Is that really necessary?

I know, I know - another early-in-the-week blog.  Totally throwing you off, no?  But...I'll be busy at the end of the week, so thought it was only fair to do something in advance.  Just to be safe.  I'm already pre-enjoying my Memorial Day plans - a much needed trip to see my lil buddy, Jack.  And to play one of my best roles - The Traveling Handyman.  While I should get started on packing clothes tonight - instead I'll be shining up the drill, saw and clippers for a trip north. 

Now for the actual blog.

I have always, always, always looked down on the Candle Snifter. 

Yes, I know - that is probably a sentence you'd been expecting to read for a loooooooooong time.  Well, good news, the day is here. 

Sometimes things get invented that I just fail to see any purpose in.

The Candle Snifter being one of them.  I always wondered who the genius was who, after blowing out a candle one day, said, "Gosh, that was super hard.  I had to exhale quickly just to get the tiny flame extinguished.  If only there were a way to do this in which I not only didn't have to expel any air - but could also refrain from holding my hand behind said candle to protect my belongings from any errant speckles of wax."

Was it really that traumatic or taxing of an experience that we needed a whole system to do the exhaustive job for us?  Were there people who had to skip events after blowing out their candles because they were just driven to function overload?

I'm wondering if the ability to blow out a candle should be a gauge of "How are you?"  Well, I'm good enough to blow out a candle all by myself. 

So there's that. 

As luck would have it - just a few weeks ago, I came across an ad for a product that was going to CHANGE THE WAY YOU FEEL ABOUT WASHING YOUR PET. 

Come again?  Will it enable dog to get into the shower by herself, grip the shower head in one paw while scrubbing her nether regions with the other?  Because I'm in! 

No. 

How your life is going to change is that when you wear these NEW inventions (in the form of, um, gloves) you will no longer have those pesky drips coming down your arms.  You know the ones - they start, well, at the faucet and careen toward you wrists.  Then beyond.  Until, before you know it, you're whole upper body is as wet as a towel removed from the washer before the spin cycle.

Evidently.  I mean, that's never actually happened to me.  Maybe it's because when I wash my dog, I'm not placing her above my head - so I don't have to reach UP, thus forcing the drips to come DOWN.  Another idea, my friends, is to bathe your dog in the tub.  Where drips don't matter.  Especially if you both wear your birthday suits.

Who is using so much water and/or product when washing something that they are currently jumping for joy - missing the whole point of this blog - at the news of this debuting product? 

Which led me to... my Bed, Bath and Beyond flyer.  Where I saw this:

You want to know why kids aren't as tough as they used to be?  Because someone has invented a way for them to fill water balloons that takes all the difficulty out of trying to fill water balloons.   I'm shocked that this doesn't come with a little man to tie the balloons as well.

Also - what good is a water balloon if it is the size of a baseball?  If it's not looming on volleyball size, I'll pass.  I'm not trying splish my friends with a dainty bit of water.  I want to SPLASH them with something akin to torrential.  I want them wet enough to start begging for a pair of Drip Free Gloves just so something on their person wasn't drenched.

If I'm not getting myself soaked in the struggle with the hose faucet - doesn't half of that glee disappear?  Their shouldn't be a faucet in America without the remnants of failed balloons wrapped around it.  You know what I mean - just when you've got the balloon to capacity, the neck of it breaks off - leaving you a mess and a bright orange band around the faucet?  Quickly forgotten while you go in with a reinforcement balloon.

But then it got worse.  Because I saw this:

Know what that is?  Bananza!  Bananza!  Bananza!

Because apparently it has become too much, just too, too much to peel our own bananas.  Now we have a special tool to "Pop the Top" and offers no mess and no mush. 

Newsflash A:  Bananas get mushy when they are old.  They get mushy when the brown starts creeping onto the peel.  If your bananas are getting mushy from the effort of your peeling technique, well, what the hell are you doing to it?

Newsflash B:  Bananas are NOT hard to peel.  No harder than blowing out a candle actually.  You can do it one handed really.  All you need is a fingernail or teeth or strong fingers to 'Pop the Top' and you are on your way.  With an extra ten bucks in your pocket because you were smart enough NOT to buy the Bananza. 

Newsflash C:  If you really need the Bananza, I here by forbid you to eat bananas. 

