The best day of Adrien Brody's life

I will now take a break from personal posts to present the following to amuse you on a Monday morning. The two are not related, save their inherent weirdness.



And now this:

Beechy keen

After having some very last-minute work done on the Modernmobile and despite the air conditioning at the new place not getting fixed (did I mention the air conditioning stopped functioning properly on the first day of summer, about the time that the temperatures in Knoxville reached the upper 90s? Yeah, that happened), the Modern Love Machine and I departed on Tuesday for our two week-long road trip.

The first day was spent on a really obnoxious drive between Knoxville and Nashville thanks to some really obnoxious traffic (note to the general public: in Tennessee, if you're driving slower than the people around you, you should be in the right lane. kthanxbai). We stopped briefly in Nashville for a rendezvous with the Modern Parents and to-be Modern Mom in Law over chicken fingers and to distribute the Modern Pooches between the MPs and the MMIL. According to their reports in the past few days, the Modern Pooches seem to be suffering from separation anxiety, poor things.

Then we were off to Destin, Fla, for a wedding on the shore of the Gulf of Mexico, which you may or may not have heard is having it's own sort of life crisis at the moment. The oil slicks have reached Pensacola Beach, which is about 50 miles west of Destin. Everyone here is talking about the oil spill leak. You can even buy T-shirts at the local Walgreens decrying offshore drilling and such. I personally have not seen any tar balls, though my dear friend the groom says he saw a few outside the condo where he's staying. This is the scene on the beach where the MLM and I set up shop yesterday**:

That would be seaweed, I think, and a thick carpet of it to boot. Fortunately, that's the worst it looks -- there are parts of the beach that are significantly clearer, but the water does still have quite a bit in it. The black spots in that photo are not oil, just footprints to give you an idea of how deep that crud is. I'm not a fan of getting in the ocean unless it's pristinely clear and calm, but the MLM coaxed me in anyway to the tune of, 'Come on baby, I want to get into the ocean with YOU.' It lasted all of about two minutes until a cresting wave knocked me on my butt and I ingested a huge noseful of salt water, which is precisely why I stick to the refuge of the sand in the first place.

We spent the day today at a amusementish park that my family and I used to visit during my childhood trips to Destin playing Putt-Putt and riding go-karts. I'm pretty sure I haven't driven a go-kart since before I became licensed to drive a car, but I'm happy to report that they're still as fun as they were then. And I'm good at leaving the MLM in the dust when I drive. But he's pretty good at beating me at mini-golf.

The food has been pretty darn good though.

Tonight we attend the wedding of a dear college friend of mine, one of the first people aside from the BFF and my suitemate who befriended me as a freshman and who, as someone who was two years older than me and had a car when I did not, provided me needed refuge away from campus from time to time. And went to sporting events with me, which will endear you to me for life.

Speaking of sporting events and being endeared to for life, that's how the MLM and I will be spending much of the rest of this trip. We'll be taking in Major League Baseball games in the following cities: Cincinnati, Milwaukee, Chicago and St. Louis, which will include combinations of the following teams: Cincinnati, Cleveland, Milwaukee, Houston, Chicago (cough, spew) Cubs, Pittsburgh, St. (woooo!) Louis. In case you're keeping score, that covers the entire NL Central, and therefore the only MLB division I really care about. And in case you're wondering, the MLM is an Astros fan, having lived part of his formative years in Houston. I'll forgive him for that, so long as he's not a fan of that most hated and self-righteous team.

It's going to take us a whole lotta hours in the Modernmobile to get us from one ballpark to the other, which means one of two things will likely happen by the end of our trip. 1. The MLM and I will hate each other. 2. We will elope. I'm entertaining bets on either.

**All photos taken on the iPhone as I forgot to bring the cord that connects my camera to the computer.

In which you are the therapist

I have a whole list of posts I've been dying to write but haven't written out of sheer exhaustion -- more about the movecation/moving in with The Modern Love Machine, some weird videos and a post about NY that's about four months overdue. The MLM and I are about to go on a long road trip, so I may try to type those up while he's driving through the cornfields of the midwest.

But in the mean time, I have this to say: 2010 has kicked my ass, and I am exhausted. And not in the I-woke-up-a-little-too-early sense. More in the I-haven't-slept-in-about-six-months sense. Except that I have slept, and I'm still ass-tired.

