Monday, June 23, 2008

My Nails Are the Window To My Soul

Much like Pete Doherty and Britney Spears, alot can be read into the state of my fingernails.  Presently, they are bitten almost to the quick and my cuticles look like a flokati rug.  When this happens it means that no matter how put together I may seem to be, things are kind of falling apart in my head.

So, because Jillian is entering what she likes to call a "funk", and she wants some company, I am going to go completely off course from my previous blogging about my trip to Belize and tell you about my weekend.  Did you notice how I referred to myself in third person and then switched to first person?  It's a fun way to make you feel like you're always with someone.  Subsequently though, many people might mistake that for a case of multiple personality disorder.

So, my weekend went a little something like this.  I was in the passionate throes of packing up my possessions and singing at the top of my lungs when Jeremy tells me that we were going to pack the car and make a five hour drive to Shreveport to drop off the cat at her new home.  Because, like the rabbit, she can't go with us either.  And in case I haven't ever mentioned how attractive a quality I find spontaneity to be, let me just say I about knocked Jeremy down while licking his ear lobe.

I ran to our room to pack and left a trail of newspaper and bubble wrap in my wake.  On the drive up, Jeremy and I worked on our top secret genius invention and I think we just may have found the key to the universe while collaborating together.  My brain definitely feels bigger, but after all those pralines I ate, so does my butt.  One does need a snack to hatch great plans after all.

We made it to Shreveport and introduced Atticus to her new home (her goodbye letter will follow later this week...if I haven't ripped my nails completely off by then).  She promptly christened the litter box about eight times as if to say, "ha ha, this is what you have to look forward to with me as your cat."  Fortunately, our friend was not completely put off and didn't demand her immediate removal.

We had a wonderful dinner that evening and the next day I paid a visit to Caroline whose baby is now two weeks old.  She looked gorgeous as usual and so did her baby.  Shiloh, you got nothin on Edie!

Her french mother was in town and made us the most delicious lunch of insalata caprese, Caesar salad, and slices of ham with Swiss cheese and toast.  I was all, sheesh, if I had cooked like that when I was pregnant perhaps I wouldn't have looked like Jumbo the elephant after Ellie was born.  But noooo....I wanted fat with a side of butter and a glass of donut icing to wash it down.  Ah well, C'est moi.


My visit with Caroline was short but very sweet as we both knew we probably wouldn't see each other again for a few years.  We hugged goodbye and I drove back to J.R.'s house to be regaled by the tale of Jeremy and J's epic mountain bike ride.  They both survived with nothing more than sore bodies and we drank some beer and hung out in his beautiful back yard.

We all realized we're getting old when we said the hell with drinking, let's get pizza and watch a movie...and so we did. And it was awesome.  Then I drank some geritol, put on my depends, took out my dentures and went to bed.





The next morning we said goodbye to J. and Atticus and headed home.  And on the way Jeremy stopped and...GASP...let me go to the flea market where I quickly snapped up three vintage table cloths and two antique etchings for a mere 30 bucks.  And dear readers, that is how Jillian gets her rocks off.


We got home and instead of packing and being the little Martha Stewart that I think I should be, I invited my neighbors over for dinner and had a great time.  As I was debating whether or not I should do this, I employed what I like to call "The Deathbed Scenario".  It works like this, I imagine that I am on my death bed looking back on my life and I say something like this to myself.  "Would you rather have had all your boxes perfectly packed and labeled or would you rather have spent some time with your friends over a nice dinner."  Nine times out of ten, people trump chores.  So that's what I did.

Now I'm just sittin here talking to you instead of packing my crap.  Because I CARE dang it!  Well, that's about it for today.  I'll keep you posted on my finger nails, and perhaps one day you will hear the rest of the Belize story.  Time will tell, but until then, adios.


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