I'm Outta Here

I've moved. Not physically, because that might not maintain the current girth I've got going on. Virtually. And I've moved here. Don't forget to bookmark me!

A Delightful Dinner

The Sister and I made our triumphant return to our favorite restaurant last night for a dinner of norimake, nigiri, miso salad and other assorted Japanese delicacies. It had been so long since either of us had any really excellent sushi that we both sat in ecstasy for the first five minutes of the meal. Then, our big gossip mouths got the best of us, and we got down to the business of being sisters.

What's important about this dinner is that neither of us have ever been very sisterly toward one another. We fought a lot in our younger years, hell, we can still bicker with the best of them. Resentments built up by the sister who is very sensitive and the other insensitive one was just plain insensitive most of the time. We get along best over a table covered in raw fish and miso at the Nagasaki Inn.

Last night's conversation ranged from Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome to drunken Derby plans. It was great.

It's too bad that she can't be here for me to get along with today at lunch. I brought leftovers!

I'm one lazy ass...

...girl. All that I am motivated to do is go home after work and take a nap. For hours and hours and hours. Then, I wake up and read mindless drivel for a couple of hours and go back to sleep for the night.

What's my deal, you ask?

I'm an avoider. Several unpleasant things await me every day after work:

1. The idea that Christmas is coming, and I (shh, don't tell) don't really like Christmas.
   
2. Going to the gym.
3. Studying for the test that is less than 20 days away.
4. Laundry.
5. Dishes.
6. Bills that won't get paid.

So, instead of behaving like a normal person and making a plan to tackle these things sensibly, I avoid the unpleasantness all together. Instead, I do what is probably the most detrimental thing and either sleep (as was mentioned above), play around on the internets, or watch the TV.

What I really should do is get rid of my cable modem (read: save $37 per month) and get rid of my cable TV (read: save $29 per month). However, I'm not sure I could stand it if I couldn't hop on imdb.com and figure out who that one guy was in that movie that I think was in that other movie. Also, since I promised B that I'd tape the basketball games, then spent $150 on a DVR, I feel like I can't give up the cable.

What do I do instead? Follow this completely monotonous routine of waking up too early in the morning to decide which clothes on the bedroom floor are the least dirty to wear to the job where I get all my work done in the first five days of the month and spend the rest of the days waiting to go home so that I can crawl into my warm bed and take a nap.

I seriously need a change.

I like being lame.

What can I say? I like being lame. I had a good weekend and I pretty much did absolutely nothing.

Friday, after work, I made another trip to Kroger for ingredients. Then, I went to my mom and dad's house and baked cute little cookies that looked like candy canes and starlite mints, thanks to the nice people at Woman's Day magazine. (See, there's something my coworkers are great at doing. They bring in all their magazines, most of which I've never heard of, and I look through them.) Then, I made five batches of different kinds of Chex mix. I fucking love that stuff. Then, we all watched Talladega Nights. No one thought it was as funny as I did, and, I have to admit that it was funnier the first time I saw it.

Saturday, I finished up the cooking and cleaning stuff at their house and settled in to watch the UK/U of L game, which was excellent. About halftime, Kate and David and the baby got home from Oklahoma. I hadn't seen them in so long, it seemed. The baby is as cute as ever. Thinking they had planned on hanging out all day, I didn't make any plans for Saturday evening, except to watch It's a Wonderful Life with my mom. Well, by the time that was set in stone, we found out that Kate did not plan to stay home, but run all over town seeing people. So, it ended up being mom and dad and I again for some good ol' holiday tradition.

Here's a little sidenote about how much I love It's a Wonderful Life. I love when George Baily wishes for a million dollars and says, "Hot dog!" I love when the little girl Mary whispers in George's bad ear that she'll love him until the day she dies. I love when they are doing the Charleston at the dance and fall into the pool. I love when he tells Mr. Potter that he's a mean old man. I HATE it when Uncle Billy loses the money, but I love when George gives Zuzu's flower a drink. I especially love it when George runs through Bedford Falls at the end wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.

On Sunday, they conned me into going to church as a whole big family, but I got a free breakfast out of it later, and I heard the priest say "screw up" in church. All day Sunday, though, was pretty much lost to me taking a nap. Do 5-hour naps really count as naps or is there another word (like hibernation, maybe) that carries the connotation of how freaking ridiculous they are? I totally wasted a gorgeous 70-degree day on a nap. However, I have the best dreams during naps, so it was all good. Last night, I read and read and read trashy romance novels and Leesa brought me a Christmas present, which was very sweet of her.

That's all. See. I am lame. Big deal.

How cool would this be...

...to have in your house?

Most of our reclaimed wood flooring is milled from structural beams and timbers that were used in warehouses and factories in the early 1900s. Some of the flooring has also been salvaged from tongue/groove planks that lived their previous life also as flooring.

I want.

I have absolutely nothing to write about.

So, I got my weekly Friday E-mail from one of The Boys today. It read nearly the same as every other Friday E-mail I've gotten from him since June.

whats going on tongiht, you talked to so-and-so or so-and-so2...what is up for the the rest of the weekend.

Not only is he a bad speller and punctuator, he's getting on my nerves with these Friday E-mails. It's always the same. When I told him that I have decided to make cookies and watch a movie with my Mom tonight, he replied,

no offense lyds but your getting kinda lame.

You know what? Not as lame as you, my friend.

