squishisms.com

I’ve started this thing about eight times.  I’ve contemplating shutting the whole thing down.  It seems superfluous, and honestly – I don’t have the time to maintain it like I would want to.  Anything I put here I could just as easily put in a facebook note.  In an email to all my friends and family…  I’m not using it as a social networking platform… I really have no desire to get back into that.

I have thoughts…about turning twenty-nine-for-the-first-time…about ‘being married’… about work… about life and living and gyming and loving and STUFF…  But I promised myself I would return to the gym today.  And I want to complete Fable II again before Fable III comes out.  And I need to get my hunter to 80 before WoW Cataclysm comes out…  and I have two shelves of blurays I still haven’t seen… books to read… socializing to squeeze in somewhere… and then in two months Basketball starts  and everything will spiral out of control til March again.  It’s been two months since my wedding and I have thought every single day that I should share some of the honeymoon pics here… but I haven’t.

In a lot of ways I feel like a rubber band that has snapped back in on itself.  Everything was open and out there and oh-so-sharey the last few months before the wedding.  My phone calls had phone calls.  I was blogging updates here, there and everywhere.  And now… lately I am just SO HAPPY to be silent.  To introvert.  To stop caring about everyone but me.  To do only what I want.

My birthday is in three weeks – and as of right now I have absolutely no desire to celebrate.  No karaoke.  No dinner.  No happy hour.  I don’t want the hassle of deciding who to invite and how and why and where we’d go and then trying to confirm details… ick.  Don’t wanna.  The very idea makes my skin crawl.

I just want to curl into my corner on the couch with book or controller or game and be left alone.  I don’t want to have to pretend to care how anyone else’s day went.  I don’t want to have to pretend I am not thoroughly irritated to be carrying on a conversation instead of doing what I want – which is solitary and silent time passage.

Really, other than Robbie, I don’t particularly want to talk to anyone.  At all.  And what’s been funny the last couple months is seeing that most of my real friends get it – and haven’t pushed or prodded.  They haven’t asked if we’re still friends or if I might be mad at them.  There are not words for how much I love them for giving me this space I seem to so desperately need lately.

And, looking over this now, it seems I have now written an entire blog on how I don’t want to be social.  Which is hilarious to me…

I wrote this yesterday.  Meant to post it then, too.  And yet, I came home, went to the gym, came home, showered, and then curled up with a book on the back porch for as long as possible.  I got it in the mail yesterday and somehow completed reading all 800+ pages already.

There is a lot going on.  99% of which I can’t talk about here.  Because it’s public.  Because I have to be a grown up.  Because I have to stay conscious of other people’s feelings and thoughts and impressions and … blah blah blah.

What I can say is that I love my husband and my friends and my dogs.  I love my washer and my dryer, my vacuum and my new car (although the car I had to get used to).   I love date nights and all the horror movies I’ve seen lately.  I love each and every wedding gift we received, including the bachelorette stuff, even though I suck at setting time aside for thank you notes.  I loved being back at the gym yesterday, and missed it today when I decided maybe it was better for my toe if I kept it out of gym shoes for a few more days.  (It hurts, like a motherfucker.  I thought the toenail might be ingrown, but no.  No idea what’s going on there…)  I love that my stereo has a remote and a hidey-hole for my ipod to live in.  I loved Piranhas 3D.  I love that I am slowly learning new, more technical skills at work; skills that are infinitely more marketable than where I was six weeks ago.

There is a lot I would change… there is a lot I am so.very.OVER….  and I’m still working on learning to focus on the good instead of the bad… so it leaves me with not a lot to say – but a whole lot of words to say it with.

I woke up Sunday before the wakeup call came.  I wanted to open the window and yell out “I’M GETTING MARRIED TODAY!”  but I restrained myself, barely.  I stepped outside on my way to grab food, and realized it was windy.  We’re talking hurricane force windy – in the middle of the city – I knew it’d be worse on the water, but I had only prayed for no rain, so I took it with a smile.

I’ll spare you the play by play of getting ready and getting out to the boat.  My dad walked me down the dock while I attempted to keep my ribbon veil on my head instead of flying into the water.  My little sister (Kit) had done a great job of putting up the few little decorations I wanted and the boys were finishing putting the DJ stuff together.    A quick headcount revealed we were down a couple guests – one of our DJs.  We called to see where he was and he admitted he’d forgotten what day it was.  Since he was not on his way already, we plugged in the IPOD and off we went.

