Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow... Just don't crrash your car when I'm working!

My dear Star-Wars deficient friend,

The only difference, as far as I can tell, between Ghandi and Yoda is that Ghandi has never needed to resort to lightsaber violence to get shit taken care of. Doesn't mean that he can't. Just that he chooses not to.

I don't approve of our current work schedules and how limiting they are on best friend snuggle time. I miss you terribly. How did your interview go??? I need to get on that job application horse... AMR has laid off half a dozen upper managers this week and another 3 or so have resigned. So we are a body without a head, and this company was barely functional to begin with. Rumor had it that our general manager resigned because he knocked up his assistant, (who is absolutely smoking hot, by the way) but that was unfounded and we aren't supposed to spread it anymore. Which is a shame. It's the best rumor I've heard in a while! But all this translates to "Amanda ought to get a job on a different ambulance company just in case this one stops working out."

So, in other news:

• I ran 2.6 miles today. In the snow. Which wasn't bad at all but I definitely thought that it would be a longer distance when I looked it up later. Ah well.
•  Quadratic equations and I are friends once more.
• Prior to running in the snow, I ate shit walking out my front door on the "massive puddle" that is always in my driveway, and is now being re-named the "massive ice death trap." My elbow is bruised. As is my ego, because of course my neighbors were outside.
• I have a TV again, and christened it by watching Despicable Me. Thanks mom and dad. And I made myself a new avatar on the x-box because it's fun. Thanks uncle Matt.
• Still haven't gone Christmas shopping... That's the plan for Tuesday. I'm a huge slacker. 
• What do you want for Christmas anyway? 
• I'm going wall climbing tomorrow! Hooray! I'm going to suck. There is a climbing gym in Dover, as I recall... I oughta get back into this.
• My old ambulance partner Spencer is back in NH!
• I made a new OkCupid friend. More on that as I have it. :)

Soooooo tell me about this rave!?! You looked phenomenal, of course. Loved the leg-warmers/booties. I demand more pictures! I know you have them dammit!

I'll leave you with an unrelated picture of Spencer and I pretending to be hobos, and Jennie and I pretending to be Pocahontas and Nakoma. Nakoma was a babe. Too bad Kokomo got killed. (Yes I watched that movie last weekend...) There are lessons to be learned though! You must find yourself a handsome sturdy husband, who builds handsome sturdy walls. So wise, those indians.

Lerv.

You have boyfriend??

Hello my RUNNER FRIEND!!!

You might look ridiculous in your non running clothing, but I have adequate running clothes and still look like this...

See? Case in point, it does not matter the clothing in which you run, but only THAT you run! I think someone said that once... maybe Ghandi? Or Yoda. I always get them confused.



I am anxiously awaiting your review of my cover letter so I can finish applying to NCSS. Damn those Manchvegas citizens for needing medical assistance while I'm attempting to better my future! I'm hoping I don't sound like too large of a pompous ass, which I feel like everyone who writes one of those damn things sounds conceited to some degree. I also feel like I wrote too much, but that's normal.

I wish I would have looked at your post before today (or answered your texts this weekend) because I was in Mountainland too!! Only for a night, though... my great uncle passed away. Before you say sorry, he had stage 4 bone and prostate cancer and lived a full and wonderful life, so there are no sorry's for Uncle Ed! I will be home for that whole weekend (as far as I know) so we must absolutely have a North Country reunion. Momma Crane (Huntington... damn it!) would love to see you, and I am definitely in need of a Marie and John fix. Also, THE fix... can we make Christmas fix please please please pleaseeeee?! There's also a new cafe in Littleton called Smooch I think we should check out, and then venture to Aylakai and maybe get something pierced? Perfect, I'd say.

Aaaand there is ADD at it's finest, ladies and gentlemen.

So, as for the rest of my week, I will be purchasing a ridiculous neon outfit tomorrow and wearing it Friday to Becca's company Christmas party... which is a RAVE!!! How AWESOME is that?! I will be unt-sis unt-sis ing all over the place come Friday in my neon tutu, corset, furries and, potentially, wig. (probably not wig but whatever... I get to wear a corset in public and it's acceptable!) It's going to be outrageous. I can, Not. Wait.

Today, I went all super girlie and got myself a pedicure and gel-nail manicure. Have you ever seen the Anjelah Johnson stand up comedy skit about the nail salon? If you haven't, watch it right effing now and you will know what I experienced today. For two hours I sat in that salon and had to do everything in my power to keep from laughing because that skit kept playing in my head...

 but Mai Ling/Tammy did a fabulous job on my nails, and she even used the Kritol Geaaaal.


That's enough rambling for me, love. I think I'm going to hope for the best and just send that letter, because like you said, if they don't love me they they're not worth my time. Lets pray to every god imaginable that I get this job, because if I have to work under my supervisor, who isn't leaving for Florida anymore in January, any longer, I might just kill someone.

For real.

xo

Pascale

Please tell your best friend to go buy some actual running clothes...

<--- This person looks ridiculous.








And yes, I did cut the thumb off that glove so that I can still work my I-pod. Genius? Possibly. But it's cold out. Desperate measures, my friend, desperate measures...

I'm not crazy... My mother had me tested!

Darling Brooke,

Sadly, that is not just a quote from the beloved sitcom Big Bang Theory, but a testament of my own childhood. Not a clue what the child therapist determined about me... Maybe it's best not to know.

But a bit of insanity is beginning to rear it's crazy head... In the form of my taking Calculus 5 DAYS A WEEK next semester. Yep. Get me on Lithium stat. I can't even remember how exponents work with any accuracy. Prepare yourself for several mid-semester, hysterical phone calls about how I hate my life and can't do this.

That's just one week... 11 classes...

In other news, ran 2 miles today! Hooray! You're absolutely right, though, I go super slow and I think I'm starting to find my stride. Which leaves us with only 1 problem... What song to sing at karaoke?

Oh! I also just recently learned that I make a BOMB shepherd's pie. FYI. It's delish.

So lover, I'm getting ready for work, which is basically all I do anymore, so I must cut this short. I'm going up to mountain land tomorrow for the St. Martin family christmas tree expedition, but we need to have a phone date sometime soon! I miss your beautiful voice!

Are you going home for christmas this year? I should be there the day of... Maybe I'll see you?

Love you for always!

Chocolate Fixes Everything

This, we know.

How long have you and I been using chocolate as a fix all? Or, for that matter, sweets of all kinds. When it comes to emotional eating, there is no discrimination.

