"...with two cats in the yard. Life used to be so hard."

I ran across a letter I wrote a few years back and realized, “I was a punk!” I’m not sure what was wrong with me. I always talk about how I was once a jerk, but I can’t remember clear details, until I read something like that. Thank God that He has delivered me from all that jazz. To those of you that I was jerk to, I’m sorry. I was an insensitive (not that sensitivity is my middle name now) immature brat. I apologize to all of you who were mown down by my barbed words. I used to really enjoy hurting people.

I went to Austin yesterday. I saw Scott, Pedro and my uncle. All separately, all within a few hours. It was a whirlwind tour. As I drove down and back, my CD player kept skipping. This caused severe grief because the CD’s I played were not scratched in the slightest. I think that my stereo is finally giving up on me. I have had it for a number of years, so I guess I appreciate its long career. “Here’s to you, Mr. JVC. Jumpin’ Joe has died and gone away. Hey, hey, hey.”

Do you know what bugs me? (I know, that’s a RIDICULOUSLY long list, and it is nearly impossible to hit the answer on the head on the first try) When you order a drink at a fast food restaurant, and they push in the little drink markers on the lid. I HATE THAT! Leave mine alone, please! I understand if there are 6 drinks on one order, but you are filling up my Dr Pepper and handing it to me! Where can the confusion occur? Am I going to suddenly forget that I ordered a Dr Pepper? I don’t think so! I think it really bothers me, not because it’s unnecessary, but because it changes the symmetry and the undamaged state that a brand new lid look. It just looks bad. I physically cringe when they do it at Chick-Fil-A. My entire body tenses, and I wince. (I really like the idea of the wince. I feel like it’s the epitome of the physical expression of an emotion) I want to ask them not to do it, but by the time I think to ask, “pop!” There goes the depression. In the lid and in my heart. Is there anyone else who feels like this, or am I (like so many have earlier claimed) just crazy?

To rewrite the Matchbox 20 song, “I’m not crazy, I’m just a little over critical and overly analytical. I know, sometimes you can’t tell. But stay a while and maybe then you’ll see, a little more stable side of me.” I promise there is a less neurotic side of me. Well, it happens in months ending in ‘y’ and on a day that’s divisible by 13. And if the week is a prime numbered week. (Look it up, you’ll see how rare that is) If you note, 13 and the four months that end in ‘y’ are all prime numbers. I do love those prime numbers. They are the only non-even numbers that I tolerate.

Someone asked me how I get the titles to my blogs. Song lyrics. Google the title in quotation marks. It’ll pop it right up.

You'll be an Austrian Nobleman, commissioning a Symphony in C

Oh me hearties, it’s been so long. What a blustery month it’s been. From Stockings to Christmas Store, to a week in El Paso, to Staff retreat, it’s been quite hectic around these parts.

It has been really nice to have time off. We have had more time off than ever before. It was really relaxing. My sleep schedule is shot though. I tried going to bed last night at my usually sedate 11, but I couldn’t fall asleep until 1. I have to get back into the swing of things.

While I was off, I did a two-day, six movie Star Wars Marathon. The entire saga viewed in release order. I don’t care what you may say, I believe in watching movies in the order they were released, not chronologically. I think that if you were to watch them from Episode 1-6, you would loose the effect. I feel that the completion of Anakin’s angst in becoming Vader ends the series beautifully. My question is, how does Leia remember her mother, when Padme dies while birthing the “L” twins? It’s not like she had any time to become acquainted with the fair Amidala. Also, it’s pretty pathetic that she died of a broken heart. How un-forceman like of her. How nerdy am I?

My dearest Rangers have done it again. They have ostracized Michel Young, and now he wants a trade. Clay is threatening to boycott them for the ‘09 season. I won’t boycott. I’ll just be the one at the stadium booing the new shortstop and third baseman.

It’s amazing how passionate we get over a team. Barbara and Brent are die hard Mavs fans. Clay and I would take a bullet in the name of the Rangers. Well, a figurative bullet. What have these teams ever done for us? Nothing. Yet, for some reason, we are devoted to them like nuns to the Virgin Mary. I can dress head to toe in Rangers clothing. YES, head to toe. Literally. I even have a Rangers parking sign. It’s over my couch; it would get torn up outside. I used to try to figure out how I could meet and become Ian Kinsler’s best friend. I even suggested that Danielle should date him. He’s married, so that killed that plan. Darn you Tess Kinsler!!! My kingdom for a friendship with the Rangers Inner Circle!

I am, however, boycotting this wishy-washy January weather. It’s winter, it’s supposed to be cold, so STAY THAT WAY!!!! I get tired of people who complain bitterly about the cold. It’s January, and we are in a northern enough climate that it is appropriate for the temperature to be below 60 degrees. This isn’t L.A. Florida, the Bahamas or Puerto Rico. It’s not like there are Arctic conditions. 40 degrees isn’t that bad, and is seasonably appropriate. I HATE heat, but that doesn’t mean I act like it’s unusual in the summer. Kim was talking about her parents calling about the 20 degree high in Ohio. My eyes lit up. I can only dream.