Packing

Packing...
Dumping pieces of your identity into boxes.
Some boxes are full of love, while others are full of breakables wrapped in old newspaper and rags, cause let's face it...newspaper and rags are cheaper than bubble wrap. Though, bubble wrap is way more entertaining.

Packing...
Realizing that you've collected far too many things, spent too much money, and fail at organizing anything outside of dishes and DVDs.
Unburying little layers of your past and reminiscing on the experiences and memories created.
Finding about a thousand singlet socks, cause you threw away its mate when you thought the dryer ate it...or whatever.

Packing...
A reason to rearrange and re-evaluate the things that you have.
Do I really need this? When was the last time that I used it? Can someone else benefit from this more than my closet?
Feeling overwhelmed by the amount of crap that has accumulated...
Feeling blessed and selfish for having so many things.
Things. Everywhere. So. Many. Things.

Packing...
Having a chance to box up your life as you move into the next chapter.
Appreciating the opportunity that comes along with it.
Taking the time to complete an inventory! Woot!

Packing...
Sell, trash, donate...but I paid good money for that.
Wanting to go out and buy so many new things for the new place...
And bring it all to the old place...
So you can pack it up for the new place...
Because...

Packing...
Makes you want to start fresh.
Redesign your home.
Repurpose what was existing, only because you're putting that last "great design idea" in the pile for donation.

Packing...
Being grateful for movers and people who can lift heavy things while you carry the bag of pillows.
Having an excuse to eat pizza and beer.
Meals on paper plates and plastic ware.
Makeshift dining table of boxes.
Keeping a closer eye on the boxes containing the liquor cause you know you'll need that box sooner rather than later.
Unpacking the liquor cabinet and wine glasses before unpacking anything else. Stay classy.

Packing...
Finding an excuse to clean the lent out of the tiny cracks of the dryer vent because the alternative (packing) doesn't seem as entertaining.
Watching your cat use the boxes as a jungle gym and hiding spot. But only the one box that you are using.

Packing...
Boxing it all up just so you can unpack it all...
In your home.


What are your thoughts on packing? Mine are all above this sentence.

And a photo of Dexter, because his life is so hard...

My brain in 10 Minutes…

Ready. Set. Go….

I will start this month off at the age of 29 and end it at the age of 30. The same is true for at least 6 of my grade school friends. I'm surrounded by April babies!

I am on track to acquire a pretty hefty birthday present in the form of real-estate debt…and I am totally okay with that. Aside from this debt, I am pretty much debt free (with the exception of student loans, cause screw you higher education and your ridiculous tuition). If all goes well, the hubs and I will have our keys on April 30^th. I opted for the real-estate over the vacation/birthday celebration that I have always dreamed of. Oh how I long for a beach, a beach chair and taking on the only responsibility necessary...rolling over for an even sun tan and the occasional need to eat. Fortunately, that’s still in the works, just checking other things off the list. Oh and I will be spending a few nights at a cabin in Idaho Springs! If I can’t have a beach, then I’ll take some mountains, lakes and total isolation from the world of internets and electronics.

Speaking of an astronomical amount of debt, I have gone completely crazy on Pinterest! Not sure where the correlation is…maybe that I have spent an insane amount of money recreating the rooms and images on Pinterest. Not physically, but mentally. Yes. Mentally I have spent an insane amount of money. Pinterest is soo good at that!

Turning 30 has always been an interesting concept. On one end, some people freak out and think about all of the things they wanted to accomplish by this age. Others relish in the life that they have and plan for an even better future. But then there are others who are somewhere in the middle. That middle is where I fall. I am grateful for my home, my career, my education, the life experiences and choices that have shaped me, yet...I often wonder if I should have done more. Then I think, what exactly is that "more?" Travel? Sure, but is anyone ever really satisfied with the amount of travel that they have completed? Most people say they wish they could travel more, so...I just don't feel that there is ever a point of satisfaction in this area. A child...meh. I've actually never wanted to be mother before 30, so I'm pretty steady here as well. But I will tell you one thing...WOMEN, can we talk about the bodily changes that are occurring around this age? I MEAN, WHAT THE FRICK!! Why are we being silent about this???? It is not OK and I am not talking about grey hair. I WILL be discussing this once I confirm that more than 2 other people are experiencing the same issues.

