Laughing Gas

I went to the dentist on Monday to get a cavity filled and I got to enjoy that wonderful, wonderful thing they call laughing gas. I had forgotten what that was like since it's been so long since I've had to get a filling.

Anyone know where you can get like a trial size of that stuff to keep in your purse? You know, for those times when your stomach sinks once you realized you've missed an important meeting, or if some idiot calls to cancel a date last minute? You can just laugh it off instead of wasting your time getting upset. It'd be kind of like those "easy button" commercials that Staples has out there right now.

Out Before The Game Even Started

I'm having to re-create this post, so it may not be as good as what I wrote last night (dammit, why didn't I save it?). I'll explain after I'm done.

1) I was really interested in your business venture. I find work vans extremely sexy. I was looking forward to riding around in one.
2) You had stellar conversation skills. Moments of silence every few minutes support that claim. And I never once was bored, ever, not even when you talked about licensing and the differences between trademarks and servicemarks for 15 minutes. Now that's quality "get to know you" conversation if I've ever had it! Gee, I'm really going to miss that.
3) Your latching on so quickly didn't at all make the "needy" alarm sound in my head.
4) Knowing now what I didn't know then, there is nothing else that I'd rather have done this week then talk to you, not even, say, cleaning my baseboards or using a Qtip to clean the rubber part of my fridge door. I don't wish I had any of that time back, not even one minute.
5) When you called to cancel our date 3 hours beforehand, well I just cried for hours and hours. Oh my, my - where will I go? Whatever shall I do?

Oh, and there's one more thing...
Girls lie too.
We don't care how much money you make, what you drive, or what you weigh.
Size doesn't matter anyway.
Girls lie too.
Don't think you're the only one to bend it, break it, stretch it some.
We learn from you.
Girl's lie too.

Thank you for freeing up my Friday night so I can go and actually have some fun. And good conversation. Looks like those baseboards will have to wait.

Ok, so here's the deal. I spent a good deal of time talking to this guy on the phone this week and we set up a date for Friday night. I thought, what the hell? A free meal can do the body and wallet good. He wasn't exactly my dream guy, but I was game (or glutton for punishment, however you want to see it). Anyway, he was supposed to call me last night to confirm the time and place etc, and I didn't hear from him. All night. And I was pissed. So I wrote a posting very similar to what I have above (albeit was probably better because it was in the moment, you know?) and posted it to my site - which he reads, or at least he did. However, 11:30pm rolls around and low and behold, I get a call. I get some story about how he was tired and fell asleep all night and was sorry blah blah blah. So, I give him a fair share of grief because my gut tells me he's lying through his teeth, but I air on the forgiving side and continue to agree to see him - obviously against my better judgment. So while he's on the phone last night, I franctically reboot my computer so I can delete the post I just posted (similar to the one above) so he doesn't get the chance to read it. Close call! But oh how I wish I had left it alone - or at least saved it as a draft. But I was panicked. So today comes and I get a call from him around 4:30pm that he's not going to be able to go. And then a long moment of silence (shocker, I know, because of the stellar conversation skills as mentioned earlier), leaving ample time to explain or come up with some excuse, but nope, I get nothing. So I say, "ok" in a cheery voice, wish him a good weekend and hang up. I'm off to hang out with some friends instead. Probably will have more fun anyway. Weird-o.

Aren't you grateful, all you married people, that you don't have to deal with this type of stuff? The upside is that it makes for some great material for blogsites.

Skin Cream

So I had to take my cute little Darby to the vet on Monday night because he had a skin irritation. Do you know that 20 minutes in the little vet room, wrestling with my dog to stay on the cold stainless steel table, and one tube of skin cream later cost me $98? $98?? Really? What did you do Dr. Vet? I'm in the wrong business. If I could get someone else to do the whole "sample gathering" step (those with pets know what kind of sample gathering I'm talking about. let's just say it's not a sample from the end that barks), I'd totally be a vet! Playing with cute animals and then gauging their pet-loving moms and dads out of $98 bucks for 20 minutes time is quite the money-making racket. Ah well, what's a mom to do? I'll wait for next paycheck to get the shoes I want. The baby comes first. His skin irritation is looking much better if you were concerned. The box the cream came in, well, that's not looking as good. He decided it'd be fun to tear that into little pieces while I was typing this post.

