Friday, February 13, 2009

Three Quick Things

1) I'm sick, sick, sick. I feel like hell. I would gladly spend the next two weeks in my own little bed, but I cannot. I'm praying and hoping I'll feel better tomorrow. Otherwise, my friend and seat-partner on the plane will be treated to witnessing many uses of the motion-sickness bag. Ew! I can't believe I wrote that! My abs hurt. I lost 6 pounds overnight. My solution is to not eat anything for a few days. You can't throw up if there's nothing in the tummy, right?
2) I am in no position to leave tomorrow. I have a million things to do. I'm excited, but overwhelmed. The thought of packing for two weeks is nearly insurmountable. Especially because I haven't yet done laundry.
3) HAPPY BIRTHDAY JACOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (I wasn't allowed to write it on Facebook, but I'll proclaim it loudly here. Of course, I'm sure he doesn't like to be lumped in with projectile vomiting and feelings of despair, but for today, J.D. is the happiness and light at the end of my tunnel. I hope it was a good one.)

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

I Couldn't Hold Out Any Longer!

Forgive me. I'm an exhibitionist. All I can say is, really? Just 25 random things? My whole life is random. For further evidence, read on. Sorry if it's painfully long, but all you people tagging the heck out of me on Facebook asked for it.

25 Random Things About Your Lovable Neighborhood Rachel:

1) I’ve always had a thing for television news anchors or reporters in any variety. They’re the best kind of celebrities because they’re supposed to be impartial and they give you the scoop. News people tell you the facts without celebrity endorsement (most of the time). One of my earliest crushes was Peter Jennings, and I was really sad when he died. For the last 10 years, Matt Lauer has been the constant love of my life. And I’ve always loved the way news changes lives. If you are going to write something, it’s romantic and invigorating to know that your words will be held up as important, even if that importance just lasts until the next edition.
2) I’m a general ‘fraidy-cat.’ I don’t know how to swim, despite YEARS of lessons. I won’t ride horses after getting thrown in Brownies. I’m not a big fan of heights, and notice my knees shake as I walk up stairs or steps on ladders. The things that scare me the most, though, are confrontation and making people feel uncomfortable when I’ve tried to set them at ease.
3) Most of the furniture in my house is used, and in a big way. My aunt is an awesome antique dealer and avid garage-saler. She goes out nearly every weekend and scours yard sales for deals, and I’m a grateful recipient of many of her choice finds and refurbishments. The guest room is a particular highlight on my house tour. The cabinets came from my grandfather’s office (he was a doctor) and the bench at the foot of the bed was his old examination table. I bought the bed frame at a yard sale for $10, painted it black, and the rest is history.
4) I’m motivated in a big way by people telling me I can’t do something. I got an A in my capstone PR class, even though I was a year younger in the program than all the other students. I wasn’t originally hired for my internship at BYU, but got a second stab at the job when their first choice bailed. I became a legend for the quality and quantity of news releases I turned out. I first took Polish because my grandfather told me it was too hard, and I got a spot for the world’s crappiest movie on the Today Show just because it seemed unfathomable.
5) My favorite color fluctuates based on my mood and the season, so I generally just tell people it’s brown. I love brown. It goes with everything.
6) If I eat Oreos, I like to have them with water. Not to dunk, of course! I just like to drink water and swish it around after each cookie to mitigate the effects of cookie bits stuck in between my teeth. Same goes for peanut butter and crackers. But I try not to have Oreos at all, because drinking water also makes them go a little faster, and it’s a calorie mine field.
7) I used to be a compulsive tooth brusher. My dentist and my hygienist both got mad at me for brushing my teeth so much. A typical day would go: Wake up, brush teeth. Shower, brush teeth. Breakfast, brush teeth. Lunch, brush teeth. Get home from school, brush teeth. Brush teeth before going to dinner (at a cafeteria). Go home, brush teeth. Brush teeth before bed. Pray. Sleep. Anyway, now I just brush them three or four times a day. And in case you were wondering, my favorite toothpaste is Aquafresh Extreme Clean in “Empowermint.”