So after I had to help two toddler girls transition into custody early last week, a task that left me in an emotional state I don't think I've ever even touched before, I needed some therapy. Sure, there was wine involved as well, but the real therapy came from these:

Crock Pot Crack Brownies

What you Need:
4tbs MELTED butter
1 Box of Brownie Mix (your choice)
1/4 cup of water
2 eggs
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup coconut flakes
1/2 cup oatmeal
1/2 cup crushed walnuts
1/2 cup chocolate chips
1 incredibly horrible, very bad, terrible day that makes you want to eat your weight in sugar.

What you Do:
-Pour the melted butter into the bottom of your very well greased crock pot, (My friend Lyndsie showed me these amazing Reynolds Wrap crock pot liner things that completely eliminate the clean up of the crock pot once you eat everything in it... amazing.)
-Mix the brownie mix, water and eggs in a bowl. Pour into crock pot. (It will be REALLY thick and concentrated, which makes it more like fudge when it's done. Also amazing.)
-Pour the sweetened condensed milk evenly over top of brownie mix.
-Evenly spread (in this order) oats, coconut flakes, walnuts, chocolate chips in layers over condensed milk.
-Cover and cook on LOW for 2 1/2 hours.
-Serve with ice cream. Or just stick your face in the pot when it's finished.

These, my friend, are INCREDIBLE. Think Conga Bars, but better. Gooey, fudge-like, full of sugar and that delicious condensed milk like what they put in Thai iced coffee, which in itself is crack.

I ate the entire pot by myself. Basically in one sitting.

Needless to say this weekend I ran and lifted weights to help conteract the effects of this deliciousness. And the Friendsgiving food, which was plentiful and carbiful as well. Going to have to really start training hard for that Will Run for Beer series.

Speaking of which... how's your training going? The biggest piece of advice I can give you (and I've been meaning to do this all week and keep forgetting to text you... my bad) is to start slow. If you can only run a half mile at a time to start, that's all you can do. When I started training last April, I couldn't even do a full mile without walking, and it frustrated me so much I almost stopped running. Instead, I started chunking it up into smaller intervals so I felt like I'd succeeded running for 15 minutes instead of failing at a full non-stop mile. Then, once you've got a mile solid, you can start focusing on two, then three. And then lots of karaoke and beer. So much beer.

I am really proud of you for signing up to do this with me. You're wonderful, and as much as you hate running now, I bet the bug bites you too once you're in the race. And then we can be running buddies! Right after we move next door to each other. And have lots of puppies in our joined back yard.

Enjoy the crack brownies, love. I'm warning you... use them for emergencies. Or, you know, when you're feeling like you need a good fainting spell. I won't tell Mommy St. Martin that you had sugar. :)

Lovelovelove

Brookie

I don't know how you talked me into this

Dear Runner Brooke,

I went for the single-most pathetic little 1/2 mile run today. But I didn't hate it. Which means I will be more likely to go on more pathetic little runs in the future. Baby steps.

To reward myself for being so physically active, (snort) I am making mushroom raviolis for dinner, and because I am a cheap bastard (read: culinary mastermind) I made a homemade mushroom stock out of the leftover stems, half a carrot that I found, superhero parsley and rosemary, and some shallots and garlic. Not too shabby... So excited to eat it! Also very sad because I subconsciously always make enough food to feed exactly 1 Brooke and 1 Amanda. But I'm lacking in the Brooke department. :(

So we need to start planning our song for the karaoke contest. Thoughts?

Love for always,

Wheelie

Happiness is a tie dyed field hockey ball with your face on it

Dearest darling Aurelie:

1. Autocorrect in my phone just changed "Aurelie" to "Wheelie" which I thoroughly enjoyed. 2. Bacon spinach risotto sounds phenomenal. You'll have to teach me how to make risotto in general, since I can't. 3. I will gladly make EMT crack every time I come to visit you in your awesome new apartment. Maybe the 6 year old can help us!

Tonight, I had my field hockey banquet, where we get to celebrate our awesome team members and shower our seniors with gifts and love. Among those seniors, my baby goalie, whom I have groomed since the first day she ever wore goalie gear. During camp when she was 14, the first time she ever stepped into the goal, I knew she would be great. She was awarded the "E Ball" which, as you may remember, is only the best award you can get at a UVM field hockey camp. I made hers into a baby giraffe, lanky and wobbly, like her. She loved it and keeps it on her dresser to this day.

Last night, the captains got up and gave us our coaching gifts. Allyson got a 50 dollar gift certificate to a fancy restaurant in town and a can of sardines, hommage to the fact that she has to teach elementary schoolers phys ed this year and makes them be sardines to sit down and shut up. I got a manicure/pedicure certificate, since I've never gotten one before, and my very own E Ball. My goalie told the story of how she'd gotten her first E Ball at the first camp I coached her at and how, because of that, she knew she wanted to pursue goalkeeping. Basically, she made me cry like a baby and it was fantastic. I'm so proud of the young lady she's grown into. I'm like a momma goalie watching her baby dive or double leg stack for the first time. (Okay, I guess you have to be a goalie to get it...)

All my love, my lerv (autocorrected to perv... lol)

Brooke

Please don't judge my horrible French grammar.

Dear Brooklyn,

Someone, somewhere, has a batman apron. I saw it on a poster. This will happen. My apron is coming along, slowly but surely. The border is all done, just neck strap and belt to go! We'll be twinsies from the 50's!

So work has, per the status quo, been quite busy. We're field testing a new cardiac monitor so I've been medically geeking out on a regular basis. I've been quoted as saying things like, "Cool! This disk measures the effectiveness of chest compressions and estimates your cardiac output!" and, "Oh my god, it measures the ohms of resistance when you defibrillate really fat people!" (You never actually need to know that) Also, I now have really strong opinions on proper wire organization and how many inches of paper is appropriate to print out when you press the "on" button. Normal.

I clearly miss you terribly, and hope that you're having a blast with Mr. Fancypants. I cannot, repeat, CANNOT, wait to meet him. Ahh! Love him already. (Platonically... All that other -ness is for you to take care of.) I wish that you were here to help me eat this spinach risotto that I just made. ( With bacon and onions... It's basically my go-to for using up fridge leftovers.) Guess I'll just have to take the rest to work. Oh and by the way I haven't stopped receiving requests for those brownie-cookie-oreo things. Seriously. You made my co-workers crazy. They are crazy people now. Those things were EMT crack.

So I bought myself some wall art of Van Gogh's "Starry Night" because I am sooooo excited about my new apartment!!!! You obviously are required to help decorate/snuggle with me at sleepovers.

I hope you enjoy your night off before it's back to the grind!