This is not a complaint. Nor is it me being in a cranky or depressed mood. I'm actually quite happy right now, despite having a bag of garbage explode on me this morning. A bag that contained wet papers that had been soaking in old mayo and chicken juices that had been cooking outside in 90-degree heat for about four days. It was as disgusting as you're imagining, and probably more so. Nope, I've had a good week at work in which good means I've enjoyed it for the the first time in months and months and which has translated into being productive. It's Friday. I'm staring down the face of a two-week vacation that includes a Florida beach (allegedly) not yet tainted by oil sludge, the witnessing of the marriage of one of the first people who befriended me in college (and holds a special place in my heart for that reason), four Major League Baseball games, my first Fourth of July home in years and a visit with the first person who befriended me in Nashville (who also holds a special place in my heart for that reason). Also, I'm drinking a Diet Coke. Plenty to be happy about.

Nope, this is me just admitting that I'm tired. And my ass has been sufficiently trounced.

The ass-kicking actually predates 2010. December was crazy, although because there's been so much crazy I don't even remember why. This probably had something to do with it. I think it actually goes back to November, when the company took away my officemate and therefore my daily therapy sessions (when I was in the office, that is). Work has been at least 50% of the force behind the ass-kicking, and officemate used to help lessen the blows by saying, 'Don't worry about that,' as in 'Don't worry about doing that small thing that is clearly your responsibility. You've got more on your plate than is humanly possible, so I'll take care of that small thing and let you focus on the big stuff.' I do occasionally hear that now, but mainly from one person who never offers the 'Don't worry about that help' for free -- it always comes with payback, and just like the Modern Mom always warned: payback is a bitch.

Like I said, this is not a complaint. Many of the things that have contributed to the ass-kicking have been very good, happy things. I got paid to live and work (and really, it didn't feel like work) in NYC for over a week. I bought a house. The MLM and I became engaged. We're (kinda, sorta, when we're not otherwise busy) planning a fun wedding that very much reflects our spirit. We finally moved into the aforementioned house. These are very good things. And I would quite prefer to be exhaustingly busy to the flip side of the coin. I know there are people in this world who find their lives incredibly boring. I am not and never want to be among them.

But it is a fact: I am exhausted. For over six months, there have been clear sources for the exhaustion -- much of it mental. I've come close to having a few breakdowns because of the mental exhaustion, though fortunately that bit seems to be behind me now that a few life events are behind me.

Still, there's a physical exhaustion that remains. I've been spending the recommended 7 to 8 hours in bed each night for the past two weeks, and I have yet to feel rested. I think part of that is sleeping in a new place, but usually that weirdness usually only lasts for two or three days at most for me. I hardly ever sleep all the way through the night anymore, and I've been waking up early every day on my own accord. If you know me, you know this is not like me. If left to my own devices, I can typically sleep until about 10 a.m. every day. I've struggled with insomnia before, and this isn't it, or at least it isn't the kind of insomnia I've had in the past. That insomnia wouldn't ever let me fall asleep in the first place.

Pause for happy photo** to break up the heavy.


I've got only two things staring me down in the next 12 months: 1. A wedding that's only about 50% planned (Oh, hey, did I mention exactly 365 days from today I will be wearing a white dress and committing the rest of my life to the MLM? Weird ...) and 2. When my busy season cranks back up at work in August and remains that way until Marchish. This is all per the obligatory knock on wood that hopefully will insure there are no surprise Nos. 3-20 that get added to that list anytime soon.

So with only a blessed two ... TWO! ... stress-impacting events staring me down, I plan on forcefully slowing down my life a bit, come hell or high water. Did you hear that, Universe? I know when I say things like this I tempt you to dump more on me, and you always give in to that temptation. I will cut a bitch, Universe, if you do this time (knock on wood). If I decline your social invitation, please don't take it personally. In fact, if I drop off the face of the planet for a month and half, please think nothing of it. My body needs to be cared for to make up for the lack of care in the past six-plus months.

Also, if you notice more long, rambly therapy-session-like posts here, don't think much of that either. Just bill my bosses for your services.

**And so help me, Universe, if the Gulf isn't that pristine when we visit it next week, I will personally smite BP and all its minions.

And half of half is ...

Well, Movecation 2010 is over, and I deem it a success for the most part. Success in that I got all my crap moved in by yesterday and technically I'm supposed to be out of the old place by today, although my roommate is taking an extra day to move, so technically I was out EARLY. Early is not generally a part of my vocabulary.

A success, despite the fact I have bruises and cuts all over my body from playing one half of the Modern Moving team that consisted of myself, the Modern Love Machine and a U-Haul. I'm surprised the gals working at the bridal gown salons the Modern Mom and I visited this week** didn't report the MLM to the police for beating me.

Speaking of the MLM, I've already learned so much about him by both spending a week moving things with him and actually sharing a house with him. I'll share all those lessons in another post.