HOLD UP! Can I have a moment, please? I am going to be 30 in like 20 days…maybe less…I’m not sure...I can’t count any more. You do the math…Twenty-Eight minus today…that should be about right. If not, I’m not even tripping. Do people even say “tripping” anymore? Seriously, though…30! I look good. I feel good. I am important. Isn’t that what Aibi told me? At any rate, welcome, 30…I’ve been waiting.

April is chock full of National (fill in the blank) days. One of which is National Siblings day. This day seems so interesting to me. On one end you have the “I love my brother(s)/sister(s)," and on the other end are the “I’m so ready for this siblings day to be over…Only Children syndrome since birth.” I consider myself to be fortunate to have experienced both ends of this Sibling/only child life. My brother (though technically he is my “half-brother,”) has always been such a huge part of my life despite the fact that we grew up in different homes in different states. I was blessed enough to experience the “luxuries” of being an only child, but fortunate enough to know what it is to have the love, support and that “Ride or Die” partner that comes with the never failing bound of sibling-ship Then there are others who have nestled themselves into my life. Friendships and relationships that have more strength, trust, and love than I could have ever imagined or hoped for. We may not share the same parents, or DNA, but I’ve chosen to love them as though we do. Lastly, I have my lovely sisters by marriage. My husband’s sisters are fabulous and I am grateful for them.  

While we are on the subject of National Fill in the Blank Day, why aren’t people celebrating National Don’t Go to Work Unless it’s Fun Day? April 3 if you were wondering. That seems promising and so do these…

National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day (April 2) – Um, yum!

National Scrabble Day (April 13) – oxyphenbutazone For the Win!! ( I have never been able to play this word, but it is on my radar during every scrabble game).

International Moment of Laughter Day  (April 14) – Clearly we all need this in our life!

Blah, Blah, Blah Day (April 17) – Not sure what to make of this...

National Jelly Bean Day (April 22), National Zucchini Bread Day (April 23), National Pig in a Blanket Day (April 24), National Prime Rib Day (April 27) – WHY AREN’T THESE BEING TALKED ABOUT, AND PUT INTO ACTION!!

And my personal favorite – National Kiss Your Mate Day (April 28) – It’s my birthday, and I want all the kisses!! And I’m going to go out on a limb and say that “Mate” and “Kiss” is completely relative. I will gladly take a kiss in the form of chocolate from any person possessing said chocolate. Unless you have Mono, or some other transmittable virus/disease. You can keep that mess and we’ll just pretend.

The Walking Dead ended this month, but HELLO GAME OF THRONES! Is Scandal still a thing? No really…is it?

AND MORTAL KOMBAT comes out on Xbox One! I am so ready to get my Fatalities and Animalities on!

I‘ve decided that Bacon Jam Burgers are AMAZING! That should be a National Holiday.  

How random is this post? Yea, this was pretty much a 10 minute conversation that I had with myself. You’re Welcome.

And for the record, I just ate Cuba. I mean, I ate a chocolate from the coco beans in Cuba. No traces of Cocaine were found (though I wouldn’t know). Please, no one put a hit out on me. I’d be missed.

Thanks Ryan and Tish!

I miss writing/typing just to write/type. I have lots to say and sometimes my husband doesn’t care that I’ve changed my mind (for the thousandth time) about the color scheme of our living room or that I’ve decided to do a detailed inventory list of every item in our home that is worth more than $20.00 (true story). Maybe I’ll be motivated enough to put it on my blog instead of filling FB with my words. I want to have a cool little journal of the Crazy person living inside my head. She seems nice enough, and we get along well, so…

 

New Year and Champagne Rambles

Oh sweet New Year!