8) When I was much younger, some girls I knew from church called me “The Black Widow” because they thought I made boys fall in love with me and then I’d stomp out their hearts. I still think this is funny because I’ve never had such skills! I think there are still a lot of people who would guess that’s my intention, but I just run into problems trying to be nice to everybody. Boys with over-inflated egos always assume I’m in love with them. Boys with more humble self-concepts figure I’m that way with everyone. If I’m interested, I’m not really good at differentiating my behavior, so good luck.
9) I hate when people buy unnecessary vowels on “Wheel of Fortune.” There are very few things I find so exasperating.
10) Childbirth doesn’t scare me. Raising children scares me. But I still hope to have some, because my kids will have really righteous names (like Jemima, Elaine Fairchild and Jude).
11) I love vegetables. As a child, I wouldn’t go near them, but now we’re best friends. I just started thinking of the way the Polish cafeteria ladies would bring out wax beans and cauliflower and I’d squeal with delight.
12) Speaking of food, I usually don’t cook unless I’m having company. Tonight I’m making dinner for my contractors, so we’re having brisket, rolls, an Italian salad, Jell-O (made with orange juice and sliced strawberries, in the grand Mormon tradition of fixing it up), squash and zucchini, risotto, and chocolate cake. If it were just me, I’d be happy to open a can of green beans and nuke them with some “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” spray.
13) I have a soft spot for Teen Lit. Usually the plots are predictable, but I never have to feel guilty about all the heaving bosoms and floods of passion one reads of in grocery-store Harlequin romances.
14) I pretty much provide my own life’s soundtrack. I find myself singing about everything, whether it’s a legitimate song, or something I’ve just made up. Sometimes this is charming. Sometimes it’s just plain inappropriate. I was once in a front page meeting for the newspaper, and the poor World/National editor couldn’t get through her stories because I had a song for each of them (“Chicago,” “The Holy City” and “If You’re Going to San Francisco” as I recall).
15) I embrace nerdiness. I’m happy to own up to the fact that I carried a briefcase in 5th and 6th grade. And I like to wear neckties. And I’m jealous of people who get to wear glasses—especially if they’ve got that Buddy Holly look to them (I hate that it’s trendy, but dang! Hot!).
16) One of the best dates I ever went on was to the Rio Grande Zoo. My date had been a junior-zoo keeper in San Diego and knew a lot about animals. He kept doing different mating calls. It would be weird, but he did convince a lot of people that the animals were making the noises, so I thought it was funny.
17) I was once mistaken for a prostitute.
18) When I was in first grade, the school bus nearly ran over me. I remember the experience well. I was wearing a white outfit that had fruit all over it. Very Carmen Miranda.
19) I love when you’re camping and it’s super cold outside but you’re warm and snugly in your tent under a huge pile of blankets.
20) I used to want to write the “Great American Novel” but it may turn out to be a “Great Polish Novel.” I got a pretty good idea for a subject and story line whilst soaking in the bathtub the other day, but research has already provided me with some interesting hurdles.
21) I get all my best inspiration in the bathtub. Showers are efficient, but I like luxury and bubble bath.
22) I hate when people leave lights on, don’t recycle even when it’s convenient, and those who litter. I have no patience for such as these.
23) I swore to myself I wouldn’t make one of these lists, even though I’ve enjoyed reading all my friends’ postings. I’m sure that I’m just doing it to procrastinate getting back to fixing my computer and reloading programs and data after the big hard-drive crash of ’09.
24) Kissing is my favorite form of recreation and exercise.
25) I believe in erring on the side of compassion.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Going Postal

