<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577</id><updated>2011-04-21T13:28:55.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amy's Blog (Now that's exciting, isn't it?)</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>68</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114461814314574842</id><published>2006-04-09T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-09T14:29:03.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Follow me, down the yellow brick road</title><content type='html'>Ok, so my blog is somewhat set-up at typepad. Follow the link and you will find me! I will keep this blog up for a bit while y'all transition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amykatmick.typepad.com"&gt;http://www.amykatmick.typepad.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on over and leave a comment to let me know you found me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114461814314574842?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114461814314574842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114461814314574842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114461814314574842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114461814314574842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/04/follow-me-down-yellow-brick-road.html' title='Follow me, down the yellow brick road'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114420476929818065</id><published>2006-04-04T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T19:39:29.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ride like the wind, Bullseye!</title><content type='html'>That's what I feel like, by the way. Like I've been galloping around, looking for a freakin barn or any place to call home! This housing market is a real pisser. Why in the world should we be considering fixer-uppers when they are still in the high 400Ks? How does that even make sense? It doesn't!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I am working on a new blog design that will be hosted on a different site. I want to have a site that is a little more reflective of me and my visual desires. Blogger has been awesome for me to get started, but I want something a little more design friendly. So bear with me over the next few days and I'll link the new site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see, the last few days . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Looked at houses.&lt;br /&gt;2. Looked at possible wedding locations.&lt;br /&gt;3. Didn't decide on anything.&lt;br /&gt;4. Changed the clocks and damn, I'm missing that one hour of sleep!&lt;br /&gt;5. D was crowned "Pond Prince" in his class (they each get a turn), so we have created a lovely poster and fact sheet about my favorite 7 year old.&lt;br /&gt;6. I finally got my Sephora order which included a gift for Keri - her birthday was a week ago - and my Mineral Veil. Since when does a Sephora order take 13 days?&lt;br /&gt;7. Finally gave up the ghost and abandoned all hormonal birth control. We'll see how that goes! Nothing like worrying about condoms breaking when you're over the age of 30!&lt;br /&gt;8. Re-did my consulting business filing system. Decided that general groupings work better for me . . . 2006 Finances, 2006 Meetings, etc.&lt;br /&gt;9. Realized that when you only file once or twice a year? You actually get to throw away about half of the pile! Time sensitive, ladies and gentlemen!&lt;br /&gt;10. Decided to apply to retail an awesome invitation line. We'll see!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114420476929818065?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114420476929818065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114420476929818065' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114420476929818065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114420476929818065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/04/ride-like-wind-bullseye.html' title='Ride like the wind, Bullseye!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114357167251498206</id><published>2006-03-28T10:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T19:33:02.533-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Reading</title><content type='html'>So I stayed up last night re-reading Gary Chapman's Five Love Languages. What a basic, yet remarkable premise. The basis, if you haven't read it, is that everyone has a basic "love language" that speaks to them. Acts of Service, Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch or Gifts. Of course, as human beings, our tendency is to give what we want to get. So I'm an Acts of Service kinda girl! I love it when someone does something for me, UNBIDDEN, that takes pressure or responsibility or even hassle off of my plate. J, however, is a Words of Affirmation guy. So I am doing his laundry, buying his favorite kinds of groceries, keeping the house clean, ect., and then getting pissed off because he doesn't appreciate it (verbally). In turn, he's telling me how beautiful I am and how much he loves me, needs me, desires me, etc. And I'm rolling my eyes! So, the moral of my little story?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to stop being so busy doing for him, and tell him how I feel about him. He needs to quit telling me how he feels about me and show me. So simple, really. Too bad I didn't write the book and make millions off the concept! But hey, if you try it and your relationship gets better? Feel free to make a donation. We'll stick it in the yet-to-be-scheduled wedding fund.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And Keri, if you're reading this; HAPPY BIRTHDAY, dear friend! I am so glad to call you my friend. I am proud of the woman that you are becoming. You'll be an awesome nurse and add to the long list of attributes and jobs you already hold . . . great Mom, kind friend, faithful believer, beautiful woman . . . May this year be your best year yet! Love ya, girl! See ya Thursday!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114357167251498206?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114357167251498206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114357167251498206' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114357167251498206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114357167251498206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/good-reading.html' title='Good Reading'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114352725008221363</id><published>2006-03-27T22:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T13:36:17.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Did Grandma Take on the Jell-o Shots?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;Sadly, no. But the rest of us partook of our fair share, plus hers! I can't upload any pictures because my battery is dead as a doornail. (What is a doornail, anyway?) I can't find my charger. And remarkably, the house is relatively well-organized and clean - other than the front closet, that is. So the charger? It must be in the front closet. I will find it tomorrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved seeing my crazy NY cousin this weekend. It's the first time I've seen him in his role as a parent. Crazy. His little boy is just adorable. Total character. A mini-me of his crazy father. And my cousin's wife? A total doll. He's a lucky man! We fully enjoy giving each other as much crap as possible. It's the basis of our relationship. I told D that about 90% of what my cousin said should be fully ignored! Who gives that type of advice to a child unless truly necessary?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The family has mostly headed home, with the New York contingent heading out tomorrow. J left tonight for a training in San Diego. I'm a bit jealous, especially since it's nasty cold and raining here. And I just &lt;em&gt;KNOW&lt;/em&gt; that San Diego will be gorgeous tomorrow. Not to mention the fabulous shopping at Horton Plaza. Not that he'll be going there, but still. I could!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a bit of a rough patch this weekend. I'm struggling with my whacked-out controlling tendencies. For so long, I have relied on my personal space and ingrained habits to try and control things when they get crazy. Stupid habits and a tendency to play the role of the responsibility martyr. &lt;em&gt;Wonder where I may have gotten that one, Mom?&lt;/em&gt; So poor J has borne the brunt of those tendencies. It's the weirdest feeling in the world. I know I'm doing it. I think it;s ridiculous to be all pissed off and furiously scrubbing at crap for no good reason, yet I cannot make myself stop. Then I get pissed at myself and further withdraw. Freak!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we talked about it. He;s trying to understand how much a transition this is for both D and I. We also refocused on counseling and communication. We're going to read through the Five Love Languages together. I've read it before and know how much it will help us to understand each other and how we give and receive love. He is such an amazing man. I adore him with my whole heart. But it's hard at times after being alone and independent for so long. He's the guy that's worth it, though. We'll make it happen . . . of that I have no doubt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114352725008221363?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114352725008221363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114352725008221363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114352725008221363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114352725008221363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/did-grandma-take-on-jell-o-shots.html' title='Did Grandma Take on the Jell-o Shots?'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114330858099618964</id><published>2006-03-25T09:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-25T09:43:01.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Family has Arrived, Now I must make Jell-o Shots!</title><content type='html'>I almost feel bad for the creators of Jell-o. Their intent to make a family-friendly snack has been warped mightily in my family. &lt;strong&gt;Jell-o Shots have become a requirement of any family function or recognized holiday.&lt;/strong&gt; It's kinda sad, really. But the sadness is over-ridden by the gleeful question, &lt;em&gt;will tonight be the night that my 89 year-old Grandma sucks a Jell-o Shot out of a dixie cup to join the drunken ranks of the fruit of her loins?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dear God, let there be pictures to post tomorrow!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114330858099618964?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114330858099618964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114330858099618964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114330858099618964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114330858099618964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/family-has-arrived-now-i-must-make.html' title='The Family has Arrived, Now I must make Jell-o Shots!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114318072734922616</id><published>2006-03-23T21:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-24T08:36:48.713-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakdown, Breakdown</title><content type='html'>So my little guy, D, had the long-expected breakdown last night. He was tired, overwhelmed, confused, overloaded, worried . . . all wrapped into one. He has been so busy lately, mostly because of J and I getting engaged, looking for a house, etc. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Not too mention the sneaky little bully at school. But I'll take care of that little problem, if I have to! Damn first graders!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything that we (D and I) have known for 7 years has shifted in the last three months. Heck, I've had major breakdowns! &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;So he was a total booger to me last night.&lt;/span&gt; Attitude up the ying-yang! I responded by putting him in the shower and heading him towards bed. Before we got there, however, he lost it. Wrapped in a clean white towel, fresh from the shower . . . still wet, for that matter . . . he just curled up on my lap and cried. He misses J when he is gone. He misses him so much that he wished that we'd never met him. But since we HAVE met him, he just has to miss him. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;(This is all straight from him, the little 7-year-old therapist.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D is so afraid to hold onto the relationship that he has made with J. D has never known his birthdad and that still cuts deeply into his emotional development. He wants so desperately to cling to J, but he is afraid. Because no matter what I have said and done over the last several years, D has some belief that his birthdad left because of him. Which breaks my heart into a million pieces. &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;He is desperately afraid that J will leave too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be easier if I could just explain the whole issue of sexual preference to D and expect him to grasp and accept the concept. I can imagine the conversation . . . &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Baby, your birthdad didn't leave because of you. He left because of me. Because Mommies and Daddies have something called sex. And your Daddy only likes to have sex with other men. And Mommy is not a man . . . " &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Needless to say, it's not a conversation we'll be having anytime soon. But I still wish there was an easy way to take the pressure off of my most awesome little guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see . . . some random thoughts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Wedding: still no place . . . therefore still no date.&lt;br /&gt;2. House: both homes that we want are still firmly in escrow. &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Not with us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. My Body: bloated, too big, too jiggly . . . but not pregnant. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;(And I know this because of my incessant need to take pregnancy tests before having a glass of wine or cold medicine. I need to be buying them at the Dollar Store or get my neurosis under control!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Family: descending upon the Chico area tomorrow. For a LONG weekend.&lt;br /&gt;5. Fashion: did you know that freakin' leggings are coming back into style? Jiminy Christmas! What's next? Stirrup pants and flats? Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;6. Hormones: fairly normal - thanks be to God&lt;br /&gt;7. Weather: getting better&lt;br /&gt;8. My House: messy.&lt;br /&gt;9. My Current State: exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does that suffice for a random, slightly past my bedtime post? &lt;em&gt;I THINK SO! AND I AM STILL THE BOSS OF ME!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, a post script is necessary . . . D is rockin' at baseball. I think that my little guy may have gained some coordination this year. Smacking balls, making plays and the most important thing? &lt;strong&gt;Loving it&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The most impressive thing?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Not crying, like last year.&lt;/strong&gt; I am ALL ABOUT the sports that do not invoke tears. Amen to that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114318072734922616?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114318072734922616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114318072734922616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114318072734922616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114318072734922616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/breakdown-breakdown.html' title='Breakdown, Breakdown'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114300811450286090</id><published>2006-03-21T22:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T22:15:14.513-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Didn't get the house . . . again</title><content type='html'>So we put in an offer on the house in Cal Park. Above asking, clean loan . . . short escrow. And we STILL didn't get it. I know, &lt;em&gt;I really KNOW&lt;/em&gt;, that there is a house out there that is meant for us, but it's hard to take two times in a week. This was worse than the Brenni Way house because we went though the motions and emotions of placing an offer. Shit, John even drew up the plans for a 4th bedroom/3rd bathroom addition. He even met the neighbors. I really liked the house and LOVED the neighborhood. I'm kinda teary about the whole thing. So I'm going to bed. Where instead of celebratory s*x, we're talking maybe a conciliatory backrub? &lt;em&gt;Crap, it's just not the same!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114300811450286090?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114300811450286090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114300811450286090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114300811450286090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114300811450286090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/didnt-get-house-again.html' title='Didn&apos;t get the house . . . again'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114296991595121295</id><published>2006-03-21T11:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-21T11:40:36.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Normal Hormones, Hopefully?</title><content type='html'>I think it's amazing what hormones actually do to women. They can completely change your personality! Not to mention how you feel, look, act, desire, eat . . . they can really determine how you live and who you are! Nasty little buggers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After three weeks of living on the hormonal roller coaster, I am beginning to feel/be normal again. J looked at me yesterday and sighed and said, "honey, you're back!" He's right, I hope. &lt;em&gt;(Of course I didn't tell him he was right, I just smacked him on the arm and said, "so what are you saying, that I've been a bitch for the last few weeks?") &lt;/em&gt;Of course, I am still eating like a total pig, although my Spagettio cravings have gone away, at least! Who eats Spagettio's? At least, who eats them that is over the age of 8? I can only hope and pray that I never crave them again, for gosh sakes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're struggling with wedding stuff, although we are both on the same page. J's sister is newly pregnant, after lots of struggles to get there. Her due date is October 30th. Our wedding date, if we have it at Grey Eagle Lodge is October 14th. That means that his Mom wouldn't be able to make it, since she would be in Texas waiting for C to go into labor (&lt;em&gt;which I totally understand, by the way&lt;/em&gt;). So we have been looking for other venues, while keeping Grey Eagle hanging. They're only going to hang for a while longer. I found a place in Tahoe (which I was trying to avoid for all of the cheesiness that tends to go along with Tahoe) that might work. The problem, however, is that all of these places are currently under 10 feet of snow! It makes it tough to go look around and make decisions for a late summer/fall wedding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are also in the midst of house stuff. We found another house, slightly smaller than the one we fell in love with. Better neighborhood. No pool. Great lot. Older construction (it's just 10 years old, but still). &lt;em&gt;Better neighborhood.&lt;/em&gt; Did I say that already? We're ready to write an offer this afternoon, but it's scary in this market! Things feel weird. Inventory is coming up, but stuff is sitting longer. This house, of course, came on the market Thursday and had an offer in by Saturday. We just have great taste, and share that great taste with lots of other buyers, unfortunately!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heck, I might as well get pregnant, then we could really have a lot on my plate! Or run for the Board of Trustees for our School District. If we had an extra $10K to campaign? I swear I would. I am so frustrated by our current school board. They are so motivated by each of their own special interests. Granted, would I highly support charter school education? Heck, ya! But can I see things and make decisions based on the broader picture? You bet! But, alas, it is not meant to be. At least right now. And really? That's a good thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114296991595121295?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114296991595121295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114296991595121295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114296991595121295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114296991595121295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/normal-hormones-hopefully.html' title='Normal Hormones, Hopefully?'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114280160812190551</id><published>2006-03-19T12:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T12:53:28.133-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Engagement Photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/64.