I recently initiated a private family/friend group blog to get more interaction, then promptly deleted it when it failed miserably. I'm nothing if not consistent. When my cousin Kelly emailed to ask what happened, I might have replied with something along the lines of '...and you can all kiss my ass'.

She said she understood, but wisely mentioned that dealing with our family is like trying to herd cats. Part of our uniqueness is not following the program, and I love that about us. Damn rebels.

So I found my power cord, dusted off my keyboard, and decided to continue blogging on my merry, though solo, way. I like having a reason to organize my thoughts and having a record of my life, even if it's a lonelier this way. I wasn't an only child (for fifteen years) for nothin', you know.

Oddly enough, the next morning, as I was sneaking across the street to peek in the windows of the house for sale, I noticed a trail of five cats traipsing across the road behind me. Turns out I have other cats to herd.



Two sisters who don't wear watches should not go out drinking on a Wednesday night to meet a "classier" crowd of drunken misfits.

She slept in the next day until noon and missed all her classes. I had to be at work because I had stupidly taken the extension cord needed for a projector during this training week, but left shortly after to vomit in the privacy of my own bathroom for the rest of the day.

The good news? I lost 4-1/2 pounds!


Pyjama party

Since she's still a bit traumatized from having someone break into her apartment while she was gone over Christmas break, Tiffany has decided to drive to my house once a week to stay for the night (I like to think of the beer in my refrigerator as bait).

In between assorted cat ruckus Thursday morning around 3 a.m., she gave a bloodcurdling scream, sat up, said, "Oh, my God! I thought you were dead.", then promptly fell back asleep.

Me? I was a bit freaked out, but sometimes it's just nice to be reminded that you're alive.


Must like cats

"Sooooo...." I said, "do you think he liked me?"

Robbie, Tiffany and I all giggled and snorted at the possibility. Yeah, my first blind date. Who knew you weren't supposed to talk about politics, religion, or gay rights with conservative Baptist teetotalers that didn't swear? And the worst part? Tiffany told him about my blog, I gave him my url, and now I can't even talk about him in my online sanctuary.

I decided over Christmas that I needed to step out of my comfort zone shell and hang out with interesting, intelligent people at coffee shops. Or book stores. Perhaps even small talk at a grocery store wasn't out of the question. My shyness shouldn't be an excuse to hole up during the winter with a six-pack and a dvd player.