We’d put together a prop box for pics that I immediately got drunk and forgot about after Kit talked me into getting the following pic:

yeah, that's a dinosaur helmet. what?

Dinosaur helmets are all the rage for weddings now. you don't know.

The captain, gods bless him, knew of a cove we could go where the wind wouldn’t be as bad, a quick 30 minute trip.  So we got to hang out with our friends and family while we traveled from point A to B.

We arrived in the cove, and DeAnne commandeered the microphone to announce the start of the ceremony.

one of the only sweet moments captured... we made faces at each other through most of it so we wouldn't cry.

Ten minutes later, we were married!

Someone totally cheated to get this. They were supposed to be having their own kiss. It was IN the ceremony, dammit.

We attempted group shots, but with so many cameras around I don’t think we got many (if any) of everyone looking at the same camera at the same time lol.  The captain opened the gates for the slide and the place to jump off the top of the boat and I might have pushed Jeremy so he was first in the water.  Maybe.

the girls

The next couple hours we hung out.  Some friends (of friends) came by on their own boat and dropped off a bottle of champagne for Robbie and me.  We immediately opened it and drank the entire thing.  We’re rock stars that way.  We made sure to eat – apparently that is the number one thing most people don’t do at their weddings, and I wanted to be sure we weren’t in that crowd.  While I was grabbing my burger I was informed I’d forgotten to pick up/bring the vegetarian foodstuffs.  *headdesk*  I felt horrible, but DeAnne, bless her, was happy to eat an extra slice of cake instead of a veggie burger or meatless hotdog.  I’m thinking we will probably have her and her husband over at some point in the future for mini pot pies to apologize and say thanks for being awesome.

that's my dad. cooking very UN-Vegetarian food.

Since De was eating relish sandwiches in the meantime, I decided it was time to cut the cake – post haste.  Since the sister who’d made it was in the water I let her know that as soon as I was done with my burger we were cutting off dino heads – with or without her.    Everyone got out of the water and made it below deck just in time to watch us stuff rice krispy dinosaur heads in each others mouth.

the little cake that could

SMOOSH!

YAY Rice Krispy Treats!

All of a sudden it was time to head back to the dock.  Everyone had told us that it would fly by and we wouldn’t get to spend as much time with everyone as we wanted, but I didn’t believe them.  I figured we’d outsmarted everyone by sticking them all on a boat for four hours with no escape….  But I was wrong.  It did, indeed, fly by.  So we gave our DJ free reign with the sounds and turned the volume up all the way back to the dock.

The captain had to ask us to leave faster because the next group couldn’t park lol.  I had no idea which of my stuff (that wasn’t going on the honeymoon) was with whom/going where, but didn’t particularly care anymore.  So we climbed back in my new Mother In Law’s truck and left.  A quick stop at the house to say goodbye to the dogs and then we were officially on our honeymoon.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand cause it’s my blog and I can… more of my favorite pics:

Yes, that's Robbie - in my ribbon veil.

jumping off the top of the boat

I lick people. It's what I do.

the boys

I was THIS drunk by the time we made it to the hotel that night.

So yeah, I’m married now.  All formally and legally and stuff.  I’m still processing a lot of that weekend.  So much awesomeness squished into less than 48 hours – it. was. INSANE.

Friday night was the bachelorette party.  In all my awesomeness, I completely didn’t realize that our wedding fell on R.O.T. Rally weekend, so Austin was full of bikers and tourists.  Traffic was a bitch at all times, most especially Friday evening along I-35 as everyone poured into town and made their way downtown and out to the Rally.  This was, incidentally, also the time that we were trying to get down I-35 to the bachelorette dinner at Canoli Joe’s.  Teri was a saint and drove everyone around all weekend in this traffic.  She deserves a medal.  We amused ourselves with the ‘in my crotch’ game.  {If you’ve never played, you just add “in my crotch” to street signs/store signs/billboard signs/etc.  My favorite so far is “Pickup Heaven…in my crotch”  followed immediately by “Slow, Children at Play…in my crotch” and “Jesus is Coming!!… in my crotch.)  Fantastic.

