90 is the new 60

I have good genes. I mean, I had a really hard time believing this – mainly because I’m thick through the middle, have occasional acne (which sure as hell beats the breakouts from my pubescent days) – but damn, I’m going to age well, both body and mind.

Well, if I take after two of my grandparents. Well, three – my paternal grandmother was always a little sickly. Anyways, today is my grandfather’s 90th birthday! And I just talked to him, and he played nine holes of golf with my dad today. Keep in mind, about a year and a half ago he broke his hip! Oh, and he is about to sell a plane he just built. And he’s flown it recently. My granddad is the stuff heroes are made of.

Not to leave my Gran out – she’s going to be 90 soon (either this August or next) and she still works out, her mind is sharp as a tack, and just all around cool.

Today, I was trying to think what I would be doing at 90. I would prefer not to be in a nursing home (my granddad still lives on his own, and my grandmother technically could be living on her own – but she lives with my parents), and I’d like to be playing the piano everyday – but not crappy. I wouldn’t play it if I sounded like crap. I’m thinking it would be a little hard to play the violin, because older adults’ hands shake really bad – at least, all the ones I know do.

Part of me also wants a crap load of grandkids – but that would require me having more than two kids myself, which I don’t see happening.

Okay, hmmm… I’m tired. I’m not writing a blog this late for awhile.


IDIOT! (said in the voice of Napoleon)

Sometimes I think I’m an idiot. I mean that in the kindest way possible, as I don’t want to offend myself – or others , like my parents, for example.

Have you ever been in a truly awkward situation and your only response is to briefly acknowledge said situation and then run away? Or better yet, don’t acknowledge the situation and still run away? I do this a lot more frequently than I thought, despite it going against my better judgment and sensibility.

Take for example an incident that occurred awhile back. I walk into a restaurant to grab lunch with a friend and see someone I know (who I know for a fact thinks I am, quote, a “bitch”). Sigh. I see her look at me with a death glare, and what do I proceed to do? Shrink to the size of a prune, look down, and not acknowledge her at all. Lovely.

Or the other day, I ran into someone I didn’t want to see, said hello quickly, and hopped in my car as quick as possible.

Or a year ago, I almost bumped into this old boss of mine who is a total jerk-off. Key word is “almost” in this sentence. I happened to see his car pull up, so I get into my car, hide, call Justin (who is still talking with the person throwing the party we’re at) and make him take me home.

So the question is why? Why on earth do I hate confrontation on every level? Why do I not have the guts to see someone who thinks poorly of me, (or I think poorly of them – which is only about three people) carry a semi-casual conversation and go about my day? Further, why do I then sit and over-analyze the whole incident?

Like, what would have happened if I told this guy off? Or if I had given this girl a big “EFFFF you” glance, or better yet, smiled, waved and walked away casually.

I would ask, WWJD while looking at my blue bracelet engraved with the slogan (how very 1995 of me) if Jesus saw someone He didn’t like – but I’m pretty sure The Man liked everyone. I mean, there were tons of people who didn’t like Him, and I’m sure he prayed for them, cared for them. And I do that with my “Top Three” haters – from afar, and preferably with my tennis shoes on.

Sidebar: Twelve more days until I get my eyebrows done! I’m so sick of people looking at me like, “WTF is going on with Jenni’s nasty looking eyebrows?” Yes, I know they look like crap people – but I’m growing them out so a professional can make them amazing. This lady is so apparently awesome at the art of the eyebrow, that I had to make this appointment almost four months ago! Everyone who is anyone in Austin goes to this lady. And since I define myself as “anyone,” I’m there! ;)


Happiness is Quite Fleeting

The week off from tasks and responsibilities has quickly come and gone, and to utilize a lame analogy – passed as quickly as a Texas Springtime. Monday I started a new job, which is freaking awesome. Many of my co-workers sit on exercise balls all day long, so I must go in search of one for the workplace, and I sense a hard work=hard partying atmosphere, therefore I should acclimate rapidly.

And to top the great day at work, I proceeded to get pulled over for speeding in Lakeway while driving to the country club to workout. It was my first time getting pulled over, and as I teared up while the cop checked my license and such (to clarify, I did not cry in front of the cop because that is stupid), Justin said I was bound to get my “cherry popped sometime,” and he’s probably right – I was about five years overdue for one.