If you thought the craziness of the holidays was over, think again my friends! Psychotic behavior still abounds, and I'm even more tightly-scheduled than I was last December. Remember December? Back when I was organizing family holiday gatherings, working my sister's wedding, finishing up year-end business projects, and getting dumped (again) by the person I thought I loved (and did, but I've got that que sera, sera attitude now)? Yeah, that was easy. With Christmas, I was organized. I'd finished and wrapped all my presents by Thanksgiving, and enlisted the help of my besties in decorating. Entertaining Aunt Susie wasn't difficult (she basically only required a warm home and ice for her brandy) and was actually fun-- she's a blast. Ashley's wedding gave me a few premature grey hairs, but she wasn't TOO bad. And as for Ray, well, it's better to have loved and lost and moved on to kissing new boys to fill the void until Mr. Right comes along, and taken a cruise (just a few days to go!) because one's life is plumb amazing even without the presence of a man to kiss (besides-- most the guys I know leave more dirty dishes than you really want anyway). So with hindsight (or time to recuperate), December was a piece of cake. OK, well, maybe it was a bowl of oatmeal. Whatever.
The thing is, life doesn't slow down one bit! Though we are in the heart of evil winter (wind+cold=staying indoors), I feel busier than ever. Maybe part of that is rebuilding all those lost computer files (I'm not making a ton of progress, but blogging is my mental break). Or maybe it's knowing that I won't have a free weekend until perhaps May. Blah.
Of course, busy isn't all bad. I've got a lot to rejoice over. Por ejemplo, this appears to be the Year of Visiting Rachel. Not only did I have Nathan and Andrew for a weekend, but also my friend Kimball and her husband are to come visit in April. So's my good pal Shaz. Nate and Kari already put in an appearance, and I'm trying to bully Sokphal into a stay. Of course, she's trying to bully me into a half marathon in D.C. (I know, you're all rolling on the floor laughing right now), but I may go join her for the 10k. Much more do-able.
Speaking of running, I've decided to RUN FOR THE ZOO! I kept forgetting to tell Lou, but I think she'll appreciate it. I'm starting with just the 5k, because let's be honest: I've never run so much that I got to love it. I like it ok, but I'd rather dance around to burn off my calories. But I'm doing this. I'll likely be dead last, but I can check it off my list. And then perhaps I can work up to the 10k in September with Phal. It'll be a good new adventure.
But back to the busy-ness. Take Wedding Season, for example. You thought it was in June, right? Think again, because if you are/were a member of the Albuquerque University Branch, March is the time for wedded bliss. Four weddings/receptions to attend in March. Check. I'm going, but you can bet I'll not want another bouquet lobbed at my head by the time Mel's wedding rolls around at the end of the month.
And then, there is THE holiday-- Valentine's Day, one of my favorites. Conveniently, I have gotten a bit ahead on that score-- last night some of my pals came over to create some good V-Day stuff... pictures to be posted eventually. Tonight I plan to shower my buddies with love. I'm so glad I still have Crocodile Hunter cards left. Rest in peace, Steve Irwin. Anyway, I'm a bit sad that I'll be missing most of the fun in favor of sitting next to strangers on my way to Barcelona, but what can you do? If it keeps me from having to go out with the odd little boys who've been doing most of the asking recently, that's cool.
Of course, not everyone loves Valentine's Day as I do. And I'm not talking about the sour-faced Mormon girls who are crying in their cocoa because someone hasn't sent them a 7-foot, stuffed gorilla in red-and-white boxer shorts (and everyone knows THAT'S the quickest way to a girl's heart-- not). I mean the bitter man at the post office.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I didn't get to witness this myself, but my mother's account had me rolling on the floor laughing. This was our conversation as I walked into work this morning:

Mom: So I took our packages to the post office on Friday.
Rachel: Thanks so much for doing that.
M: It wasn't a problem, but it took forever.
R: Did you go to the post office in Los Lunas?
M: No, I went to the one in Tome because it's always faster. But that guy who works there was fighting with the customers in front of me for 20 minutes about lost mail. They were screaming at each other.
R: Really? (I was pretty delighted with this story already) That's so weird. When he first started working there I thought he was so nice. I see him at the gym with his kids and he seems like a good guy, but the last few times I've been in there, he's been really grouchy.
M: I bet he's on steroids.

Isn't that the best conclusion? I think I'm gonna work that into my everyday conversation. Instead of assuming that grumpy people just aren't getting enough fiber, I'll call 'em out on the Creatine.
"Yeah... you know how that girl from church was all up in my grill? I accidentally 'stole' another one of her boyfriends, but I'd better watch my back. She's on 'roids."
I actually just thought that with one of the girls from my branch, it really could be true. Ooops.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