I’d never been to Canoli Joe’s, but I wasn’t let down.  I could eat a vat of their green beans.  Seriously.  The waiter was super nice and didn’t seem overly embarrassed to be entering the room during the present openings lol.  One of my bridesmaids – a roommate from college – supplied me with a magic cup.  It was sparkly and had feathers on the bottom and was already awesome even before I realized it was magic.  I drank and drank and drank out of that cup all night long, and it never got empty.  Other than to travel from Canoli Joe’s to the bar… which is its own story.

Before I start that story – let me preface it with the backstory, something I didn’t think to share with anyone else prior to climbing in a car with Natalie to travel from dinner to the bar.  Natalie and I have somewhat of a history with roadtrips – dating back to our freshman year at Baylor.  The most relevant is the time we decided to go to Mexico for Fall Break, and yet wound up in Lousiana.  There is a lot more to this story, including a high speed cop chase, but the relevant information is that we headed in one direction, but wound up in a complete other location.

But Natalie had a GPS now.  So surely we’d be fine – and off we went!  Zipping past the caravan of other Bachelorette Partiers and into the dark…and then further into the dark…and then even further…

“Point three miles to destination” chimed the GPS – but there was nothing around.  Not for another couple miles.  I reached for my phone to call the others and find out if we’d passed it, but realized it was in another car, with my sister who had my purse.  Someone eventually realized they had my phone and called us – and we turned around and they talked us through finding the little hole in the wall dive bar in the middle of nowhere.  We’d gone almost twenty miles too far lol.  But I got to walk in to applause, which was equal parts awesome and embarrassing.

The Jeremy Miller Band was playing.  They are awesome and you should check them out.  There was pool played and Journey sang by my girls while the band played (Pee Ess:  I still need that video…  Please?  Pretty Please?  With a cherry on top?)  and shots taken (PS – I LOATHE lemon drops now, officially.)  and I got so drunk that I started stealing other people’s drinks without asking/thinking about it to pour in my Magic Cup – which is now stained pink, even though I don’t remember drinking anything at all pink or red.  O_o

As much I love you, internets, I cannot bring myself to post ALL the pics, but here are some of my favorite moments:

Teri licked me!

I stole a lot of drinks that night...

<3 Cass

no comment

<3 <3 <3

HAT!

Me, Courtni, and a pole.... what's not to love?

HA!

I absolutely don't remember this.

Magic Cup

Yep. Embarrassed = Me

Every once in a while… a great while… i miss church.   I know, I know – you can pick up your jaws.  I’m serious.  I miss having an outlet to pour out my gratefulness and awe that I am part of this Life.  I miss being humbled.  I miss that feeling of connection with something so much greater than myself.  I miss the shared joy.  I miss the hope and the certainty that Someone was looking out for me, watching over me.  That my soul would be restored…

Today is one of those days.  The one person I’ve allowed even the tiniest sliver of welcome back into my life from my church days posted a video on Facebook today from World Mandate and just SEEING the words ‘World Mandate’ on my screen brought a flood of emotion that clogged my throat and filled my eyes.

Or course I pressed play.

And the church is MUCH bigger than it was seven years ago.  Enormous.  The number of people there staggered me.  But the feeling was exactly the same, and that feeling traveled from the video on my screen down through my eyes straight to my heart and refuses to budge.  I found myself searching the crowd, hoping for a familiar face, scrutinizing the worship leaders to decide if they were the ones that led me so long ago…  and realizing that I missed them.  I miss the faces as much as I do the rest.

It was not a happy parting when I left.  I left with a lot of bitterness and anger, and left behind a lot of bitterness and anger.  I left feeling self-righteous.  I left feeling condemned and devalued.  I’m not sure anymore how much of what I felt was deserved.  I’m not sure how much of what I said and did was justified… and how much was just me being a sad, scared and hurt little girl.

I know a little about a few of the faces I miss.  I know they are doing well.  I know they are happy and still madly in love with Jesus.  I know they took World Mandate to heart, and several are doing His work all over the world.  I’m proud of them, in a weird way that I’m not sure they would appreciate.

For an instant, I wondered what my life would be like if I’d stayed.  If I’d be happier…  If I’d have more peace…  Less frustration and more compassion…

And then I realized that would have meant I’d never have moved to Austin.  I wouldn’t have started to blog and met the amazing women I have.  I wouldn’t have come to work where I do, or met Jeremy or the Teridactyl.  I wouldn’t have gone to that Happy Hour on Friday the 13th and met Robbie…

I realized that it’s not possible for me to be any happier than I am.