Ironically - I can't decide if these and products like these make us a lazier country or not.  I mean, yeah - at first glance it seems that there is a whole society actively seeking out ways to not do things.  Like peel.  Or blow.  But I also feel that there should be a teeny tiny bit of credit for creativity. 

But then I have to cancel out the tiny bit of credit for creativity because I remember my initial reaction of "Are you kidding me???"

If someone is going to spend time making my life 'easier,' here are the areas I'd like the focus to shine on:
* Changing a car tire.  Please make a machine to do it for me.  A machine that stores nicely in my trunk.
* I'd like a steam cleaner for my carpets that functions like the Roomba.  Automatic all the way with GPS.
* Unloading the dishwasher.  If that could just be done without my input, that'd be great.
* Folding the laundry - again, take me out of the equation and I'lll buy your product.
* Coffee.  Make it automatically appear in the mornings, even if I forgot to load the coffee maker.
* Fill my gas tank without my participation.  If they have automatic cow-milkers - isn't this just the opposite motion?

Just throwing those out there.  With a verbal Trade Mark.  I
n case anyone opts to steal my ideas. 

Like they did with the Snuggee. 

Because lying in a blanket was just too dang hard.

May I Not Get Struck Down By Lightning....

I was driving into work this morning listening to the radio and the crew was talking about the pending rapture.  The one that is coming this Saturday.  This was piggybacked with a chat about the pending end of the world.  On October 21st.

Now, before anyone goes weird on me - let me offer some pre-blog disclaimers:

1.  God and I are currently on speaking terms.
2.  I believe God has a plan. 
3.  I've been getting better at trying not to let my worries over whether I agree with that plan get the best of me.
4. I feel pretty confident that my current status with God qualifies me for the rapture. Yes, it will be awkward if I'm mistaken.


The topic on the radio this morning was really about 'What Would You Do?' 

If you knew for sure that May 21st was it for us - what would you do this week?  Or if you assumed you'd be taken in the rapture and, oops, it came and went without you - then what?  Now you've got to wait around until late October for the whole thing to end?  (Rip off alert!)

I know a lot of people do a lot of studies and calculating and grafting and charting and deriving to figure out these important events.  The Mayans did it.  Nostradamus did it.  But really what are the chances that someone's quick math cracked God's schedule? 

In some ways it peeves me that all this emphasis is being put on May 21st - there's a fellow at work here whose teenage son has had himself sick to his stomach for months worrying about this day.  And yet I get that.  I remember reading 1984 (or was it a movie?) and dreading that fateful date.  I believe I feigned illness mid-day so I could be with my mama.  (Shenanigan Alert!)

It also makes me wonder if all the folks wandering around with signs of warning know that if things don't pan out, then a whole lot of other folks may think they shouldn't trust their Bibles so much anymore.  I mean, if a billboard tells you the Bible says the rapture is coming May 21, 2011 - and then it doesn't - won't that steer people in the exact opposite direction?  That almost makes me more nervous than the actual rapture.

I think it's easy to see signs if you want to see signs.  Sign, sign, everywhere's a sign, blocking up the scenery, breaking my mind...(you're welcome). 

When the disaster in Japan took place, I had a friend freaking out because she'd read about that happening in Revelations.  Which I totally looked for and didn't find.  I mean, yeah, I could have interpreted a bunch of stuff a bunch of different ways to come up with a correlation, but when you have to stretch it that far....doesn't that take some of the weight of the sign away?

I saw the marquee on the local arena announcing Joel Osteen coming to speak in July.  July.  Two months after the rapture.  Joel Osteen is an extremely popular preacher (from one of those mega churches in Texas).  I like Joel Osteen - I think he's got really good messages.  Plus you can watch him on TV - thus enabling the go-to-church-in-pj's option.

If there were going to be a rapture, why would Joel have his schedule booked out to July?  I'm pretty sure he'll be ahead of me on the Going Up list.  Is it weird that I feel a bit relieved to see Joel's got plans beyond the rapture.  Or should I be alarmed?  If he can't get in, then I'm totally hosed.

People mock me because I have a total inability to say 'no.' Yes, I'm that person. Want something? Need something? Have a ridiculous request? Kidney? Liver? Ask me - in my head I'll totally turn you down, but what will come out is, "Absolutely - just let me get my paring knife and you'll have your organ in a jiffy."