(Photo taken by and stollen from SGraveley. Is that okay, friend?)

I thought it would be a good idea to document how I ended and started the new year. I am well aware of the fact that, typically speaking, my last night of the year includes pajamas and a 11:55 alarm clock. I get it. I am old...er than a young person, and sometimes a superman onesie rubbing on my body is better than pumps and my next potential lawsuit. Oh, but how I love me some New Years Champagne! I sure do love me a bottle of that sexy golden, Frenchness with the right amount of tickle. Did you catch that? A bottle. From France. Not a half ass plastic flute of Chumps Paine (not a typo). Ever notice how you feel like a hungover, headache raging fool at the end of the night? That's cause you drank that Chumps Paine disguised as a "free glass of champagne at the new year." Sure those fireballs and licorice cough syrup mistakes gave you a great buzz, and who really cares if the Affliction Shore showed up with Gorilla Snot in their hair (that is a real product...look it up)... The point is, you will be too trashed to realize that quality is better than quantity and that mistake is so last year. That Chumps Paine did not make the situation any better, but who cares!!  Where there is champagne, there is a party. The quality is up to you....

Hello tangent talking. And hello Ellipsis. I use them...a lot...probably incorrectly...


So 2014...how did you end? On the couch with my best friend, husband, a couple bottles of champagne on ice, and a few rum and cokes.

Oh goodness. After that Champagne ramble, the best I could do is say people, and drinks. Nice.

Hm...maybe I should create a list of last and first? Let's...

In no particular order-

2014 ended with...
Food: Sushi and shrimp cocktail
Company: My husband and best friend
Location: A comfy couch
Attire: Pajamas
Words spoken: An "I love you" at 12:03:00
Drink: I drank a coke with various types of rum. Then opened some Champagne and drank that.
Activity: Firefly on Netflix


Sounds super high paced and eventful, right? That's the thing though. New Years Eve can be whatever you want it to be as long as you are okay with it. I know that some people have traditions of wanting to spend it at a bar, club or party. But really, I am okay ending the year with love and starting it with that same feelings. Gone are my desires to wake up hung over with unexplainable bruises. Those days were fun and I am glad that I have a crap load in my memory bank. However, the best quality of those nights had nothing to do with the drinks, but rather the people I was with and who held my hair back as I lovingly hugged the porcelain thrown. I am cool with that.

Do y'all remember Dick Clark? I hope so. Otherwise, go to the corner. Any who, one of my prized memories as a child was watching the ball drop and hearing Dick Clark do the count down. For some reason, I feel that it's not a new year without this little piece of cheese. Unfortunately, Dick Clark's New Years Rockin Eve has been replaced by the Seacrest douc...guy. Lame. But whatever. It's not the same and I could have done without seeing Fergies inner thigh muscles...wait, was she on that show or was that the other network? Who cares, really. It was disturbing.

As the minutes ticked and the new year approached, my tiny group and I tuned in. Little did we know...we were late. HA! So while most of the world celebrated at midnight, we celebrated at 12:03...and that was okay with us. Our champagne had already been popped and we were already celebrating...so really...everyone else was late.

Then 2015 came and I was able to wake up without feeling like I needed to throw up. Have you ever experienced that? It is mindblowingly normal. I suggest that everyone splurge and buy really nice champagne...especially once you hit your late 20s. It makes a difference....the taste is better, the bubbles tingle appropriately and you don't wake up feeling like (insert something that is dehydrated and gets hit in the head repeatedly) <- whatever that is, you don't wake up like that. Actually, the latter should be reason enough to step up your game and make the switch.

My 2015 started with..