I remembered that I don’t need a church to worship, a pretty day and my car works just as well.

I remembered that I don’t need a church for connection and shared joy, because my girls will be here in 45 days.

I remembered I don’t need a church.

But that doesn’t mean that, every now and again, I won’t miss having one for a moment or two.

I decided to treat InItToGymIt Blogs like the Karaoke-nazi at Common Interest.  No turning in multiple blogs all at once – and I will wait until I’ve ’sung’ to turn in my next one.  It seems more fair, since there are 100 of us contributing and I’m mouthy, and wordy all at the same time.  Yeah, I’m my own Blog Nazi.

I went to happy hour yesterday and discovered I like soda.  All this time I thought that tonic was the ‘healthier alternative’ for alcoholics trying to lose weight.  Apparently I was wrong, and it’s soda.  This makes me crazy-happy since tonic tastes like urinal cakes smell.  HOORAY FOR SODA!  But I definitely paid for it today at the gym.  I could SMELL the vodka in my sweat.  Is that normal?  I’m pretty sure it’s not.  Either way, it was gross.  I’m not a fan.  I think maybe, just maybe, the gods have found a way to cure my alcoholism.  I haven’t decided how I feel about that yet.

I also let myself smoke a cigarette, which I also paid for.  My heart rate was crazy fast and it was definitely harder to get enough air.  Normally I can sing under my breath with the Ipod, but that was sooooo not happening today.  This part I do know how I feel about, and I’m a fan.  I smoke more because I’m scared not to than anything else.  There’s a blog stirring there, but I haven’t completely fleshed it out yet.

Oh, and I did I mention I went to happy hour instead of the gym?  yeah, I did.  /badamandanocakeforme

Today was better.  I ate better and I made myself complete the cardio and the weight training.

In other news – it amazed me how OBSESSED with my life some people are.  People who can, have, and still do talk shit about me for HOURS at a time.  Who stalked my myspace page, my old blog, and apparently now this one too.  Seriously – I pity you.  If you really have nothing better to do than talk about me and my life – then obviously you don’t have much of a life at all.  Please – go find something that makes you happy.  I don’t matter that much, really.  And really, your words and petty actions have exactly |thismuch| of an impact on me and my life and happiness.

One of my girlfriends is pregnant – and HAPPY about it.  We, honestly, didn’t expect to live to see 27 – let alone wind up happily married and starting families.  We never thought we’d be content to settle down.  I can tell you now though, that looking back on all those wild and crazy fun times – I’d take my settled down old married life now over the crazy sexcapades any day of the week and twice on Sundays.  I. Am. Blessed. With a great guy (who, by the way is not a “greasy mexican” but thanks for that laugh – and the knowledge that you’re racist.) who treats me with respect and will N.E.V.E.R. lie to me.  With a plan for the future.  With a good job.  With a boss who understands and likes and respects me.  With friends from California to Carolina, and Michigan to Mexico.  I don’t have to dress up or shave, put on make up or do my nails to get laid, and I have two awesome dogs beating down the door to greet me every time I come home – even if I was only gone for five minutes.  I sleep.  A LOT.  Because I can.  Because I don’t have to wait until 10 o’clock for the bars to start getting busy and the fresh meat to come out to play.  Because I have my fun in the evening – because my Fun LIVES WITH ME.

Why on earth would ANYTHING else matter?  Why would what anyone else thinks of me matter?

It doesn’t.

Even if I don’t lose a single pound more than I have already – even if gained back the bit I’ve lost and more – I will still be getting married in two months.  And I will still have fantastic boobs.  And I’ll still be happy.  CONSUMMATELY happy.  SO happy that my face can’t hold back the smile if I try sometimes – for no reason at all most of the time.  SO happy that I will still be writing blogs about how awesomely perfect my life is.  About how much I love my HUSBAND and my dogs and our life together.  About how all my Awesome Friends from all over the country all shelled out the money for round trip tickets and hotels for four days in Austin for my Floating Wedding Reception of Awesomeness.  About how I will spend the rest of my life Living in Love.

And you’ll still be the sad little soul with nothing better to do than stalk read my blogs and try to make fun of my life rather than living your own.

Have fun with that.

I seem to have lost mine.

I’m determined to get it back though.

I’m tired of hating everything all the time. I’m tired of not believing anything will change, because there is nothing *I* can change.

I can change my attitude.