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/64.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/56.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/56.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/26.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still cannot believe that J hired a photographer to capture his proposal in print. It literally blows me away. He knows my heart like no one else has ever tried to. I am so incredibly blessed by him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114280160812190551?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114280160812190551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114280160812190551' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114280160812190551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114280160812190551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/more-engagement-photos.html' title='More Engagement Photos'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114275519769549088</id><published>2006-03-18T23:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-18T23:59:57.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Engagement; Captured</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/09.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/09.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; Seriously, could he be any more perfect for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114275519769549088?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114275519769549088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114275519769549088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114275519769549088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114275519769549088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/engagement-captured.html' title='Engagement; Captured'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114265479019776378</id><published>2006-03-17T19:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T13:35:23.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slacker . .. what a slacker I've become!</title><content type='html'>OK, in my defense . . . I've had a lot on my plate. School issues that have involved sitting at the Board of Trustees meeting for over four hours, just to speak at the "public comment" portion of the meeting which didn't begin until 11:00 pm. On a school night. That little escapade came after emailing the Board and District staff for about five straight hours. It also resulted in hours more worth of meetings scheduled, cancelled and then maybe scheduled again. So my volunteer position on our school board is definitely taking some time and energy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J came up on Wednesday. We found a house that we love. Unfortunately, they had just accepted an offer and it looks like it's going through. Pisser. Great neighborhood . . . corner house on a cultasack, inground pool, move-in ready . . . a couple of blocks from my Mom and lots of families that I know. We might place a back-up offer, but it will likely be for naught. My whole line of "it'll happen when it's supposed to, and the right house will come around when we're ready" really sounds empty when you've found a great house and can't have it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I traveled to Redding for work this week. It's budget season, which means big fun, all the way around. I actually worked on several projects. I started dealing with the hell that will be my taxes. I worked in D's class, made a huge project for his teacher's birthday, AND LOTS OF OTHER IMPORTANT STUFF. . . so am I excused from the blogging absence?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that I say . . . Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'm going to go drink some green tequila.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114265479019776378?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114265479019776378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114265479019776378' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114265479019776378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114265479019776378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/slacker-what-slacker-ive-become.html' title='Slacker . .. what a slacker I&apos;ve become!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114230573580236676</id><published>2006-03-13T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T19:08:55.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Clarification, re: the Ring</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/309_76585.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/309_76585.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; When I referred to the Nuva Ring in an earlier post (or two), I apparently confused some folks. Not surprising, given that I brought it up at about the same time that I had an engagement ring placed on my finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Nuva Ring is from the devil, if you will recall. The engagement ring is from the love of my life.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Nuva Ring is a hormonal method of birth control, also used to regulate hormones.  In my case, it caused the following symptoms: &lt;em&gt;weight gain, lowered sex drive, severe irritability, depression, bitchiness, near psychosis, and did I mention lowered sex drive and depression?&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not a good thing.  Unfortunately, the hormones do not immediately leave your body when you remove the ring.  It takes time.  And dear Lord, I hope that time is soon coming.  As does J, I'm sure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, TMI, I know, but too many people asked what type of reaction I was having to my engagement ring, so I had to clarify!  Have a good night and pray that the power of the Nuva Ring will soon be defeated!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114230573580236676?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114230573580236676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114230573580236676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114230573580236676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114230573580236676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/clarification-re-ring.html' title='A Clarification, re: the Ring'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114227509383702350</id><published>2006-03-13T10:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T10:38:20.960-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Recovering from a night with my good friend, Patron</title><content type='html'>When you start your Monday and all you can do is focus on when the weekend will arrive again? It's going to be a long week!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I overindulged on Saturday evening. Champagne, Patron and red wine was the order of overindulgence, finished off with much dancing and a 2:00 am breakfast at Jack's. However, it was well worth it! I was, with one other member of our Board, responsible for a brief presentation regarding how charter schools are different financially and why support was so necessary, as well as introducing our auctioneer. &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Five minutes before I was handed the microphone, I realized that I could no longer feel my tongue, due to the copious amount of tequila that had flowed over it.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Fortunately, I faked a decent level of sobriety and we had an awesome presentation, in a Letterman Top Ten format.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Reasons 10-2 were all fundamentally solid. Our #1 reason was an act of faith on my part. I had asked our Principal to don a tutu and dance for me . . . he (wisely) refused. I believed however, in the persuasive power of free drinks, and ended our list with, "&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;and the #1 reason to support CCDS financially is because we have a Principal willing to wear a pink tutu and dance to raise funds!"&lt;/span&gt; He came through, big time. Everyone was on their feet, screaming and yelling. It was great. &lt;em&gt;(We later auctioned off the RENTED tutu for a cool $1000.)&lt;/em&gt; Hopefully, that will cover the deposit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy G. and I bought a reserved parking spot for next year, which we will share on a rotating basis. J bought me a limited addition CCDS fleece for a tidy sum of $400. I reciprocated and bought his for a bargain price of $350. I spent approximately what I had budgeted (maybe slightly more, but who's counting?) and also co-bought a date for D with his teacher and one of his class cookie jars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell in a puddle of beer, which was not the highlight of the evening, but oh well. J says that I was somewhat graceful going down and really, that's all that matters! I also found out that my camera had been knocked out of the correct mode, so all of my pictures are blurry. Hopefully someone else got some to use in our slide show for next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J is gone again, here for just Saturday night through this morning. We looked at houses again yesterday and have come to the conclusion that we can get into something more financially feasible and still be very happy. So we're still looking. It's fairly important to both of us that we build this marriage on/in a neutral environment, versus where I have called home for almost 5 years. I am hoping that it will help me to accept his help more readily and feel like it's our home versus my home. I am so fiercely independent and I need to remember that being able to do it all by myself, doesn't mean that I should!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114227509383702350?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114227509383702350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114227509383702350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114227509383702350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114227509383702350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/recovering-from-night-with-my-good.html' title='Recovering from a night with my good friend, Patron'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114200937925415635</id><published>2006-03-10T08:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-10T08:49:39.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lace Dresses</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/8032b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/8032b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does the designer only tease me with the top of this dress? Why on earth would they not put up another view of it . . . Say with someone standing up and showing the BOTTOM HALF OF IT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what does it say about me that the dress I keep coming back to is four seasons old, thereby making it impossible to try on or buy through a normal retail establishment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;And WHAT DOES IT REALLY SAY ABOUT ME, that this dress is apparently a favorite dress for transvestites to choose when exchanging vows?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Nothing against the trannies, I'm just curious about what that says about ME? &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Because I should not enter a well-known dress designer and style number and continually be re-directed to trannie chat boards discussing how fabulous this dress is.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking that I should keep looking!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114200937925415635?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114200937925415635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114200937925415635' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114200937925415635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114200937925415635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/lace-dresses.html' title='Lace Dresses'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114194007070544327</id><published>2006-03-09T13:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-09T13:34:30.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy Week . . .</title><content type='html'>I'm beginning to think that there is no such thing as a mellow week around here anymore!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're finishing up all of the work on our annual school auction. It's Saturday night and today was the &lt;em&gt;two-day-prior-chaos-day&lt;/em&gt;! On Monday we had only sold 62 tickets. As of today, we had to add three additional tables and max out the venue to &lt;strong&gt;264&lt;/strong&gt;! It's awesome, but crazy, all at the same time. I am worried that we won't have big bidders there, but it always works out in the end. Maybe if bidding is not crazy, maybe we'll end up with the adorable class project for D's class. It's a beautiful birdbath that the kids decorated with little rock froggies. Too cute! But I'm not going over $300, so the likelihood will be that it goes home with someone else (which is a good thing, really)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next year, when I'm likely co- chairing the event? I will take the week prior to as vacation and spend all of my waking hours running around for the school. Because it's too hard to actually work when I'm this busy as a volunteer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had breakfast with a girlfriend this morning who shared with me that they are pregnant! Yah! I can't wait to buy cute things for all of my friends and (1) cousin that are preggo. Then maybe in a year or so, I can buy some cute things for a little one of my own. It's so odd to me that I completely set aside my dream of another child for so long, and now, it's almost within arm's reach (assuming that all goes well when we try)!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114194007070544327?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114194007070544327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114194007070544327' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114194007070544327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114194007070544327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/crazy-week.html' title='Crazy Week . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114163170075374553</id><published>2006-03-05T23:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T23:55:00.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Various Scenes from the Engagement</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/engaged.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/engaged.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114163170075374553?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114163170075374553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114163170075374553' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114163170075374553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114163170075374553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/various-scenes-from-engagement.html' title='Various Scenes from the Engagement'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114163162309521434</id><published>2006-03-05T23:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T23:53:43.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ring!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Engaged%20ring.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/Engaged%20ring.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114163162309521434?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114163162309521434/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114163162309521434' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114163162309521434'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114163162309521434'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/ring.html' title='The Ring!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114156940023705575</id><published>2006-03-05T06:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-05T23:40:02.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Getting Married!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Engagement%20(Amy)052.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So, I'll briefly summarize the days between Wednesday and Friday, because they can be summed up as this: &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;the Nuva Ring is not my friend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. It is from the devil. Now that we have determined that the Nuva Ring is from the devil and removed it from my person, I am slowly regaining a hold on my sanity. Things were UGLY for a few days. That J is still willing to marry me after those days? The man is a definite keeper!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday morning, we were leaving for Sonoma. I was hassled. &lt;em&gt;(Poor J looked out the window at 8:00 am to see me in pajamas and boots, frantically picking up dog poop in the backyard, just minutes before we were supposed to leave!)&lt;/em&gt; I had told him that I needed a few minutes to clean out my car if we were going to take it and he kept putting me off. Finally, I went into the garage and did it anyway. He peaked his head out and said, "honey, could you please stop doing that for a minute and come see something?" I shot him a look of death, but complied. Came out the front door to see a stretch limo parked in front of the house. J says, "you really didn't need to clean out your car, babe!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All should be good, but at that point, D loses it. He has been fairly tentative about J and I leaving AGAIN and the limo pushed him over the top. He runs to his room crying, tells J to "go away" when he follows him in and then covers his head with a pillow and sobs for 15 minutes. I talked him down, explained that riding in a limo really wasn't that much fun and that we'd be back on Sunday. D spilled a secret and said that we'd actually be back that night (thank goodness, since J wouldn't let me back anything!) So finally, we were off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J brought a bottle of my favorite sparkling wine, Veuve Cliquot, and there were chocolates in the limo, so that was our breakfast! I was able to relax and stop being pyscho-bitch for a while! We made one stop for gas and snacks in Fairfield and then headed to Sonoma. We stopped at Gloria Ferrer for a tasting, and then headed out for our appointment at Viansa. J had already told me that we had a tasting at 1:00, so I was expecting that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were led into the library by Robert, our wine guru. He poured us five increasing excellent wines, paired with some wonderful little tidbits f food and talked us through the whole thing. I had done similar tasting before, so it was fun to do it with J since it was the first time he had done anything like that. We had a grand 'ole time and Robert showed us out the door. He mentioned that we should really take a look up at the upper tasting area and be sure to look out over their riparian wetlands. We headed up there and I vaguely noticed that J's iPod and a few other goodies were set out on a table with some snacks for us. I thought it was very thoughtful of the winery staff, but continued to make my way towards the telescope and the riparian wetlands view! Poor J, he was not nearly as interested at looking through the sight as I was!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;He finally led me back over to the table and that's when it got blurry. "Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts came over the iPod and all of a sudden he was on his knee. I think I blurted out, "oh my God, are you doing this right now?" and then promptly burst into tears! Neither of us remember exactly what he said,but whatever he asked me, I said "yes!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I ever doubted that I adore this man and that he was created for me? He had a photography there to capture the whole thing! So, although I don't have them yet, I should soon have photos of the actual proposal and the time we spent after!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm cutting out a lot of details, because I am dying to go to bed, but the limo brought us back to Chico for my next surprise. We pulled up to the Italian Cottage and I saw D and my Mom and thought my surprise was having dinner with them - instead, after D and I took a quick ride in the limo? We walked into a room full of our families and friends, all who knew exactly what J had been planning all along!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will post more details and pictures later, but I am emotionally, physically and spiritually exhausted from the adrenaline rush that we've been living in over the weekend. I need sleep, lots more than I am going to get in the next 7 hours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way... if there was ever a cause for comments? This is it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114156940023705575?