Food: Breakfast - cinnamon rolls, sausage and eggs.
Company: My husband and best friend
Location: bed
Attire: same pajamas
Words spoken: An "Weird... I still love you" at 12:03:22
Drink: champagne...we added strawberries, then drank the rest with orange juice for breakfast.
Activity: Stayed up till 4:30 and had girl time with my bestie!

As for resolutions....I don't do them. I just feel that every day is a new day...why wait until January 1st to make plans for a change? That just seems like more days to fail or procrastinate. If you want it, make the changes...

Well, I guess I've hit my annual post. Until, 2016...(I really hope that I am just kidding)

Thank you, Facebook friends, for motivating me to write something.

Sorry, not sorry

I've seen the phrase "sorry, not sorry" quite a bit in these blogging parts of town.  At first, it annoyed the hell out of me.  Think about it.  How are you sorry for not being sorry?  Doesn't that just mean that you're apologizing for the act that you claim your aren't sorry for just to admit that you are sorry nonetheless?  I really thought it was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard (for that week, cause lets be honest, the amount of ridiculousness that is encountered on a weekly basis is overwhelming).

Continuing on, I didn't get it...until one day it dawned on me.  I am sorry, but not sorry at least 75% of The events, thoughts, actions and words that I speak on a daily basis.  I am unapologetic for the things that most people should probably apologize for.  And the best part (worst part?) is that I am so disconnected and desensitized that I (at this moment) don't find anything wrong with that.  Lets reflect shall we?

I'm sorry, not sorry...

That I am obsessed with my hair.  Truth

That I choose to take time away from people when I have reached my "emotional overload" rating.  I am always available to my friends when they need me, but on the very rare occasion that I have my own emotional crisis going on, I've learned to take time way so that I can better myself and thus be better for them.  I do not apologize for taking a mental health break, even if it means that something gets damaged in the process.

I love the color orange to the point that my purse, work bag, cell phone case, wallet, work laptop case, portable mouse, notebook, pen, pen pouch, stylus, and headphones are all various shades of orange. It's ridiculous.  But I don't care.

That your chewing will drive me crazy and I have to fight the urge to refrain from choking you.  Misophonia.  It's real.  I have it.  Look it up.

That I exaggerate and can blow things out of proportion.  True story: I got a bug bite on my leg and I panicked for a week straight (clue#1) because I thought I got bit by a brown recluse spider.  Did I go to the doctor or set up an appointment?  Nope.  Did I look up everything on google that clearly indicated that I did not have a gaping, flesh eating bite on my leg (clue #2)?  Yep. Did I still believe that it was a recluse?  You betcha. Not enough of an example?  How about the fact that I got a knot in my neck (probably from sleeping wrong) and I swore up and down that I broke my collar bone.  The thing is that I believed it, even though I knew that I'd done nothing to cause such an injury.  I guess that's the thing...I'm sorry, not sorry that I believe stuff like this even when I know them to be impossible.  

I can admit that I have a small network of friends.  Real friends.  I may be hurt if one of these friendships ends, but I'm sorry, not sorry that I will get over it.   It is a hard part of growing up.  

That I really wish that I had a wand, tiara and cloud of glitter rain to use at my disposal.

That every 28 days or so I will complain about the unfairness and brutal pain that I experience for not being pregnant.  Thats a week of whining, crying, yelling, cramping, eating, munching, sweats wearing that I am not sorry for. (Understand that I am referring to the actions resulting from that week and not the problem itself).

I'm sorry, not sorry to admit that when I meet someone for the first time, I intentionally look at their eyebrows and base my interest in the conversation on said eyebrows.  Shallow?  Not really.  I don't judge that person for their eyebrow grooming skills, or lack there of, it's just that I have a very short attention span and its hard for me to *Squirrel* focus when their eyebrows are erased and drawn on, perfectly arched, or a hotmess.  Once I'm over the shock (good or bad), I can focus on any subsequent conversation.  Flash me your eyebrows before you try to carry a real conversation with me and all will be good.