Such bitterness, right? I suppose Justin could write multiple blog entries on his cop escapades, which are all quite ridiculous, and now he has a new one to add – wife gets clocked going 15 over the speed limit (mind you, going down a hill on a highway where the speed limit had dropped 5 mph) and got off with a warning. He proceeded to complain the rest of the way to the gym that I should have gotten one. MUHAHAHA. And the cop couldn’t have bestowed this warning on a more grateful citizen, as today I traveled well below the speed limit for the majority of my commute. I say majority, because let’s be honest, it’s quite impossible to go only 35 mph on Fifth Street.


I’ve just wrapped up day two of my “Week of Rest” from work, stress, and general strategic thinking and I’ve discovered two things:

*This is glorious; and,
*I’m already bored.

I’m so bored in fact, that I don’t really have anything to blog about, other than I’ve taken it upon myself to convert my entire closet to wooden hangers instead of wire and plastic. Not only is it pleasing to the eye, but it’s supposed to help your clothing somehow. Let me tell you, buying 16 packs of eight wooden hangers quickly takes up the majority of your trunk space.

Other than that, it’s been a pretty uneventful last few days. At some point, I’m going to start piano lessons with the next door neighbor (she’s a former concert pianist – incredibly amazing) and so I hope to get back into the groove of playing. Then I might get a few massages, take some yoga classes, lay out at the pool, and watch the six-hour version of Pride and Prejudice.

I’ll be ready to go back to work in no time!


Heart Racing, Head Throbbing, Water Pumping?

Let me preface by saying that I should never stay up past 11 p.m. on a weeknight. I just can’t handle the seemingly “late” night. And I swear I’m not 12. Some individuals just need more sleep than others, and I’m one of them. Additionally, I should never watch Pride & Prejudice back to back on HBO.

About 5 a.m. this morning, I awaken to a methodical beating sound. Maybe because I’m delusional at this hour, I think my heart is beating so loud that my head is throbbing. I take my pulse, and honestly, I can’t feel anything. I freak out a little more, and then realize that maybe this beating sound isn’t me. That’s probably after about 15 minutes of thinking I’m going to die alone. (Justin is in NYC). Haha.

Stumbling in my room, and Walter also a little out of it, we walk to the bathroom, where the pounding noise gets seemingly louder. At this point, I think that Ashley is in the middle bedroom sewing and beating her sewing machine with some kind of hammer or bat.

So we venture out to the other end of the house where the noise is definitely getting louder – but her door is shut and all the lights are out. And the noise is obviously coming from in-between the walls. At this point, I’ve concluded the following: I’m not going to die, my house is flooding through the walls, and there is a woodpecker floating in the flooded wall trying to peck his way to freedom/avoidance of death. Okay, I honestly thought we were having plumbing issues or the woodpecker got stuck.

I think we all know what I did next – I woke Ashley’s ass out of bed. Because, two girls trying to solve a plumbing problem or a trapped animal is much better than one. So, I wake up Ashley, who also went to bed at late watching the same movie and we both stumble upstairs to see if it is the hot water heater or something.

Putting our ears against the wall to determine if the sound is coming from the attic (instead of just opening the doors like wise individuals – I thought an animal might scurry our or something), we figure it has to be the hot water heater. I grab the attic keys, and discover it is – but have no idea how to turn the bloody thing off. So I just turn it to low and go back downstairs to figure out my game plan.

1. Call warranty plumber. Unfortunately, I can’t find the number, our Internet is down, and my computer broke. Yes – all this morning.
2. Text message Kim (work office manager) to figure out why the crap my computer isn’t working.
3. Call my dad. I think we all knew the parental phone call was coming. He said we may have lost water pressure and to call the city.
4. Call Kim. She gives me the number for the computer help desk at work.
5. Call the Help Desk and leave a message.
6. Call Justin and chew him out for not being here when I needed him. Unfortunately, I woke him up and he doesn’t remember much of the conversation, other than the fact I was chewing him out for no good reason. Which is true. Haha.
7. Call the city. They don’t even ask for my address (retards) and say that it’s my problem and not theirs. Of course, in the middle of that call the noise stops.
8. Call my boss to let him know I am coming in late. Unfortunately, the voicemail cuts me off and I have to call him back saying “The point is, I’m not coming in this morning so I can get this stuff sorted out.” He didn’t get the first message. Haha.
9. Call the plumber. I finally got the stupid phone number for the warranty plumber and they didn’t open until 8:30.

So by this point, the knocking as stopped, so we wait about thirty minutes and try and go back to bed. Unfortunately, every time I almost fall asleep, I keep thinking I hear the noise (which I wasn’t) and eventually just give up.

Long story, well, long story – the plumber won’t come because the noise stopped, my computer is fixed (I need to remember to reboot before calling people so I don’t look like an ass) and I’m at work, hoping my house isn’t flooding. Weeee!