A Reason to Love Wal-Mart

Even if you are a Wal-Mart hater and would rather picket another big-box store going into your neighborhood as you chant, "Rage, rage against the capitalist machine!", there is a great benefit to going there on a Saturday afternoon-- running into people you love.
Today I went with a very short list: butter and lemons for my mom, carpet fresh, a week's worth of yogurt (oh no! I just remembered that I forgot to get oatmeal!!), and the prescription motion-sickness patches for my cruise. Of course, I spent over a hundred dollars on various and sundry other tchotchkes-- stuff to make an "I love Paul" shirt for Valentine's Day (because if you can't love your male bestie, who can you love?), travel toilet paper and hand sanitizer (because Hil says Egypt is particularly disgusting), stuff to make Oreo bon-bons (really a crazy-good and easy recipe: taking them to FHE on Monday to tell the branch I love them!), and vegetables to make some incarnation or another of soup for dinner tomorrow night. It's all good-- I shouldn't have to buy much else before I skip the country, but you know. I get it. Wal-Mart can be evil, if for no other reason than I just can't resist the holiday aisle or the craft department. Still, I love it, because had I given in and taken a nap instead, I wouldn't have run into my high school BFF Wesley and his wife. We've all been trying to get together for about a month with no luck, but all we had to do was visit the Big W. Also, as I drug myself through the frozen food en route to pick up stew meat, who should I see but Diane and Rebecca Jolly, a mother-daughter combo from my past who I've not seen in a year. I LOVE these women! It was so energizing! After chatting with them and blocking people from their Texas Toast (which isn't good for them anyway, right?), I felt so much better, like I could actually go without a nap and still be good to party with my other friends tonight. Heck, I even saw Sister Ruth Bingham, a lady I've known from church my entire life, but I never see anymore. Ruth and I aren't close, but it warmed my heart to wave to her as I danced through the aisles.
What's more, it made me happy to be out with real people. Not that my family members and friends from the Uni aren't real, but there's something about keeping cool and friendly in a mass of humanity that just reassures a person that she's not going to go all unibomber on people any time soon. There was a homely little girl in a T-shirt that read, "I don't repeat gossip, so listen carefully the first time"-- it made me smile. My cashier told me all about her new beagle-mutt puppy and the sharp teeth that caused all the scratches and gashes on her arms. The pharm-tech wished me well on my trip. I nearly ran over a little girl named Lilly when she darted in front of my cart, but she didn't mind, and I was treated to the world's biggest smile before her parents yelled at her (she was wearing a really cute orange jacket, so we know she has good parents). All in all, it was a productive and pleasing morning. Now I've got to unload the Lean Cuisines so I can take a nap.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Rachel had a Little Rooster

Like Elton John, I should've stayed on the farm. I'm a natural.
If you don't already know, my parents are what Flannery O'Connor calls "Good Country People." Oft times, I've asked them about the 70s and the pop-cultural sadness that was the decade (which, I'm happy to report, I've actually come to appreciate in my old age), but they just shrug and say, "We weren't into disco." Obviously. I've got pictures of them in matching dime-store cowboy hats to prove it. Pair it with their matching maroon, corduroy bell-bottoms and they were quite the fetching pair... I think they spent the decade listening to Marty Robbins. Anyway, in spite of their best efforts, their oldest child (aka, me) has never really taken to the country music or the country lifestyle. Oh, I know Johnny Cash like the back of my hand (and am proud to say that seeing him live was one of my all-time best musical experiences), but I'm their folky-bohemian daughter, who really prefers traipsing around Europe with a large backpack and black and white film loaded in my old SLR to riding a horse on the range (PS. Everyone in the Sego clan is quite incredulous regarding my desire/ability to ride a camel in the next couple of weeks because I've refused to get on a horse since I was a Brownie Girl Scout, but it's already booked... I'm looking forward to an "Alchemist" moment).
Anyway, there is one funny part of farm life that is surprisingly fulfilling... in moderation. As you know, I have to tend to Ma and Pa Sego's animals from time to time. It's not so bad now-- we've just got two sheep (Flower and Bethany, who are mostly well-behaved, though they poop everywhere), Molly (our dog who is a member of the family and only eats chicken breast), and the poultry: two roosters and a hen.
For whatever reason, we always have more roosters than chickens. The hens just manage to get killed off. Esteban and Hubert don't really fight for dominance, and I'm pretty sure E is Bertha's baby daddy, but Huey has still managed to make a pretty good life for himself. Instead of trying to impress Bertha, he just roams the neighborhood. Seriously. My parents don't really live in suburbia, but the block is full of houses on an acre or so each. I don't know how Hubert gets out, but he's like me... friendly, and a wandering spirit.
Sometimes I'll be working away in my office and hear him right outside the window. When I take things out to the mail, he walks along with me. I think he'd like to be invited in, but I'm not sure that's a good option. I tried to pet him the other day, and he pecked at my finger, but it didn't really hurt anything but my feelings. Still, I'm ok. We've got the boundaries established now, and it looks like a beautiful friendship is commencing. And we all need somebody to love.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Hooray for February, Hooray for Snow, and Hooray for (Soul) Power

