75. make sure my nieces know basic self defense

Um. CHECK. Don't mess with these gals.

I didn't cross this off my list before because technically they took a mixed martial arts class, not an actual self defense class, so I wasn't sure it counted. That right there should illustrate just how boxed in I felt by the 'life list' rules. The scavenger hunt idea has already paid off in spades.
And, oh hey! This also takes care of item 24 on my Birthday Scavenger Hunt. See what I did there? It's a scavenger hunt WITHIN a scavenger hunt for ultimate Inception-style mind melting potential.

Birthday Scavenger Hunt

So. I'm turning thirty. In one month precisely. And I get that whole thing where people aren't supposed to care because what's the big deal? It's supposed to be one of those things that Society makes people feel like is this Important Milestone but in actual fact no one bats an eye because tra la la my life is just so fabulous; I'm too busy being me to stop and worry about what age I am!
Baloney, says I.
I've written this before: I thought I would be married in my early twenties. I was CERTAIN I would have kids by now. And I don't. And that makes me sad. I don't have the major things I wanted to have before I was thirty. And now thirty is within spitting distance. And that sucks.
I'm happy, generally. I have a terrific family, lovely friends, a great job, and a nice home. But I'm starting to feel like the Universe is playing some kind of prank on me because, I'm not even exaggerating, my last two dates were as follows:
- A guy I went out with twice who drunk dialed me, texted me seven times to explain the drunk dialing, and then, when I sent him a gentle 'hey this isn't going to work, I think you might be a little intense for me' text, texted me twenty five more times AND insisted we speak on the phone so that he could explain to me FOR AN HOUR that he was NOT, in fact, intense.
- A guy who brought me a painting and then asked me to shave his back.
Seriously, Universe. You're just fucking with me now, aren't you?

ANYHOW. My point! I shall make it. And it will tie in with the title of this post.
Basically, I was thinking about my life list the other day and how having those little accomplishments on a tidy list is nice and how it is a nice list of things I want to do. But it also kind of makes me feel kind of meh to have a big list of goals that I'm nowhere near to finishing and what if I DON'T do something on the list and I miss the opportunity and it's gone forever and GAH it's on my LIST and it's so STRINGENT and whatever shall I do? So I've decided that a better term for my list is a Life Scavenger Hunt. Because if I find the opportunity to cross the things off, great! If I don't? No big. If I want to substitute an item for another something because that's what feels more right in that moment? Works for me. And if I reinterpret something I have listed in order to fit in a fun, noteworthy experience? Still counts!
I think this is more appropriate. That list has remained essentially unchanged since the day I wrote it, two years ago. And now that I'm feeling cranky and aged, it's high time I changed the rules to accommodate myself and my crank and my age.
IN THAT VEIN, I hereby propose a thirty item list of things I would like to do before my thirtieth birthday. I'm turning thirty, and BY GOD I'm going to force a celebration out of it.
So here is my Celebratory Thirtieth Birthday Scavenger Hunt. You'll notice that it is chock full of rather small, attainable goals, meant to remind me to live like this whole month is be a celebration, even though I might want to draw the curtains and have a nice long weep about how I'm not achieving the things I really WANT and slouching toward my eventual grave, because I WILL squeeze some good feelings out of this birthday, so help me.
Birthday Scavenger Hunt
1. eat at Palapas
2. eat at Hector's
3. eat at Zabu Zabu
4. go to Target
5. go for a drive with my dad
6. flea market
7. see a movie
8. drink a glass bottle Pepsi
9. roller skate
10. go in a hot tub
11. get a haircut
12. get a pedicure
13. give away a bag of stuff to Goodwill
14. hangover Panda Express
15. eat a mall pretzel
16. read a book
17. go out on the town with my ladies
18. hold my baby niece
19. use my new hair ribbons
20. make plans to have my older nieces come visit me
21. make plans to visit my sisters
22. make plans to visit D in Oregon.
23. make plans to go to at least one USC football game this year
24. cross off an item from my Life Scavenger Hunt
25. run on the treadmill
26. make candied maple walnuts and bring them into work
27. wear one of my new rings
28. blog
29. go on a nice long walk
30. lounge
*Items may be substituted at any time, without notice.

Let the scavenge begin.