Tu me manquais trop...

Aurelie

Being a slacker is not for the faint of heart.

Dearest darling Amanda.

I am so terribly sorry its taken me so long to reply. At least you have had a productive couple of weeks and have been able to keep me updated with your crazy antics. You know your sister is beautiful because she is a mini you, I will sit on the flash cards and help you study any day (be stereotypical!! BASIL!) and if rosemary and parsley were really superhero plants, Nicole and I wouldn't have had to give ours a proper burial at the beginning of winter. So you have mutant plants. Mutant superhero plants.

I figured I would post something quickly to break up your streak before we go on our hate baking binge and Amelie fest for the next 48 hours. So, here are the only two photos of my roller derby boo I have, a cute Kito picture, the week old baby i helped come into this world, a shift report dinosaur, and the obligatory random selfie as a quick photo recap of my life until we can take a bunch more together IN THREE HOURS.

See you soon, my love!

Brooke

Let me blog about my day!

Salutations!

I hope my greeting made you think of Wilbur, the pig from Charlotte's Web. If it didn't, the Lancaster library clearly had such a diverse collection of VHS tapes that you did not make it through all of them. It's a classic. Love it. Anyhoo...

It's been a productive day for most everyone, it seems! Sarah, the littlest of my sisters, has gone and gotten herself a driver's license! How absolutely terrifying is that?!? I am, however, super proud of her, though I do not envy the bumpers of my parent's cars...

Also, She's super pretty. What a betch.

As for myself,  I started my day running tons and tons of errands... Wal-mart for soaps, paper towels, and birthday cards, Shaws for delicious groceries, the mall for new earrings, 2013 calendar (Lord of the Rings themed) and a day planner, and the dry cleaners because I spilled gasoline on my pea coat. Yup, the dry cleaners. Who's a fucking adult, huh? This chick. What's up with this?!? So, by 11:00 I had already accomplished more than I usually manage in a whole day. I then made myself some chicken carbonara for lunch, complete with homemade pasta, because I have lately become obsessed with making my own noodles. It's reminiscent of last year's sourdough frenzy, without all the bubbly science experiments in my fridge.

Then I wanted to do some arts and crafts. My mother raised me right, so I made sure to place several layers of newspaper on my floor to ensure a clean workspace. Then I FINALLY put a layer of sealant on the painting you made me. I know. Slacker. I've had this stuff for weeks. Almost months. Whatever, it's done now, drying and waiting on a second coat, and I'm only a little high off the fumes because it's too chilly to leave the door open any longer. I have been collecting all of the colored caps off the medication vials that I use at work, with the intention of making something cool, but I haven't collected quite enough yet. Stay tuned for that installment of the Barney Bag. (Please tell me you watched that show, at least?!)

Since I didn't want to mop my floor but I wanted to continue the productive streak, I winterized my porch. Which doesn't take a lot, just sweeping up the pine needles, emptying the flower boxes and taking all the various gardening tools to my car, since next spring I will be living in a different place! (Yay!) As a result, I am now in possession of more parsley and rosemary than any one person could possibly use. Apparently those are the sorts of plants that will thrive even if you don't ever water them, leave them out in a hurricane, and let them get frost on them. Superhero plants.

I also went through and got myself familiarized with the classes that I'm required to take for college, which was super exciting and intimidating and full of various -ologies. Then, I got up to refill my coffee, turned around, and was met with this scene, undoubtedly foreshadowing what my existance will look like for the next few years...

Papers strewn everywhere, Pandora on the laptop, black coffee coming out my ears... Yup. This will be my couch/desk/bed/car for the foreseeable future. Hope you still love me even though everywhere you sit will have flash cards on it.

I know you're at work right now, probably hating your life because this week has been demanding, but I love you and I get to see you next week and we get to have a slumber party on our camping cots! I have Ibuprofen for when we remember that our backs are not as young as they used to be...

All of my love for always,

Amanda

How many seconds did it take you to find me?

Dearest, gray-shaded Brooke,

I miss you terribly, clearly, and I am appalled that we have not yet had to chance to do a best-friends Halloween costume. This needs to be remedied. And it can't be anything lame. We have a whole year to think of the GREATEST BESTIES COSTUME EVER!

This year, I had an unintentional costume twin, which ended up being pretty funny. Here is my motley crew of co-workers in their October best:

I am the Waldo with little stripes. Vicki's costume was an actual Waldo costume that you can buy. Mine is Goodwill, but I found an old-school red camera for 1 dollar which was perfect! Go me, the cheap bastard! There was also a Mr. Clean, Things 1 and 2, and far too many of my male co-workers in short-shorts. So many knees and upper thighs that I did not need to see... Still a very fun party and the sangria was excellent!

I'll keep this post brief in hopes of maybe doing something productive today, but I promise a more eloquent and long-winded entry before long!

All erv mer lerv,

Amanda

Choo Choo!!

Dearest Darling Amanda:

I wish the world was as easy and wonderful as it was when we were kids. I am forever saying how I wish I could use all those naptimes I fought now, kind of like rollover minutes. I miss the days when the most traumatic thing that happened to you was losing your favorite pair of sunglasses at the tender age of 5 (you would have been devastated, too, if you lost them. You don't see many purple flip down visor glasses with dinosaurs on them now a days) or when your dog chewed the head off of your favorite Barbie. I would rather have Tucker chew of a zillion Barbie heads than pay my student loans. But, such is life.

Speaking of life, it is so good right now, because it is HALLOWEEN!! My favorite time of year, a time in which you are allowed to dress up in whatever ridiculous (for some, read: slutty) costume you want, eat a TON of candy and no body cares, and drink lots of pumpkin flavored alcohol. It's the most wonderful time of the year, in my opinion... all the Christmas stories had it totally wrong. All this week I have been scheming a way to snag enough grey paint swatches to complete my 50 shades of Grey outfit, and finally with the help of miss Becca, reached my goal yesterday at Lowes. And so, an hour before the party started, we started cutting and taping the paint swatches to my standby little black dress, as this is what we came up with.

Not too shabby for pulling it together in an hour. Sure the paint swatches didn't exactly stay on for the entire night, but who could expect that? My hope is that somewhere, someone found a new color for their home decor as a direct result of my poor planning.

Among other amazing costumes there were a "ceiling fan" (girl dressed as a cheerleader with a shirt saying "go ceiling!") A "fork in the road" (her boyfriend, who'd taped a plastic fork to a black shirt with  yellow road lines on it) the "chick magnet" (guy with a construction paper magnet on his chest with chicken stickers on it) and Amelia Earhart, complete with a giant, homemade hot air balloon, although none of us burst her bubble that Amelia flew in a plane.