Drinks with the Boss

We had a new guy start last week. This guy happens to think that he's been hired as our "boss" but will actually be viewed as more of the "resident raise-giver" to our team. We'll let him think that we're following his leadership as long as it keeps the money coming in. Hey, reviews are coming up in April. He won't know any different than what we tell him, so, it's totally win-win. He seems pretty cool by most accounts, young and single, so he fits into our group. Being new in town, and with no other plans by his own admission, he invited his new team out for drinks tonight. He even offered to pick up the tab! Bless his heart, he hasn't been with the company long enough to know that the tolerance level of a group increases dramatically after working for our company, and that his bill would probably come close to his mortgage payment! And yet he didn't even blink. I think I saw him swallow hard, but no blinking, I'm sure of it. Anyway, in the course of the conversation, I inadvertantly managed to become "that girl." I have somewhat of a sarcastic sense of humor, but sometimes I do it so well that it comes across as serious and some people, especially new people, don't realize I'm joking. So, unfortunately, the conversation of the evening revolved around work and the office, even though we'd make failed attempts to really pretend to care about each other's lives (you know, asking questions about family members and then tuning out the answers). As we spoke about work, something came up about a strategy we're working on and the work I've put into it, and he made the comment of "you're my new favorite person." And I quickly quipped, "well, I always want to be the boss' favorite," which was supposed to be sarcastic but came across as more of a brown-nosing comment. Ugh. There was nothing I could do to save it. It was out there and lost in the recorded minutes of the conversation. I felt like the personified character on all of the teenie bopper tv shows - you know, the girl with long, mousey straight black hair, a Catholic school girl skirt, glasses, and a stack of books in hand, practically riding piggy back on her teacher not to miss a move. Complaining about an A when she feels she should get the A+. Oh well, he's only been with us for a week. Over time, he'll find that that's not really the case. I really don't care if he chooses me to be his favorite as long as - you guessed it - I get a good raise every April.

Grumpy Old Man

Dear Grumpy Old Man at the grocery store:

I appreciate you letting my friend Alisha and I infront of you in line at the grocery store on Saturday morning seeing that we only had 2 items and you had about $300 worth in your cart. However, I sincerely did not appreciate your look of utter disdain when Alisha asked very politely if we could go in front of you. She also reinforced the fact that you didn't have to let us, but YOU said it would be ok. The rude utterings under your breath, something to the effect of our "time must be more valuable than yours" and that we "should have gotten up earlier in the morning if we were in such a hurry," lead me to believe that you were an unwilling participant in letting us go ahead of you. But again, no one twisted your arm on this one, mister. What you don't know is that we had indeed been up and running errands since 7:30am and that we had already been to Target, Atlanta Bread Company, and WalMart, and that the grocery store was the last stop for us before we hurriedly took off to get back before guests arrived for the baby shower we were throwing. You, however, were scruffy with beard growth and undoubtedly hadn't even taken a shower yet. Maybe YOU should have gotten up earlier to at least taken care of simple basic hygiene before entering the public world. Huffing and puffing and uttering rude things after you've agreed to do something is very immature behavior, especially for someone in at least his 50s. And let me remind you that we were checked out and headed out the door before you even finished unloading half your cart! Somehow I don't think that we threw a kink into your schedule for the day. All I want to say is that if you agree to do something, don't begrudge it. Afterall, it was your decision, and you, too, may need a favor one day. Anyway, thanks again for letting us in front. My advise to you would be to work on your attitude. You'd be a much happier person. Hope the rest of your day was better. And yes, the baby shower went off without a hitch, not that you're all that interested. Best regards, Kara

What Stinks

Here's another task that stinks for someone who lives alone: taking out the trash.