For wanting a hippo named Franchesca, a pig named Winston, a manatee whale named Marilyn and a a Lynx named Slick Rick.  

I am pretty sure this page will continue on.  So tell me, what are you sorry not sorry for?

February: Selfish, Not Selfish

You are probably wondering what happened to my daily count down.  Well, it wasn't tickling my creative fancy, so I dropped it.  I liked looking back and seeing what occurred over the month of January, but the method of delivery was a bit too white rice and chicken broth for me.

So instead, lets just sum up the month of February with a little Valentines day story:

I call this story: Selfish, Not Selfish.

I like to refer to February as the Hallmark month of love!   Now before anyone jumps down my throat for calling it that, lets get one thing straight...Hallmark isn't the only company making a killing...chocolates, flower shops, leather and lace...red and pink over kill...all of it.  It's big stuff this month.  

Do I find it a little sad and silly?  You betcha.  Am I one of those people that say "you don't need a month to show your love" and "you especially don't need to do it when EVERYONE else is being told to do the same thing."  Oh for sure.  I am one of those people.  Not because I am bitter or "so above it," but rather because I think it is true.  *hold your breath while I become a hypocrite*. I think of Valentines Day as a day that people 1) go out of their way to buy something that is expected ei: flowers, candies, something pink, red and covered in hearts 2) people without a significant other are forced to witness the madness 3) its a red, white and pink version of the "my genitals are bigger than your genitals" equivalent.  Total lame sauce. 

I love chocolates, flowers, cards, letters and all that jazz..but maybe my Taurusism is too strong because I prefer to receive stuff like that when no one else is receiving it.  I want the attention on me...i am not ashamed of being an Attention Whore.  It is who I am.  

*This is when you can stop holding your breath* Now, with all that being said...I ordered chocolate covered strawberries and roses for my husband and had them delivered to his job on two separate days.  Yep.  I sure did.  Why you might ask?  Simple...I wanted to embarrass him with love...and i wanted some Shari's Berries.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Here's the thing, my husband is not one to attract attention.  In fact, he prefers to sit back and blend in with the wall.  He is pretty reserved (for the most part) and gets embarrassed rather easily.  So, what better way than to have chocolates delivered on Thursday and Roses delivered on Friday...to the front desk...at his job...a major Home Improvement Store...that he manages...with over a hundred employees...that he has to pass...in order to put the stuff away...in his office...in the very back of the store.  Totally premeditated and thought out.  I even had some of his employees help me plan.  *you should take note...don't get on my bad side*

Needless to say, my Thursday consisted of UPS refreshing...until I got the "Delivered" notification!  Oh wait...mind you, I was also texting little hints throughout the week...like "I love you Berry much" and "roses are red..."  And "sign, sealed, delivered..."  He never caught on.  Was it cheesy and totally unnecessary?   Absolutely.  Anywho, once I saw that they were delivered...I could not contain my excitement.  *Psycho path tendencies* Then my phone rang and this is the first thing that I heard "seriously!?!  So freakin embarrassing, De'Aura.  Wow.  At my job, too?"  Let me tell you that I laughed for a minute straight.  Little did he know, that was part one of his two part gift.  And just for kicks and giggles (and because I actually did want a chocolate coved strawberry) I wrote a little message on the card "Enjoy! (FYI, only five of the are yours). With love"

That evening, he thanked me and said "I'm just glad you didn't send me flowers."  *insert the most evil laugh you can imagine*. It took everything in me to not break my cover.

Now it's Friday, and I am back at the UPS refresh...refresh....refresh....repeat 5 billion times...and I get a "Delivered" message.  *insert uncontrollable laughter* followed by *ring ring Mr.PSL: This is ridiculous.  Now I have to walk through the building, again, but with a giant box that says ProFlowers on it?!  You are too much."  Week.  Made.

I didn't get to snap a photo of the flowers, and I am kicking myself for being lazy about it.  They were beautiful....lime, coral, lavender, and yellow colored roses.  