I just like to be kind to people who need some kindness (screw the rest of you). And that involves saying 'yes' sometimes when I really don't want to. It sort of goes hand in hand with my theory of you don't have to hit up a church every Sunday to be a good person - you really can just be a good person any day of the week. It rarely even hurts.

Unless you count all the 'situations' I've gotten myself into by stupidly agreeing to something ridiculous.

So what would you do?

And why should it take a rapture threat to ponder this question?

Shouldn't we always plan like life is short and should be fulfilled with awesome things?  Shouldn't we always be, at the very least, acting like we're trying to stay on God's Good List?  Shouldn't we always be kind and loving and open to those we care about?  Not just for a week or so before a maybe-rapture?

So I'm not going to stress too much about the rapture this week.  I'm hoping for sure that I have time for one last round of eggs and coffee Saturday morning.  Plus some good old fashioned couch time.  Maybe with Joel.  Maybe not.

What I would do is just do what I always (try) to do - be a good person and leave the worrying to man upstairs.  Note the word 'try'. 

What will probably happen is I'll call various family members and friends every three seconds on Saturday to make sure I didn't get left behind.

Mother's Day

Don't worry - I'm not going to go all gushy here.  I like to save my mama related gushyness for when I'm a blubbering mess with my actual mama.

But, I thought since Mother's Day is this Sunday, it would be irresponsible of me not to write about it in the old blog.  And yes, the easy way out would be to tell all of you why I am the luckiest and you are not. 

I could go on and on about how my mom is the best mom and how she puts up with three of the very differently crazy kids in the world with grace and kindness and hugs - both virtual and in person. 

Sure, she sometimes shakes her head of disbelief - probably from disbelief that she got so dang lucky to have such a unique handful.

You can see we haven't affected her at all:

And for those of you constantly pointing to my dad as the source of my stunning personality...this is true proof that both parties were involved in my DNA.

Did you know that in some countries, Mother's Day is celebrated in March?  So weird.  When I think of Mother's Day I think of sunshine and flowers and feeling spring fever.  All things that make me feel that warm, fuzziness of contentment.  The same feeling I get when I think of my mom.  And, last I checked - none of those things are available in March. 

Did you know that when Mother's Day was being 'invented' back in 1908- the woman who named it (Anna Jarvis) was adamant that the apostrophe appeared between the 'r' and the 's' instead of after the 's'?  She wanted to be sure this was a singular possessive so that each family would honor their mama - instead of making it just a general plural 'yay for all the mothers' type holiday. 

She also decided the second Sunday in May was an ideal day for this - and when Woodrow Wilson made it an official holiday in 1914, he took her lead.

Some folks celebrate Mother's Day on the fourth Sunday of Lent - this coming from another longstanding tradition where servants where given that day off to do their family Easter visiting - because they would surely need to be back to work on actual Easter.  Who else would cook the ham, boil, paint and hide the eggs and clean up after the Easter Bunny? 

The day off became known as Mothering Sunday because the servants were theoretically going back to their 'mother' church.  Somewhere in time the two days merged into one. 

If you look up the dates for Mother's Day online (where everything is true) you'll find that nearly every month - some country is celebrating Mother's Day.  January, July and September seem to be the only months who don't get to share the joy. 

Still - I will always picture Mother's Day as a May-thing.  I mean, really, Norway?  Second Sunday in February?  When it's probably dark 23 hours of your day? 

Behind Valentine's Day, Mother's Day probably gets most of the bad rap for being a Hallmark Holiday.  Although I'm a firm believer that nothing is a Hallmark Holiday unless you make it into one. 

Are you spending more money than thought on your gifts?  Then you're guilty. 

Remember Anna Jarvis?  The Mother of Mother's Day?  She burned through her life savings trying to de-commercialize the holiday.  Her whole purpose in the day was actually to fulfill her own mother's dream of creating a celebration for all mothers. 

An idea that didn't take hold until Jarvis hooked up (not literally) with John Wanamaker...
Of Wanamaker's Department Stores...
Of  "Hey, let's sell a whole bunch of stuff to a whole bunch of suckers for this holiday..."

Sadly, Jarvis came to regret the whole she-bang when she realized how Wanamakered the holiday was  becoming.

