If I find candy mountain will I still be old?

I keep logging in to write a new blog and I haven't managed to write anything that is even remotely interesting. It is pure drivel. Drivel that I wouldn't even read and I'll read just about anything. I seriously feel like Charlie the unicorn in candy mountain only instead of my kidney they took my brain. The last few days I have seriously been wandering across the countryside looking for the magical leopleuradon who will show me the way.

I am sure that right about now the only person who has a clue what the hell I am talking about is Issa and I would bet money she is laughing her ass off. If I mention a Unicornasaurus Rex it might just push her over the edge and into hysterics!

I think there is just way too much rolling around in my head and it is sort of stressing me out. Yes. I realize I just opened the door for all kinds of airhead comments, but I really do believe I have gone temporarily vapid. I suddenly have a strong desire to bleach my hair and say, "like, oh my gawd" at the beginning of every sentence.

A couple of weeks ago my aunt died of pancreatic cancer. I flew home last Friday and spent the weekend at my Dad's house and driving all over Hell's half-acre visiting people and going to funeral related activities. It was an absolutely exhausting weekend preceded by a long and round-about series of flights and followed by a slightly less long and round-about series of flights. I then returned to work after being gone for two days and by the end of this last week I was further behind than when I started.

This weekend was pretty darn good though. On Friday I went out for dinner and drinks with a good friend of mine. It was nice to just sit and talk for a while. After dinner we roamed around Barnes & Noble and by 10 p.m. I was headed for home. You know...there was a time when a night out with the girls meant getting a cab, going dancing, drinking too much, getting a cab home and pouring myself into bed sometime around 3 a.m. I am not sure when I got old, but it is becoming very clear in more ways than just aching knees and grey hair.

On Saturday night Eric and I went out to celebrate our 7-year anniversary. We went to this wonderful little restaurant called Cafe Viciano. Great food, great wine and great service. The restaurant is very small and cozy and we had a really good time. We had planned to go out and go dancing or have some after dinner drinks, but the old struck again and we just went home. Today was breakfast out and Eric had a hockey game. A fitting way to spend the day of our anniversary -- food and hockey!

Now, however, the old has reared its wrinkled head and I must stop blabbing and go to bed. Maybe with some extra sleep I can fend off the vapid and have something more interesting to talk about in a day or two.

Maybe I'll find candy mountain...it's a place of sweets and joy and joyness. That'll be interesting.

I swear I'm not dead

I know people are wondering if I am dead. I am in fact, NOT dead. I have just been temporarily insane with work and life and travel and funerals. Many stories to come...I just need to catch up on some sleep first.

The Black Plague Redux; with beer.

I don't know what kind of freaking uber-virus is going around, but everyone is sick lately. I got a cold right before Christmas and I just managed to get rid of it last week. Drew and I passed it back and forth over a few weeks. Then I got strep throat and after infecting my entire office I went to the doctor for much needed antibiotics. Then I got a sinus infection and Drew got bronchitis.

Through all of this Eric stayed healthy and happy. Bastard.

Well, I suppose it was good for me because he played nurse maid to my psycho sicky side. I am not a good sick person. I expect you to wait on me hand and foot. I moan and groan and swear we should immediately write my eulogy. I take copious amounts of cold medicine and have been known to get drunk as a skunk just so I'll pass out and get some sleep.

Oh, let me tell you...Eric LOVES me when I am congested AND passed out drunk. Says he would sleep like a baby if only he was in a soundproof room. In China. With ear plugs. And an icepick to gouge out his eardrums.

The real bonus to being married to someone who is a total invalid when sick? The fact that when YOU are sick? I'll tell you to take your sick ass to the guest room because I just managed to get well and I am certainly not going to let you infect me all over again you selfish ass. OK...so maybe it's not quite that harsh, but I am certainly not the nurturing type. The fact that I am generally the carrier monkey? Entirely beside the point.

Anyway, I am finally well and Eric is now sick. I made him peppermint tea and brought him Advil. See? I care. I just prefer to do it from a long, long way away from your germs. Don't judge.

Oh...this past Saturday we went out on the town with Jeff and Julie. We never fail to have a complete blast hanging out with those two. We should do it more often. Hint. Hint Hint. HINT. :-) Here are some pictures:

This is me and Julie. We look so demure, don't we? You really can't tell we are getting ready to go and drink way too much beer at a dive bar while playing shuffleboard and being accosted by some crazed drunken barfly who wouldn't leave the restroom so we could pee.

Here is a picture of me. I am doing that whole, "I am really shy so I am hiding behind my hair, but really I know you like me so I am going to smile and show my dimples" thing. What? Was I suddenly 21 all over again? Maybe...I mean...I WAS in a dive bar. It tends to bring back memories.

Here is Julie with my gorgeous husband. I have no clue what was so funny. This was right around the time the Ultimate Shuffleboard Deathcage Match started. I don't know who actually won, but Julie seemed to be kicking everybody's butt.

Last but not least, here is me with Julie's fantabulous husband, Jeff. We have the same birthday. I think that makes us twins. All I know is we have the same sense of humor and he once told me I am a genius. Yeah...you'd like him, too. He rocks.