I will do what I need to in order to have the wedding I want. Anyone who takes issue with that is free to leave my life. I will get my dog leash trained. I will get Robbie’s dog pooping without crying, shaking or hesitating. I will keep my temper in check at work without cigarettes. I will lose the weight I want – because that is how I am going to deal with the stress of handling everything else – with exercise.

I was reminded on Friday that I am not alone. That there are people out there who love me, for me, with no strings attached. No expectations of me. They understand my situation and do what they can to help without bemoaning (or broadcasting) their sacrifice for me.

And because they’re there… I will find my optimism.

W is for Wicked.

On our Wedding Website I said:

Courtni is Amanda’s Soul Sister.  Her words, her inspiration, her attitude and her unconditional love and support were crucial to Amanda becoming the woman that Robbie fell in love with.  The wedding would not be complete without her.

That is not an exaggeration.  When I first ‘met’ WickedGame – I was intimidated beyond belief.  I had never cared for or about blog-ratings or the myspace ‘elite’ as I thought of them – and she, at least in my eyes, was one of the Elite…but I desperately wanted to know this Woman Whose Words echoed my soul.  More than just Wanting to know her, I Wanted…Needed…her to know ME.  I stalked her blog for months before leaving my first comment.  I almost cried the first time she commented on mine – I felt like I’d won an award.

Wicked is a Writer.  The undiscovered/unacknowledged 10^th World Wonder.  Untempered honesty Winds its Way through every Word she speaks, pens, or types.  More than anyone else I know – Courtni owns Who and What she is.  Completely and Without an ounce of shame.  I have never seen her pull a punch.  And so, when she accepted me – I knew it was real.  When she complimented my Writing – I knew it was real.  She played a big part in my acceptance of my Self.  She exudes strength and Wisdom, and I soaked it up.

And, for the first time in my life, I found myself truly interested in watching a pregnancy progress.  Even being squicked out if I thought about it in terms of ME or MY LIFE… I found myself fascinated by her letters to her unborn daughter.  Teary eyed and full of Warm fuzzies.  It was the first glimpse I had into the soft, gooey WickedHeart beating beneath the hard {candy} shell she portrayed.  And yet, it was no less strong than that exterior.

I almost pee’d my pants when I learned she was going to be in Tennessee for Gigifest.  I was SOOO excited to be able to meet this amazing Woman…and then got tongue-tied when I finally did…and right about the time I started to realize she was human, and neither deserved, nor wanted the pedestal I’d placed her on – and relax – I got the flu.

In the months following got to know Courtni all over again.  Without the idolization, as an equal – a sister.  I stopped feeling like the lost little loser tagging along with the cool kids and realized the cool kids thought I was cool.  I stopped trying and started BEING.  It was a flipped switch, not a process.  An epiphany fueled by the knowledge that Women such as Courtni liked me. Me.  Singing badly at the top of my lungs at two in the morning in the kitchen, wearing pajama pants and a lime green bra that had seen better days – they liked me. Stressed up by superstition and in desperate need of a sports bar – they liked me. Sick as all hell, whiney, mopey and bitter at missing out on the festivities – they liked me.

And when the Frog turned out to be just a Frog, and not a Prince – they were there.  And as I came into my own, there were Wicked little text messages spurring me on.  Forcing me to think a little harder, dig a little deeper into the void known as my Self and KNOW.  And when I needed a new outlet, she got me a visa to thepqnation.

And when I met a man really Worth my time and effort…and when I fell in love with him…and when I got engaged to him– no one was happier for me than Courtni.  LittleMissWicked was happier to hear I found a love like this than I think my own mother was.  It made total sense to me to ask her to stand with me.  And the perfect way to express what (at the time) I had no Words for:  How much she meant to me.

(*ahem*  notgonnacrynotgonnacrynotgonnacrynotgonnacry *ahem*)

So yes.  W is for Wicked.

Carry on.

My first instinct is to go with Undapants.  Mainly cause I like to say “Undapants.”   (Really, I like the expletive “PANTS!” as well, but that’s neither here nor there…)

But, really, I am rather on distinctly Unfriendly terms with all things pants-related at the moment… soo…..

In the last year I have come to realize precisely how many people Understand me.  Who are Unsurprised by the things I do or say, or -more importantly- the way I react to things.