I actually like some of the 'Hallmark-ness' of the holiday.  Or most holidays for that matter. 

I love walking into a Target or a drugstore or wherever- hitting the card aisle and seeing a crowd. 

I love squishing in with all the other shoppers and going from card to card, chuckling, aw-ing and guffawing. 

I love the dance everyone does around each other as we reach for cards - making sure no one is getting bumped or shoved, helping each other find a rejected card's home back on the shelf, sometimes sharing cards with one another. 

I love the feeling of 'we're all in this together'. 

I love that the card I pick will be absolutely perfect for my mother and totally wrong for someone else's.

I love that I could make my own card at home out of leftover scrap paper and my mama would think it was perfect.

Mainly, though - I just love my mama.

Royally Sleepy

You probably thought I was going to give you the rest of my vacation update.  Foiled!  We'll get back to that - in lieu of today's timeliest event.

Who got up at 4:30am this morning in order to make a 5:00am Royal Wedding Viewing Party?

That's correct.  This numb nut.

And while I can't be sure that any dudes at all read this blog - I'm guessing that if there is even one, he has just had one of the best eye rolls known to, well, man.

Men around the world are shaking their heads in bewilderment this morning.

I'm shaking my head too, actually - it's full of cobwebs from that early wake up call.

Dear Prince Harry,
A few thoughts.
When you marry, please do it on a Saturday.
Also, late in the day would be preferable to those of us in America.
Also, I'm available.
From, Me
xoxoxo

So why do we do it?  Why get up before sunrise and get fully prepped - tiara and all - to gather with a gaggle?

Because any and every girl in this world - whether they admit it or not - wants to marry some version of Prince Charming.

No one sets out to marry Prince I'm-a-Loser or Prince Sometimes-I-Lie or Prince Hey-Did-I-Tell-You-I'm-Married? or Prince Man-My-Personality-Changed-Once-I-Said-I-Do.  Well, you get the idea.

In our girlhood fantasies, there is a big white puffy dress, a carriage, a set of perfect bridesmaids who still like you come the big day - all assembled in front of a variety of beautiful people (think of those old Benetton ads) under a Carolina Blue sky.  Not too humid, not to windy, no sign of rain except for some random rainbow appearing at picture time just over the head of a wandering unicorn (where'd that come from?). 

And if Kate the Kommoner can do it - then why can't the rest of us fantasize about it?

And who better to share your dreams with than a bunch of your buddies with a pile of crumpets on hand?


Of course, there are only a few brave souls daring enough to suggest a 5am party - but you all know one or two.  Those people who only need the mere suggestion of a reason to host a gathering before dashing out a quick Evite luring folks to their homes.

Get up at 3am to prep said house - done!  Just not at my house.  My house would have had nothing that looked like this:

Or this:



I would have told people to bring their own coffee and breakfast and probably rolled downstairs five minutes 'til go-time in my pj's.  That's why it's good to have a friend who is just close enough to crazy to do stuff like this.

Here's my thing.

There are plenty of those "Where you were when..." moments that are downers.  Where were you on 9/11?  Where were you when Reagan got shot?  Where were you when the Space Shuttle went down?  Both times.

So as silly as it may seem to celebrate a wedding taking place thousands of miles away among a family that we really have no connection to - well, I like the idea of having a "Where were you..." for something really fun and good and frivolous. 

And while I'm rubbing the eyeliner off my lids for the rest of today - at least it will be with fond memories of how a totally unnecessary thought turned into a tiara-ed glam-fest.  Plus, I know we weren't alone.  Viewing parties were a go all over the world. 

My guess is they were quite empty of our male counterparts and better off for it.

At our party - we were in the actual dream making business (pretend this picture would behave and rotate right 90 degrees): 

Can you imagine a better way to spend a few minutes before heading off to preschool than with a tiara, pink robe and cake on a stick?

This was the start of something great for this little gal - knowing that women get together to bond for just about any reason at all. 

Frivolous or not.

Four am or not.

Life in the Studio Audience

When I signed up our group to see a taping of the Chelsea Lately show, I thought, "This is going to be so awesome."  That was really where the thought ended - just a quickie.  Later I read the studio provided instructions - specifically the part on how to dress...

"Hip, upscale attire...."

Who exactly did they think was coming to see the show?  Oh, right - hip, upscale people.  OR....the four of us...faking it as best we could.