The only reason I'd hesitate to dub Movecation a complete success is because despite having far more square feet of my own than I've ever had before and despite the MLM not having much stuff to contribute to our collective collection of stuff, there's one thing I can't seem to find enough room for: my clothes.

Boy howdy, does this house have space, but because it's 100 years old it has no closets in the bedrooms. The townhouse I lived in over a year ago had a closet so big you could have fit a twin-sized bed in and still had room for clothes. Sure, there's something that resembles a closet in the master bedroom. It has a door. And a pole running across the middle. But it can only seem to fit about a week's worth of clothes in there. There's one more of those wannabe closets in the study and nothing but the armoire I obtained for free from Modern Jay's fiancee in the guest bedroom.

I bought this house knowing this would be a problem and seeing a fairly simple way to expand this wannabe closet into something a bit more useful, but in the mean time I have to put those clothes somewhere and it drives me CRAZY that they're out in the open. Sure, I could put them in a box and under a bed or on a rack and cover them with a sheet, but in my mind there is only one place for clothes, and that's in a closet. So I spent yesterday cutting my wardrobe IN HALF. Which is something I did last year when I downsized from the townhouse closet to the smaller closet in the house I'm currently moving out of. So we're getting down to the nitty-gritty of wardrobe selection for a gal who loves to clothes shop.

I managed to talk myself into getting rid of quite a few items that I'd been hanging onto just in case I ever got shuffled back into a fancy, schmoozy, office job like the one I left behind when I moved to Knoxville three (holy crap) years ago. I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'll probably go work at Starbucks before I ever find myself back in the type of job where I can't wear jeans to work.

But still, there are a few straggling clothing items that I can't bear to part with but don't quite fit into the current closet situation. I'll spend some more time tonight trying to talk myself out of keeping a few more items before they end up on a clothes rack in the guest room. The MLM is currently occupying the pretend closet in the study.

I mentioned this on Twitter, but the Hypercolor shirt totally made it into my closet in the first cut.

**Yes, we did some wedding dress shopping. I thought I would find nothing at those stores that suited me because we all know the wedding industry caters to 22-year-old sorority girls, but lo and behold I found FIVE dresses that I would have been thrilled to wear. I eliminated two pretty quickly because of their ridiculous prices and a third because it didn't seem to fit the style of our wedding. Choosing between the last two feels as if someone has told me that I could either choose to eat pizza every day for the rest of my life or never eat pizza again. I mean, even I'd get tired of pizza but NEVER EAT PIZZA AGAIN? How could I survive?

Movecation 2010

You guys, it's June 7. Do you know what that means?? That means I survived six weekends of being on the road. It means I survived a weeklong work assignment away from home (and one that involved an average 10 hours of day of work OUTSIDE in the South in June). Most importantly it means that I'm on vacation and finally in possession of my new house.

Those last two things are directly related.

Yep, today kicks off Day 1 of Movecation 2010. Before this year it would have been unheard of me to take an entire week off and not leave the area code. Why waste a perfectly good week of vacation on staying at home? Sure a day or two of staycation can be great, but I've got places to see!

Now I'm just so freakin' thrilled to be off work for a significant amount of time for the first time since December that I don't care.

The Modern Love Machine and I are going to pick up the U-Haul in about an hour, and we'll spend the rest of the day moving furniture into the new place. Once that's done, we'll start moving all the little stuff that I have not bothered to box up. Who needs boxes when you're moving less than a mile away, right? Right? Ok, really the plan is to just throw things into Rubbermade containers and unpack them immediately. I've done it before, and it worked beautifully.

On Wednesday evening, the Modern Mom arrives. I asked her to join me this week, knowing she's the best at kicking my life back into order when it needs it the most. On Friday and maybe Saturday morning while the MLM takes some super-important teacher exam, the MM and I will go wedding dress shopping. Yee haw.

So that's the update on what's going on in my little corner of the world. Posting might or might'nt be light this week -- depends on how easy or difficult this move turns out to be.

In the meantime, make sure you've pre-ordered Allie's new book, Stay! I just got my copy in the mail, and I am dying, DYING, to start reading. Once I'm done, we'll have a little virtual book club meeting here to discuss.

And I feel like I need to leave you with some form of entertainment. The MLM and I have been getting caught up on Glee, and we just finished the episodes Throwdown and Mashup, both of which were very, very good (I mean, hello, Neil Diamond shout out!)

Anyway, this is quite old, but in honor of Mr. Schuester's search for a good mashup, here's one of my all-time favorites: