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