According to Facebook I have 93 friends.  Some of those are duplicates – “dummy” or “safe” profiles.  Some are family. Some are more friends of Robbie than me… Some are people, honestly, that I just haven’t deleted yet because it was easier to just hide them in my feed.  There aren’t many of those though – I purged the list not too long ago of anyone I felt didn’t deserve that level of access to my life.  I deleted a LOT of people who did not Understand me.  People who judged me for things I said or items I ’shared.’  People who were determined to change me.  People who would not admit they didn’t really like ME, but instead were enamored with the character they believed me to be.  People who expected me to not care, or disregard, things that affected me on the deepest, most primal levels.

And yet…93 people are still there.

Ninety Three.

That’s staggering to me.  Someone once predicted that I would never be truly known and loved.  That anyone who truly got to know me would running, screaming, in the opposite direction.  I used to believe that with entire heart and soul.  I wagered on it.  I’m pretty sure I owe at least a couple people a hundred bucks because they’re still here…. years later.  (shuddup Jeremy.)  I was convinced the character flaws were mine.  That the reason I was going through roommates like toilet paper was somewhere inside *ME*.  Just me.

I was wrong.

I Understand that now.  Because so many people, so many of YOU, Understand me.  And have helped me Understand myself.

It’s a cycle, but a beautiful one.

I’ll take it.

Ah. Life.  That awesome, beautiful, FUN thing that always seems to get in the way of my blogging now.

It happens.

Today is, first, for T.

And T is for Teridactyl.

I stole the nickname from DeAnne.

Teri is my rock.  My family away from my family.  She adopted me.  And let her mom adopt me too.  Until I met Robbie and we made our own little family – Teri’s family WAS my family.  I went to her Aunt&Uncle’s house for holidays.  I was around so often her entire extended family were convinced we were dating – and well enough liked that her Grandmother told them all to shut it – and that it didn’t matter if she was.

My own family wouldn’t accept me if I were gay, but Teri’s did.

Teri is Tacky with me.  We are hateful, evil, malicious little bitches when we are Together – and it makes me happy.  She is my cohort for all things horrible-horror-movie related.  She is my Mistress of Bubbles, even though it means she has to wear a dress and have her picture taken.  She will be the first person I go to to help decide if I can pull off this bikini thing I have planned or not when the time to actually order an outfit comes around.

She tells me when I need to calm down and lower my voice, and is one of only three people I will listen to when they say it.

She bought me butter cookies.

…and an animatronic Triceratops.  <3

She stays in North West Austin once a week, driving all the way home to South Central Austin – even though she has her own cable now and doesn’t NEED me to watch So You Think You Can Dance.

She loves my dogs and doesn’t mind that one smells bad and the other drools.

She has drug my drunk ass out to her car, and driven my incoherent, rambling self wherever I needed to be to crash, and let me borrow a shirt to sleep in more times than I remember.  And brought me aspirin at least twice before I passed out.  AND I think she actually, physically, changed my clothes for me once.  I don’t have words for how much it means to me that she stuck around despite all that.

Teridactyl’s are the bestest best friend that ever best-friended…  and she somehow maintains TWO of us.  (Side note:  Sarah gets an honorary mention for sharing her Teridactyl with me.)  And her hectic family life/responsibilities as well.

And she lets me lick her when there are cameras around.  Is there really anything else to say after that?

N is for NORTH CAROLINA.  Game day is tomorrow.  If you are not rooting for UNC, do NOT call/txt or otherwise talk smack to me.  I WILL hunt you down and beat you mercilessly.  I have no delusions regarding the national championship…this season…so this ONE game means more to me than the rest of the season.  I. Am. Serious. S.H.U.T. I.T.

*ahem*

N is for NOVEL.  Specifically this Novel. Go ahead.  Click it.  Buy It.  Read it.  Love it.  I’ve waited FOREVER for this to come to fruition, both out of selfishness (wanting the ending) and love (wanting Ms. Wicked to be published.)  And Now it is.  It makes me giddy.

N is for NONSMOKER.  That’s me.  Not gonna lie, there have been days, here and there, where I have fallen off the wagon and let myself and others down… but I can feel it now.  The affects.  I smell myself after just one.  I can smell other people’s smoke after they’ve gone.  I won’t go back there… I think.  mostly.  And even though it’s not 100%, I am proud of it.  And grateful for it…mostly.

Other than that… It’s late in Amandaland…and I am still sick, and thus tired.  So I will leave it at that.