I can't stand it. I think to myself every Sunday evening when gathering the trash, taking it to the trashcan and struggling to roll it to the top of my driveway that I wish so much that I could hire some guy to come do this for me once a week. That's all - just come collect my garbage and take it to the top of the driveway. 10 minutes max. And it never, never fails that it's raining on Sunday evenings at the exact time I'm ready to take it to the curb. Never fails. So I run out there with a large black bag filled with garbage from every trash can in my house, haul it up and over the side of the big garbage can, being careful not to use too many fingers to pick up the lid or touch the handle, usually in the rain. Then the wheels of the can get bogged down in what's now become mud from the rain and I try not to step in the mud myself, instead wrestling with this large can now waited with garbage until I can get it at the right angle to pull it free onto the concrete driveway. Feeling good about my accomplishment when it's finally at the curb, I always somehow think, this isn't my job. It never was growing up - it was my dad's. But then again, Kara, who else is going to do it? Yep, looks like I'm it. Inevitably at least one or two times a month, I'll come home from a long day at work and dressed in heels and work clothes, go to retrieve the empty garbage can from the curb and find that it's still full. Yes, the stupid garbage people either passed me up or skipped my neighborhood altogether. Let me just tell you how angry I get when that happens. After I've struggled in the rain to get the damn thing out of the mud and up to the curb only using 2.5 fingers and some prodding with my foot, the thing's still full! Needlesstosay, Tuesday mornings aren't good mornings for the people at the answering end of their phone number after I call! Maybe I should start a trash "taker-outer" service for all single women out there that don't want to have to do this task anymore.

Do you ever get tired of being so good?

I'm the girl that tries to do the right thing. Even in my youth. The one that tries to be the responsible one. Tries to be the good girl. I'm the hardworker, the volunteer that helps others, the one you know you can count on. Dependable. Reliable. Usually makes smart decisions - safe decisions. Dates the responsible men (when I date that is). Works the reponsible job. Stable. Conservative. Modest. Friendly. Complacent. Peacekeeper. Avoids conflict. I attribute it to being the first born in my family. First borns typically have to grow up a bit faster to take care of our younger siblings. At least that's how I see it, anyway.

Sometimes though, I just want to be bad. I want to be irresponsible. I want to do what's right for me at the time instead of what's right for my future, or what other people tell me is right for me. I want to make dumb decisions and get away with it. I want to skip work and not call in or feel guilty about it. I want to be a waitress in the Florida Keys with a college degree and not care. I want to waste money in rent on an apartment in the city instead of make money by owning a house in the suburbs. I want to pick up and go somewhere without one piece of luggage or a whole lot of money and be confident in knowing that I'll make it work out. I want to date the fearless boy and not disapprove of his actions or be afraid to be just as fearless. I want to go on a $1000 shopping spree and love every article of clothing and every shoe that I bring home and not worry that that money was supposed to go to my bills instead. I want to cancel meetings and not turn in presentations...ever. I want to stand up to those that I shrink from. I want to stay up or out as long as I want to and not be worried that I won't be fresh for work. I want to be flighty and everyone just accept that that's just how I am.

Anyone else ever feel the same way? Anyone else want to join me?

Country Girl in the Suburbs

I have come to realize in the past 10 years or so that I am really a country girl at heart, at least half my heart anyway. Yes, I happen to have grown up in the suburbs, lived a surburban lifestyle, bought a house and work in the suburbs, but I really have a lot of country girl in me. I mean, I went to the University of Alabama for goodness sakes! Can I get a big Roll Tide!?

As much as I like to keep my professional decorum at work, and often in life in general, I have a bit of a redneck at my core. I know most wouldn't look at me and really believe me when I tell them about that side of me. I try to hang with the "city" crowd, but I just can't get into all of the boutiques and froo froo restaurants. I can go and put on the appearance that I belong to this crowd, but it's not a comfort level that I have, at all. I know my manners, how to dress, which fork to use, and how much to tip the valet, but I'd much rather have a good steak and bleu cheese on my salad rather than ostrich medallions and house viniagrette. I'd much rather hang out at a country bar, or even a hole in the wall blue jean bar with a beer and listening to country or blue grass or southern rock, then get all dressed to impress to go to a midtown or buckhead establishment with a cosmopolitan martini listening to techno. Afterall, you can't sing karaoke to techo - we all know country songs are best suited for that! I think I'd like to date a country song songwriter. Aren't those just some of the sweetest and sometimes most romantic songs? And isn't there just something about a good-lookin' guy in a cowboy hat? A sweet Southern drawl? Good, respectful manners? God-fearing, God-loving? Mmmhmmm.