So in the end, my " Valentines day is for the unoriginal and easily influenced " tangent was really a two fold event.  One, I got a great laugh from embarrassing my husband with Chocolates and flowers and two, I ate some delicious chocolate covered strawberries and woke up to beautiful springs flowers for a week straight.  Selfish, not selfish...

No radio? No problem.

Let me start off by putting out some good o'l positive energy...my car runs, it is safe (I think), and it gets me where I need to be.  My car is good to me and I will be good to my car.

Phew.  Got that out so I can continue on with the rest of this post.

My car is like a little old lady that has lived a young, beautiful and adventure filled life.  She has gone to concerts, parties, and witnessed a birth or two.  She ate McDonalds at 2 o'clock in the morning with no concern for weight gain.  She has sipped beer, wine and tequila in the same night...and never complained about the after math of that cocktail concoction.  She has been over mountains, through rivers (floods) and valleys.  She has survived snow storms and has tolerated the stings and shatters of rocks and branches.  She is reliable and driven.  And when she was really needed, she was there...no questions asked, no delays or hesitation.

Then, as the years passed, she started to show her age. Years of rolling her top down and allowing the warmth of the sun to beam down on her tan skin has taken its course.  Her once smooth leather skin is now wrinkled and cracked.  Over the years, her cloth covered floors are now permanently stained from her young party days and disrespectful weather.  The sun patches and discoloration, scratches and dents are nothing but scars that held a story more interesting than the next.  Like little photographs of original content.

Ava, my 1995 Toyota Avalon has 194789 miles of love on her.  Fortunately, she err I...we (?) haven't had "major"problems.  I say "major" because some people may consider a broken radio to be a major problem.  That's right, Ava no longer has beats.  We ride in silence.

At first this really bothered me.  I felt a little salty.  I didn't know how to function in a car of silence.  I mean, what do I do (aside from drive)?  What's going to keep me calm while I drive the mean streets and mentally run over half of the drivers that I encounter?  There was no way I could convince the makers of Xanax to create a liquid form that I could put into a drip line...let alone find someone to install the IV and drip.  Life seemed grim and I didn't know how long I could take it.  I loved tuning in to the local station to hear the latest song from some artist that I hated.  *insert major side eye* I really loved when I found a cassette converting thing that I could put into the deck and attach to my iPod.  What!?  Yes.  A cassette deck...with a cord...that I connected to my iPod.  It worked.  I was happy.

Eventually, I started to Depeche Mode and enjoy the silence.  I had time to think, regroup, and focus on my day ahead...or plan for dinner.  I had time to myself and I really enjoyed it.

The interesting part was when Mr. PSL and I took Ava out for a drive.  That was when I learned how much fun a drive could be without the annoyance of someone else telling me how to back that thing up, or some whiney teen singing about a breakup, or girlfriends or calling people, Maybe.  It was peaceful and freakin awesome.  (Notice that I can't even think of a recent song that was played on the radio 9357491385779645591 times in the same hour).

So awesome that Mr. PSL and I started creating games.  Little acts of trivia and what not.  You know how back in the day you would play Slug Bug or I Spy?  Well, we took it up a notch...

Name that movie- say a quote from a movie and the other person has to name the movie that featured the quote.  Bonus points of you can name the actor and scene involved.

Alphabet words - select a theme, then you have to name a word that starts with the corresponding letter.  Example: if the theme is fruit, the first answers could be Apple, Banana, Cantelop etc.

Name that song- pick a word and the other person must come up with a song that uses that word in a lyric.  Ex: The word is Pillow Answer: "(Lay your head on my) Pillow" by Tony!Toni!Tone!.

So if you ever find yourself driving in silence, or have a radio break down on you, get creative and get your brain going.  Break up the mindless music that seems to be on constant repeat.  You can really create a game out of anything.  It's simple, but it keeps things fun and interesting.  Just make it challenging.