Grandfather Clock

I went to a barn sale a few months ago, which is sort of like a yard sale, only all the stuff has all been stored in a barn for a long long time.

And I bought this beauty:

Oh that? Is a life-size grandfather clock latch hook rug that someone obviously spent a heck of a long time making. I fished it out of a heap of stuff in the "Fill a box for $5" section of the sale.
And then I spent, erm, too much money having it framed:

And the other day I hung it up in my entryway:

As a sidenote, how 'bout my wee entryway? Do you see why when people ask me where the bathroom is, I tell them "Well, it's the only door in the apartment that doesn't lead to the hall."
Now I have a grandfather clock in my entryway, in the most ridiculous, kitschy, tacky way there possibly is to have a grandfather clock in one's entryway. And that just tickles me.
I love my new decorative piece; it really is timeless. ZING.

Things That are Awesome, An Incomplete List

1. My ten year old niece. Who got in trouble at school for saying the word "dude." A boy in her class was picking on her so she turned around and just said "DUDE!" and the yard teacher benched her. So, basically, my niece is badass.

2. My new piece of art that I found at a flea market for ten bucks. It's a painting of a turquoise antelope on a piece of copper. Hello new focal point for my kitchen shelves.

3. Also in the photo above-- that BOWL. I've had it for a few years, but recently zenned it into a key/things from my pockets receptacle. I used to lose my keys on a fairly regular basis amongst the random assortment of things that tend to accumulate on the couch, the table, or the kitchen counter. I think I've finally bested them. WHAT NOW, KEYS?

4. The following underused words, which I am reintroducing to my vocabulary:
Donkey- As in, "Quit being such a fucking donkey."
Bozo- As in, "Quit standing there like a goddamn bozo."
Buttocks (Pronounced like butticks)- As in, "I dislike it when gentlemen at the club fondle my buttocks without permission."

5. Being on the phone with Jenny after Gabriel's bedtime. You get to hear her shout thinks like:
"No, I don't believe that you need to go to the bathroom. Because you've gone to the bathroom three times in the past twenty minutes. Unless you have a urinary tract infection you do not have to pee again. What's that? You managed to squeeze out four more drops of pee? CONGRATULATIONS."
And: "No! I'm not telling you how to spell any more words! It's p-o-l-i-c-e! No! Not again! Sound it out!"
And: "IT'S AN HOUR AND A HALF PAST YOUR BEDTIME, YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY PAPER AIRPLANES, GO TO SLEEP! NO! I'M NOT TELLING YOU HOW TO SPELL ANY MORE WORDS!"

6. Those twirly bobby pin things that ACTUALLY DO hold my hair up and out of my face all day long.

7. Texts from my dad.

The Lie of Omission

I hate lying. Well, more specifically, I hate being lied to. I hate it when lies affect my life. I hesitate to choose one particular form of lying over another as my most abhorred, but if I were forced to pick I would probably say The Lie of Omission.

One of the biggest fights KC and I got into before we broke up was an epic battle over him wanting to hang out with his ex girlfriend. I actually wrote a sulky, emo post about it at the time. Ugh. Makes me queasy just rereading it. I remember how hurt and upset I was, and also how confused and embarrassed I felt because I just couldn't figure out WHY I had such a huge problem with it. KC was discussing it with me before he hung out with her, so what the hell was my deal? Like most of my emotional issues, I assumed it had something to do with my Crazy Ex. After you're with someone like that train wreck into crazytown, I think it can be particularly difficult to distinguish what are actual Valid Concerns and what is related to having PTSD from dating an emotionally abusive sociopath.

I was uncomfortable with the idea of KC spending time with his ex girlfriend. I tried to talk to him about it, and he got angry and accused me of not trusting him. Then he revealed that while she was in town, his ex girlfriend and had an "extra ticket" to a show on Saturday night and wanted him to go with her. And, by the way, he had been talking to her on the phone regularly and hadn't told me because he knew it was upset me.

And then I was like woah woah pump yo brakes, dude. Because THAT RIGHT THERE is exactly why I HATE HATE HATE The Lie of Omission. He didn't bring up the fact that he was doing something that would upset me because... he knew it would upset me. Here I was, puttering along, thinking we had an open, honest relationship, and KC was actively keeping something from me-- something that he thought would upset me. Whether or not the thing being kept from me WOULD HAVE upset me becomes irrelevant at this point, because I will always always ALWAYS be seventy six GABILLION more times upset when I discover that I was lied to about something and then found out the truth later.