It was an excellent night to say the least, one that I was really looking forward to ending downtown with some friends and oogling even more amazing costume choices, until the freight train of sickness pulled into station. Suddenly  my sinuses were plugged, my throat was closing up and on fire, and I had a massive, pounding headache. (I say suddenly, but really these symptoms were all present all day long and I had done a damn good job of ignoring them.) Thankfully, Hello Kitty (or Becca... whatever) drove me to Price Chopper to purchase OJ, Nyquil and some of those delicious coconut bars you made me addicted to, and then brought me home. Two coconut bars and a shot of Nyquil later, I was in an over the counter medically induced coma and loving my life. Until about 5am when the freight train rolled into station again. Another shot of Nyquil, another 6 hours of sleep, and I am (tentatively) good to go.

Luckily, Halloween falls on a Wednesday this year, which means in the world of weekends, next weekend is another shot completely at dressing up.

Love living in a college town sometimes.

From my ensconcement on the couch with my OJ and soup in hand,
Brooke.

It was a dark and stormy night... (Alternately titled "Please don't sue me, Ms. L'Engle")

Let me set the scene for you...

It was not, in fact, dark and stormy, but if my 1st grade teacher, Mrs. Hartshorn, hadn't told me that the sky was supposed to be blue, I'd have assumed gray to be the typical shade. Maybe that's why those from northern NH have an innate appreciation for a beautiful day. There certainly aren't many other places where 65 degrees is tanning season. But I'm not here to talk about the weather... I want to talk about bunk beds.

Bunk beds are THE COOLEST. Says 6 year-old me. Especially when your sister, who is also the coolest, wanted the bottom bunk and you totally wanted the top bunk, so that's perfect. And you have a wooden ladder with flat steps and metal hooks that you can take off when you're feeling really brave, and there's a safety bar on the side for when you're not. And that safety bar isn't even bent yet, but it will be after a few more years of holding onto it while you swing yourself from the top bunk into the bottom one beside Jennie. Mom yells when you do that, but you know she can't really be mad, because you didn't get hurt and it's bedtime and story time and who can be mad about stories! You and Jennie invent stories after the lights are out, and you already have a pretty good collection of favorites to verbally act out... Our variations of Encyclopedia Brown, (Complete with additional bully-girlfriend Jenni and Israeli barrel castaway Zannah.) Mulan, and A Bug's Life. After mom leaves, we lie still and quiet, because we're supposed to be asleep, but the silence is inevitably broken by the two most ritualistic words of our brief lives...

"Which one?"

Which one, which story, which adventure should we continue spinning tonight?

But until that time, our mother does a little literary invention of her own. Our favorite is the story of Princess Blue, and Princess Brown. (In later years, Sarah will be introduced as Princess Crank. She was a high-maintenance child, without a unique eye color to claim as her namesake. Life is unfair.) Sometimes, the princesses, who are both the most beautiful, mimic the experiences of our own lives. Other times, they walk in the gardens, or ride the magic Unicorn-Pegasuses that Jennie was obsessed with. (Probably still is... Sorry again for sitting on High-Stepper and breaking her leg in the car on the way to Virginia.) I'd like to think that a younger, demure HIPPA Princess lived in the same valley, pooping without pretension, decorating her room with glitter and sparkles. She most likely had play dates with Princesses Blue and Brown, and swung on the basket swing in the backyard. At least that's how I picture it.

I have determined, after going through THOUSANDS of photos, that this is the only swing set picture in existence.

Basket swings are the bomb. You and I were not besties in those days, but believe me, cool kids swing on basket swings. Just ask Chrissy McGee, circa 1996. She'll tell you.

That's right, lover. That whole story was just because you made me want to talk about princesses. I hope you're proud of yourself. Also, R.I.P. swing set.

The end.

Story Corner with Brooke

Dearest darling Firlina (I refuse to give up!)

I am terribly sorry for the delay in response. clearly I am a HUGE slacker and have no grounds to ever call you one again for not posting immediately. Consider the playing field even once again.


As for your TV stand with the stubborn sticker, I have found these things in my Pinterest stalking:

(well... I didn't find much for the TV stand, but fear not! I haven't given up hope. I did, however, find these...  which of course sparked a genuine Brooke's Story Corner tale. Enjoy.)

The Princess and the "Glitter Shitter"

Once upon a time, in a magical land far, far away, there was a princess (probably a HIPPA protected story as well. Damn it) who decided that her mundane days of dumping on a simple plastic toilet seat were over. And so, she called upon her Fairy Godmother to glamorize her porcelain throne. Fairy Godmother, or Franny, as she prefers to be called, appeared in a cloud of Virginia Slim smoke, asking "What? What is it?" in her stereotypical Jewish Brooklyn accent made gravelly by her certain bout of Emphysema. Our little princess lamented her woes of not having a blinged-out bowel movement receptacle, and Franny rolled her eyes, exclaiming "Oy! I'm getting far too old for this mashugana!" before waving her cherried Virginia Slim like a wand and creating this masterpiece. (Or at least that's how I see it going down.)

Our little HIPPA princess, now satisfied with her shitting status, turns her sights from her toilet bowl and out into the world, searching for a suitable mate to share her glamorized throne. And who better to do so than the owner of this little beauty?

Ah yes, the prince who sits upon this foliaged throne whilst taking his morning dump is of course the only man suited for our HIPPA princess. Will their paths ever meet? Perhaps on the way to a public toilet somewhere, both parties disgruntled that they have to use the commoners facilities because their own custom toilet seats are safe and warm at their respective palaces, their eyes will meet and they will both know that true love has been achieved. I'd imagine it feels a lot like relieving yourself after a long night of drinking, because nothing says "love" like the beer shits.

(... I probably shouldn't quit my day job.)


I want that fortune tattooed on me somewhere. That's so perfect. Maybe that can be on your next support team sign? I am definitely going to have to skife that off of you and keep it in my water belt, though. You know, for luck. :) Thank your partner for me, that totally made my day three days ago when I originally read your post.

As for newness in the life of Me, there isn't much. Drunk Brooke successfully returned home with all of her vitals (keys, wallet, phone) intact last night. Huge gold star for her. However, she did take more out of Sober Brooke's bank account than Sober Brooke wanted to see this morning, but thankfully my coaching stipend comes through within the next two weeks and so I will have a little cushion. Which will, eventually, all go to student loans, bills, rent, etc., but for a little bit it will be nice to not feel as if I'm about to go under.