I don't let the country girl out very often but when I listen to the country music station, she's there. Singing along to all the songs, even trying to get the distinct southern accent of the singer right, just wishing that's where I belonged. But the truth is, I don't fully belong in the country world either. As much as I like my blue jeans, they couldn't be my main article of clothing. I'll go fishing and enjoy it, but don't want to put the worm on the hook or take the fish off the line. I love deer, but don't want one hanging in my den. I guess I'm just somewhere in the middle. A product of a country boy from small town Jacksonville, Alabama and a city girl from big town Atlanta, Georgia. But can I get a Yee Haw, anyway!?

Random Ramble

Ok, so I don't really have that much to say tonight but feel like writing something. So I'll just write about the mundane. The everyday things that make up the moments of my life. I'll start with this weekend. Saturday I went out with 3 of my friends to shop for the things we'll need for the baby shower we're hosting this weekend. One of our stops was WalMart, where of course, we had 2 buggies - one for baby shower supplies, one for our stuff. I mean, come on, we're 4 girls at WalMart, do you really think one buggie would be enough? Anyway, I was very excited because they had Yellow Tail wine on sale for $6 a bottle. I bought 4, but only to use as decoration in my wine rack obviously. (Nevermind the fact that I've already opened and just about finished one of them this weekend. But, when I filled the wine rack, it didn't look "lived in" so I decided to take one bottle out for a more lived in look and didn't want that bottle to go to waste. It was a total sacrificial bottle of wine, bless it's heart.) Among my many purchases was some pink nail polish. You know how pink is such an "in" color, so I thought what the heck. Normally I'm a red nail polish girl, but I was feeling a bit sassy I guess. I painted my nails last night and I look like Barbie. Total Bonnie Bell or TinkerBell cosmetics pink when it's on. (girls, you know what I'm talking about) Oh well. Maybe it'll look good this summer after I get a tan, but right now when paired with skin even Casper would be ashamed of, it's not as attractive as I'd hoped. As a side note, I have to say that I think Swiss Formula Whipped Silk lotion is the best stuff around.
I went to Eckard yesterday because I wanted some Easter candy. Yes, that's all I went there for. I know that's bad, but does anyone else agree that Reese's Peanut Butter candy tastes better when shaped liked eggs, or hearts, or Christmas trees?
I went to the dentist this morning and funny enough, I have some cavities that need to be filled. I neglected to tell the dentist about the Easter candy yesterday and instead gave an award winning performance of utter astonishment at the news of cavities. Who me? What? Cavities? How strange, I can't imagine how that happened...(now where did I put that Cadbury egg?) I'm going back on the 28th to get fillings. Another morning off of work, maybe there's some sort of ulterior motive here.
Speaking of work, we received our "bonus" checks of sorts today. I have to say that I'm happy with what I got. I was thinking it was going to be about half of what I actually received. I'm going to by a storm door for my house and pay for my upcoming dental work. Gosh that sounds very old of me, doesn't it? Funny how priorities change over time. I still have my tax refund money recently deposited in my account to have fun with. If you call buying a new queen mattress fun. Oh what the heck, maybe I'll splurge $30 for a manicure and pedicure. Somebody stop me.
Anyone else have a $200 gas bill this month? Just taking a poll...
And finally, everyone, I'm still happy. I am happy! I spent this past year being desperately unhappy but I'm over it and now I'm honestly really happy! Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of our break up, and I really couldn't care less. In fact I totally forgot about it until I started writing this paragraph. How about that? That's huge. More importantly, that's the truth. :) I haven't felt this good in a very long time. I'm on the road to a full recovery from a broken spirit.

Settle

"Some people settle down. Some people settle. And some people won't settle for anything less than butterflies."
- Sex in the City

I know it's a cheesy place to snag a quote, but if you think about it's pretty profound. I fall into the not willing to settle for anything less than butterflies category myself.