KC's response? "Well, you never asked."

Which brings me to my point, four hundred words in: The Lie of Omission is a sneaky, manipulative lie.

The Lie of Omission turns the tables and makes you feel like it was somehow YOUR fault for not asking the SPECIFIC QUESTION that would bring it to light. The burden of truth is shifted to the LIEE instead of the LIAR. Apparently it was MY responsibility to ASK KC, "Hey, any chance you've been chatting with your ex girlfriend recently?" I CALL SHENANIGANS.

I'm going to be thirty this year, and it has taken me THIS LONG to pinpoint exactly what bothers me about The Lie of Omission. And yet I have been omission lied to for so many BIG DEALS, that now I have a categorically insane list of questions I feel like I have to ask any guy I date:
Are you married?
Have you ever been married?
Do you have a girlfriend?
Do you have a job?
Are you homeless?
Do you have any kids?
Is there a lady out there currently pregnant with your child?

Most guys look at me pretty strangely when I come out straight out gate with that litany of queries. But trust me, it wouldn't be on my list IF IT HAD NOT HAPPENED.

I dated my Crazy Ex for a FULL MONTH before he told me he had a two year old child. I didn't find out that he was married (and cheating on his wife) when we first met until after we broke up (and they were divorced).
I had another dude tell me he didn't have any kids, and two weeks later I found out that he had a pregnant ex girlfriend.
His excuse? "Well, you didn't ask."

And this past weekend, apparently I made another grievous error. I went out to a club with my lovely lady friends, we ended up joining in with some gentlemen there for a dude's bachelor party. There was one guy in particular who spent the entire evening flirting with me, dancing with me, and generally being rather touchy-feely. At the end of the night, he said "Yeah, sorry you got the wrong impression, but I'm engaged." Not sorry IF you got the wrong impression, sorry YOU GOT the wrong impression. Burden of truth: SHIFTED TO ME. Silly little woman, you thought the dude trying to rub his body all over you was available? Tsk tsk.

I told the dude "Hey, if you're engaged, you might not want to grind up on girls at the club. Just an idea [sarcastic jazz hands]. Also, I feel kind of sorry for your fiance." And then I tossed my hair and got the hell out of there before I burst into furious tears. I felt embarrassed and angry and like I had made a huge error in judgment. But then my friends assured me that, no, our flirtation WAS NOT all in my head. I had witnesses to the fact that he had been CLEARLY pursuing me and chatting me up. AND, I remembered later, when the DJ said "All the single people put ya hands up!" HE PUT HIS HANDS UP.

But his douchey "Sorry you got the wrong impression" comment had made me feel like it was somehow MY FAULT that I didn't know he was engaged. Because The Lie of Omission is sneaky and manipulative.

Are you engaged? has now been added to my list of questions. Because I don't care how ridiculous I'm going to appear as long as it means that I have some defense against The Lie of Omission. There won't be another "Well, you didn't ask" situation if I can help it. So help me, I WILL ASK.
Because the best defense against manipulative douchebaggery? Being one step ahead of the douchebags.

Potpourri: Recently

Today marks one month since I started my new job. And can I just point out that from an external perspective of someone who perhaps doesn't know me that well or read my blog, it might appear that I graduated, took my test, and WHABAM had a job within days. I'm thinking of reframing my memories and living in THAT reality. Because I am still pretty excited that I have this job.
This is my last week of training before I go solo with my responsibilities next week. I am nervous. I told my sister that and she said "Eh, don't worry. In six months you'll feel like you've been there your whole life."
Thankssss.... ?
I really like my job, so far. There are some quirky things about it that I particularly enjoy and since I'm not going to talk about my patients (hi HIPAA!), I'll share them:
- You can't eat anywhere except the conference room and there are usually people working or having a meeting in there. So a couple times a day I open the door, step in and stand there awkwardly eating my emergencheese (the cheese sticks I carry in my pockets for emergencies. GET IT? Emergencheese for emergencies!). People sometimes ask "Uh. Did you need something?"
- There is a passcoded, locked door that opens to, no joke, a six foot drop into the street. It's not a loading dock. It's not an exit. Or, at least it's not an exit NOW. It might have been one at some point when they were planning to build stairs.
- My office is the size of a stall shower. I actually like it. It's more of a nook. It doesn't have a door. With a six foot drop or otherwise.

