. It wasn't such an eye sore that it became a priority to fix... plus, to be honest, fixing a dent in my car just isn't high up on the priority list anyways. It was a super cramped, awkward parking lot - the husband grumbled a little, but he knows me... so it wasn't a huge deal (you should know... the DAY this happened my sister got a brand new car. not just any car: the car I wanted... I was cranky about it for a good 3 hours).

6 months after the cement gas pump thingy jumped out in front of me... one of my maintenance men at work decided it would be a grand idea to park his golf cart behind my car. in the dark. while it was raining. Naturally, when I left the office, I did not check to see if there were any golf carts behind my vehicle.....SCRAPEEEEEEEEE allll down the same side of the car as the other dent. This one is a little more noticeable. Husband (and father) rolled his eyes at this one. I still maintain that it was not totally my fault.

It's safe to say that my next mode of transportation will include one of those little rear view camera things. Fancy.

Here we are, a year later. I haven't hit anything in a year... and I think that's a good enough record to get my car fixed :) The Jetta is very excited about her facelift. We have many more great years together. This may even inspire me to clean the trunk out.

I have a lot of junk in my trunk.

No really. It's bad.

Side note as promised: **Our driveway is a pain in the ass. but you aren't allowed to say that. Only we're allowed to talk about our driveway in such a manner. You see, we understand that it would bother some people - but pretty much any time someone new comes over, the first thing they do is complain about the driveway. It gets its feelings hurt and I get annoyed. This is how I look at it: we're very unlikely to get robbed. Between the giant dog, the alarm system and the steep driveway - they'll just pass on by. Whoever "they" may be. Bottom line: I see my driveway. I love my house. Find something nice to say if you come over. Rant complete.