So, after we walked the littlest member of our party to school and continued walking a few extra miles to rid ourselves of some beer calories, we all came home to prep our hip, upscale attire.  Somehow, I was assigned as the bench march.  Which is hilarious.  Especially if you've seen my closet.

It only took us two hours to collect ourselves appropriately before we headed to the studio.  Requested arrival time was 1.30pm.  Being over the typical age of silliness (or so we thought), we did a drive by at noon just to make sure we knew where we were.

Then, to kill an hour we did a tour of the area, had a Larry David sighting and got ourselves in the audience line.  Turns out you don't get to just walk right in - you have to stand outside and sweat a bit, make friends with the people around you and pick out the ones you are going to make fun of later (no cell phones allowed, so we actually had to speak with each other during this time).

Big excitement during the wait - for me - was seeing Chunk!!  That's Chelsea's dog.  He was out for a pre-show whiz.

A few hours later, we were shuffled into the studio - which was WAY smaller than it plays on tv.  I mean, yeah, the camera adds ten pounds...I just didn't realize it made studios look larger than life as well.

The warm up dude...well, his mode of warm up was dropping the F-bomb as much as possible.  Which...you know I'm a huge fan of - so that just shows how overplayed it was.

I mean he didn't even appreciate when my partner in crime answered the "Anyone from out of the country?" question with a shove (to me) and a "She's from NORTH CAROLINA...."  It was funny.  Trust.

As he wrapped up - it became clear, this would be no casual viewing experience.  We were led through a series of hand signals - which we would have to know in order to properly view the show.  So we would know when to laugh, when to clap and how funny the jokes were.

Come again?

When I watch at home - I just laugh when it's funny.  No one even has to tell me to laugh.  I just know.  And if it's not funny, I don't.  But now we had to laugh no matter what.  Because a silent studio is evidently not great television.

First lesson - the golf clap.  This would serve as the background clapping during the round table comedian introductions.  When our audience tutors golf clapped, we too would golf clap.

Second lesson - the medium excitement cheering. Not quite a 12 on the scale of one to ten - but enough to audio-ize something better than a golf clap but not quite as awesome as, well, sometime really awesome.



Our cue here was for the dude to do a horizontal-armed-come-here kind of move with his hands.


The apex of excitement was when our cue dudes raised their hands way up - encouraging us to raise the studio roof.

Now here's the thing.

When you've got some guys giving you all these instructions and you're trying to peek around cameras and follow what the heck every one's doing - all of the sudden, you have zero idea as to whether what's happening on stage is actually funny or not. 

Of course, Chuy was there - smaller than on tv - if that's possible.  Oh wait, it is possible.

As it was Passover, he brought with him a Hasidic Jew to share his area. 

Our round table crew was Michael Yo, Natasha Legaro and Scott Wolf. They were pretty funny. I think? I was really too busy making sure I was animated enough for the cue dudes.

Luckily DVRs from here to Pennsylvania and North Cackalacky are set to record the show so we can try a normal viewing experience.


The for sure funny thing was - how dang tired the whole experience made us. We came home, stripped out of our hip, upscale wear and about collapsed for the day.  I've got no idea how we're going to handle the 5 hour taping of the Price is Right on Wednesday.  Thank goodness we have a low day of sight seeing tomorrow to rest up with. 

In our regular not-so-hip, sale wear.

Flying In-Flying Apart

Mixed feelings in Burbank ~ so excited to be here that I woke up at 2am, 3.30am and 5.30am ready to get the day started! But, as I was flying into Los Angelos yesterday, things back home were being ripped apart by 62 tornadoes. I got off the plane to find my phone blowing up.

/>In the interest of full disclosure, I've heard people talking about their phones blowing up and responded with a blank stare. I'm not quite so popular that my phone ever blows up. Yesterday, I found out exactly what it means - I came off the plane, turned on my phone and had approximately a BAzillion weather alerts, texts and voice mails. Obviously, my first thought was, "What the F??'

While I was flying the friendly skies, my homeland was being ravaged.