Regardless, all of this was made exponentially better by the fact that WE HAVE A DOG IN OUR APARTMENT FOR THREE WEEKS!!! As you have seen, he is absolutely adorable, and I am devising a way to steal him before his owner comes to take him away from us again. In case you forgot how cute he is, here's a little reminder.



LOOK AT THAT FACE! I just want to squish it! When I get 1000 extra bones lying around I am so buying a Shiba Inu and loving it to death. It has officially risen above a Corgi in my dog obsession rankings.

Well, my dearest, I hope you have enjoyed my ramblings for today. I am going to get myself cleaned up and pulled together so I can go on my coffee date with Mr. Online. Clearly I will be calling and/or texting you updates and details ASAP.

And I need your address because I have shit to send you! Maybe a "Glitter Shitter" is in your future...

Paix et Amour toujours,

Pascale

I'm not Bipolar... Today...

To my truest and dearest love,

That title is the scroat-quote of the day, spoken by the young man we found wandering around the hospital parking lot trying to see into the ambulances. He had walked from his home, a ways away, and said he was lost. (As I'm sure you know, Bipolar = Wanderings.) So, we kindly led him into the hospital to "get out of the rain" and I was asking him questions on the way in:

Me - "What's your name hun?"

Him - Cannot disclose name due to HIPPA (Damn feds messing up my story...)

Me - "Do you have any medical problems?"

Him - "Nope!"

(FYI, he's what we would call "mentally hilarious." Or at least had those facial features.)

Me - "Well, do you have any psych problems, like Bipolar?"

Him (Triumphantly) - "Not today!"

So yes. We got him all comfortable in a hospital room so that the poor boy could stop walking in the rain. And by this time, I was already an hour past end of shift with 2 unfinished reports, and our IT network was down so I had no way to send my completed reports to the server or the hospital, and we got new truck phones that DO NOT work, so clearly whomever left their bag of chips on the table at work doesn't have chips anymore. And I felt better.

So my partner who I worked with today (who knows you're a badass runner) got this and gave it to me to show you:

How perfect right???


I will be spending my night boozing because I have a whole 18 hours off, reconnecting with the beautiful Erin Phelan who is also boozing, and doing therapy homework. Because, you know, apparently that's a thing... And let's be honest, we can reasonably expect at least 3 more episodes of Arrested Development before I call it a night and crawl into my camping cot...

I love you always and across far too many rest stop-less miles,

LiLi

Que sera, sera...

Beloved Hazel,

Say your motto in French, and feel that much better! (God I hope that's French and not, like, Latin or something. They're all essentially the same.) Remember the line of the poem that you wrote, that had one, just one, word in French, to make the Iambic Pentameter work. "Fumbling avec my frozen fingers..." I couldn't tell you what the rest of the poem was.

So, it's a terrible truth that the scale at my doctor's adds a solid 10 pounds. They can't blame that all on my shoes... I call bullshit! I weighed myself this morning at 150. Broke the no drinking water rule. And at the doctors I was 159 or something! Oh well. Got to chat up the cute phlebotomist so it's worth a little self-loathing. Hopefully she violates the patient confidentiality rules and finds my phone number haha. That is what would happen if my life was a romantic comedy. Which it's not.

So this is the TV stand we have to work with. Thank god my camera doesn't show how dusty it is... And under the cardboard box is a sticker that didn't come all the way off. FYI.

So as far as races go, remember that Nashua is only 20 minutes from me, so either one will still be super convenient. Just let me know and I will make the necessary adjustments to my schedule, and hopefully this time I won't get lost trying to be supportive at mile 6 haha!

Time to get back to my new, really cool hobby of watching old episodes of Arrested Development. Even though I want to be watching Good Eats. With you. While eating a rise and shiner. What a perfect world that would be!

Love and kisses and spider-monkey hugs,

Fir-ne?
Firena?
Firdinand?

Whatever.

Insanity is Running Half Marathons to Make You Happy

Dearest Amanda:

When we are old and grey we will absolutely go by old lady names. Hazel is perfect for me, but Fir could be a little difficult... Firdinandina maybe? Firnee? We'll think of something.

As for the TV stand, I am going to need a better visual of the stand. Send me along a picture in your next post and I'll come up with something crafty we can do next time I see you, which hopefully won't be too long from now. I forgot what awful Manner withdrawals I go through after not seeing you for a while. I would liken them to coming down of off opiates, if I knew what that felt like. Based on my experience with those who have, it sounds pretty similar.

I have a strict regimen for weighing myself too... it's called never doing it. Although last time I did I was hovering right around 200lbs... which is a hefty 36 less than I weighed in January. That was also a month ago, and full Bluebird BBQ and Moe's meals have entered my body since. In the past 24 hours I swear I've gained 10 pounds. Absolutely worth every calorie of course, but still... a little excessive.

That should be mostly burnt off with my 6 mile jaunt I plan on taking in the morning. Sadly, I have yet to get new shoes, so my old faithful Asics will have to last me through one more distance run before I trade them in on Friday after getting paid. It's going to be a struggle, seeing as I haven't run since I survived my half marathon, but do you remember how happy I was at the end?

Hopefully it will be half as enjoyable in November, once I decide which one I want to do. My choices are as follows:

Manchester City Half Marathon which would be extremely convenient, considering it's in your backyard, but also very close to now. Or, the Wolf Hollow Half Marathon, which is a bit further away from both you and today. A little more appealing, both for my body and bank account, but we'll see how tomorrow's run fares before making any big decisions.

In other news, The Mister made some potential strides this weekend, in that he remembered everything about it and wasn't blackout drunk. The more I think about it, the more I know that he's not good for me right now, but I can't help but hope that he will snap out of it and smarten up. Wishful thinking, I know, but I've always been a hopeless romantic. I've decided that I just need to stop stressing out over it and repeat the mantra "what will be will be" over and over until I stop feeling so crazy. Hopefully I'm right in what I'm feeling and someday it will pan out, but for now the timing just isn't right and I have to accept that.

In other OTHER news...  YOU ARE FREE!!! I can't wait to come and stay in YOUR apartment! And sleep in YOUR bed! And only have to worry about YOU and not wanting to MURDER ANYONE ELSE. It's a glorious feeling for me, so I can only imagine what you are feeling right now. Besides hopefully a little tipsy from your celebratory vodka tonics.

Now I'm going to finish watching Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, pass out, and run my tookus off in the morning.

Good night, my dearest Firleasha. (Still working on it!)

-Hazel

(PS: We need to start the care packages. Name a date and send me your address so we can make the first swap!)

Should we become witches just for the wands? Yes.