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114156940023705575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114156940023705575' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114156940023705575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114156940023705575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/03/im-getting-married.html' title='I&apos;m Getting Married!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114114871176101428</id><published>2006-02-28T09:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T12:10:43.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>UPDATED!  Way too much information . . . not for the faint-hearted!</title><content type='html'>Ok . . . why I am compelled to share this? I have no idea. Probably because I just spent 20 minutes laughing (to myself) so hard that it was difficult to remain standing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, when you prep for laser hair removal, you have to shave everywhere that you want the laser to remove hair. They recommend that you have help in order to gain &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;perfect symmetry.&lt;/span&gt; Well, J has been gone for 9 days, so he is no help! There's no way I would ask anyone else &lt;em&gt;(aren't y'all glad of that?)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a slippery slope, I tell ya. A little from this side to even it up, then a little from the other. &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I'd venture to guess that a lot of women get a lot more bare than their original intention.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Not that I would know or anything. Just an educated guess!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you have the application of a numbing cream. Um, down there. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;In the girly-bit region&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; I'm thinking I could have just gone to my next-door neighbor (who sells for Passion Parties) and bought some of her numbing cream, &lt;em&gt;thereby saving myself the embarrassment of having the pharmacist "consult" with me about the specific use.&lt;/em&gt; And the numbing? Really a bit more like burning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The final fun came in the form of the &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SARAN WRAP DIAPER&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Learn from me, people! If you think SARAN WRAP is sometimes tough to use when covering the salad bowl? &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Try fashioning a diaper, ON YOURSELF, when covered in numbing cream.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Just try it. It's good fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;And yes, if you were wondering, I do make noise when I walk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; A lot of noise. Won't be running errands on the way to the treatment center!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OK, I am back, with an update of my soon-to-be hairless coochie experience, for all to enjoy! &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off, I countered the cellophane noise by wearing nylon track pants - I am one smart cookie! But I still didn't stop to run errands! A note for future experiences with Saran Wrap . . . always leave a pull tab . . . a place to start the unraveling process. Because, combined with the numbness, it was difficult to unwrap the sticky goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, and most importantly, when choosing your treatment, you may opt for "bikini" which is hair outside of the fold of your leg. Or you may opt for "total bikini" which is anything more. What I did not recall ever discussing or choosing is &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"designated parts of bikini area AND THE CRACK OF MY ASS.&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;/span&gt; But apparently I did make that choice. &lt;strong&gt;Not enough numbing cream in the world for that one, ladies.&lt;/strong&gt; Holy crap. I managed to mumble the (really) bad words into the pillow, but geez, Louise! It hurt! Plus, I was feeling a little cheap! &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Here I paid her, I'm on my hands and knees, she's all up in my business and I don't even get a nice night on the town? Or a cigarette when it was over?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; That girl touched parts of me that shouldn't be touched, just so yah know! &lt;em&gt;(Actually she was uber-professional and I really like her, so I guess that's a good thing when someone is really "into" you with a laser.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I do think it will be worth it, I really do. And this was the worst of it, I think. I hope. Next time, I'll be sure to apply the good 'ole cream to even the most hidden bits. 'Cuz those were the spots that hurt the worst!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114114871176101428?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114114871176101428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114114871176101428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114114871176101428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114114871176101428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/updated-way-too-much-information-not.html' title='UPDATED!  Way too much information . . . not for the faint-hearted!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114110381532595980</id><published>2006-02-27T16:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T21:16:59.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Middle Finger . . .</title><content type='html'>is much better, thank you! It is still a slight shade of purple, but altogether MUCH better than I thought it would be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I had a lovely breakfast with my good friend, K, this morning. I just adore her (hi, K!). She has walked through some really hard things in the last few years,but I am so proud of the growth and strength that she has found. She is working her way through nursing school - and doing an amazing job of it. All the while, she's balancing and cherishing the lives of her three children. She has more grace and compassion under pressure than anyone else I know. She will make an amazing nurse, I know it! It was nice to be able to connect with her. Life has been a bit too crazy, lately and &lt;strong&gt;I REFUSE to lessen my grasp on my girlfriends&lt;/strong&gt;. They have been so important to me over the last several years and that will not change, love-of-my life or not!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also was able to connect with our favorite babysitter and friend, L, tonight, albeit by phone. She's away at school and we are missing her so much. She is like a little sister to me and I can't wait for her to come home for spring break! D, who has the memory of an elephant, had to call and remind her that she owes him $1 for some silly bet they made last June. I told L that she'd better come with it held over her head like a white flag when she arrives!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J will be up in on Wednesday and I am so ready. I get used to him being here, helping and taking some of the load off of me . . . then he goes and I get overwhelmed! So I will be relieved when he arrives. Plus, we're going to church for Ash Wednesday as a family and I'm excited to start the Easter season together. It's hard to worship without him each week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Speaking of Easter&lt;/em&gt;, D has decided to give up something for Lent. Not his Gameboy. Or his Gamecube, or God forbid, chicken and fries. &lt;strong&gt;But maybe his allowance. Or fudgesicles.&lt;/strong&gt; But he's not sure yet! He cracks me up! But he is very serious about the whole deal. And doesn't want any suggestions about what would be appropriate to sacrifice, that's for sure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am going into tomorrow to make a sacrifice . . . &lt;em&gt;of body hair&lt;/em&gt; that is! Tomorrow is the big day that I get to slather myself in lidocaine gel, wrap Saran-wrap around myself in a diaper-like fashion, wear tight underwear and preferably bike shorts (sorry - don't have any!) and go for my laser hair removal. Wooo-hoooo! A lot of pain and $$$$! I am excited! &lt;em&gt;(But talk to me in the summer, when I can slap on a bikini over my ever-thickening body and only worry about the exposed fat . . . exposed hair - not an issue!)&lt;/em&gt; Wish me luck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And can someone please shut the frogs up, for the love of Pete? My girlfriend, JS, could hear them over the phone, for crimony sakes! (Hi, JS!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114110381532595980?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114110381532595980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114110381532595980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114110381532595980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114110381532595980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/middle-finger.html' title='The Middle Finger . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114093602141719921</id><published>2006-02-25T22:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T22:40:21.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ouch!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/ouchyfinger002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/ouchyfinger002.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/ouchyfinger001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/ouchyfinger001.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My finger versus the closet door . . . guess who won?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114093602141719921?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114093602141719921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114093602141719921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114093602141719921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114093602141719921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/ouch.html' title='Ouch!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114092250730424789</id><published>2006-02-25T18:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T18:55:07.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Coronado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Coronado%20%28Amy%29072.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Coronado%20%28Amy%29072.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So last Saturday, woke up, had breakfast delivered to our room.  We wandered down to the beach for our photos with Carey (&lt;em&gt;my CD still hasn't arrived in the mail and I'm getting impatient to print and play&lt;/em&gt;).  It was so much fun to have those taken.  We wandered around "downtown" Coronado and headed back to the hotel with a pizza in hand to enjoy our balcony.  It actually was warm enough to put on swimsuits and get a little sun.  I got a little too much sun - but it felt awesome.  J had something up his sleeve, slipped off on his own for a while and came back telling me to be ready at 2:45.  He walked me down a little pathway to massage studio where he had booked me for a massage and facial.  I argued that it was HIS birthday, but there was no turning him!  So I enjoyed probably the best massage of my life.  I think she did a great job, but it was also the fact that he had given it to me and the beautiful surroundings of Coronado and the relaxed weekend.  I actually drifted off a couple of times during the massage!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was funny because she commented on my skin being beautiful.  I have been in and out of the dermatologist office for the last 7 years, trying to get my hormones to stop wrecking havoc on my face.  I have noticed a huge improvement over the last few months since I have been using Arbonne skincare products.  Nothing else in my life has made such an impact!  Email my (ex-sister-in-law, who is married to the brother of my gay ex-husband) &lt;em&gt;sister&lt;/em&gt;, Jessica at order_arbonne@yahoo.com if you want to know more.  (Yes, that qualifies as a shameless plug - but I wouldn't do it if I didn't believe in the product and believe in her.  I have also been using Bare Escentials makeup and I can't say enough about how great it looks on me.  &lt;em&gt;Love it!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, after my fabulous massage/facial, we went down to the beach, with a hat on my head, trying to disguise the oiliness that was my post-massage hair.  We watched the sunset and then headed back to the hotel.  On the way, we encountered two things that noticeably shifted the mood.  One had to do with a man who was incapacitated and relying on his wife/caregiver for assistance.  J had something to say along the lines of, if that ever happens to me, pull the plug because I wouldn't want to be a burden to you.  We argue the definition of burden and I tucked away the comment for later digestion.  Then we see the bride who had just gotten married in front of the Del.  She was in a very plain, white satin dress.  It wasn't my favorite, but J had to say how much he disliked plain wedding dresses and that I wouldn't be married in one.  WTF?  It all broke loose then.  His defense? "Well, I haven't done this before . . . " which I took as a direct jab at the fact that I have been married before.  So by the time we reached our beautiful room, I was teary and pissed and all-around annoyed.  (In my defense, I had started my period that morning . . . .)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we talked through it.  I told him how it made me feel.  He recanted and better explained the statements and we got ready for dinner.  We walked down to a Thai restaurant and ended up with a table in the bar.  Just before our food arrived, we entered into a discussion about having children with developmental disabilities.  And it was all over, ladies and gentlemen.  He made a statement.  I responded.  He didn't/wouldn't hear the response.  I didn't/wouldn't hear his intent.  A downward spiral occurred so fast, that I was in the bathroom in tears before I knew what had happened.  It was ugly.  With a capital U - Ugly.  Didn't eat much and got back to the hotel.  I had to cry it out on the bathroom floor before we could discuss it rationally.  And we did.  We worked through it.  And although I hated that the discussion/misunderstanding/argument intruded on our beautiful weekend, I can say how much closer I feel to him for having walked thorough it.  Each time we work through something like that, we end up more tightly woven.  And stronger.  But man, did it suck to get there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, we decide to go down to the hot tub.  And ignore the "No Glass" rule.  So J hid the bottle of champagne under his robe.  And accidentally dropped it on the marble staircase.  Whoops.  Glass and champagne EVERYWHERE!  It was made worse because it was the champagne that he had given me for Valentine's Day.  I had to physically stop him from going and finding a replacement bottle.  We relaxed a bit n the hot tub and then came back up for bed.  Our feet stuck to the marble as we came up the stairs - that was some sticky champagne!  I had to take the photo of J sitting by the "wet floor" sign.  I know the staff thought we were nutso!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My headache started right about then.  Followed quickly by nausea.  Luckily, J is a traveling pharmacy and has something to at least take away my nausea.  Zofran (sp?) is a good thing!  I didn't sleep well and woke up knowing that it would get worse.  We did have a great morning, even though I was a bit compromised with the headache/migrain that was slowly taking over my persona.  We wandered through the shops at the Del and ended up on their sundeck with a glass of wine before leaving for the airport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long and sordid story made short . . . Southwest had some issues.  We were very late after multiple attempts to get home on alternate flights.  By the time we landed, I felt badly enough that J wouldn't;t let me drive.  So he called his Commander and basically said that he wouldn't be at the base in  eh morning, as requested.  That he would get there when he could in the afternoon.  So instead of putting me in a rental car and sending me on my way, J drove me home.  We had progressed from over-the-counter meds by that point and nothing was helping.  By the time we got home, I was cross-eyed.  He took care of D and sent me to bed.  I ended up asking an expired Vicodin and passing out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt slightly better by Monday morning, although it literally took me almost four days to truly be over the headache.  It was all hormones, probably driven a bit by our argument on Saturday night.  Hopefully, if this new Nuva-Ring works (which is weird, I tell ya . . . weird!  It reminds me of those jelly bracelets we used to wear in the 80's.  Except, well, floating in my who-ha), then my hormones will even out and I will be sane.  Please, Jesus, please!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was our jolly trip to Coronado.  Awesome, but very real time spent together.  Each experience reaffirms my heart for him.  I am so amazingly grateful to have this chance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114092250730424789?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114092250730424789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114092250730424789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114092250730424789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114092250730424789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/back-to-coronado.html' title='Back to Coronado'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114090259744287570</id><published>2006-02-25T13:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T13:23:17.456-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Coronado Pics from Saturday - Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/coronadocollage2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/coronadocollage2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114090259744287570?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114090259744287570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114090259744287570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114090259744287570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114090259744287570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/coronado-pics-from-saturday-sunday.html' title='Coronado Pics from Saturday - Sunday'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114074471235333883</id><published>2006-02-23T17:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-23T17:31:52.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally Getting Back to It!</title><content type='html'>So my "later" ended up being "later in the week . . ."  Sorry!  These past weeks of traveling every weekend have caught up with me.  Add to that the major stressing at work and I have not sat down at the computer for anything other than the absolute necessary items!  (Such as work and ordering more Bare Escentials - since I can't buy it anywhere north of Sacramento, apparently!)  Speaking of Bare Escentials?  That stuff is like cocaine!  I can never go back to anything else, I am in love with how my skin looks when I use it.  It is awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, let's see, I have more pictures from Coronado, but haven't uploaded them to Flickr. We've been busy!  Tuesday night we went to see my Grandpa, who was re-admitted to extended care after just five days at home.  Wednesday during the day, I had to take Dylan out of school and to the Outpatient Center to have the large chunk or lead and wood removed from his right palm.  Wednesday night we went to dinner with my Dad who left today for three weeks.  I worked in Redding today and we just got home.  So, since we are going down to Travis AFB to stay the night with J tomorrow, I'd better be doing some laundry and oh, I don't know, maybe vacuuming the house?  Since it's been so long!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's more fun to blog and consider how and when my J is going to officially ask me to marry him!  I mean, crap!  It's been 8 weeks, what's a girl gotta do to get a ring around here!  He has gone from not wanting to even talk about a ring to asking me today what caret size I wanted?  What the heck?  Then he was stressing about next Saturday, about going to Napa and making sure I could leave at a certain and in general, wiggin out about it!  Now, he's freaking out about the 15th of March.  Freaking out.  I have no idea what he has up his sleeve.  But it's definitely something!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114074471235333883?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114074471235333883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114074471235333883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114074471235333883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114074471235333883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/finally-getting-back-to-it.html' title='Finally Getting Back to It!