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I went to Hawaii. HOT TIP: If your best friend says "Hey, I wanna go to Hawaii in March. You should come." You really should. Evidence:

The cool thing about the time difference is getting to the beach at 7AM when it is EMPTY.

We are SERIOUS about our sun protection. I don't stay this lily white by accident.

Gabey liked the pool best.

We snorkeled. I had to forcefully talk myself down from having a panic attack because SNORKELING IS FUCKING SCARY what with all the listening to my own heavy loud breathing and seeing the sandbar drop off into giant chasms and having to adjust my mask in the open ocean and swim back to shore AGAINST THE TIDE.

We got the feeling that people thought we were a couple on vacation with our adopted son. Because the first thing you think when you see two women and one kid together is never, 'Ah. They must be friends.'

I found a flower THE SIZE OF MY HEAD.

We swam, we lounged about, we got lost in our books, we loosely supervised Gabriel at the pool while he made friends with other kids and turned into a fish, we had fancy drinkies, we ate lots of chips and salsa.

I'd say that about sums it up.

---

Last weekend somebody asked me what I would buy if I had $500 to spend at Target. "Only at Target, though." he stipulated, as if that might slow me down. "Groceries!" I said, "New sheets! Nice towels! Bins for organizing my things! Packing tape! Wait... this makes me sound really boring. I don't care! Laundry detergent!" Best game ever.

---

Unrelated to any of the above: I bought myself a jackelope for Easter.

I got it from a flea market! Just kidding. It's from Modcloth. Sigh. That would have been the MOTHER of all flea market finds, wouldn't it?

---

I've found that I can basically get one productive task done per day after I get home from work. One day is cooking. One day is laundry. One day is vacuuming. One day is paying bills. One day is buying groceries. Today's task was blogging.

Throwback(?) Accent Vlog

(Sometimes I say words a certain way because it's fun.)

Regional Dialect Video Meme
Say these words: Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught
Now answer these questions:
• What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
• What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
• What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
• What do you call gym shoes?
• What do you say to address a group of people?
• What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
• What do you call your grandparents?
• What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
• What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
• What is the thing you change the TV channel with?

Worky Weeky

First week at work and GAH. Work is hard! Not just the work itself. But it's been about four years since I had one of these all day every day full time all year long jobbers and, oof, it is taking some getting used to.
I am the tired.
I don't know how you people do it.
That's right, I said 'you people.' What of it?

So uh. How's about I just post some photos of the outfits I've worn this week and we call it a post?


Monday:

Pants: Uhh Ross maybe? Or maybe a thrift store ages ago? Can't remember. Shirt: Marshalls. Cardigan: Target. Scarf: Timberland. Glasses: Zenni Optical.

Monday was Orientation day, in the main building of the Large Institution that umbrellas my Smallish Clinic. I was orienting with a whole crew of new employees, some medical, some not. So it was a lot of general information about policies and HIPAA and unions and safety. And they gave me a gym bag.

Tuesday:

Pants: Marshalls. Shirt: Marshalls. Cardigan: Target.

Tuesday was my first day in my actual clinic. I wore the same cardigan as Monday, because apparently I have a cardigan hole in my worky wardrobe. I also wore the COMFIEST SHIRT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. It is loose and flowy and would be perfect for concealing the early stages of a pregnancy, should I ever have that need. On Tuesday it just concealed the early stages of eating too much.

Tuesday was also the day I learned that my clinic isn't as strict about certain things as the emails might have led me to believe. While the Large Institution has very specific dress policies, apparently at my clinic I can decide if I want to wear scrubs or businessy clothes. And they're not in a huge hurry to get me the uniform scrubs, so I can just wear the ones I have for now, if I want. I can also combine my break time and my lunch time into a sinfully long forty five minute stretch.

Wednesday:

Pants: Marshalls. Shirt: Marshalls. Cardigan: Marshalls. Sponsor of this post: Sadly not Marshalls.