Dear Brooke/Internet people,

It's my experience that ice cream and pizza rolls are expert feeling-killers. I'm not going to lie to you... Your birthday ice cream cake that had to stay in my freezer because it would have melted before you got home? Demolished.

Now, clearly, I've been working my little tush off pretty much constantly, but tonight is my last night shift and I get a DAY OFF! A whole day that I only need to spend of couple hours of sleeping! Hooray! Then, back to remind-me-how-to-be-paramedic class on Monday. Boo...

So I've been spending my free time re-organizing, re-arranging, and deep cleaning my apartment. Emphasis on the mine. Ahh! So far, the bedroom is the only room that is 100% ex-boyfriend free and set up how I like it. Baby steps. God do I hate cleaning bathrooms... But we'll get there. I'm seriously thinking of taking a leaf from your book and relieving my workplace of a couple of rolls of toilet paper, out of pure laziness. I don't want to go to Wal-mart.

So this morning I weighed 148lbs! (Keep in mind, I weigh myself immediately after waking up, stark naked, after using the bathroom, before showering or drinking any water. ) But still, yay! I'm fairly sure that I'm not the only woman who has a strict set of guidelines that must be followed prior to stepping on the scale, right? Right???

Oh, art project for us! We need to think of something tasteful and cute to do with a TV stand that does not have a TV. Because I like my TV stand but do not need or have a TV. Hopefully Pintrest or whatever sites there are have some ideas, because all I can think of is "use large potted plant to cover half-removed sticker in the middle. Ignore."

I love you dearly Hazel. If we were allowed to change our names when we were old ladies that's what I'd call you.

Manner (Fir just doesn't work haha)

Kids These Days...

Dearest Amanda:

I must say, you and Mommy St. Martin rock the Maleficent horns magnificently! I've always wanted to visit Salem at this time of  year. Maybe we should make a Halloween trip and bring Greggers... you know he would be able to lament along with that waitress about the faux HP wand store. Probably could have taught her a thing or to along the way about what kinds of wands are best for magic making and all that.

I read your post shortly after you'd posted it (the beauty of smart phones and instant notifications) but this is the first time I've signed onto my computer in a while, so I've been slacking too. Since then, Bee and her girlfriend came to visit for Alumni weekend this past weekend, so naturally it was a weekend full of drinking, ridiculousness, and misplacement, both of people and items. Among them, Bee, who decided to take off for about a half hour to do God knows what, and my wallet... for the second time in three months.

When I realized it was missing two days after my final drunken purchase at Ali Baba's Kabob Shop (those damn veggie pakoras are the only thing that comes close to a Rise n' Shiner) I went to the bank to close my account, where I found that it had been slowly draining at random Shell stations around the Burlington area. Whoever ended up with my card was a professional thief, or watched a lot of crime shows, because there was never more than a 40 dollar charge at any of the five places they went. So, courtesy of Drunk Brooke, some dillhole got some free booze, cigs and tanks of gas on Sober Brooke's bank account. As a result, I've been trying to contact the claims center all morning to no avail. Sober Brooke always ends up with all of Drunk Brooke's consequences. That bitch has got some serious Karma coming her way.

Speaking of consequences and Karma, yesterday I get to the bus to get my team ready to leave for my game and I am approached by four of my players, three of whom are seniors and one a senior captain. Two had approached the head coach and myself the day before at practice and owned up to being at a party that got busted the previous Saturday evening. As a result, we gave them the consequence of sitting yesterday's game out in their street clothes and watching from the sidelines in addition to whatever the school's involvement would be after the message was relayed to the Athletic Director and Principal. The captains then approached us and told us that there was one other person at the party who had not come forward and asked us to give them until yesterday to try and convince them to do so. Turns out, that third person was my star midfielder who, other than my goalkeeper, carries the team.

Livid didn't even begin to cover it.

In addition, one of the captains came forward and said she was there, but supposedly "only to make my presence known to the teammates that were there." How truthful that is, I'm not sure, but in any case, we're down four of our key players for potentially the rest of the season. I was not impressed, to say the least.

When we got to the game yesterday, we stepped onto the field and I immediately pulled the whole team together. I made them stand shoulder to shoulder, which is our team tradition, in a circle, and the four under consequence did not include themselves. I did not say anything, but my team did, not with words but by each person opening up the circle a little more to allow all four to join in on the pregame ritual we'd established since day one. Shoulder to shoulder, we all stood, and I asked them all to close their eyes and visualize how good it felt to win. To score. To be a part of a team that, against all odds, has overcome the scrutiny and doubt of their entire community to become one of the top ranked teams in the division, to have a winning record for the first time in at least five years. I watched each person in the circle as I spoke, some tearful, some jittery, some looking back at me, uncomfortable to stand with their eyes closed for that long. I told them that the game ahead would be a true test of what it meant to be a Seahorse, because being a Seahorse meant more than the uniform or playing time or skill or anything else it took to actually be on the team.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, all the girls looked at me, and one asked "what does it mean?"

I smiled and told them "that's what you show me today."

We won. In overtime. 1-0 against the worst team in the league, a team we crushed on our first meeting 5-1. For me, this win was even sweeter, because it showed me that my team knows exactly what it means to be a Seahorse. Very, very impressed, to say the least.

As for Karma, it's still coming around on those four who made that choice. However, I'm hoping that spiteful bitch eases up a bit, since they were all brave enough to come forward and face their teammates. I have never been more disappointed and proud of anyone than I was of those four in my entire life. It was a very strange feeling that forced me to kill it with ice cream and pizza rolls when I got home. Is this what Parenthood feels like?

Kids these days, I tell you...

XO

Brooke

M-I-C, K-E-Y, M O U S E....

Dear Brooke, light of my life,

My apologies, dearest darling friend, for being such a slacker and not responding immediately! I have no doubt that you looked absolutely fabulous in your boots, and who knows, maybe the cramming of calves kept the swelling down a bit! Like compression stockings for old people, except stylish!

So my day yesterday consisted of my mother picking me up a little before 08:00 in the morning (and all the associated hurrying to shower in 8 seconds flat because 07:45 is not, in fact, the before agreed upon 08:30) and driving me and her friend Deb to Salem Mass, where we spent the day with her friends from the Passporter boards. Affectionately known as the Disney freaks. Do you remember the Disney World website that my mom posted on way back when? These are all the internet friends who live close enough for a get-together.