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114047088451700279</id><published>2006-02-20T12:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T13:43:27.003-08:00</updated><title type='text'>$350 a night and well-worth it!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/coronadocollage1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/coronadocollage1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I NEVER thought I'd say this, but I paid $350 per night (off-season) for our room . . . and it was worth every penny! Our suite was lovely. We had a large balcony that overlooked the pool and the bay. The bed was huge (we're getting one of those!) and fluffy. The history behind the hotel was amazing. We loved it and will find an excuse to go back sooner, rather than later. The staff was fantastic. They went so far above and beyond good service (and I have HIGH standards) that I cannot even describe it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to the airport and I finally told J that he could guess where we were going. I had him believing that we were going to Palm Springs. He believed that until we walked by that gate . . . I couldn't hide it any longer once we got to the correct gate. He warned me to not tell the flight crew that it was his birthday - said he wouldn't sit by me if I did. Well, it was a full flight, where else was he going to sit? So everyone sang and the SW crew made him a "cake" out of a toilet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took a taxi to Coronado. Once we checked in and had walked through the suite, he started to get a little, um . . . frisky. I had to tell him to tone it down for a few minutes and he was like, "Why? Come on baby, it's my birthday . . . " Right then, there's a knock at the door and I open it to three staff members coming in with a gorgeous cake and full champagne service. They set it all up on the balcony, I gave him his card and it was a perfect moment. Perfect! And the cake? Was unbelievable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent a little time in the suite, wink, wink . . . and then headed to the beach to watch the sunset. We got cleaned up and had a phenomenal dinner at an Italian place just down the street. J had steak &amp; lobster - done perfectly. Desert, wine . . . everything was great! We walked back in the rain (we started the relationship in the rain, so it was a good reminder) and had an awesome night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We woke up to a huge downpour at about 4:00 am. Went back to sleep and then woke to brilliant sunshine, which meant that our photo session was still on! We had our continental breakfast in the suite and then headed to the beach. Here is the link to the beach photos. Use the drop-down menu and choose Amy &amp;amp; John, then the password is younglove . . . she'll mail me the CD will full-resolution images this week and then I'll get to have some fun with them! &lt;a href="http://barefoot-memories.com/OnlineOrdering/"&gt;http://barefoot-memories.com/OnlineOrdering/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, that's pretty much it through Saturday morning, I'll finish up with the rest of the (mentionable) details and photos later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114047088451700279?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114047088451700279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114047088451700279' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114047088451700279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114047088451700279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/350-night-and-well-worth-it.html' title='$350 a night and well-worth it!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114018570437354808</id><published>2006-02-17T06:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T06:15:04.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving on a Jet Plane . . .</title><content type='html'>So we're heading out of here in a little bit. &lt;em&gt;I am still not packed, by the way.&lt;/em&gt; The weather report is now calling for rain all weekend. So we are going to Coronado. To stay in an incredibly expensive room. And watch the rain. &lt;strong&gt;Happy Birthday, my J!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; (Of course, from a man's perspective, being rained in all weekend is probably not a bad thing. I'm just thinking that we could have been rained in somewhere cheaper.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great weekend. I will update on Monday. Hopefully, I will have some great beach photos of my beloved and I. The photographer is still hopeful that it will be cloudy and dry. I can DO cloudy and dry!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114018570437354808?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114018570437354808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114018570437354808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114018570437354808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114018570437354808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/leaving-on-jet-plane.html' title='Leaving on a Jet Plane . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-114010053945554514</id><published>2006-02-16T06:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-16T06:54:07.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unpacking to Pack Again</title><content type='html'>With all of the intense counseling that I'd have, you would think that it might have actually stopped some of my OCD and controlling behaviors. But no. Now I keep doing them, but label and analyze them on my way! Where is the fun in that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I organized my bathroom cabinets at 10:00 pm last night. Organized as in, threw away a huge bag of makeup and products, WASHED MY BARE ESCENTIALS BRUSHES, lined up the freakin' nail polish by shades, etc. The nail polish, by the way . . . should be thrown out as well, because since I started going to Dawn almost a year ago for pedicures? I haven't touched a bottle of the stuff. Let's assume it is all bad and throw it out too! &lt;em&gt;(Although it looks so nice, all lined up by shades . . .)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I pack my bag? In fact, have I completely unpacked from last weekend? NO! Did I pack D's bag since he is staying at my Mom's? NO! Did I &lt;strong&gt;clean&lt;/strong&gt; the bathroom? NO! All of those things would be necessary. But, nope, the wacko in me comes out and begins to do the unnecessary. Oh, and my Valentine booklet for J? I decided I didn't like it. So I put together 4 pages for an 8x8 scrapbook. Because what else should I be doing at 10:00pm on a Wednesday night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being said, I need to get in the shower. Maybe I can clean it while I'm in there! I mean, really, I have an hour before I need to have D in the car on the way to school . . . plenty of time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-114010053945554514?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/114010053945554514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=114010053945554514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114010053945554514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/114010053945554514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/unpacking-to-pack-again.html' title='Unpacking to Pack Again'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113998116397165981</id><published>2006-02-14T20:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-14T21:26:04.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day Surprise Visit</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Texas119.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Texas119.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may know (or you may not) that I abhor Valentine's Day. It is fraught with unrealistic expectations and too many men crowding the supermarket lines at 5:15 trying to get a little love for their wives in the form of a badly packaged and overpriced dozen roses. Where is the creativity in that, I ask? So I told J last week that I would not be dealing with the big V-day on the 14th since he was at work and we'd be in he midst of our trips. He agreed. I am putting together a cute little digital book for him, from Heather Ann Designs, &lt;a href="http://www.heatheranndesigns.com/description_10_things.shtml"&gt;http://www.heatheranndesigns.com/description_10_things.shtml&lt;/a&gt; and a few other little things to give him on Thursday when he comes up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So what does he do?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Totally one-ups me and shows up at my house last night.&lt;/em&gt; We had flown separately into Sacramento and then met up for a quick dinner on the river. D and I came home, and J had to get some stuff done at his place. Next thing I know, he's at my door with beautiful pink roses and a bottle of my favorite champagne &lt;a href="http://www.wine.com/wineshop/product_detail.asp?PProduct_ID=SWS41175_0&amp;Nu=p_family_name"&gt;http://www.wine.com/wineshop/product_detail.asp?PProduct_ID=SWS41175_0&amp;amp;Nu=p_family_name&lt;/a&gt;! How am I supposed to be mad at him? Even though he is exhausted and has to work a twelve hour shift at noon? How can I be mad a man that drives 1.5 hours for me after just barely getting off the plane from our little Texas trip? He is amazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got D to school with his bag full of Valentines and candy. Brought a hot chocolate home for J (and a big latte for me), got him in the shower and then out the door (sadly). I jumped into work and he made it to Sacramento safely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did have a major find for our trip this weekend. I decided, while on the plane yesterday, that I would love to have beach photos of us. So I posted on twopeas and got some responses from area photographers. Then I decided to try, on the off chance, to see if Tara Whitney was available. Amazingly, she was. But then, when I realized that I was actually considering spending $800 for beach pictures? J would have killed me! And even I couldn't justify that! With wedding photos in our near future, I just couldn't make that one fly - even to myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then someone sent me a link to another area photographer, who &lt;strong&gt;just happened&lt;/strong&gt; to be doing a mini-session event &lt;em&gt;ACROSS THE STREET FROM OUR HOTEL&lt;/em&gt; on Saturday. &lt;a href="http://www.barefoot-memories.com/"&gt;http://www.barefoot-memories.com/&lt;/a&gt; She had an opening at 11:00 and I booked it. Paid for. Done deal. And I am so excited. I think J will be also. Although he'll complain about it a bit (having to get up, get dressed, etc.), he'll love having those pictures. Now if he'd just pack the ring and have it in hand in front of the photographer? That would be some excellent proposal mojo! (It's not going to happen, but a girl can dream!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering that I have to work at school until noon tomorrow, work in my Redding office after that, and then finish with a District meeting at 7:00 in Cotttonwood? I ought to get off my booty and either get something done around here, or go to bed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh, and speaking of my booty?&lt;/em&gt; I am starting Weight Watchers on Monday. Online point calculater, here I come!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113998116397165981?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113998116397165981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113998116397165981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113998116397165981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113998116397165981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/valentines-day-surprise-visit.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day Surprise Visit'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113990144750212554</id><published>2006-02-13T23:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T23:17:27.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Texas103.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Texas103.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Texas070.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Texas070.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Texas008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Texas008.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113990144750212554?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113990144750212554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113990144750212554' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113990144750212554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113990144750212554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/photos.html' title='Photos'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113990101594401701</id><published>2006-02-13T22:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T23:10:15.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home again . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I hate learning things about myself! REALLY!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I like to be in control.&lt;br /&gt;2. When I feel out of control, I might get a little bitchy.&lt;br /&gt;3. When given the opportunity to eat, I will. Even if I am not hungry in the slightest.&lt;br /&gt;4. When I eat a lot of crap, I get fat and bloated.&lt;br /&gt;5. When stressed, I take it out on the people I love the most.&lt;br /&gt;6. I crave being at home, doing "my thing" . . . whatever that means.&lt;br /&gt;7. When I can't do "my thing" "my way" I am not always very nice.&lt;br /&gt;8. When in a pinch (as in pulling a "C" card for boarding on Southwest), I have no problem saying that I'm pregnant for pre-boarding. &lt;strong&gt;There I said it.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;So sue me!&lt;/em&gt; It's hard to travel alone with a child, even when he is the world's most experienced traveler and does an amazing job of transfers, exchanging local currency and trying local cuisine. Waiting in line for an hour for an unassigned seat? Lame.&lt;br /&gt;9. I still put a lot of pressure on myself to be a perfect mother, future daughter-in-law and wife-to-be.&lt;br /&gt;10. I am so tied to my routine that I cannot poop when traveling. Especially when traveling with my intended.&lt;br /&gt;11. I miss the everyday basics of my life. I missed certain worship songs this morning when I missed church.&lt;br /&gt;12. I can still worship. even if it is with a cognizant change of my selfish attitude or with the help of iTunes at 11:10 pm.&lt;br /&gt;13. I am blessed beyond measure and need to learn how to infiltrate that into my every breath.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113990101594401701?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113990101594401701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113990101594401701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113990101594401701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113990101594401701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/home-again.html' title='Home again . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113980962614585901</id><published>2006-02-12T21:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T21:57:25.326-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging from the Lone Star State</title><content type='html'>So the weekend is winding down. D is asleep. J is in the shower. J's Mom and Stepdad have returned home. As have his sister and BIL. We are spending our last night here on the north runway of the San Antonio airport. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;But it has been good&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Lots of family time - but that's what we came for. J's family is lovely. Very kind people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We have eaten and been in the car more than I care to admit.&lt;/em&gt; But I had genuine Texas BBQ. And Joe's Crab Shack and numerous other meals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we saw countless animals from the Saharian plains. Really. I'll explain and add pictures on Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we're doing well. Missing the puppies, my Mama and Gram. We'll fly home tomorrow and get ready for the short week. J and I leave for his birthday weekend on Friday. I work in Redding on Wednesday. It's going to be crazy~ See ya'll soon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113980962614585901?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113980962614585901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113980962614585901' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113980962614585901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113980962614585901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/blogging-from-lone-star-state.html' title='Blogging from the Lone Star State'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113951627266736524</id><published>2006-02-09T11:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T12:17:52.693-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Packing for Texas</title><content type='html'>So I'm working, doing laundry and trying to pull it together! I haven't been sleeping well this week and I am exhausted! So ideally, I will have our bags packed and at the door by 8:00 this evening and can do my thing, relax and get to bed early. Because I am getting a bit crabby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went in for some more blood work. The assumption at this point is that I've had (a) an ovarian cyst rupture, (b) am ovulating - although being that I am on massive hormonal birth control I SHOULDN'T BE and (c) have endometriosis. The doctor wanted to do a laproscopic look-see yesterday to confirm it. Um, no thanks! We'll wait on that one. The blood work is just to rule out any type of infection that I may be experiencing and which would be more emergent that the above-mentioned conglomerate of causes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if I don't post again until Tuesday it's because I'm flying to the great state of Texas. To meet my future Mother-in Law. So if I'm not posting again by Wednesday or Thursday? Come looking for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just a thought . . . surprise me with comments while I'm gone. Come on!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113951627266736524?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113951627266736524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113951627266736524' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113951627266736524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113951627266736524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/packing-for-texas.html' title='Packing for Texas'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113947228390242263</id><published>2006-02-09T00:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-09T00:04:43.913-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny vomit story (not mine, thank goodness!)</title><content type='html'>For those that know my worst-ever vomiting story, you may understand why I laughed so hard that tears and snot streamed down my face while reading this . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.fluidpudding.com/"&gt;http://www.fluidpudding.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I just got home from BURNEY and am tired and a wee bit wacked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113947228390242263?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113947228390242263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113947228390242263' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113947228390242263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113947228390242263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/funny-vomit-story-not-mine-thank.html' title='Funny vomit story (not mine, thank goodness!)'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113942910595987806</id><published>2006-02-08T11:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-08T12:06:18.433-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday Update</title><content type='html'>So, Monday went on it's merry way . . . I ended up at the doctor's office with severe pelvic pain. Two ultrasounds later, and we still don't know what's going on! It looks like I ruptured an ovarian cyst on the right side. &lt;em&gt;So I'm having pain on the left side, why?&lt;/em&gt; J got a bit (ha!) concerned and hopped in the truck at the end of his shift Monday night and was here by 1:30 am. He's more over-reactive to this than I am. It's interesting to see him as a medical practicioner be completely &lt;strong&gt;unable&lt;/strong&gt; to distance himself and treat me like a patient. If I was some random patient in the ER? He would be all about letting time sort it out, etc. With me? Not so much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(And I'm only disclosing this on my blog because J has apparently already told his whole family about my girlie issues.)