I made Wednesday's pic a full-lengther so you can appreciate my shoes. I guess they maybe don't look as cute as they are in person, but they are indeed nice looking. And their nice-lookingness is also accentuated by how ridiculously comfortable they are. Ridiculously comfortable. They're also the perfect height, both in terms of heel (not TOO high, because come on), and in terms of, uh, whatever you call the top of your boots? They cover my ankles entirely and you can't see my socks, even when I sit down and cross my legs (this is a huge plus for the gal who likes to wear white athletic socks with everything). They're Aerosoles 'Motorcar' boots and I can't be bothered right now to find a link for them, but I bought them online and they are on sale now.


Today (Thursday):

Scrub pants: Dickies from some scrub store. Scrub top: Thrift Town. Thermal: Target. Sad-looking kitty: Bowie.

Yeah. I gave up on the whole businesswear business. Totally overrated.

Tomorrow: Purple Scrubs.
Also: Galoshes.

It has been rainy this whole week, which was fine when I was wearing my businessy clothes and Motorcars, but not so fine when I decided to wear my scrubs. So I wore my galoshes for the tromping through the rain from my car to work and then switcherooed into my sneakies. It was kind of annoying to carry something in addition to my purse, my satchel of important paperwork, and my lunch bag, so tomorrow I'm going to do the same thing, but this time bring my all the crazap I need to carry in my NEW GYM BAG. I need to start calling it something else, though.... Sneaker Bag? Worky Bag? I don't want people getting the wrong impression that I actually use the gym bag for the GYM. Just like I don't wear Yoga Pants, I wear Lounge Pants or Apartment Pants, lest I give anyone the mistaken impression that I actually do yoga in them.

Potpourri

In celebration/preparation for my new job, I went out and bought some new professionalish worky clothes. I figured that I would probably be wearing business casual plus a lab coat to work since that was what I had worn in most of my clinicals.

And then I found out that I'm actually going to be wearing scrubs to work.
So I went out and bought some cute new scrub tops... and then I found out that actually my workplace will be providing me with 5 sets of scrubs when I start and I'll have a 'scrub allowance' each year. Perhaps I need to quit going out and buying stuff before I have all the information, but, really, is that any way to live?
I was a teensy bit bummed at first, but I've made my peace with the idea of essentially wearing pajamas to work every day. And if I'm ever feeling like I want to dress things up a little I can always wear cute shoes or fun glasses. Plus, full disclosure, the new scrub tops that I bought were actually from the thrift store and only $3 each, so it wasn't a huge loss. I'll keep them, because I might need them someday.
AND I won't have my new scrubs for at least the first couple of days at work so I AM going to wear my new professionalish clothes on those days. Which means they're basically paying for themselves, or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

---

I also bought a new hat. I LOVE how it looks on my accessories shelf:

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I also bought a new wireless mouse. On a related note, can somebody come over and make my wireless mouse talk to my computer? I've gone as far as I can in terms of following the directions, and now I'm stumped and they're still not speaking.

---

After leaving my recent clothing purchases on the table for about a week, I decided that it was time to make some room in the closet by culling my pantular wardobe. I've been going through and getting rid of all the pants that refuse to zip and fit me like this:

There are a lot of them. Apparently it's been awhile since I've needed new worky pants.

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Also in the spirit of doing things I've been putting off and soon might not have time for, I got a haircut. I went to the esthetics and cosmetology school because it is only $25 and I had been before and liked it. And they didn't shame me when they found out that I hadn't gotten a haircut since last January.
Here's the before:

And after:

Yeahh, I guess it doesn't look like a HUGE difference. Mainly the bottom picture just looks like my hair has been combed. You'll have to trust me that they took off about 4 inches and I'm feeling rather lightheaded now. Literally, I mean: my head feels lighter.

---

My pre-employment chest X ray (which I had to get to prove that I don't have TB) said that my heart is "unremarkable." RESPECTFULLY SIR, I DISAGREE.

Employed

So.
I got a job.

I GOT A JOB!!!

I applied and had an interview and then I took (AND PASSED, ahem) my board exam and then I had a second interview and then I went out of town to visit my sister and while I was there they called and offered me the job!