We walked all along the street fair, and my dear god (gods, shit, they're ALL Wiccan down there) that looks like a fun place to live in October. Everyone dresses in their gothic Halloween best, it was wicked fun! Lots of shops and everything is witch and magic based. Totally not out of place to wear a robe, cape, fishnets, or to carry a staff. We ate lunch at The Witches Brew (Mostly sandwiches and burgers, no bubble bubble toils or troubles) and our waitress lamented that there was a new wand store that mimicked Harry Potter and explained how insulting that was to actual witches who used wands. Then we went to the oldest candy store in the country, I'm told, and got a seat to go watch the zombie walk. Unfortunately, we discovered that the walk had been postponed until two hours from then, so we left, along with many disappointed zombies. Instead, we got a beer and waited for our Tales and Tombstones trolley tour. We dressed up in Maleficent horns and masks because, obvi, we <3 Disney.

Oh, and in the midst of all this I totally almost passed out for the hundredth time and actually avoided this for the first time ever! Go me! I just wish this would stop happening in front of my mom or I will never be allowed to eat maple syrup before marching band EVER.

Tonight, I'm taking my old partner Spencer, who ditched me because he doesn't love me enough to not move to Florida, out for a couple beers because he's back for a visit! Yay! I do have a new partner at work who starts in a week or two. Supposedly very very nice, but also very green. We'll see! :)

I miss you terribly lover, and I hope back to work continues to go well! (All things considered)

Yours until we're old and racing our scooties,

Manner

Back on my grind

Dearest Amanda:

A quick one for you... although you've yet to post back on the last one. Slacker!

I am currently lying in bed after my first day back at work, letting my still swollen calves throb after cramming them into those cute boots my mother got me for my birthday for all 10 hours of my shift. Needless to say, my body still hates me for putting it through such torture Sunday, but it was well worth it.

In other news, a cyclist was struck by a car on a busy local street today... in front if the bus two of my clients were riding to a meeting... with their kiddos. It was kind of a crazy night to say the least. I didn't expect anything less for a welcome back though. And I got to draw awesome pictures with one of my fellow super hero obsessed toddlers... such as the incredible spider man!!

I will also be attending 2 days of training, which is fun, tomorrow and Thursday. So, easing back into working all week will be nice, especially since I have Tuesday off next week for a game and the following Friday off for another. Getting decent at cheating this system.

And now, to pass out for 6 hours to go to said training, rinse and repeat for Thursday. Isn't life great? At least I looked Damn good today. 

Xo

Moose Mishaps, Vegan Victuals and Practice Peeves

First, I would like to draw your attention to my outstanding use of alliteration in the title of this post. It really is the little things in life.

Moving on, I am writing this as my laundry is spinning, my dishwasher is running, my Guinea Pig is fed and my life is generally on track (for the moment... don't jinx it!) while waiting for the premiere of the new season of Grey's Anatomy.

It brings me back to days where my college friends and I would cram into a dorm room, usually mine, and mow down on the three or so pounds of Wings Over Burlington we'd purchased while laughing, crying and cheering for the fictional characters of Seattle Grace Hospital for an hour each week. As I've told you, you would totally be Christina Yang, who (in Season 3, which I'm currently destroying on Netflix) is the top intern of Seattle Grace. She is in a serious relationship with Preston Burke, the best cardio-thorassic surgeon in the country, and she lives, eats, sleeps and breathes surgery. She is very ambitious and focused and was always at the top of her class, but has a wild side as well. She is also hot, obviously.

I find myself identifying more with Isabelle Stevens, or Izzy, as she's referred to. Izzy is a tall, blonde doctor who cut a patient's LVAT wire to stop his heard and worsen his condition so he would receive a heart transplant he wasn't in line for because she was in love with him. Yep... that'd be me.

Regardless of who is who on the show, it's started up again, tonight being the season premiere. In celebration, I have whipped up "Lactarded Buffalo Chicken Dip" (read "Vegan Victuals") for my lactose intolerant roommate and I to nom on while getting wrapped up in the fictional lives of Seattle Grace yet again. She's currently watching the finale from last season, which I can hear her gasping and yelling at from her room. Very exciting stuff, clearly.

As for my day, although it didn't involve 90lb patients going all Edward Cullen to my Bella breast, it did involve a practice after which my team captains approached my head coach and I telling us we basically weren't coaching in a way that makes everyone feel "respected," which wasn't fun to hear. However, it raised the flag of "these damn kids these days need to buck up" blah blah blah. Which made me really irritated, and I don't know if it was more at them for being sensitive or myself for getting mad at them for being so. Either way, it put me in a foul mood.

Which was instantly alleviated when I got home and the mister called me to vent about his day. Apparently oversensitive high school girls are a cakewalk compared to his clinically insane boss who put two full droppers of something into the mister's water glass and asked him to "tell me how it affects you" and then had him move a grand piano a half a mile down a hill because it was "throwing off the energy in the room" that it was previously occupying. Yeah... after that, I was completely okay with having to deal with overdramatic high school girls. As if that wasn't enough of a day from hell, the mister also spent two hours breaking into his brother's girlfriend's car, which caused him to be late relieving the woman in the office at the time, which in turn caused her to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and smoke a moose on the highway. Fortunately, she was safe, but the mister had to go and save her, since her little Volvo was totaled. Needless to say, he is knocking a few back tonight. Which will give me some good reading material in the morning I hope... the mister is a serial drunk texter.

Off to bed for me... have to run in the morning. Ugh. This half marathon will be the death of me!

xo

Brooke

I should get hazard pay

Good morning lover,

As I lay here in bed, painstakingly writing this letter by letter on my Itouch, my right breast is aching. No, I'm not pregnant, or PMSing, and for sure I'm not lactating. No, because my life is a joke, my suicidal, perfectly sober, combative patient bit me. Right on the tit.

Now, keep in mind that this girl, who could not have weighed more than 90lbs, was already handcuffed. We were physically carrying her out the door, kicking and screaming, and with no mention of dinner or a movie she chomped right down on second base. Broke the skin too, the bitch! She then proceeded to call me the "c" word about a dozen times, and informed me that it's her right to bite me. Just as it's her right to cut her wrists slightly and to wrap appliance cords around her neck. I'm told it's in the constitution...

So now I've got two little puncture wounds and I feel like this is something Buffy the Vampire Slayer should know about. Bets on whether or not I bruise?

Go ahead, lay it on thick and get it out of your system. I've already heard a dozen variations of "want me to look at that for you?" and "Most action you've gotten in a while huh?"

To bed I go. Good night and sweet dreams my love.