&lt;/em&gt; To one-up him for inappropriate disclosure? In talking with my OB/GYN yesterday and discussing the fact that we'd like to try for a baby in a year or so? My doctor offered to let J get his sperm sample "out of the way" so I could go on Clomid without delay if necessary. Needless to say, J declined the opportunity. Ha! That'll teach him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing like meeting his Mom for the first time and trying to avoid that fact that she knows about my ovaries. Hot dog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, drumroll, please . . . I am going to Burney. To make a presentation to the Fire District and various other Boards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck, because quite frankly, I feel like someone is taking my Fallopian tube and tying it in a knot, then stepping on it. With a big boot worn by an obese man. &lt;em&gt;(Who knew that fallopian is supposed to be capitalized? Not me!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Still no comments? Come on, people, just say something to the tune of, "Hi Amy. Sorry about your ouchy Fallopian tube. My name is Betty and live in Timbucktoo." Or "Hi Amy. It's your mother/best friend/neighbor and frankly, I think this qualifies as TMI!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113942910595987806?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113942910595987806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113942910595987806' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113942910595987806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113942910595987806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/wednesday-update.html' title='Wednesday Update'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113929440541360136</id><published>2006-02-06T22:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T22:40:05.460-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ok, seriously . . . comments, people!</title><content type='html'>You're here.  &lt;strong&gt;Comment. &lt;/strong&gt; Just say hi - let me know who is here!  Please?  End of rant.  &lt;em&gt;(Unless you are an ex.  Then I don't want to know.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113929440541360136?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113929440541360136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113929440541360136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113929440541360136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113929440541360136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/ok-seriously-comments-people.html' title='Ok, seriously . . . comments, people!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113927880748122720</id><published>2006-02-06T18:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T18:20:07.500-08:00</updated><title type='text'>That's One Way to Relax</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/iPod002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/iPod002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, a long day at school . . . now I get to kick it on the floor with my &lt;em&gt;video iPod&lt;/em&gt;? Serious relaxation for a first grader!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113927880748122720?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113927880748122720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113927880748122720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113927880748122720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113927880748122720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/thats-one-way-to-relax.html' title='That&apos;s One Way to Relax'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113926198251575223</id><published>2006-02-06T13:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T13:39:42.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conflicted . . .</title><content type='html'>So my stomach is really upset. I am sure that it's just too much stuff going on, but it's bothering me nonetheless. I feel overwhelmed by the entire idea of buying a home. It makes me want to crawl back under the covers and hide until the thought goes away. I've never been super responsible when it comes to finances. I'm having a hard time with it right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like such a loser that I come to the table with literally nothing to offer. I feel really ashamed and it makes it hard for me to talk calmly through it with J. I know, that in theory, I have had my plate REALLY full for the last 8 years. I know that when I had D, I was in debt up to my eyeballs and was making $24K a year as a teacher. I was spending all that I had and more. Instead of shifting that habit around when I began to make more, I simply began to spend more. So why am I so afraid to handle money responsibly? I have a long-time habit of developing budgets that I don't follow. I'm the only one to blame. Now that there is so much at stake, I'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want his help in all of this. In all honesty, I want him to handle it. Period. Give me a freakin' allowance - I don't care! (Saying that, I realize how archaic it sounds, and I know how hard that would be for me, but still . . . ) I just want to help him fulfill his wildest dreams for our family and I'm afraid that I'm too much of a risk in that area. It sucks, big time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Added to the financial shit, I found out today that a long-time family friend has had a relapse with her ovarian cancer. She is a woman that has already dealt with way too much shit in her life. And she's done it with the most grace and kindness ever imaginable. Their family deserves so much more than this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It must be Monday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113926198251575223?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113926198251575223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113926198251575223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113926198251575223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113926198251575223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/conflicted.html' title='Conflicted . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113919565732879843</id><published>2006-02-05T19:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T19:14:21.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whoops, I Got to Rambling!</title><content type='html'>So yesterday I alluded to a date night . . . we had one, ladies and gentlemen; indeed we did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night, my Mom kept D while J and I went to dinner (5th Street), a movie (Glory Road) and wine/dessert (Christian Michael's). We had a great time . . . talked some wedding ideals, even though I had previously stated that I would not - until there was a ring on my finger. We also talked through some of our communication style issues (we're both opinionated, blunt, and slightly defensive) And articulate. &lt;em&gt;It's always good to be articulate when you're any combination of blunt, opinionated and defensive! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The super cool thing about J and I is that we've probably talked through more "issues" in the last five weeks than I EVER have with anyone else. We've had lots of firsts with each other - most of them center around trust-type situations, and levels of comfort. I don't worry that he sees me when I roll out of bed. Or when I am tired and lame. Or tired and bitchy. Which has happened on occasion. But at the same time, I &lt;strong&gt;LOVE&lt;/strong&gt; that he took D to my Mom's on Friday night so that I could get ready and meet him at the door, like a real date. I want to keep that as a priority in future date nights. I don't want to be shaving my legs and talking with him while he's on the toilet - &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; - let alone on a date night! I want to keep some element of mystery and seduction, even in the midst of the normalcy that we're striving towards. That being said, the shirt I wore, was WAY too low-cut. Serious boobage was spilling over. I found myself pulling my sweater together whenever I could. Whoops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh. And all of the dating goodness?&lt;/em&gt; Was capped off by me falling asleep - deeply asleep - within a few minutes of arriving home. Nice move. But what can I say? Apparently, I was very tired and relaxed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113919565732879843?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113919565732879843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113919565732879843' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113919565732879843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113919565732879843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/whoops-i-got-to-rambling.html' title='Whoops, I Got to Rambling!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113911002018843755</id><published>2006-02-04T19:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T09:58:01.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunshine, Foothills and a Date Night?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/IndianMtn011ac.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/IndianMtn011ac.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a great day we had yesterday. It was a beautiful day - a much needed break from the many days of rain and cold. We took D to school and the dogs to the vet, and then headed out to look at neighborhoods and homes for sale. Nothing really struck our fancy (although we found something that we both liked tonight), but it was a great way to spend some time together and talk through likes and dislikes, wants and dreams, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a funny (not really funny ha-ha, more a not-really-funny) conversation about Peter. I had called him a couple of days before to talk to him about his subdivision and the newest phase of construction. We talked a couple of times in the last few days - always when I was with J. Peter called yesterday morning to ask me about developmental milestones for children because he was registering H for kindergarten and couldn't remember some of the major milestone dates. When I got off the phone, I asked J if it bothered him that I had been talking with Peter. He said, "no, since you don't have any history with him." Of course, I turned bright red and said, "well, actually . . . " So we agreed that I wouldn't see Peter without J. Which I wouldn't want to anyway. I explained that his girls meant a lot to me and that we had worked hard to find a friendship after our BRIEF dating experience. J understands, and I understand how it would make me feel if the shoe were on the other foot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We grabbed D from school and went to lunch. Ran a couple of errands and then headed up into Upper Park. We had a great time hiking around and enjoying the beautiful day. Funny coincidence (of course), but while we're at the top of the ridge, who do we see? Peter's ex-wife, her new guy and H. I introduce everyone around, we have some awkward conversation and we're on our way, not before H clings to me for 5 minutes. It has to be hard for J to see someone that I have some type of connection with at every turn. Speaking of . . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed to register D for baseball this morning. We were all going to go, then decided I'd just run out to save time and hassle. I didn't;t realize that it was Minor try-outs today. So who is there? M. He sees me, I see him . . . and we both just choose to ignore each other! It makes me sad, but there's really nothing that I can say or do. Half of me is glad that J wasn't;t with me, just to avoid hurting M. The other part of me thinks that maybe it would help M to realize that people merge lives when they date! Hello? Seven months of back and forth with M and we were still content to see each other a few times a month? And he thinks that normal? Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, J is still here and D has a friend over for a sleepover, so I am out of here! More later (as in, after the man of my dreams goes back to Sac to work tomorrow)!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113911002018843755?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113911002018843755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113911002018843755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113911002018843755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113911002018843755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/02/sunshine-foothills-and-date-night.html' title='Sunshine, Foothills and a Date Night?'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113876433951031672</id><published>2006-01-31T18:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-31T19:26:25.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today . . .</title><content type='html'>So, I made a quick trip to Sacramento today for work. Had a great meeting - very worthwhile. It was made even more worthwhile because I got to sneak in a lunch with J! I have missed him, so much! I really wanted to maul him, right then and there, but was fairly certain that the other patrons at Chili's wouldn't have appreciated it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even better news? He's on his way up right now and should be here by 8:00 or so. It amazes me that D and I have lived in this house for 4+ years by ourselves and it's never seemed so empty before! It just feels like home when J is here. And that, for me, is the weirdest thing of all! Because I always assumed (as did those close to me) that I would struggle the most with sharing space and routine with someone. It has not, as of yet, been a struggle. I mean, we've had our moments. I need to learn to share a little better. I need to drop my defenses when he asks about situations or issues with D. It's hard for me at certain moments, but not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;But right now, all I can think about is burying my lips into that man's luscious neck! That's not difficult for me in the slightest!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113876433951031672?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113876433951031672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113876433951031672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113876433951031672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113876433951031672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/today.html' title='Today . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113868059288992025</id><published>2006-01-30T20:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T20:09:52.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Freaky Ass Weather!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/hailstorm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/hailstorm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113868059288992025?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113868059288992025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113868059288992025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113868059288992025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113868059288992025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/freaky-ass-weather_30.html' title='Freaky Ass Weather!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113865183272015572</id><published>2006-01-30T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-30T12:10:34.983-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One Month . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/January30001%20copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/January30001%20copy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One month ago, December 30, 2005, I met the man that I'm going to marry. (No, there's no official "ask &amp;amp; answer" yet). And he just sent me a beautiful bouquet of roses. With a fantastic card. How many men remember their one month anniversary? I love him so much that it literally takes my breath away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113865183272015572?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113865183272015572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113865183272015572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113865183272015572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113865183272015572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/one-month.html' title='One Month . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113860118894483480</id><published>2006-01-29T19:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-29T22:07:52.753-08:00</updated><title type='text'>48 Hours To Go . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/American-Flag.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/American-Flag.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/American-Flag.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This has been so hard. This is the longest that we've been away from each other AND it's the most involved J has been with work since we started this whole deal. He has been super focused. And being that he is a man, when he's focused, good luck getting in his head! It really is past time for him to concentrate on work, certainly. But it doesn't make it any easier!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going down to Sacramento on Tuesday for a meeting. My plan is to meet J for lunch, even though he'll be at my house by 8:00 pm that night. I actually considered trying to get down there Monday night, even though he'd be working until 12:30 am. Given that he'd probably sleep until my meeting at 10:00, it doesn't make a lot of sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can honestly say, I've never physically missed someone so much. Whenever I've been away from D, (a) it's never been longer than three days and (b) always been super busy. Being at home, doing our normal thing just makes it harder for him to be gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NBC Nightly News ran a story on the Air Force Medical compound in Balad. D called and alerted L that the the media had been there all day and they time of airing. I had suspected, and it was confirmed by the clip, that they had taken Bob Woodruff and Doug Vogt there. We didn't see D on the clip, but L saw a few folks that she recognized. J will see it when he comes up on Tuesday. It definitely brings it all home. Makes me even more emotional, if that's possible right now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113860118894483480?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113860118894483480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113860118894483480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113860118894483480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113860118894483480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/48-hours-to-go.html' title='48 Hours To Go . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113843457347967444</id><published>2006-01-27T23:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T23:52:51.720-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm getting there . . .</title><content type='html'>So I added my flickr link (although I wanted it a little farther down the sidebar). That's something! Now if I could just customize this dang template without spending hours learning stupid code . . . come on, someone has to be able to help me? Anyone? Then if I could just add my playlists through iTunes, I think I could be considered a techie, ya know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe. But probably not! If I'd just give in and let J into my blog then he could likely do it for me. But then where would I process all of my innermost thoughts? &lt;em&gt;(Not like he doesn't hear them anyway, so why am I hung up on it?) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113843457347967444?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113843457347967444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113843457347967444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113843457347967444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113843457347967444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/im-getting-there.html' title='I&apos;m getting there . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113841132113523529</id><published>2006-01-27T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T17:25:48.796-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Basketball Fun!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/UpwardJan26021wb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/UpwardJan26021wb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113841132113523529?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113841132113523529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113841132113523529' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113841132113523529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113841132113523529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/basketball-fun.html' title='Basketball Fun!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113841114748403476</id><published>2006-01-27T16:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-27T17:19:07.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finally, a Moment or Two . . .