Just wish the caterpillars would hurry it up in there.

Hard Things When You Live Alone

I really do enjoy living alone. I didn't think that I would, and I thought I'd get lonely, but I really don't. I like the down time. I like the fact that I can do what I want, when I want, and no one to answer to. Of course, this means that the laundry piles up to the point that it takes all night to do. And the bed doesn't get made. And the shoes sit by the front door for potentially a week. Who's going to complain but me? And I'm ok with it! But I have found that there are some things that are harder to do when you're a girl living alone. Here's just a few:

1) Killing a bug. I know most guys don't give this two thoughts, but this is difficult for some of us. You know the feeling when you spot it - some sort of ENORMOUS spider the size of a green pea, or some other weird thing with a million legs that runs fast - and the adrenaline rush that comes with it. It's like you've made eye contact, and you want to run as much as the bug does. But you can't. Because then you won't sleep. It might be in the bed. It might be in your hair. It might be in your shoe that you've left by the front door. You HAVE to find it and it must die. So a few deep breaths and a half a roll of toilet paper in hand, the quest begins. And shivers run down your spine along with a look of utter disgust when you feel it crush. But what a sense of satisfaction when you see it go round and down with a flush. It's not in your bed, it's not in your hair, and it didn't crawl in your shoe. Crisis overted, but wouldn't it have been better if someone else were around to do it?

2) Jewelry, in particular, necklaces and bracelets. Again, this one's for the girls. Trying to put on a necklace or bracelet by yourself at times can be downright impossible. I wanted to wear a cute new bracelet that I got for my birthday this morning, but couldn't get the darn thing on! I tried and tried for about 5 straight minutes or so, but couldn't get the angle of my wrist, the clasp, and the moon and tide to align just right to clip it on. I guess this bracelet will only be worn when I have company over because that's the only time I'll get help.

3) Changing the sheets on the bed. Anyone living alone can relate to this. You know, it only takes about a hundred trips back and forth around the bed to do this seemingly simple task. SO much easier with help from someone else.

4) While we're somewhat on the subject, cleaning the house goes much faster with help from someone else, too! It's taken me all freakin' night to clean my tiny house and I'm still not done!

5) A hug. A hug is hard to do or to get when you live by yourself. My dog does a good job trying, and I'll take what I can get, but sometimes you just need a hug and that's much easier to come by when there's someone else in the house.

Tis' the Season

I found out today that my ex-boyfriend (you know, the one that's taken me just about a full year to finally get over) is getting married this summer. What? We haven't even been broken up a full year just yet - albeit one week away from being a year - but not a full year yet! So, dating me, leading me on, lying to me, and supposedly being "in love" with me for almost 2 years didn't lead to marriage, yet he can meet someone else, fall in love, and ask to marry her in less than a year?! Shouldn't there be some sort of ethical law against it - kind of like a mourning period - where if your relationship lasted more than a year, that you aren't allowed to ask someone else to marry you unless you've been broken up with your ex for at least a year? Come on! I mean, I don't want it to sound like I wish it were me, because for the first time in 11 months, I can truly honestly say that I'm glad that it's not me. And I'm glad that he's found someone to marry because the Lord knows that's not an easy thing to do. I guess I just feel somehow disrepected in a weird sort of way.

The Writing on the Wall

Me and some friends go out to a local bar in town last night and my good friend asks me to go to the bathroom with her (you know, the girls' trip to the bathroom). She's had a few drinks and while she's in the stall, proceeds to read me the, what she's dubbed, "Bathroom Poetry," from inside! It was hilarious! Who knew that hearing about someone's "cherry," or that "Will Rocks 4-21-04", would be so funny! Maybe we should rent an RV and go across country, jotting down this "Bathroom Poetry" and location where we found it to compile a bathroom reading material book for Barnes and Noble to sell for us!? Sabs, I think we're onto something! Let's quit our jobs and go RVing!