I'm super thankful to have accounted for all my pals - and super sad for the nearly two dozen lives that were lost. I'm grateful that my home was untouched - and thinking about the growing number of people who are without today. I'm on vacation feeling a little guilty - knowing that if I were in Raleigh today I'd probably already be volunteering at a shelter or with clean up. But, as many of my buddies have told me - I'm here, so enjoy it. And down times generate a need for laughter in my book. So the blog will go on as planned.

Yesterday's Adventures Across the Country:
I was up and on the way to the airport ON TIME for once. I have a gift at never leaving for the airport on time. This means I have made many mad dashes for gates and have been late picking up approximately everyone who has ever come to visit. But this time - I was out of the house by 7.30am.

Plenty of time. Heading up Eagle Trace. Turning onto Southall with hours to spare.

Until my ride and I noticed a pretend dog running through the streets. It was a Chihuahua. Collared. Scampering up and down a very busy interesection. Obviously we immediately stopped the car and went in full pursuit of Yo Quiero Taco Bell. Soon three more cars stopped to help. With each arriving superhero, we'd announce "That's not our dog", as if to prove we were way better than that. We'd never let our dogs (who are real and weigh more than a few ounces) run free like bandits in the old west.

The rescue mission was a fail. Said dog had no interest in being caught. We gave up and left the task to those with more determination.

We drove to the airport underneath the darkest clouds I've seen in ages. For a gal who is not a fan of bumpy flying, this was not a great sign. But I got my bagged checked in, through security, though a cup of coffee and to my prime spot in the boarding line - and still no rain.

I'd opted to purchase Early Boarding on Southwest this trip - hey, it's vacation - and dang if it wasn't worth every penny. I got the first row - the one with all the spare leg room. Which was lucky for my deceptively long limbs.

Now, one of my character sparkles is that - when I get nervous, I misplace my verbal filter. Which barely exists anyway. So, as the flight attendant was reviewing seat belts, exits - and then life preservers...I got a bit confused. And thought, "Ha, if we need a life preserver, I feel like the bigger issue might be that we're lost." I mean, we were flying from North Carolina to St. Louis, after all.

The bigger issue turned out to be that the thought was not a thought - but spoken out loud. Doh! No harm - Southwest is the airline with a sense of humor.

We were then prepared for take off - which was announced as being "Shuttle Style." Um, come again? In order to avoid the high winds, the pilot would be dropping the hammer and taking us up at the steepest angle he could. It was awesome - and jerky - but super quick. Well done.

The first hour or so of the flight was fine - I was relaxed, kept my cool, hung out with my seat peeps...

Then I checked my watch and realized that, as it was 11.30am, I was never going to make my 12.15pm connection. Again - the out-loudness thing happened. Which was fortunate because I was informed that we'd lost an hour flying to St. Louis. Lucky break!

Flying into St. Louis - I was the asshole on the plane who screamed "I SEE THE ARCH!!!". Causing the whole left side of the plane to press their faces into the tiny windows in their own attempt. Flying into St. Louis, I also noted how green every thing was this far south.

Turns out, St. Louis is not in the south. Turns out the whole reason Southwest keeps maps on their napkins is so those of us with no sense of geography can get a quick lesson at a moment's notice.

I made it! Flight One, check.

I was in the St. Louis airport approximately 30 seconds before starting shopping at the gift shop. Two t-shirts later, I got a pretty decent glare from security from leaving my bags unattended. My thing is - how unattended do they have to be to be truly unattended? I mean, I was ten feet away at the register - well within quick tackling distance should anyone have tampered with my stuff.

Onto the next flight. Where I started right off on the asshole foot by asking the pilot on my way in if he'd be flying us over the arch. So I could get my camera ready. We did not...

I did score the awesome seat again.

I think the crew was pretty psyched about that because every 1/2 hour I asked them what we were flying over now. As in, "Are those the Rockies?" and "Is that the Grand Canyon?" and "Why are there crop circles down there?" and "When will I be able to see the ocean?". It really didn't take them that long to stop saying, "Hang on and I'll ask the pilot."

And when we finally began our approach to LAX - the true hick came out of me in statements like, "Holy CRAP those a big buildings!" or "That city goes on forever!" or "Can anyone see the Hollywood sign?" or "Is that O.J.'s neighborhood?"

I bet Southwest is counting down the days until I'm back on board.

Within a half hour of arriving at my buddy's house, I was in the pool and working on my tan. The only glitch was the pool was about 40 degrees and my diving boards skills weren't what they used to be. But, the hypothermia is gone and the wounds on my foot are healing.