Your disaster of a friend,

Amanda

The World Looks Different from Horseback

Dearest Amanda:

I am happy to hear Operation Protect the Country was a success. You should have asked secret service to try and maneuver one of those gigantic diesel ambulances behind their tricked out bulletproof stretch SUV. Mr. Smith with his fancy earpiece and all black alien hunter suit definitely wouldn't have been able to keep up. Not to mention parallel park the thing at the end of the Biden parade. You win.

Sorry this has taken so long to respond. As you know, I have been in New Hampshire visiting my parents. Oh, and horseback riding on top of a mountain in Moultonboro overlooking Lake Winnipesaukee with apparently my future husband, or so he thinks. In any case, it was an enjoyable weekend filled with coffee, kissing, homemade buffalo chicken pizza and lots of random adventures. More on that later, though.

The thing is that now, after nearly 23 years of being petrified of horses, I am looking into taking horseback riding lessons on my own because I had so much fun! Maybe it was the company or the fact that I literally did nothing on the horse and she followed the rest of the group perfectly, but regardless, I have been bitten by the horseback riding bug. Can't you just picture me living in a log cabin somewhere with a horse, mucking out stalls at 6am every morning?

Yeah... me either. That's why my future husband better not mind shoveling shit.

Which is convenient, because apparently the man who wants to be my future husband, or so he's telling everyone, is a pro at shoveling shit. And unloading bales of hay. And riding horses. And basically everything that you would ever need to own a horse. Ever. Which fits perfectly into his support of my dream to become a rodeo barrel racer.

No, not really. But if he's as serious as everyone keeps telling me he is, then I won't be mucking any stalls at 6am.

So, back to my incredible weekend. It started off with a gorgeous drive through Crawford Notch, my favorite of all the notches, to Conway where the mister lives. We then went and bought pumpkins, pumpkin pie fixings and pumpkin beer (Shipyard Pumpkinhead was all out so we went with Blue Moon) and prepared to have a pumpkin filled evening. We then baked the pie and drank too much to carve pumpkins (oh well) and went to sleep.

The next morning, the mister had to help his dad and brother unload 800 bales of hay for their family farm while his brother's girlfriend and I went to Dunkin Donuts for our caffeine fix. On the way, she and I talked about how the mister is always talking about how he is going to move with me and how he wishes he could do it now. We returned and gave the boys their coffees so they could finish the job, and then the mister took me to the Castle in the Clouds for a fun filled day of sight seeing, touristing and horseback riding. We overlooked the lake while eating lunch on the balcony of the Old Carriage House, an early 1900's horse barn that cost more than my entire life. We wound through mountain trails on horseback for an hour or so, which was petrifying, because of my aforementioned fear of horses. But, the mister would just smile and laugh while looking back at me, smiling like a fool on top of my horse, because I was "adorable." We then went to the actual Castle, the former home of Mr. Plant and his wife back in the early 1900's before the stock market crashed and they lost everything.

After the mister footed the bill for our passes to take the cute little red trolley with wooden benches to the top of the mountain, which gave me a good laugh because his 6'5" body barely fit into the seats, we sat through the introduction and then went on our own. He gave me the tour, having done it a dozen times before, telling me things about the house and Mr. Plant that the tour guides didn't even know. We examined original wallpaper almost 100 years old, perused rooms used by the many servants the Plants kept, and got some ideas for our future homes based on the absolutely gorgeous architecture. Apparently, Mr. Plant had a fetish for marble, because it was everywhere in the house, including a beautiful piece around one of the fireplaces that he let "age" to a specific shade of green with huge rust veins running through it. Now, I was unaware that you could age marble like cheese or wine, but apparently it is possible, and Mr. Plant had his marble aging down to a science. I'm currently plotting ways to break into the estate and steal the marble from the fireplace, seeing as now I'm a professional horseback rider and all... now I have a get away plan!

The mister took me outside the estate into the garden with the wishing well, where we tossed pennies in after a few silent moments in concentration. We walked the garden and where the green house used to be, checking out all the old piping and other hardware still inlaid in the granite walls. The mister held my hand and brought me to a corner of the grounds under a gazebo, where he pulled me to him and kissed me.

And then he told me he loved me.

How fucking fairy tale, right? I almost died. Here we are, the sun about to set, overlooking Lake Winnipesauke from one of the most beautiful places in New England, and he looks at me with those brown eyes and that smile and says the words I've wanted to hear for four years in something other than a text message.

I am terrified. I feel crazy. I can't stop smiling. That must be love.

Unless I am crazy. Which I know you'd tell me if I was. So... what do you think?

Lerv Yer,

Brooke


(PS: you can get a lady without having "date night approved" clothing... lets be honest.)

The cat is in the cradle... Code hula hoop! Code hula hoop! This is not a drill!

Dearest darling Brooke,

Despite the exciting nature of the title, I did not get to experience a single use of code words during my 9 hour "parade behind Joe Biden" detail. Though, please note that when you fail to immediately accelerate to mach bejeesus on the highway in your massive diesel ambulance, secret service gets edgy. Disclaimer: No tires were shot out in the making of this overtime shift.

Seriously though, pretty neat stuff. Also, Joe Biden is a lazy butt and should wake up earlier. Lots of waiting, then driving fast and erratically though highways with no cars and lots of cops. Then more waiting. Got my picture taken with the VP and his wife though! Should see that in a governmentally approved 6 - 8 weeks... Provided that I don't go to federal prison for accidentally letting slip to my dispatcher what hotel he was staying at last night. No idea what's classified or not.

So, my life is obviously not as wonderful as it was when I was visiting you, but I bought a new shirt and a vest-type thing so go me! Nothing date-night approved, so we need to work on that or I will never get me a lady!

Now, to find out if anything cool is happening in Manch-vegas tonight, and to take myself out for a drink! Oh, also sit-ups... Cause I REALLY should do a couple of those first... Ugh.

Lerv yer!

Amanda

New Beginnings

Dear Amanda:

As I sit here on my porch overlooking Wimbledon while you contentedly finish the last of your leftover Pho Haung lunch beside me, I am a happy person. Why? Perhaps it's because I have a belly full of two varieties of wine (good thing we got that coconut water for later!) and my own delicious Vietnamese dish, plans to hit a comedy club later and am on the front half of my two week vacation still. Perhaps it's because my 6'5" piece of mountain man who has become my phone boyfriend is being extra cute tonight. It might be because it's Autumn and everything is pumpkin and my birthday is coming up and I just generally love my life at the moment.

Or, it could be because for the first time in a year, I have my best friend back. And I have missed her terribly.

Here's to courage, confidence, and every other attribute a strong woman like yourself exhibits when faced with a difficult decision. Welcome back, love. 

xo

Brooke