I'm a little nervous to mention it on here because, as we know, I'm a tad leery of the Universe and my recent smitings. I guess that's partly why I've been hesitant to even BELIEVE that it's true. The day they called and offered it to me I told a few people and they seemed more excited than I was. Jenny actually had to talk me down off a metaphorical ledge numerous times. I kept thinking that something would happen and they'd call me back and tell me it was a mistake. And then they DID call me back and tell me that there was an issue and I felt like okay, here it comes. But then the issue turned out to be not a big deal at all and the manager was just calling to verify everything with me. And so then after I hung up with him I ran into the garage and yelled to my sister "HEY! I HAVE A JOB!" She was like, "I... I know? I've been excited all day and you haven't for some reason!"
And now my new workplace has been sending me emails and paperwork, HR has contacted me about my sign-up meeting, and I have my pre-employment health screening set for Friday. It's looking more and more real.
This is the kind of job I wanted, but almost didn't dare to hope for because the other interviews that I have had were for much less ideal situations.
It's at a small clinic that is part of a larger healthcare organization. The people who work there all seem nice. I'll have training and support and orientations and classes.
I start in March. At my job.
I need to buy some more scrubs. For my job.
I have to get a lock for my locker at work because I have a job.
I GOT A JOB.
A job. For me. Happy. Yes. Job.

Vacation

Oh hai. I've been on vacation. Both literally and internettily.

I had been itching to get out of town and I had just passed my board exam, so I jumped on a cheap fare to fly out and visit my sister. I left for the airport on Valentine's Day, unintentionally dressed like a Valentine.

Not the best day for pink to be your favorite wearing-color.

I discovered that Valentine's Day is actually a great day to travel. There was barely a line at security, and I got a pat-down (which I requested instead of going through the creepy new X ray machines) from the most polite and respectful TSA agent I have ever met. The gate agents were cracking jokes over the intercom. My flight was less than half full and the flight attendants were jovial and friendly. AND I got a free drinkie, courtesy of Southwest.

Definitely a better Valentine's present than last year.

My sister picked me up at the airport with a cooler of what may or may not have been more beverages. And thus began my awesome vacation. It has been filled with... well... mostly just hanging out. I visited a couple of friends who live nearby. I read two books. My sister and I have gone to lunch and gotten pedicures.
I also helped my sister do some organizing. We bought bins at Target and sorted the downstairs closet and cleaned up the kids' rooms. Yesterday, I was helping my niece with her homework while my sister was organizing the playroom. When I came in, I found this:

My nieces don't mess around when it comes to Breyer Horses.

"Did you do that?" I asked my sister.
"Yep," she said.
"Wow," I said, examining the shelves. "Hey wait a second! You just wanted to organize the playroom so you could play with the Breyer Horses!"
"Maybe..." she said.
I was really just sorry I had missed it.

I've also gotten to spend lots of quality time with my nieces, which has been great. I've watched them at their martial arts and vaulting and riding classes (they have the coolest hobbies). We did some baking and cooking projects.

I've picked them up from school and helped them with their homework (sort of). We've cuddled up with the dogs and watched movies. I've laughed with them and given them lots of hugs and I've noticed that the more I get to hang out with my nieces, the more I realize just what interesting, funny, beautiful, creative, smart, amazing people they are.

I'm leaving tomorrow, which is fine. I'm not in a hurry to get back, but I guess my vacation has to end sometime. I've gotten to do basically everything I wanted to while I was here. I didn't want shop or go to the movies or visit the Usual Neat Places that people tend to flock to in town. I just wanted to enjoy spending time with my loved ones, being in a different environment from home, and not having to study. Check.

I also got to take a pony for a walk.

Not their pony, a pony at the barn.

Bonus.

Success

My hands were shaking so hard, it's surprising that the picture is in focus. I started shaking after I clicked 'End' to finish my test and then I don't think I stopped until after I skipped all the way home. I high-fived the proctor at the testing center after she pointed out that my paper said 'Congratulations,' which meant that I had passed. I PASSED! I PASSED MY TEST ON THE FIRST TRY! I STUDIED MY ASS OFF AND THE UNIVERSE DIDN'T SMITE ME AND I PASSED!