</title><content type='html'>What a freakin' couple of days! I am only an 80% employee. Which typically translates into having some flexibility and not working most Fridays. Today was not one of those Fridays! I started at 5:00 am. Took D to school, came back to "finish" up a few pertinent projects, and got sucked into a whirlwind of craziness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a few projects that go to public hearing next week. Today, apparently, was the day that everyone was going to freak . . . about all of them! Between the attorneys, reporters and Commissioners, I ran my phone battery down to nothing by 11:00 am. I finally finished at 3:30. My office looks like it exploded. I am going to ignore it, at least for a while!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J is down at the base for the weekend. We had toyed with idea of D and I going down tonight and seeing a movie, having dinner and coming back up tomorrow morning. We decided that both D and I needed a bit of time at home, just relaxing and catching up. It was a good decision, given what today turned into! We may go down tomorrow night, if we feel like it, but it feels good right now to have nothing to do tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those who know my history, you know that my nickname is Fertile Myrtle. I am also a paranoid freak. So I ripped my hormone patch off a few days early since I was PMSing so badly. I expected to start my period within moments. But I didn't. So I freaked. Fifteen minutes prior to our first counseling appointment together, I decide that I must take an EPT - right then! So we bought a box (looking ahead to future freakiness) and I peed on one in the bathroom at the counselor's office. And then obsessively checked it for the next five minutes. See, I'm used to positive pregnancy tests. I didn't know what a negative looked like! So I made J run out to get the instructions and confirm it. I was absolutely NOT pregnant, and of course, started my period within about 30 minutes of having taken the test. Of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was amazingly great about it though. He knew I wasn't pregnant. I knew (in my head) that I wasn't. We talked about it a lot. He is so good to me. He flat out said that if it's meant to be, it'll be. Now I'm a bit surprised that I'm kinda sad. I want different timing. I don't ever want to repeat the pregnant before married scenario again. But I'm still kinda sad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I'm off to make dinner for D. Which will be eaten in front of the TV. Because we can, damn it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113841114748403476?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113841114748403476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113841114748403476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113841114748403476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113841114748403476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/finally-moment-or-two.html' title='Finally, a Moment or Two . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113820164950864514</id><published>2006-01-25T07:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T07:07:29.506-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am Alive!</title><content type='html'>So for those of you that read this blog to determine if I am still breathing? And call me when I haven't posted in five days to make sure that I haven't been abducted by aliens? I'm fine! Still kicking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just been a super-crazy few days, full of meeting family and counseling appointments and looking at houses, all on top of regular life with a seven-year-old. It's all good, I just need to catch up a bit. Maybe work more than two hours at a stretch? I'll try and update tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a great day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113820164950864514?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113820164950864514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113820164950864514' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113820164950864514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113820164950864514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-am-alive.html' title='I am Alive!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113791250096359059</id><published>2006-01-21T19:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T07:03:42.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Crazy Day or Two</title><content type='html'>OK, so Thursday night, I thought I had lost my entire computer system. Things locked up in the midst of a virus scan and I got panicky. Added to the fact that D was still not feeling well, and by mid-morning on Friday, I was thinking that I would not be going down to stay with J. It was breaking my heart. My stomach was in knots and I just didn't know what to do! Lots of flip-flopping later, I set aside the computer issues and confirmed that D was feeling better. I set out later than planned, but was at least on my way down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trip was easy, although I got a bit stressed to realize that although I paid my DMV on time and they actually cashed the check, I didn't ever receive my registration and stickers. Why I thought of this on the way to see the love of my life? Who knows! They shouldn't have even let me on base, but they did, so for that, I'm dang grateful!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so good to see him. So good to connect on a completely adult level and have that time to let go of being a Mommy and balancing life. We have so much fun together. I love how we can laugh at the craziest of things. I love how he can mimic me down to exact tonal quality. I love that if I give him an inch, he takes a mile and has me laughing and shaking my head the whole while!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and D had a good talk while I was gone. D talked about how he would feel if J and I get married (good), about J adopting him (good), about what he would call him if he did (not yet determined, but not "Papa" or "Daddy" for various reasons) and about me possibly having another baby (mostly good ...) My sister, however, must have talked to D about how she felt in labor???????? Told him that she stopped breathing and blah, blah, blah ... so poor D has been holding in all of this fear that I will stop breathing if I have another baby. And that if you stop breathing, you can die ... so they worked through that, my poor little Monkey and my Mama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got home and the sun was out - thank God! I finally managed to get through about 80% of cleaning out the garage. Well, maybe 70%. Then tonight, I was moving just one more box and managed to drop it. The very top item? A lovely Cabernet Sauvignon that was ranked 92 by Wine Spectator. Did you catch the "was"? It is now completely absorbed by two towels and sitting in the garbage can. The glass remnants are almost completely picked up as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I am doing delicate laundry. I can go months and ignore it all. Getting dressed for work and events definitely gets harder though! I forget what blouses I have and certain slacks. I tend to push the envelope though on "dry-clean only". I figure that washing in cold on gentle is good enough. Except for stuff that I REALLY love. Then I suck it up and take it to the cleaners. Which needs to happen soon. Because I also have three sleeping bags from camping last year that need to go as well. I put them in my car, just in hopes of moving them closer to the cleaners. Now my car probably smells like campfire!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I am planning a lazy morning. Get up, baseball cap on and run out to get donuts (for D) and the paper (for me). Then we're off to the 11:00 at BP and to lunch with friends after. J should be here in time for dinner, so I'll make a man-meal for him (meat and potatoes, all the way baby!). And then we'll settle back into the fact that he's here for three days. Then we start all over again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113791250096359059?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113791250096359059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113791250096359059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113791250096359059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113791250096359059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/crazy-day-or-two.html' title='A Crazy Day or Two'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113769020686006001</id><published>2006-01-19T08:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T09:03:26.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Sick</title><content type='html'>D is at home, having a sick day.  He was super groggy and hot when I tried to wake him this morning.  I took his temp (102.5), gave him Motrin and sent him back to bed.  He slept for another hour and a half and woke up feeling fine.  He has some dark circles under his eyes and that glassy eyed/chapped lip look that kids get when they'll sick, but other than that, is really enjoying the down time.  I think he needed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am waiting on some work for my office staff to produce so I can finalize the mid-year budget report for our February meeting.  Until then, I can amuse myself with my blog and laundry and landing big kisses on D's head anytime I pass him by!  But I should probably focus on some other items as well . . .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113769020686006001?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113769020686006001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113769020686006001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113769020686006001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113769020686006001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/home-sick.html' title='Home Sick'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113764601827272501</id><published>2006-01-18T20:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T20:47:59.140-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Quick Trip to Meet Dad</title><content type='html'>So I made a bonzai trip down to meet J's Dad and Stepmom today. I was up and working by 5:00 am to try and get enough work behind me to leave by 10:00. It worked and I headed down to meet them for lunch. I wasn't nervous at all, until J called called to tell me to "not be nervous and don't change your clothes 100 times" and then I WAS nervous and worried about what I was wearing! I ended up being a few minutes late, but it was probably good to give them more time to adjust to the whirlwind story that J was telling them! They have been in Hawaii since the 1st and have obviously missed a lot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within minutes, I was 100% comfortable. They are obviously great people. Very accepting and very excited for J and I. They were easy to be around, very warm and welcoming. The final discussion was, "just tell us where, when and what to wear." I was very relieved!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving J was super hard. I want to cling to him and simply not let go! I'll see him in two days and it will just be us for the night . . . but I've pouted for most of the evening anyway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny discussion about rings. I had talked to my Mom about her wedding set. J was waiting to talk to his Dad about his grandmother's wedding set. We'd looked at rings. Then his Stepmom offered up her rings . . . all these rings and nothing on my finger yet! So no more discussion about weddings until (a) ring is on my finger! &lt;em&gt;Honestly, he could take a twist tie from the produce section and put it on my finger and I'd be content . . . at least until my finger turned green!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113764601827272501?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113764601827272501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113764601827272501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113764601827272501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113764601827272501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/quick-trip-to-meet-dad.html' title='Quick Trip to Meet Dad'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113754932307735798</id><published>2006-01-17T17:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T06:19:44.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'>And seriously?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/db_YosemiteChapelAndHalfDomeByChristineWhiteLoberg3.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/400/db_YosemiteChapelAndHalfDomeByChristineWhiteLoberg3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/db_YosemiteChapelAndHalfDomeByChristineWhiteLoberg3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want a church wedding, I really don't. But if I had to have one? &lt;em&gt;(I know I don't &lt;strong&gt;HAVE&lt;/strong&gt; to do anything . . . just thinking outloud.) &lt;/em&gt;I'm thinking this wouldn't be so bad?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113754932307735798?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113754932307735798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113754932307735798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113754932307735798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113754932307735798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/and-seriously.html' title='And seriously?'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113754876041033721</id><published>2006-01-17T17:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T17:46:00.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to the Grind</title><content type='html'>I am having a hard time switching from J being here to being gone. Also having a difficult time turning on the work switch. The last six weeks have been such a blur. I can't quite fathom that I'm prepping another public hearing for the first week in February. It seems like I just did one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D's school is kicking into high gear with lots of activities and events. More homework, more testing. It just seems a bit much for a bunch of six and seven year-olds! Added to the chaos is basketball. Not to mention baseball sign-ups are tomorrow and I begin a class at church . . . the coming weeks are enough to make me dizzy! I need for Spring to come and bring longer days. The cold and darkness is too much for me at this stage. I'm ready to be warm. Otherwise, I just want to crawl into bed and stay there! &lt;em&gt;(Can I? It's 5:35 pm, freezing cold, raining and dark . . . it sounds feasible to me!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and by the way?  I will never run for 50 minutes again.  Never again.  I can't bend my feet or much else.  I hurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113754876041033721?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113754876041033721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113754876041033721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113754876041033721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113754876041033721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/back-to-grind.html' title='Back to the Grind'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113744449366190399</id><published>2006-01-16T12:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T09:14:04.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another 48 Hour Date</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Jan%208-15047sq.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Jan%208-15047sq.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Jan%208-15042sq.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, J thoroughly enjoys keeping me off-balance. Instead of going home after his 12 hour shift, he got in the car and called me at 2:15 am . . . from my front porch! He knew that if he told me, I'd flip out about him driving that late, that tired, etc. I was wearing old flannel pajamas and had left my room a total disaster while I sorted out clothes . . . welcome to my life, babe! At least he's seeing the real nature of our lives and home (although there's something to be said for keeping some of it a mystery). I got so jazzed about seeing him that I wasn't able to go back to sleep. So we were up until almost 6:00 am. Whoops! D woke me up at 7:15. So things were a little tired around here on Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J and I escaped for lunch, just the two of us and talked through some wedding stuff. He doesn't fully understand why I am so opposed to the full-blown traditional wedding. And I do understand that he hasn't had one. And he deserves to have that. So we'll need to find a compromise. I actually did some looking today and am fairly intrigued by the idea of a wedding in Yosemite. Keep the list fairly tight, mostly family and a few friends. Do more of a vacation-type atmosphere. There are lots of lodging options that could suit any preference for luxury vs. economy. It gave me some glimmer of excitement about pulling something together. Because when it's said and done, I just want to be his wife!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We saw "Hoodwinked" with D on Saturday afternoon. Worst. Kids. Movie. Ever. Indescribably BAD! Pizza for dinner and then headed for bed! I was too tired to function. D had a mini-breakdown (it was quite justifiable given the changes that have swept our home lately) and I literally just had to kiss him and walk away. He was over-tired and pulled a selfish tantrum, but again, he deserves to do that every so often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was much better as far as how I felt physically. I needed to gorcery shop (badly) and J sent me out the door while he hung with D. So nice to go to the store by myself without paying $10 per hour to do it! Then I came home and went for a run. Unfortunately, I was so relaxed and such in a complete escape mode, I went for 50 minutes instead of my typical 30. My legs are killing me right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D had a friend over and we migrated to the park a bit later. The boys (all three of them, including J) had a great time playing tag and hide/seek. I got some great pictures and it was good to see the sun! It was only one day, but it was better than nothing. Then we were off to see L&amp;amp;D, since he is leaving for Iraq tomorrow. It was a frantic, chaotic environment and I had to work to hold it together, but it was good to say goodbye. I am so committed to covering their family in prayer and service while he is gone. It is even more important to me now, knowing the full sacrifice these men make. The knowledge that I will have to release J to deployment at some point is the only thing that draws me towards insanity in this entire deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finished the day with dinner at my Mom's. She and her boyfriend are a lot of fun to be around. I think he felt better after meeting J, since he was pretty much out of town and I fell in love over those 12 days that he was gone! J, D and I had a rousing game of Go Fish, in which we all spoke in English accents. My accent tended to swing towards a Scottish flavor . . . not sure where that came from. I love the fact that J gets right on the floor with us and connects at that silly level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came home and got D settled into bed. J then poured me a glass of wine and I knew that something was up as soon as he handed it to me! We talked through some of his past and worked through how those issues affect us now. It was good. I wish he would have brought it all up sooner. He got himself into quite the state, worrying about my reaction. I hope that he was reassured by my responses. It's going to take some time for both of us to grow through our insecurities and begin to truly trust how we react to the difficult stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was completely reassured, yet again, by the ease in which he infiltrates into our lives. I miss him so completely when he goes. Friday seems a long ways away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113744449366190399?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113744449366190399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113744449366190399' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113744449366190399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113744449366190399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/another-48-hour-date.html' title='Another 48 Hour Date'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113720847963942620</id><published>2006-01-13T18:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T20:18:25.226-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chocolate cake for dinner and the Annual Victoria Secret sale?</title><content type='html'>These two items should not be combined, by the way! You should never have chocolate cake while sitting in front of the computer, ordering lingerie! (Especially if you're drinking a margarita at the same time!