Bountiful Birthday and Fabulous Friends

From early birthday cupcakes, to surprise flowers, dinner, a cool band at a cool bar, candles, office decorations, cards, jewelry box, picture frame, books, bracelets, and yes, how could I forget the penis pinata, thank you to all of my fabulous friends for thinking of me on my birthday. You are all special people and are blessings in my life. Much love! I truly enjoyed it and am extremely grateful.

Car Karaoke

Am I the only one that enjoys seeing other people singing in their cars and tries to find a radio station with a song playing that matches their singing? I get disappointed when I realize it's a CD and can't match it up with the radio anywhere! Ahh, the joys of living in a busy city with a ton of traffic to sit in. How can nine, yes nine, lanes of highway with a speed limit of 65mph have cars bumper to bumper only doing 5mph? How does that work? And then, poof! All of the sudden, we're back up to the speed limit with no indication of why the hell we weren't moving in the first place! Thus, the creation of my car karaoke game. When others see me jamming to a song, I invite you to see if you can find what I'm singing, too. You'll get a rush when you find what matches up. Or maybe it's just me.

The Countdown

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 I'm 28.

What's Your Score?

So There I Was, The Blond Bombshell of The Entire Trailer Park!

Previously I had said that I had some stories from events that happened this week. Very long story short, I found myself at a baby shower held at the community center of a trailer park in northeast Georgia (the happy couple just got married in November and she's due end of March - you do the math. Oh, and yes, they both now know each other's eye color, thanks for asking). Try not to be jealous, we can't all be invited to events like these. Some people get to go to the Oscars, I was blessed with this invitation. At any rate, I went to this thing with my mom and sister, however, my dad dropped us off because he didn't want our car to be broken into while we were inside. Inside the trailer park community center (essentially a double wide on some bricks) was everything you could have hoped for and more. Let me start off with saying that I was the thinnest girl there by about 200 pounds, and I'm no string bean. Talk about a boost to the 'ol self-confidence! Secondly, you would have thought that I had dressed for the Oscars because my tan slacks and black sweater were WAY overdressed compared to the John Deere tractor t shirts and sweatpants. And I had a sneaky suspicion that something was missing from my outfit and then I figured it out...oh yeah, a baby attached to my hip! Every one of these women, either 16 or 45, had a baby attached at the hip like it was the latest accessory. Then we proceeded to play the typical ridiculously cheesy baby shower games that everyone hates, yet everyone is subjected to. Including, and this one was a new one for me, one called "Sniff the Diaper." With this game, they proceeded to pass around 3 diapers with a melted chocolate candy bar inside and we were instructed to sniff the diaper, look inside, and guess what kind of candy bar it was. One was even a snickers bar and I'll leave the peanut visual up to you. Ewww! As the fun was wrapping up, and oh, how much fun we surely did have, the men that belong to these women started to show up to pick them up (there's only one car per household apparently, or maybe they too, did not want their cars broken into). One man, Cletis, who apparently was lovingly nicknamed Bubba because that's MUCH better than Cletis, bent over to pick up one of his kids and I saw a whole lot more of Cletis, or Bubba, than I EVER EVER wanted to see. Then I got to hear a story from the mother to be about some of the parties at the trailer park and found out that drunk men peeing on couches is somewhat of a rampant problem. Now, don't get me wrong, I've been to a good many wild and crazy parties at the University of Alabama (hey, we weren't voted one of the top 10 party schools by Playboy for nothing), but I can honestly say that I've never either been or heard about a party where there was a peeing on the couch problem. Couches in the pool? Yes. Couches thrown out the 2nd floor window? Yes. Couches hoisted up on shoulders for a "Roman Style" ride around the party? Yes. Peeing on the couch? NO. The best part about it was getting to hear the trailer park soap opera of a girl named Mandy. Mandy is married, yet living with another man, and even better still, has recently given birth to a new baby boy that is neither her husband's nor live in boyfriend's child. Well, I guess she needed a new accessory for the shower. Now, how in the world these women get 1 man to chase after them, let alone 3, is a mystery locked up never to be known. Oh, and to top it off, have you ever had the choice of hot or mild chicken wings at a baby shower? I guess the long and short of it is, if you ever need an instant boost to your self-esteem, give me a call and I'll give you directions. Whatever you're dealing with in your life couldn't possibly beat a community with a severe weight, plumber's crack, poop-smelling, couch peeing, problem. Best of luck to the second generation currently being popped out. I wonder if blond, brown, or red hair will be "in" next year. Whichever, they better get busy because we're aleady in March and it'll take 9 months to get next year's hip addition.