This weekend was just what I needed... a little outdoor time never killed anyone, right? Except for that skydiving instructor who had a heart attack mid-air this weekend. But for me, it was a welcome change. Especially when one is cooped up inside most of the time with the 45-50 hour work week.
So I did a lot of things this weekend I normally wouldn't do. Typical weekends are for laundry and errands and maybe dancing around with the friends. Saturday is the special day when I prepare my Sunday lessons and spend extra time at the gym and perhaps watch a movie. But this weekend, I let all that go, and I went with the peeps to Los Alamos instead. Lemme tell ya, it was a great decision!
Friday night was excellent-- I was super stoked to stand up with my friends in the ugliest sweaters imaginable (mine could not even begin to compete) and to join them in becoming tug-of-war champions. We may still have a reputation for social awkwardness, but at least our numbers are strong. Also, I loved getting shushed by Scary Ro-Ro during a fireside. Somehow she's just not as threatening in a chapel (maybe because she knows it would be inappropriate to scissor-kick me in church)... I really did just think it was funny.
Another highlight: We went ice skating, and I did my best to participate. I wasn't the WORST person out on the ice, but I certainly came close. Dozens of people were good enough to hold my hand(s) and pull me along, but I was rather scared. I think at one point I started shouting, "I'm skating!" like Bob Wiley's "I'm Sailing!" in "What about Bob?", which basically makes me even nerdier than before, but who cares? And for the record... I'm not a hand-holding skank. Sure, there was the one time I held hands with two different boys during a movie, but this was just platonic skating, so members of the "I hate Rachel Sego" club can just chill out.
And speaking of the club... apparently there is one. I just got word yesterday after church. A nice boy told me he was afraid the branch was dividing into two groups... those who like me, and those who despise me. Wow! I know I'm a little hard to take sometimes, but imagine people going all apostate because they don't like the RSP! The good news is, the IHRs are only 3 strong, from the best I could gather. One of the members doesn't really bother me because he is a very silly young man. One member is a girl I've tried to be nice to with little progress, so I'd decided a couple of months ago to just give her some space. The third member of the triumvirate was a real surprise, but I'm hoping I can win her over with my goodwill. I really like her, so I was a little shocked to hear that she's part of the camp calling for my beheading. Anyway, I'm just trying to take it all in stride-- I'm waving the white flag of peace, but at the same time there's a little bit of inner-self-congratulations going on... you know you've really arrived when people start making T-shirts about what a ho-bag you are. Anyway, if being nice to these folks doesn't help, I may just ask them if I could join up!
But remember how this was a post about how NICE my weekend was? Yeah, don't worry. It still is. Where was I? Holding hands. Right. Very romantic. Not. More like very trying to not fall on my face or break my elbow. But I liked it. Skating is super!
Saturday was even better. In spite of a mere 3 hours of sleep, I felt pretty good. Wes Hanchett was nice enough to take me with him down a hill on the inner tube, and then I was ready to just enjoy the fresh air and wearing my super-cute galoshes. I'd never had another legitimate reason to put them on before! I wore them basically all day-- even to Sam's Club where I tried to flirt with a very attractive little person cashier (what is it with me and the midgets? But this guy is HOTT). Later, as I unloaded my car, I realized that the cashier probably thought I looked like a giant garden gnome, but really... who cares?
Saturday night, though, was the very best. Friend Jacob and his precious little bro were playing a nice concert at a very cold venue. I nearly died on my way there because what I thought was a turning lane actually was me driving in on-coming traffic, but that was a minor snafu. I loved, loved, loved this show. Here are some top reasons why:
1) Abraham the Poor-- Picture a very cute little emo boy with an acoustic guitar, singing his heart out to a 5x10' room with a campfire motif in red twinkle lights on the wall. I liked his sound a lot, but even more, I liked spending time wondering why in the world he was so disenfranchised. There's something kind of sweet about someone who's really convinced they're oppressed, whether they are or not.
2) Some crazy, bearded redheads skanking-- these dudes were huge, and it made me really happy. Normally when I think of indie-rock anything, I picture emaciated boys in girl jeans (and don't worry-- there were plenty of those as well), but here was the happy revelation that even monstrous boys can find their niche in the world of pop-punk.