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to drive to Sacramento today for a meeting. Unfortunately, I was not able to coordinate schedules with J in order to see him. I did, however, consider driving a block away from his ER and "fainting" in order to spend some time with him. I did decide, that given the random nature of patient assignment, I'd likely end up with a scary, overweight female nurse who would see through my scheme!  She'd probably find some excuse to give me a rectal exam while she was at it!  Not what I was looking for, that's for sure!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He will be here in the morning. So I'm clinging to that. It will come soon enough. (Not really!) If I could re-harness that neurotic tendency of last week, then I could get a lot done between now and then. But instead, I'll have another piece of cake at some point and flip mindlessly through the channels while I fold the countless loads of laundry that have taken over my life. That is some excitement, baby!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113720847963942620?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113720847963942620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113720847963942620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113720847963942620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113720847963942620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/chocolate-cake-for-dinner-and-annual.html' title='Chocolate cake for dinner and the Annual Victoria Secret sale?'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113713022187128661</id><published>2006-01-12T21:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T21:30:21.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few Photos, Just for Fun!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Holiday%20Sing011crop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Holiday%20Sing011crop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Christmas%20(Mom)040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Christmas%20%28Mom%29040.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/David"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/David%27s%20Party%20004%20copy.4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113713022187128661?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113713022187128661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113713022187128661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113713022187128661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113713022187128661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/few-photos-just-for-fun.html' title='A Few Photos, Just for Fun!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113711969800232946</id><published>2006-01-12T18:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T20:02:24.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hitting the Wall</title><content type='html'>Well, I made it past the 48 hour mark . . . barely. I made it all the way until about 1:30 today, which would have been, well . . . 55 hours since he left. It's getting longer! I got pretty pissy and irritated with work stuff. Got hungry for a bunch of crap and basically turned into a bit of a bitch. Unlike last week, I am not channeling my issues for the greater good. In fact, instead of hauling all that crap I sorted last week to Goodwill? I've just left it in the garage and parked in the driveway. Nice! I could at least move it to the side, but that would require going out there, and it's too dang cold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J will be here Saturday morning. I'm going to try and set up a playdate for D so that we can spend some grown-up time during the day. Then we'll do something together and with our friends L&amp;amp;D, since he's deploying on Monday. That whole thing is making me feel so guilty for missing J while he's at work. Especially when there's all likelihood that someday I'll be sitting in her shoes when J deploys. Hopefully J will trade his Sunday shift for Monday and can just stay through Monday morning. If not, we'll make it work. God knows there is plenty that I should be doing on Sunday, but if he's able to be here, then all bets are off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J called today and asked me and D to go to Texas with him next month to meet his Mom. I so appreciate his desire to include D, and honestly, since it's the weekend before his birthday trip, I wouldn't be able to find someone to watch D anyway . . . but it adds a different element of pressure. It means that I have to be impressive as a mom and as a wife-to-be, all at the same time. I know that I can pull it off, it just means a lot to me that his family likes me. This has all happened so fast and I can only hope that they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J is waffling on the wedding issue. &lt;em&gt;(Not about whether to get married, rather to have a big wedding instead of a destination wedding.)&lt;/em&gt; He really wants to do the whole deal. I don't know if I can manage the poufy white dress thing again. I don't really want to have the bridesmaids in matching dresses and tuxes all around. I can't imagine my friends buying me &lt;em&gt;ANOTHER&lt;/em&gt; wedding gift! So hopefully we'll talk through some of it this weekend and find out what each of us really wants and how to find a compromise that works. When I make a list of the people that I really want to be there (from my side), there are about 25. About 4 of them are absolutely necessary. I would guess that of the 25, 15 would travel to "somewhere" with us. But his family is the most important. And he needs to make that call. I would also gladly have a big reception here, later. But when it's all said and done, I want to make him happy, no matter what. I just hope to God it doesn't have to include a big white wedding dress - please!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113711969800232946?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113711969800232946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113711969800232946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113711969800232946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113711969800232946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/hitting-wall.html' title='Hitting the Wall'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113694734148449092</id><published>2006-01-10T17:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T20:05:59.683-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Bit 'O Catch Up (Or Ketchup, If You're So Inclined!)</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;So, the last few days in review ....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J surprised me on Sunday. I was hoping that he'd make it in time to go to church. Given that he'd worked until 12:30 am and was fighting a cold, I didn't expect to see him until after the sermon! A little after 8:00 am, I was working through my continuing neurosis by vacuuming and cleaning out closets when he called. I was surprised he was even awake. Turns out, he was more than awake . . . he was minutes away. Smart man that he was, he knew that would send me into fits. (There was a big part of that move that was purposeful.) While he may have intended to set me off-kilter, it was actually very good for me. He caught me unaware, in the midst of preparation, trying to make it all look good. Why would I want to walk into a relationship where he only saw the best or the limited view of "show quality"? I don't and won't. He saw through it before I was even aware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went back to N Church. Didn't want to, but they were praying for our friend who is deploying. It didn't feel good, nor right . . . but I felt protected because J was with me, arm around me and fully vested in the process. Went to lunch with my Mama. J and she held their own . . . it kind of felt like I was just along for the ride! Time at home, with a friend of D's over for a playdate and then to the park we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at the park that the "I love you" was officially said. It had been alluded to and skirted around, but it was there that it was said for the first time. And I do - love him that is. With my entire being, as ridiculous as that sounds at 11 days out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stopped by my Gram's. My sister and she had the chance to meet J. He got outsatnding reviews, of course. Anyone who knows me sees how happy I am and what a match we are for each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D broke down a bit and needed some normalacy. He is so excited. And so hopeful. It makes the risk that much higher, but I am willing to lay it all on the line right now. The potential for utter and complete joy is too great. D just needed to come home and have "normal" time again. J was very respectful of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J stayed. IN THE GUESTROOM. No matter how I try and sway him, the man is committed to honoring me. He refuses to turn this into a physical thing, although the chemistry between us is overwhelming. I teased him that if he continued ot hold back, I'd need to change his birthday plans. And speaking of plans, my heart is already there! Sand, ocean, over-sized balcony . . . I can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday I worked at home while J studied here as well. We had lunch with my Mama and picked up D together. Came home and J studied more. He and D had a pillow fight and hung out while I ran to the store. Dinner, showers and bedtime stories. J should have left (for his sake), but didn't. Ended up staying the night and leaving at 5:30 this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It was all I could do to stop the tears when he left.&lt;/em&gt; I couldn't sleep. Didn't want to eat. It's dumb, but so overpowerng, I truly grieve him when he goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met with DS, my long-time counselor today. He's the one who was hardest for me to approcah with this. At the conclusion, however, he is "pessimistically optimistic". He wants me to be healthy and wise and really . . . this scenario defies logic. But he's in for the long-haul and will let time play out. Next step will be for the three of us to meet up and talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stomach hurts with missing him. It's only been 13 hours. I'm screwed. Saturday is a long time away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113694734148449092?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113694734148449092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113694734148449092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113694734148449092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113694734148449092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/bit-o-catch-up-or-ketchup-if-youre-so.html' title='A Bit &apos;O Catch Up (Or Ketchup, If You&apos;re So Inclined!)'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113692079624907491</id><published>2006-01-10T11:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T11:21:12.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Too Much to say and No Time to Say it!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/j&amp;a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/j%26a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last two days have been amazing. (Yes, Sunday turned into Sunday AND Monday). I'll spend some time tonight catching up on here. But I have never been happier and more sure about anything in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;He is &lt;strong&gt;the one&lt;/strong&gt; that I've waited my entire life for.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113692079624907491?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113692079624907491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113692079624907491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113692079624907491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113692079624907491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/too-much-to-say-and-no-time-to-say-it.html' title='Too Much to say and No Time to Say it!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113670326884156223</id><published>2006-01-07T22:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T12:51:49.640-08:00</updated><title type='text'>He's Coming Back Tomorrow . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Grandpa%20Mike005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Grandpa%20Mike005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Grandpa was transported to rehab today. As if he doesn't already have enough troubles, the medi-trans service didn't secure his wheelchair in the van. So they took the corner and Grandpa starts rolling. &lt;strong&gt;Shouldn't that be something that you double check?&lt;/strong&gt; Fortunately, he's OK. Shaken, but OK. I feel so badly for him right now. He so desperately wants to remember and be cognizant, but he's unable to grasp the basic details. So there's a lot of repeating. And he's emotional about it. He's scared and frustrated all at the same time. Who could blame him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to other matters . . . J and I have had the big talk about if and when he deploys, and how I will handle it.  I completely (150%) support his participation in the military. It's a big part of who he is. It's a big part of his honorable nature that drew me to him. That being said, I am missing him so much. AND HE'S 1.5 HOURS AWAY . . . FOR TWO DAYS! What the heck am I going to do when we're talking months? Throw into that mix a bit of danger and I may get a little crazy. &lt;em&gt;Or crazier than I currently am, anyway.&lt;/em&gt; But I'll pull it off, because he is so incredibly worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no ability to know how much of my heart he would hold in such a short amount of time. My connection with him feels centuries old . . . not 8 days. What an unexpected blessing! I am so grateful. I saw a question on a message board today about recognizing Jesus if He stood next to you, and what you would say to Him. Right now, I would just say,"thank you." For both His sacrifice (obviously) and the unexpected blessing of finding true love - when I had given up all hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an amazing talk with my Gram today. (Hi, Gram!) She sees it in my face. She trusts me enough to forgo the math equation and allow my heart to overflow. She has such wisdom and such a loving nature. It has long been her desire to see both my Mom and I happy before she passes on. I think that she has many more years left in her, but that she will see that dream come to fruition in this year. When I tell her how he makes me feel and what an amazing man he is FOR ME, she just nods. She completely gets it and that acceptance is invaluable to me. I am so blessed to have had her my life for so long and to have such a phenomenal relationship with her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113670326884156223?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113670326884156223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113670326884156223' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113670326884156223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113670326884156223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/hes-coming-back-tomorrow.html' title='He&apos;s Coming Back Tomorrow . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113658722762691054</id><published>2006-01-06T14:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T18:41:37.160-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twitterpated . . .</title><content type='html'>is the word that J is using to describe the perpetual state of bliss that I have existed in for the last 6.5 days. (Those days, by the way, feel like the purpose of my entire life up until now. Other than D, of course.) So anyway, back to twitterpated. We used it for the word of the day at the school office today. I even provided the required three sample sentences. K took a photo so I will email to J later today. As a side note, according to Urban Dictionary, it's also a term for being high due to the affects of marijuana. I'm not smoking the dooby, I swear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to meet with M today. Naively, I forgot how quickly talk spreads in this town. The connection between A and some of M's close friends necessitates that I talk with him and soon. I called him last night, but couldn't have the discussion over the phone. If I can't have face time with him today, however, then I will tell him over the phone. L thinks I'm crazy to meet with him, but he's a good friend to me, no matter what our differences. I didn't really think much about it, assuming that he could care less, but P disagrees. Then our brief conversation last night assured me that he has different expectations for us than I did. So we'll talk. It's just awkward. It's not as if we were in a relationship, or even dating. And I want to retain a friendship with him. I need to - our paths will cross because of K and P. So it's the right thing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today, I am back into the clutter-buster mood. I could literally open up my house to strangers and let them descend like vultures and abscond with 90% of our belongings. D's room? OMG! Insane. Too many toys, not the right storage solutions, let me tell you! The front bedroom/craft room? Yikes. It's not pretty. Garbage bags and multiple trips to Goodwill are in my future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I feel like freeing up some space, letting go of some stuff will let me enjoy this time even more. I feel like the need that I've had to acquire "stuff" over the last several years is gone. I don't need to spend $100 at Target to feel content. And the hopelessness about home ownership is gone also. I've always felt so inadequate when it comes to buying a house in this market that I've just given up and spent on frivolous things. Because it didn't seem to matter. Suddenly, it matters. And I want to come to the table with my fair share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am going to go fill up a couple of bags of crap. And breathe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113658722762691054?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113658722762691054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113658722762691054' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113658722762691054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113658722762691054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/twitterpated.html' title='Twitterpated . . .'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113651780393305650</id><published>2006-01-05T18:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-05T20:41:32.283-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Settling in for the Ride</title><content type='html'>As odd as it seems (being six days in), I'm already easing into the rhythm of this. It feels so good.  It feels so incredibly right.  I miss him like crazy and he's just been gone for a couple of hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved watching him interact with D last night. Very natural, not pushy . . . just interested. I loved that he let me handle the one situation that arose with the kids, but connected with me when it was done to assess the issue. I love (but in the same breath hate) that he wouldn't stay over, even on the couch last night. He doesn't want to give D the wrong impression and confuse the situation. I love that he pulled back at the restaurant this morning once he knew that I knew the staff. He waited for me to show him affection and give him my cues, and then jumped right back in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I write this out, in black and white, it should appear to be insane and foolhardy. But it's not. My heart has confirmed it, as has his. My closest friends and family have confirmed it.  &lt;p&gt;It's the real deal.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;That being said, I am dying to go to bed. I am delirious with exhaustion. Time for bed. &lt;em&gt;Crap, it's only 7:20.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113651780393305650?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113651780393305650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113651780393305650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113651780393305650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113651780393305650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/settling-in-for-ride.html' title='Settling in for the Ride'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113640212944216421</id><published>2006-01-04T10:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T11:15:29.453-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yep, He's the One</title><content type='html'>As much as that should send me running for a straitjacket, it barely fazes me. Well, in all honestly, it makes my stomach do constant little flips, but not in a terrible way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is literally everything that I have waited for in a man. He is honorable, just, intelligent, handsome, driven, kind, faithful, giving and thanks be to God, he's a planner. So important in the general arena of me keeping my sanity!  