No radio, Ava?  No Problem, boo.  I gotcha.

After all that sharing, you may be thinking that Ava seems like a junk of a car that needs to be sold for scraps.  Believe me, I've thought about.  But to me, she is a gas sucking, fluid leaking, skin frying, dimple having vessel of memories.

The best part about Ava is that she is mine.  I know this because her seat no longer adjust...as in it is permanently adjusted for me (Read: the motor died and I can no longer slide, tilt or add lumbar support).  I bet your car won't do that for you.  I guess your car just doesn't love you as much as Ava loves me.  Grab a tissue so you can go cry yourself to sleep.

Here's Ava:

I know, she's a gem. :)

I fell out of the sky!

Disclaimer: This is a post that I made last January (2013) and posted on my previous blog.  The story  was entertaining, so I thought I would relive it and share it in this new space.  Enjoy!!!

As you may recall, my best friend decided to spend her birthday boarding a plane and jumping out of it.  Hella awesome, right?  Yea, well not so much...initially.  I was skerred.  Yes, skerred...that is several blocks into the neighborhood that is riddled with crime scene tape...skerred...I have no business doing this or being here....skerred...I am a grown adult that just might crap her pants and not really care....skerred.  If skerred is not in your dictionary, then you have not lived.  Focus.  So I was skerred.  Despite this, I gave into the peer pressure and hoped into the car as my husband drove us to Out of the Blue Skydiving.

Our drive to our jump site was full of inappropriate discussions.  For instance, I thought it would be a great time to discuss my husbands life insurance policy...rather or not the amount would be sufficient and if dying from skydiving would be considered an accident or suicide.  This was a legitimate questions because some policies will not cover acts of suicide.  He then questioned my policy.  We left that conversation as a To Be Continued. From here, the conversation ventured to bodily functions.  If someone puked, would it smack our instructor in the face, thus making him blind and incapable of navigating the chute?  This would totally send them and their untrained dummy crashing to the ground...covered in puke.  Perhaps, as we are jumping, our "oh shit factor" will kick in and force us to pee on ourselves.  I then wondered if Juan and I should have frozen our eggs and sperm so that the other person could still have a child from the deceased parent.  Yea...just a little weird.  

Once we arrived to our spot, the nerves started to kick in.  Okay, well the nerves were already there, but you get it.  Fortunately, the staff at Out of the Blue Skydiving were so kick assems!  The people love what they do and they make you feel at home...well maybe not at home cause that would be weird, but they definitely make you feel like you stepped into a new world of cool.  I, on the other hand, belong in a museum for the weird and slightly insane, but that's not the point.  All I could do was try and control my uncontrollable nervous giggle.  I giggles when the lady asked for my name.  I giggled when I signed my life away.  I giggled when I met my instructor and I giggled when I asked where the restroom was located...the portable potty out back.  In addition to the giggles, I could not help but ramble whenever someone asked me a question.  My brain just refused to give a straight answer.  "What's your name?" " (giggle) oh my name?  Yes.  My name.  My name is De.  My parents named me after a light on the moon.  Well around it.  But my parents aren't hippies.  Maybe they smoked weed, but I wasn't around to see it.  There are several marajuana dispensers on the way up here.  I should have...do you like cake?  My best friend loves cake.  It's her birthday...my cat is named after Michael Jackson...well kinda..."  Or something along those lines.  