Today's tour - Olevaro Street - the founding point of LA. Tomorrow, Chelsea Lately. And maybe Tuesday. Wednesday, we've just reserved for The Price is Right. While I do hope to 'get on' the show, I also imagine I'd be the first contestant ever to get sucked under the showcase showdown wheel....which could be awkward. But would also save Southwest from a lot of awkward questions next weekend.

You might be OCD if....

Just a few hours left until Spring Break 2011!!!!!!!!!

As my niece would say, "Womp!"

I don't know what that means.

If you know me at all you know that planning for a trip involves me taking on the task of packing well in advance. I don't mean a few days. I don't mean a few weeks. I mean, a good month for a full feeling of comfortableness.

I like to pack and unpack. I like to check the weight of my suitcase. I like to see how much I can stuff into a two-gallon Ziploc because a suitcase packed with large Ziplocs is ransack proof - especially if you're the gal who constantly gets her stuff checked by the TSA.

Now - we've all determined that the last six weeks or so of my life have been a bit hectic. So, it should come as no surprise that I hadn't packed last month for this month's trip.

Actually, that SHOULD come as a surprise. There's always time to lay out clothes, make spreadsheets and review mental checklists.

But, I have my new pseudo-roommate for six weeks - and her room is the Where-I-Lay-Out-My-Clothes Room. Can't do it in my own room - because that's the dog's If-You-Lay-Out-Your-Clothes-Here-I-Will-Lay-On-Them room.
Okay, I'll stop the suspense.

I packed on Sunday. For my Saturday trip. Womp! That's some kind of record! Wednesday, I unpacked and repacked. Thursday, I took out a few things. Tonight, I'm going to switch out some shoes. And maybe a few other things.

There is no doubt I have too many things in the suitcase. But, I blame the weird weather here on the East Coast for my doubting I'll get any consistency on the West Coast. Plus, if I run into Prince Charming and he wants me to stay, it's important to have four extra pairs of everything.

Shoes. Pah. The reality is tonight will be the most serious run though.. The one where I decide on carry on options. The one where I convince myself that I really can't read two whole books on the plane ride to Burbank and therefore only need to carry on one. The one where I convince myself that there will be nourishment available to me at the airports - that I don't need to bring a pound of M&M's or Twizzlers or bananas or apples. The one where I talk myself out of putting just one more something in the suitcase because, if I sit on it, it will fit.

I will try to get this all done fairly early so that I can get in bed at a decent hour in order to spend the whole night wondering if I'll ever fall asleep.

California - here I come. With all my craziness.

What? You noticed that I mentioned a roommate earlier? Yes, at the ripe age of (still can't say it) I thought I'd invite a med-student and her pets into the fold. Don't worry MD2B...I'm about to talk about you in a good way.

My buddy is doing her rotations - the current of which is at the hospital two miles down the street. So when she was having a moment of panic, I came to the rescue and offered up the spare room at Casa Mucho Perro Piel.

I forgot, however, exactly how long I've lived alone. Or that there might be a slight adjustment to the urge to talk to myself.

It's going well though - really - she's as quiet as a mouse and is doing much better at really, really, really explaining her day. Like with smaller, less medical oriented words.

The real killer was on Tuesday when she made me eat a whole plate of zucchini and squash. Lived to tell the story. Proud of myself. Not sure I'll come running to the table next time - but thrilled to have someone cooking for me.

Right of the bat I got caught walking around half-naked - there's a habit I have curtailed. Actually, I haven't because if she's going to be a doctor, she's probably seen half-naked people before.

And yesterday when I caught her on the back porch sound asleep in the sunshine with her How to be a Doctor book next to her I thought..."Okay, now Med School seems pretty cool."

Her dog and cat are staying with us as well - Cody & Mojito. Cody is the only dog I've ever met who is afraid to go outside during daylight hours.

Cody also used to have a favorite person...his mother. And while I can't say for sure if his loyalties are shifting, I'm just saying...well here's a picture from last night after I'd left for a few hours to play tennis. I mean, clearly he missed me.

Fine - before you point it out, I do realize my own dog is no where near me at this point.

But that's only because she was probably upstairs trying to make a bed out of the well packed items in the suitcase.