He makes me feel cherished and safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was amazing. We had a glass of wine at Monk's and then went down to Johnny's for dinner. Food was excellent, service was good . . . ambiance was the best! We had private little tables at each place and felt like we were the only ones in the room.  &lt;em&gt;I kept finding myself curled up on the seat, in the crook of his arm, having to remind myself to keep my feet on or near the ground!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We came back to my house. He's easy to have around. He felt comfortable, as did I. He's very respectful to me, physically. There's an amazing amount of passion between us, but he is keeping it in check and above board. He grabbed my high school yearbooks off the top shelf and had quite the giggle over my impressively big hair. I may have frightened him when I mentioned it was coming back into fashion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was great. Perfect, even. It did not feel anything like a first date. More like the 47th.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113640212944216421?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113640212944216421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113640212944216421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113640212944216421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113640212944216421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/yep-hes-one.html' title='Yep, He&apos;s the One'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113627339375185068</id><published>2006-01-02T23:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T23:29:53.756-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Chuck</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/Dylan"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/Dylan%27s%20Birthday%20Party%20039.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the best Mom in the world! I survived the dreaded Chuck E. Cheese birthday party! And the kids loved it. $275 later, I have showered and decontaminated and although I am a bit befuddled as to the final price tag, it is over! And really, that's all that matters, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a fun group of kids. Most parents did the drop-off, and really, who could blame them? There was only one point in which I could not locate 1 of the 18 kids left in my care, and it was just a moment. (Thank God the moment was over just prior to his Mom showing up!) In my defense, he was present at all times - I just couldn't see him. Maybe it was all the germs and chaos clouding my vision?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the birthday boy enjoyed himself immensely. And scored some serious toys. Cool LEGOs, spy gear, Power Rangers and nifty vehicles. All of the stuff that a seven-year old boy craves. And I have had a glass of wine - which is exactly what I craved through it all! (I did consider medicating, but it wasn't worth the use of a precious Ativan, nor truly necessary. Just a fleeting thought.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gladly, I am now able to focus on my evening with J. tomorrow night. He's heading up to take me out to dinner. I am looking forward to it like crazy! He has something up his sleeve, but I am surprisingly willing to go along with it. He's picking me at at 6:00, because there's something that he wants to do before our dinner reservation at 8:00. I have no clue. And that's really nice for me, for a change. Because I am always the one with the plans. Always the one with the clue. And it's nice to be taken care of, even if it's just for one evening. Although I have a feeling that it could be a lot more than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I am off to survey the closet and determine what to wear. Since he's only seen me in camo pants and a wife-beater, it shouldn't be too hard to beat. So why the incessant desire/need to go and buy something new? Must fight the shopping urge! Must wear something in my over-stuffed closet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113627339375185068?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113627339375185068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113627339375185068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113627339375185068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113627339375185068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/big-chuck.html' title='The Big Chuck'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113617669603208209</id><published>2006-01-01T20:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T20:41:41.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Eve and What NOT to Do with Magnetix</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/New%20Years%20Eve%20&amp;%20Dylan"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/New%20Years%20Eve%20%26%20Dylan%27s%20Family%20Party%20031.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/New%20Years%20Eve%20&amp;%20Dylan"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/New%20Years%20Eve%20%26%20Dylan%27s%20Family%20Party%20015.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113617669603208209?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113617669603208209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113617669603208209' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113617669603208209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113617669603208209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/new-years-eve-and-what-not-to-do-with.html' title='New Year&apos;s Eve and What NOT to Do with Magnetix'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113614237048746927</id><published>2006-01-01T10:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T14:43:25.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven Years Ago, Today</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/1600/mickelsonbirthcrop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1474/2021/320/mickelsonbirthcrop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Exactly seven years ago, I was in the worst pain of my life. In labor and asking my Mom, "how much worse is this going to get?" She had the good sense to be non-committal in her response! It did get worse - a lot worse. But then it got better - amazingly wonderful.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My water broke at 10:00 on New Year's Eve. I was babysitting my nephew. I was getting him ready for bed and he was going potty for the last time before he hit the sheets. Poor kids never saw it coming . . . one minute, he's standing up, peeing like a big boy and next thing you know, I'm swinging him out of the way because all of this water is gushing down my legs! (He peed a complete circle around the bathroom - in all the commotion, it probably never got cleaned up!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first coherent thought at the time was, "shit, now C is going to know that I've been wearing his boxers!" I called the restaurant and told his sister, who in turn, told the entire restaurant that I was in labor! They came home and we all went to the hospital and rang in the New Year while they put a monitor on me. They said I could stay or go, so I decided to go home and try and get some rest. I called my folks and they headed up. It was clear and cold, with a beautiful full moon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time my parents made it up, I was ready to try and get some sleep. It didn't really happen, but I dozed off and on for a while. By 7:00 am we were back at the hospital, this time for good. They hooked me up to a pitocin drip and the fun began! Having D in a tiny rural hospital had its perks - I was the only patient under the age of 85, so I got lots of attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did OK through the morning. Felt good enough to eat a contraband sandwich at noon. Tried to play some cards, but couldn't focus. Tried to read, but that wasn't working well either. By 1:00 pm, the pitocin had been turned up every hour, but I wasn't progressing past 3 cm. I was hurting and getting scared. My Mom was awesome. Very encouraging, but realistic. I just got stuck - and that's never a good thing when you're having a baby! During that time, I ended up with the L&amp;D nurse from hell. She had fake fingernails that were like daggers, and an attitude to match! My mom intervened (loved that!) and a family friend, L, who happened to be an L&amp;amp;D nurse, was called in.   My Aunt L called a few times and talked me through some contractions (which she is very good at) since she was too far away to make it to my L&amp;amp;D room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, Doctor came by at 5:00, wanting to check me before he had dinner. He decided to try and break my water again. And boy did he! Turns out that I had a secondary bag and when it broke, things started to move! I also asked for an enema. That was a sticky (shitty) situation! Because by then, I was contracting every 30 seconds. And no matter what I now think of my former sister-in-law, she's the one that got me from the bed to the toilet and it wasn't a fun task, let me tell you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between 6:00 and 7:30, I went from a 2-3 dilation to a 10. And the doctor was home having dinner. And the anesthesiologist was stuck because of ice. So an epidural was not an option! And while it was nice to finally have some movement and change, it wasn't nice that it happened as hard and fast as it did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden, everyone was rushing around, breaking down the bed, talking about the nurse administering anesthesia in case of an emergency C-section and getting the doctor . . . right now please! My Dad, who had previously declined to be in the delivery room was given no choice and pressed into service to move furniture and break the bed into the delivery position. Doctor arrived, and changed in the bathroom . . . hopping into scrubs while leaning out and telling me to stop pushing until he got his gloves on. I started using the F-word as my mantra, snarling about the F-ing anesthesiologist and the F-ing this and that! I began to whip my head back and forth, creating a tangle in the base of my hair that took weeks to get out - I was having a Linda Blair moment and no one was faulting me for it. My Mom and L kept me sane - or at least close to it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, Doctor said I could push. Two blinding pushes through the immense and indescribable pain and we had a little boy! D did a little flip upon exit and thank God for Doctor having good football hands! He caught the slippery little guy and that was that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling of the chaos changed almost immediately. There was relief and joy. There were tears and laughter. I was so tired. And so proud of myself. And so relieved that it was over! There was a focus that I hadn't had through the previous nine months. There was a knowledge deep inside of my heart that I would be enough. That if I had to do it alone, that I could. I hadn't been sure until that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, what a moment. There were lots of people around. My soon-to-be ex-husband. My parents. The doctor and nurse. My soon-to-be ex-inlaws arrived seconds after I had delivered. It was noisy, but I felt quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now he's seven years old. I am not quite sure how that could be? He is the joy and light of my life. I couldn't ask for a better little guy. He amazes me with his intelligence and creativity. The fullness of his heart and the sweet, sweaty smell of his head at the end of the day. His energy and humor both overwhelm and delight me. God knew the full depth of my heart when He granted me this little boy to call my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday, baby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113614237048746927?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113614237048746927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113614237048746927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113614237048746927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113614237048746927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2006/01/seven-years-ago-today.html' title='Seven Years Ago, Today'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113609164003884770</id><published>2005-12-31T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T21:59:48.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I am (Pleasantly) Surprised</title><content type='html'>So I head to my best friend's house last night. We'd planned a going away/birthday party for her husband who is deploying for Iraq in two weeks. Being that I know all of their friends, I wasn't expecting more than the typical little soiree that has become the norm for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I head into the kitchen and there's a man in there. A man I don't know. A CUTE man. Ok, so maybe I don't know everyone? We are quickly introduced with the basic explanation of, "oh, J is in D's unit." We are hopping, getting stuff pulled together and he's stepping up. Loading up glasses, handling food . . . you name it, the guy was stepping up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All night, I know where he is, even when I'm not looking. We have conversations. We mingle with others. Everyone finally ends up in the living room, except us. We stay in the kitchen and start talking. I start cleaning up and he's right there. I'm washing, he's drying. There's a weird, immediate connection between the two of us that makes it seem like we've been doing it for years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the birthday boy and BF go to bed, we go to a bar. (Not a hoochie bar, by the way . . . just Tres Hombres.) My little bartender, G, fixes us a drink. (As sad as it is to have a boy that I used to babysit old enough to be tending bar, it has it's moments!) We talk more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And talk, and kiss, and talk, and have the bar close down around us. We head out, I'm in the truck and he gets me back out. &lt;em&gt;So we can kiss in the rain.&lt;/em&gt; Can anyone say damn? We get back in the truck - because it is freezing cold and pouring down rain - and end up out towards River Road. Which is closed due to flooding. So we park. Like 16 year-olds. And resume the kissing and talking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shit, I'm in deep here, folks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the polite Sheriff's deputy shows up. To make sure we're OK. Yes sir, we're OK. It may take 4WD to get out of the orchard, but we're OK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole deal is amazing. What's so weird about it is that on Wednesday, I sat in the same seat, at the same bar, with afore-mentioned BF and said that I wanted 2006 to be different. That I needed to love deeply this year. That it was time to quit messing around with these emotionally unavailable guys and be open to the possiblities. Yesterday, I was at the grocery store and saw an old mentor and life-long friend, an amazing woman of God and her daughter. We talked about my intention to let my own sense of timing go. And to be open to the impossible. And how I longed for God to meet my heartfelt desires for partnership.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I meet J.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weird, amazing, hopefully, speechless . . . I always have something to say. But today, I can't quit grinning for long enough to say much of anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except this. While I dont want to jinx it. It has to be recorded, just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He might just be the one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Freakin' New Year!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113609164003884770?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113609164003884770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113609164003884770' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113609164003884770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113609164003884770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2005/12/sometimes-i-am-pleasantly-surprised.html' title='Sometimes I am (Pleasantly) Surprised'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113588688333734110</id><published>2005-12-29T11:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-29T12:08:03.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Thursday ... and the hormones have settled</title><content type='html'>So the psychotic nature of Monday has passed. Hormones are funny things - although at times, not so funny! Monday would be a prime example of when they were NOT SO FUNNY! But things have slowly migrated back towards normal wackiness and left the highly worrisome platform of near-explosiveness. Always a good thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have to say, however, that dealing with men can suck. I think that I survived the last several years by simply not dealing with them. The additional stress they add to my life may not be worth it! Dating it hard. The push and pull is making me insane. I don't have a lot of room for more insanity in my life, so I'm pulling back a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other area of my life (other than certain members of my family, which I'm wisely choosing not to discuss on a public blog) that is making me a little unbalanced is all of the stuff in my house. I am starting to thin it out, big time. Clutter be gone! I need to start small, however. I really want to go into D's room and empty the closets and go big, but I can't. I need to break it into smaller tasks or I'll never get it done. Then that will certainly put me over the top!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm going to go deal with a bit of my closet . . . just a bit!  It keeps me from thinking about the pain in the butt guys in my life!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113588688333734110?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113588688333734110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113588688333734110' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113588688333734110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113588688333734110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2005/12/its-thursday-and-hormones-have-settled.html' title='It&apos;s Thursday ... and the hormones have settled'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20215577.post-113566436383905133</id><published>2005-12-26T22:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T19:39:27.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A New Commitment to Journaling . . . and it's not even the 1st of the Year!</title><content type='html'>So I spent some time reading through my journaling of the past year. I decided that if it was actually being read by someone (anyone?) that maybe I could present a more positive aspect of my innermost thoughts. Not so morose. Because frankly, if something happens to me and anyone reads my journaling on my home computer? They will think I did something to myself! Intentionally!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example: (Nevermind . . . Couldn't find anything that didn't name names and use too many swear words!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the focus will be to find the positive in my daily life. And there's a lot of it! I just need to write it down so I'll remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I got to hang out in my pajamas until noon. That's positive! And, when I actually got dressed, it was only into sweatpants for goodness sake! I also got to:&lt;br /&gt;1. Build a Bionicle with D, and really, how do you beat that?&lt;br /&gt;2. Hang out with my best friend and exchange gifts a day late, which is a lot better than a week late!&lt;br /&gt;3. Drop D at an old babysitters and spend some time with grownups.&lt;br /&gt;4. Actually have my furniture repaired by the stupid store that I bought it from, since they are scheduling 4.5 months out for repairs! I've only had this freakin' appointment since August! Maybe if their furniture didn't SUCK, they wouldn't have their repairmen scheduled out so far? Just a thought! (Sorry, I got off the positive track there for a moment. Whoops!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm committed to posting to this twice a week. The positive stuff however, I am not committed to. So it might get a bit ugly. Y'all just have to wait and see!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20215577-113566436383905133?l=amykatmick.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/feeds/113566436383905133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20215577&amp;postID=113566436383905133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113566436383905133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20215577/posts/default/113566436383905133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://amykatmick.blogspot.com/2005/12/new-commitment-to-journaling-and-its.html' title='A New Commitment to Journaling . . . and it&apos;s not even the 1st of the Year!'/><author><name>amykat</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