Eventually, we got suited up and pushed to our death.  Okay maybe it wasn't that dramatic.  My husband was suited first.  As we left to board the plane, I realized that I would be devastated if I never got to hug him again.  So I threatened the instructor.  The instructor was so sweet that he promised to keep him alive...cause, well it was his life as well.  I was able to watch my husband free fall out of the plane...it was more of a spec, but whateves.  He was the best looking spec I've ever seen (insert Dory squishy voice) the cutest little spec I've ever seen!  Then he fluttered around as he slowly came to a smooth landing.  The hubs gave me a thumbs up and yelled "F-ing awesome!! That was amazing. $h!t!  Lets do that again, son."  Swear words aren't his style...he leaves that to me.  Such a gentleman.  I will say that those were the sweetest foul words ever muttered. Love.  Any who, he landed and several minutes later, I was boarding a plane with my bestie in tow.  We opted to jump together because I knew that, eventually, her nerves would kick in and we would be on the same "ooh shit" meter.  My husband, however, was "about that life."  Not referencing the prison life or being down to kill someone, but rather brave and down for the cause.  He only kills flies, spiders, ants and other things that crawl...oh wait not kids! Kids crawl.  He won't kill a kid.  He likes kids. Forcus!  So I opted to be in the plane with someone whose ridiculous perspective would not make me beg for a teddy bear and a cozy blanket.  And like a great friend, Sabrina was there!  

Mid way up into the air, she started to break down.  She questioned her judgement, and had a moment of "what the heck have I done!?"  For the first time ever, I was so tempted to flip her off!  I actually put up my fingers and tried really hard to do it, but I just couldn't.  Any who, we a flying.  My instructor, Stephen, begins to tell me everything that I need to know.  The problem is, my brain was going blank.  It just could not process what he was saying.  What I gathered was my feet needed to be on a step (which ended up being like a tight rope), let go of the plane, something about my feet and my hands doing something and kick up.  He was much more thorough, but seriously, my brain had flatline.  The next thing I know is the door is being opened and I can clearly see the wings of the plane (I swear it just appeared.  For all I knew the plane only had 1 wing and that was on the other side of the plane.).  The air was freezing.  I believe it was -10 give or take 20 degrees.  Then Stephen tells me to step out of the plane and on to the tight rope err I mean the step.  Um...excuse me?  WTFrick?  Have you, Stephen, seen that step?  It is outside of the plane...hovering over the ground...in the air...clearly the safety net is missing.  At this point, things get blurry.  I remember putting my foot out on the step and trying to align my feet to fit perfectly on the tight rope..you know so that I wouldn't fall or anything.  In the mean time, I am casting my prints into the door of the plane.  Then something happens and my hands let go and I realize that I am no longer standing.  I tripped!  I frickin tripped...no...no wait, I am falling!  Ahahaha!  I remember wondering if Stephen...my instructor...the guy that had the chute...the only person who knew where to land and how to land and how to navigate the air and stuff...wondering if he made it out of the plane with me.  I mean, after all, I did just fall out and from what I remember he was supposed to be strapped on my back.  But for some reason, I could not feel anything.  I couldn't even feel my body.  

The free fall is like nothing that I have ever experienced.  It is indescribable.  I mean, have you ever been a bird?  Have you ever had wings to flap and a wing span to glide? Unless you are the Phoenix.  No?  That sucks.  Use your imagination, okay?  You have no way of understand this weightless, floating, but exhilarating feeling. 

Eventually, I realized that Stephen didn't just abandon me,  he was where he was supposed to be...suspended on my back.  The only time that I have ever given a man a piggyback ride and no I am not a pig. Thanks for asking.  At some point, I remember telling myself that I need to enjoy this experience.  As soon as the thought crossed my mind, the chute was opened and I was floating.  We swirled, flirted with the wind and the air, dancing a little jig of foolish gravity defying romance.  It was amazing.  The view was breath taking.  I was living.  

We landed and I could not wait to squeeze my husband and thank my friend.  After all, it was her crazy idea.  I thanked her for being so irresponsible and foolish.  I thanked her for pushing me.  I thanked her for the unspeakable message that I received...life is to be lived. I had lived.  

We finished the day with some cheap hole in the wall old fashion burgers, an unsuccessful hunt for cupcakes, a well over due nap and dinner at an upscale small bites restaurant.  I celebrated my friends life, while challenging the mundane life that I was living...