Car Accident

So.... the 9:00PM to 12:30 AM nap... not among my most august of ideas.

But I have an excuse. Or at least I think that I do. I was in a car accident today. Yep. A car accident. In my lovely car. Now my lovely car's front bumper looks terrible... though I honestly think that may be the only thing that's seriously damaged. No air bags.

Basically a girl ran a stop sign and by the time that I saw she was running it, I didn't have time to stop, and I hit her driver's side door head on. I'm fine, she is fine, it could have been a *lot* worse. I was shaken up, but I stayed calm and relatively competent I think. The police officer was really nice. I think he knew it wasn't my fault. The EMT's arrived and asked if I was ok, and I waved them off and I said, "Oh, I'm fine."

They laughed, "That was easy!"

But I am fine... just makes me miss Nathan. It's time like these that we have husbands and boyfriends for... so that when something scary happens you don't have to be the strong one. I'm tired of being strong. I can't even say "the strong one," cause that implies there are more of me than myself.

Basically, I feel like everyone deserves to have a hug after getting in a car accident, and I didn't get one. And so now I'm feeling whiney. I should have just hugged the police officer. Poor guy wouldn't have known where that came from. Why are men infinitely more comforting to me than women? I think I might have a complex.

But the thing I have to focus on is that I'm ok. I'm not in a hospital... that girl isn't in a hospital. Praise the the Lord, I didn't have to go to a hospital. Praise the Lord that I was able to brake as much as I did... just Praise God, anyhow.

P.S. Did you know that Job named his daughters Dove, Cinnamon, and Darkeyes? At least that's what the Message tells me... in other words, Jemimah, Keziah, and Keren-Happuch. I kinda like it.

Senior-itis

Today I finally got to wear my birthday boots and my long sleeved jackety-shrug thing. It was fabulously exciting... it might have been a bit early for the boots, but I had to wear them! I've been waiting for a month!!

I've told you I like to smell like fall, haven't I? Well, I have a confession to make... that I may have already made but I'm going to re-confess, if so. I like to smell like fall... I like to smell like fall so much that I use a home fragrance oil made by Bath & Body Works as perfume. I'm not even kidding. I know this is totally odd. It's called "Leaves" -though I would contend that it doesn't smell like leaves.. or at least not just like leaves. It smells sooooo good. So, if you are around me and you think, "My, I smell pumpkins and firepits and cinnamon and fall. What could that be?" 

It's me.

Plus I read somewhere that men find pumpkin pie smell attractive... so that kills two birds with a single stone. Attractive to them and comforting to me. No joke. Pumpkin pie. Check it yo.

You know what's weird? Seeing someone you used to have a crush on. I had this experience a while back. I had a crush on this guy a long time ago... and then I ran into him and it was surreal. Let me just say, that when I crush I'm all in. I turn all of my impressive arsenal of detail noticing to 11 and I focus. I focus like it's going out of style. Then eventually the crush wanes and I move on... but not before I have committed every gesture, every facial expression, every mannerism to memory. Which is fine if you never see them again... but if you ever have a conversation with the guy, let me tell you it is weird, because all the things you'd forgotten that you once noticed, you now see and, boy howdy, is it distracting. You suddenly feel like you are in an episode of the Twilight zone, and you can't even carry on a decent conversation for the level of meta your brain is undergoing.

I missed the 29th. Last month for the first time, I missed the 29th. It was a day that came and went without my noticing... It might have been because the week before was so hellish, or it might have been that I was distracted, but I missed it... and I don't feel bad... It's not like I don't miss Nathan, or think of him every day... but I don't want to have dark days. I don't want to have days where I feel obligated to be stuck in sadness. I missed the 29th and honestly when I realized it, it was a bit of a relief.