I passed my board exam.
I am now, officially, a nationally certified NP.
I am currently drinking champagne and wearing a tiara.
And it feels damn good.

notes

I love giving gifties. It brings me joy to pick out a present for someone, to find something that I know they will like. For me, giving someone a gift shows the person that I care about them-- I was thinking of them, I know them, and I listen to them. I guess that makes gift giving one of my love languages, or however that's supposed to work.
Anyhow, I love giving gifts! So I would definitely continue to give my nieces and nephews presents either way, but receiving the thank-you notes they send me? Icing on the cake.

Remember the little basketty thing I bought Princess for her 11th birthday? Well she liked it!

I've also recently gotten a bunch of notes from my other nieces and nephews, for their Christmas gifties. It has been really fun for me to open my mailbox and find little kid-handwritten cards inside it.

I taped the notes up on my kitchen cabinets, and they make me smile every day. I love those kids dearly, and I love that they enjoy the presents I got them.

Spot on.

This is Elena (and me, obviously):

For some reason this was the only photo of her I could find on my computer, and it is from about five years ago. Not the best photo of me, but I had just graduated from my first master's program and we were out celebrating with family, friends, and pitchers of margaritas.

Elena and I met on the bus, on our way to middle school. After that first year of getting to know each other huddled around the heaters in our flimsy school uniforms, we (along with two other girls, who will get their own post sometime) spent three years carpooling, having sleepovers, and getting ready for school dances together. Elena and I remained friends throughout high school, even though she was definitely way cooler than me. We pretty much lost touch in college, but reconnected when she moved to LA. In the years that our time in LA overlapped, we would often meet up for brunch or lunch or breakfast or dinner or some other meal at any point in the day when we both happened to be hungry. Sometimes we would take her dog for a hike in Runyon Canyon or go shopping on Melrose or at the Beverly Center. Sometimes we would sneak into the fancy hotels and hang out at the pools and Elena always knew how to play it off so the management just accepted our presence. One time Elena hosted a Cinco de Mayo party at her house, complete with a piñata.

Elena is one of those girls who could ACTUALLY pull off wearing a burlap sack and look killer in it. She does improv and standup and once actually got up on a stage and read her middle school diary in front of a crowd of people.

She also made this video:

This is essentially a documentary of my life there. Ah, the endless quest for parking. Seriously, it is SPOT ON. And, weirdly, it makes me miss LA.

WELL THEN

So. As I've mentioned, I've been trying my hand at online dating. It's been... interesting. If nothing else I've gotten an eye-opening lesson in the quality of single dudes out there. Not high quality, is what I've found so far. If I were to compare them to, say, dinner ingredients, I might tell you that you wouldn't want to make a formal meal with these guys as the entree. You'd boil them down to make guy stock for bullion cubes or deep fry them and dip them in ranch dressing. You wouldn't want to BRING OUT the flavor of these guys, is all I'm saying. You'd want to suppress it, and probably heavily season it. You'd probably want to have a few drinks with the meal in order to make it palatable, which, incidentally, is exactly what I've been doing on my recent dates. Not cannibalizing the guy, I mean. Drinking.

Uh, anyhow. A couple days ago I saw a profile that caught my eye. The guy seemed interesting enough and he made it through my fairly persnickety filtering system. And so I sent him a little message, just saying hi, and I think I might have also mentioned that I like his favorite book. Fascinating, I know, but I never know what to say in those messages.

Today I got an instant message from him. Perhaps you will remember that in the little section on my profile where it asks about the first things people notice about you, I wrote: "My hair, my tattoo, my wild hand gestures, my long-winded stories. My sparkling personality? I'm not going to put the thing most people REALLY notice about me on here, but if you meet me you'll know." Guys tend to be intrigued by this and often they do guess right away when the meet me, but sometimes I'll get a surprising answer like "It's your weird nose, isn't it?" Also, more than one guy has laughed and said that he thought maybe I had a wooden leg or something, no offense to any amputees out there.

This dude had a different idea.

MY PROFILE SUGGESTS THAT I HAVE BIG B00BS. I MIGHT WANT TO FIX THAT.

Annnnd, scene.

This interaction might have bothered me if I had ANY EXPECTATIONS AT ALL OF HUMANITY ANYMORE. Which I don't. I have accepted that there are no good guys left. This guy just CONFIRMED WHAT I ALREADY KNEW.

If you need me, I'll be packing.