I'm tired of planning everything fun that goes on around here. I'm the one that has chili dinners. I'm the one that plans a game night. You are the one that comes over with a twelve pack to put in the fridge, drinks it, bitches about the games, and then leaves or wants to crash on my couch. You are the one at whom I shake my fist in rage the next day when there are 12 Busch Light cans sitting on the kitchen table and an empty Busch Light box chilling in the refrigerator.

Furthermore, just because I don't "want to get totally wasted" anymore doesn't necessarily mean that I'm lame. It, most likely, means that I've grown up a little bit. Granted, this time last year, I would never have predicted this type of growing up, but it's happened. Additionally, since you have absolutely ZERO bills to pay but have a full time job, why don't you offer to pay for a night on the town? I remember fondly paying for your night's worth of drinks on a few occasions when I was making the big bucks and living rent-free. I also remember nights like that being a whole lot more fun with my girls around and the possibility of late-night drunk sex.

Knowing When To Say You're Sorry

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all about not calling people names that are derogatory toward certain religions, nationalities, genders or sexual identities. However, Joey Porter's apology to the rest of the world is pretty great. Basically, he called Kellen Winslow gay, by the use of some derogatory term. He also said that the Browns were too soft to win a Super Bowl. However, I think it's pretty funny that he "didn't mean to offend anybody but Kellen Winslow." You've got to give him some credit for being honest. He was trash-talking. He set out to offend Kellen Winslow. He's not backing down now that he got caught.

Porter might be an idiot, but he gave me my chuckle for the day.

You're kidding me, right?

I got an email from the boss lady (who is currently on vacation). We are having our quarterly employee communication meetings this week. At these meetings, we do things like safety training, updates on projects affecting the facility, and reporting of financial numbers. Guess who gets to report the numbers in the boss lady's abscence? That's right. Me.

I'm fine with this. I'm not, generally, a shy person. I like to talk. However, I'm not sure I've ever attempted to talk intelligently at 5:30 a.m. That's right. A.M. The meeting for second shift employees is during their "afternoon" break. What does this mean for me? I'll have to wake up around 4:15 and leave the house no later than 4:45 to make it to the facility on time. I know people reading this that know me in real life are laughing their heads off. That has been the reaction of everyone I've talked to about this.

So, will Lydia make it to the meeting on time? Stay tuned.

I am a doormat. That's what the girls told me on Friday night, and it is completely true. I have been a doormat in the past. I have a hard time telling if I am now. I know that I'm not, in general. I am only in my romantic relationships with men.

Speaking of relationships, one of the girls asked a very good question this weekend. If I were to meet someone really great right now, would I give that someone a chance, or am I putting my entire life and possible happiness on hold for the next 11 months or so? At the time, I think I gave a quick answer, but I've been thinking about it ever since.
On the one hand, I think that this weird thing I've got right now is worth giving a chance. Hell, it's been in the process for five years. How can I not wait and see what happens? Is it really advisable to put yourself and your heart out there, get a favorable response and then change course and take the next promising thing for a little spin, in the meantime?

On the other hand, I am getting no younger. Spending yet another year on something that may or may not pan out and someone who I'm not sure I'll ever really understand (or who, more importantly, may never really understand or feel comfortable with himself) doesn't sound like the best option when it's all laid out there.

I look back on the Best and (at the same time) Worst Relationship I've ever had and wonder how I let it drag out for so long (right at five years there, too). That relationship took a more traditional course but was maybe more fucked up than this one. I would like to think I learned something from it. I'm not so sure, though. At first, it was great, and then I let him manipulate and walk all over me because I really thought that, deep down, he was a good guy that really loved me. After it was all said and done, I still thought (and still think) that, but I realized that he was completely fucked up and the relationship was beyond salvation.

In this relationship, none of the traditional things have happened. I mean, there are only two of instances that I can think of that anyone might consider to be real dates (drunk sex doesn't constitute a date), and those hardly count since I've done the same exact things with other friends and don't consider them dates. However, it wasn't an exclusive thing except in patches, and that was only because there wasn't anyone else I was having one night stands with.

I'm just not as sure of myself, anymore. That implies that I was ever really sure about it all. All I know is that, what I want the most, is to be happy. Can I be happy with someone who doesn't show any emotion and doesn't talk about serious subjects? That was always something I could say about the Best and Worst Relationship. After all the physical and emotional things were swept away, there was still great conversation and pretty deep understanding of one another. (Even now, these conversations sometimes still happen out of the blue.)

Nearly back to my point... I think I can accept every single other thing about this guy that other women might find to be a difficulty. I can deal with the drinking and partying, I have no problem with the sports obsession, I definitely don't give a shit about the imbalance in traditional education, and I can even deal with the selfishness (I think...I mean, that might be why I'm a doormat). The only thing I'm not sure I can deal with is what I perceive as his fear of sharing who he really is, what he really thinks and what he really feels. I have a hard time with this because I am also the type of person that doesn't let a lot of people get really, really close to me. In my life, there have only been four people that I have absolutely opened up myself to. Only one of those people knows absolutely every single thing about me. One other knew everything at the time, because I decided that, since we loved each other, I could trust him with myself. See above for how that turned out.

Back to this guy. I think that part of my happiness is dependent on being able to share myself with him and know that he won't take advantage of that vulnerability. On that point, I think things are gravy. I do trust him. He's an excellent secret keeper, which is important. More important, though, is the fact that he doesn't make me feel stupid (which is my biggest fear every.single.day in life). Another part of my happiness is that he would do the same thing and show me his vulnerability. I've had one teensy glimpse, and it only affirmed what I really believed about who he really is underneath the "fun guy."

If you've waded through all this, I commend you. You're probably nowhere nearer understanding all of this than I am.