People are starting to forget, I've noticed. People are starting to forget that their lives have been touched by death... I mean sure, the people on the fringe have been forgetting for a while, but friends are starting to forget. Young people joke about dying because it's so foreign a concept- something that only happens to the elderly. And we are starting to slip back into that mode... I don't mind it, except that in some ways it makes it all feel like a dream. I could barely believe sometimes when Nathan was alive that he'd chosen me... and now without him here as proof... it's so much easier to feel like it was a dream.  So much of me and who I am was invested in Nathan... so much of my life and my time was invested in him, and sometimes it makes me scared of wanting to invest in other people. If I put all my time investment in one basket what will happen if it doesn't work out, or if we stop being friends or heaven forbid, someone else dies... I just realized I've got senior-itis (what high school seniors get during spring semester)... only it's about the life version... and I'm only a freshman.

Miniscule

I'm so on a people high right now... I hosted a party for Melissa tonight, limited only in the number of people who can comfortably fit in my tiny apartment (We were actually a couple over "comfortable" I think.) But it was lovely. I hate the cleaning and the prep, but I really enjoy hosting things... Possibly because I love getting people together and hanging out and I'm most comfortable at my own place. Plus, Kara teases me, but I like to imagine my house really is a magical land where time seems to go away. If we can just get people laughing hard enough and smiling long enough, time stops. Sleepiness goes away, and suddenly you are saying, "Holy crap, it's one in the morning!" (I say, "you" because, even if I don't know it's one in the mornin' that isn't so late to me. :) )

My hair was cooperative today. I love it when that happens.

Yeah, I really don't have anything else to say. I'm just drifting along in a happy little euphoria. I think I'll go read a book.

Love you a bushel and a peck.

Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?

"Fields of Gold," I've been replaying this over and over and over. Not the Sting version, the girl version. Not sure why... Just one of those resonating songs, I guess.

I could karaoke the bejeepers out of this song... but they are only gonna have the Sting version at a karaoke place and that wouldn't be in the right key for me... I could still sing it but there would not be any bejeepers.

Someone needs to sing this on American Idol.. it could be their next "Hallelujah."

I just found out that Post Secret is hosting an event in Springfield. I'm so bummed that I have a church conference and so I'll be out of town. I want to go so badly I think that I would buy the ticket and just go on my own and, boy howdy, that is saying something! I never go to things on my own... unfortunately, I'll be gone. Springfield isn't a big city but I think I forget that it's not a small town, either. Some restaurants here stay open all night... and most of them stay open at least till 11 on weekends... in my home town if a restaurant is open after nine it's kinda a big deal. Every once in a while I realize that I drive down a 5 lane street to get nearly anywhere in this city and I think about how flabbergasted my younger self would be to know I'm totally comfortable with this. *insert witty phrase about life not being what you expected when you were young and naive here.*

I'm a baking fool, btw. Fear me and my baking prowess.

I need a bigger apartment... or a house... that way I could entertain the way that I want to, and there would be space for everyone. There is never enough space in my apartment.

I'm so glad church is tomorrow... I'm feeling starved for people... the Gilmore's don't count.

Last Love Letter

It's not really fair, you know. How the movies and television shows always have one last letter from a person who died that someone manages to save for years and years until it comes to light at the exact perfect time... and it's all about how the one who's still living is so amazing, and how sure the one who is gone is that they are amazing, and how much they love them and how much they wish that they were there with them. But what can you expect, really? I mean in the movies there are secret admirers and guys climb up to girl's window at 2:30 in the morning, and make grand gestures of love including standing on the girl's lawn with a boom box over his head.

Things like that don't happen in real life. Real life isn't like the movies. How is it that I'm 28 and just now deciding this? How is it that it took me this long to realize that my life isn't like a movie? That just because something makes cinematic sense, that doesn't mean it is going to happen outside the cinema. That having a "feeling" about something doesn't mean it's foreshadowing, and that the things you root for to happen... sometimes they don't.

There is no letter. There is no declaration of love from beyond the grave. There aren't secret admirers, guys don't climb trees just to talk to a girl, and grand gestures of love aren't nearly so grand.

It's tricksy and false to lead a life so full of drama I suppose... cause then you start to believe that your life is a movie... and it just isn't.