3) The whole activity gave me an opportunity to surround myself with people outside my normal group. During the Christian metal set, there was this ridiculous little boy who looked like the love child of Dwight Yoakam and Pat Benetar dancing with a rubber mallet. At first I thought the hammer dance was a choreographed part of the show, but Jacob said it was just this little dude trying to be ironic. My friends and I tried to not be too obvious about laughing at him, though the whole thing brought me immeasurable pleasure.
4) Another great highlight was this funny little bassist. He was playing with the Las Cruces ska band, and so did not fit in. They had that chill-out kind of feel (wish I could have heard their lyrics a little better), but homie with the fingerless gloves and purple shoelaces was jumping around like he was in a House of Pain video. But there was something so likable about him! Whilst listening to another band, he did this weird little dance in the hallway where he kept his arms at 45 degree angles, with his hands held out like he was cupping imaginary grapefruits and squeezing them for all they were worth. It was a lot more avant-garde than sledgehammer kid... felt like he wasn't trying so hard. And yes, I laughed a bit at that bloke as well.
5) More laughter still-- a drummer from the so-called premier band was possibly crying during his set. Or maybe he was just really sweaty. But the best part was when he dramatically rested his head on his tom while the pretty-but-Bad-Seed-looking Keyboard girl gave us a taste of electronica that reminded me a bit of Erasure's Vince Clark... only less poppy.
And now, to be fair, I will wax poetic and get sappy about the real reason the kiddies and I went to the show in the first place: So I could wear my bottle cap belt with the seat belt buckle. Just kidding! We went to see Jacob and Brennan (and their other friend, I suppose), aka Avenge Apollo. So here are the reasons I was glad to hear them play:
1) They didn't suck. You know that awkward moment when one of your artistic friends makes you read a poem they've written and it's really, REALLY bad and you try to decide whether to sugar-coat it and find SOMETHING good to say (like, "Wow, I would never think to rhyme rubber band with Christmas ham... Inspiring!") or to just make it a habit of running away anytime you see them approaching with their black-and-white composition book. Well, that wasn't even necessary, because not only did they not suck, they were GOOD. Really good. I like music that's happy and accessible, or even mean, but still catchy. Again, I couldn't really hear Jacob as clearly as I would like (except I noticed "Baby" in a lot of songs-- next time, Jacob, don't take the word of the deaf guy in the crowd when he says he can hear you just fine!), but there was a nice feel to it. Brennan was AMAZING to watch drum because he reminds one of Animal from the Muppets-- high energy but with a fluidity that you don't want to take your eyes off of, let alone your ears. I was so pleased to hear this was something I'd have on my iPod, which makes being the supportive friend ever so much easier.
2) It felt good to get back into groupie mode, though I was trying extra hard to be cool. Obviously, I'm not much of a concert-goer, so it was easiest for me to sway to the music in the back of the room, hoping no one would notice what a poser I am. But I hadn't gone to a friend's show since back in Utah when I used to be the Ed McBand No. 1 fan. I thought those days were behind me, but it gave me a burst of youthful energy. Possibly.
3) I liked seeing another dimension of the coolness of Jacob. If you haven't already, read this guy's blog! It's a great Monday pick-me-up, and will have to sustain me as he lives three hours away. I kind of stood in the back of the cold room thinking, "Wow. And I get to be friends with this guy? Cool." The whole weekend brought a lot of Jacob (and now Brennan) satisfaction. I liked that the fellas sat with the University crowd at dinner on Friday night, and I loved looking at Jacob's shoes during the somewhat boring fireside (and that he let me beat him at tic-tac-toe). I was grateful he took my extra Depeche Mode poster off my hands because proud Brett thinks I'm in love with him (insert rowdy laughter here) and won't call me back. I liked skating with Jacob, even though I was pretty sure we might die before we made it all the way around the rink (we didn't). And now, I like being friends with a kid in a band. Am I suddenly so much cooler, or what? Yes, yes I am. And I've got the tagged Facebook picture to prove it.
Anyway, I call that a good weekend. Aside from the IHR club, things couldn't have been better. And now it's February, so people are supposed to wear pink (a flattering color on most everyone). I can write more about why I love certain people with an excuse (I ran into my high school theatre teacher the other day, and I just remembered how amazingly rad she is-- picture a classy, poised woman who looks like Natalie Merchant and Juliette Binoche) of the upcoming holiday. Plus also, I'm skipping the country soon. Hooray! February rules. Happy Groundhog Day. I got you, babe.