Forget the Memories...

Thaaaaanks for the cupcakes!! I thank you, so much! (to the tune of Thanks for the Memories). My friend Sabrina came over tonight to watch the Bachelorette finale (can you believe Jen didn't say yes to Jerry? Wish I had his number, you know, to console him!) and brought some "birthday week" cupcakes that were delicious! Much needed fun with a much appreciated friend!

At Some Point, You Have to Think It Might Be You

Ok, so it's been a very, very trying weekend. There are many stories to tell from the weekend, which I'll go into in a different posting, but the major one from the weekend is the news that my younger sister will soon be engaged. Now, this news came from left field for me. And after some hurt feelings, angry exchanges, and tearful conversations, it appears that she's been dating this guy, Mike, for some time now, and it's gotten to the serious stage. He'll be coming home with her for Easter to meet all of us, and plans to ask my parents' blessing for her hand in marriage. Shocked. I didn't even know they had been dating all that long, but apparently they have. And I just learned his last name today. Whoa. It's hard for me to be happy for her at this point because I don't even know this guy. I guess I'm supposed to be happy if she is, but I'm not there just yet. I can't get to that point for a few different reasons including not knowing who this guy is, being protective of her as an older sister, and if I'm going to be completely honest, then yes, some feelings of selfishness that she'll be getting married before me. She lives in Birmingham, AL, so I don't know the ins and outs of her life. I did know she was seeing this guy, but she's the type that has many "the ones" in her past, so I never take any of her boyfriends seriously. But, she informed us this weekend, that we should take this one as real, because she'll marry him whether or not we like him. And that they've already talked about it, that he won't ask her until he asks us, but that it's pretty much a done deal, regardless. So here I am. Before I am going to be happy, I'll throw a pity party for myself online, because I wouldn't dare do it to rain on her parade. After all, I do love her and do want her to be happy. It's just I never thought in a million years it'd be in this order. You know, older siblings get married and have a kid, then younger siblings get married. It's order. It's sequence. It's... not reality, apparently. Finally feeling able to forge on after getting over my past, and now I've been hit with this news. The news that's hard for me to hear because of the other thoughts that are screaming at me in my mind. The thoughts that I'll now be the only grandchild on my dad's side to not be married, yet one of the oldest. The thoughts that I'll now be one of 2 grandchildren on my mom's side not to be married, yet THE oldest. And the pitiful looks and stares that family members will give in my direction once they hear and celebrate this news of my sister, then realize my singleness. The girl that got skipped. The pats on the arm with a seemingly consoling statement of, "don't worry, Kara, there's one for you too" or "hang in there, yours will come." My mom and grandfather have already done both this weekend. And it just turns my stomach. As if my being single isn't already amplified 100 times with the news of my sister, I don't need others to point it out to me. Or to feel sorry for me. I can do that on my own as I'm doing now. But, I'd rather to feel sorry for myself in private than to have others feel sorry for me in public. So, after years of watching my other older cousins marry, fully expecting my turn shortly, I've just been passed over. And all just days before my 28th birthday. As if being single and getting closer to 30 isn't pressure enough.

I know some may think after reading this that I'm bitter, or super selfish to have these thoughts in the midst of my sister's happiness. And yes, I'm embarrassed that my initial reaction is this. Of course I want my reaction to be of shear joy. Of course I do because I love her so much. But this reaction of mine is raw and it's real, and if it's bitter and selfish, then I sincerly apologize to those that read this and are offended. But it's where I am at this point and time. And I'm expressing it here, rather than in life in order to shelter my inward disappointment for myself from her excitement over the impending future.

After getting the chance to warm up to this news, I'll probably come back and edit this posting because I'm not proud of it. But I needed an outlet for my initial thoughts because they were boiling over inside of my head.