I wrote all that about 2 hours ago... and then I stopped and read the Heaven Is For Real book... Yes, all of it.  And I used up 16 tissues.... But I feel a bit less disillusioned and unhappy now... a bit more hopeful.... a bit more like I've gotten a love letter at the exact right time.

This, my friends, is the danger of a girl who reads. A girl who reads can never quite give up hope, because there is always something to turn the tide.

Kitsunes make me hungry

Happy Birthday, Lissa!

I was gonna go to bed at 12:30 and then I remembered that I still had to blog this evening. So you see, it is not my fault that I don't get enough sleep. It's my blog's fault. But since I'm off tomorrow, it's all ok, for I can get extra sleep in the morning time... PLUS I don't know if you recall this, but it's Labor Day weekend, so that means that I don't work on Monday. Hopefully you don't work either, so together we can celebrate this most auspicious of occasions, the 3 day weekend... or 4 day if you don't work on Fridays, but please don't be a hater. Being a hater is something that should be avoided if at all possible.

Tonight, I've been going over various kitsune myths/legends. For some reason they say there are a ton of these types of stories, but there isn't a lot of information online... I mean enough to get a general idea, but kitsune are apparently polarizing... you either love them or you've never heard of them. Oh ok, here, I'll throw you a wikipedia bone. Gosh, you really gotta learn how to google stuff for yourself, some day. :)

I'm kidding, of course. I love being your source of arcane knowledge. Well, really more like your source for your source of arcane knowledge.

Do you ever want something sweet and then discover that really what you wanted was for the sweet thing to sit next to you in case you actually wanted to eat it? I've had a rice krispie treat sitting next to me for hours.

Oh man, you know what I just remembered? The cinnamon rolls and the cookies they sold at lunch in highschool. A lot of people loved those cinnamon rolls, but the cookies... especially when they were barely baked and really just flat cookie dough that could be rolled into a cookie dough ball... *that* was good stuff.

I think I love the flavor of oats far more than a normal person, but I don't know how to do a qualitative analysis to determine for sure.... Do you know anyone else who loves oatmeal flavored ice cream... or makes oatmeal just to put a scoop of ice cream on it... or only eats the cobbler/streusel for the topping? Wait... maybe I just did a qualitative analysis. This just in, folks, I heart oats.

I've recently discovered this soup called Tom Kha Gai. I'm a late Thai food adapter/adopter, I know, it's about time. Anyway this soup is a chicken and lemongrass and coconut milk soup... and ach. It. Is. Good. I'm having very specific food longings tonight... And I don't even think I'm hungry... though I'm probably making you hungry by now. Sorry, yo.

What can I say? Kitsunes make me hungry!

Proudest moment?

Blogger has a brand new interface... I'm trying to get used to it. (Don't worry, it's not something you will see.)

It's a strange thing what a relief it is to see someone on a TV show who is on a ventilator *look* like they are on a ventilator. Makes me sad, but it doesn't make me angry... makes me feel like someone out there knows... or at least that they did their research. There are some things it is cruel to try and fake, and hospital scenes are one of them.

I was thinking today that I should send a thank you letter to Nathan's dr and nurses in St. Louis... I never actually did that, and they were so nice and kind to us.

I've been posed the question, "When you look back on your life, what are you the most proud of?" and I think that I'm too young to have something to be the most proud of, and then I remember I'm 28... and I think, "How have I not had something that I can definitively point to as my proudest thing?" and then I remember that I don't have children, and I've never had huge lofty dreams... just small simple ones... I lack ambition, you know.

I'm not sure how I've become so old and so young at the same time.... oh wait, maybe I do know... that stupid wolf, again.

I'm feeling contemplative... this is a dangerous place for me... Luckily, I have my handy dandy distractions all around me... Like the fact that my apartment desperately needs to be cleaned, and must be cleaned by  Sat, because the lovely Melissa is having a birthday party here that night.

Yes, apartment cleaning. That's precisely what I should be doing at 2 in the morning.

Then again, perhaps not.