minor heat stroke, party of one

Oh the joys of moving... And the black holes that disguise the random boxes that you know are somewhere, but cannot find. It probably did not help that for the majority of the first day of moving, I had the landlords 4 year old and 2 year old "helping" me move from my car to the house. Why were the landlords kids helping me, you may ask. Well, our home isn't quite finished yet. Armon's bedroom was finished at 9.30 last night and as of this morning, the second bathroom was not yet finished. This led to all of Armon's belongings hanging out in the living room/dining room/laundry room. As I was moving in on Wednesday, there were about 6 guys working on the house, complete with a dog and the two kids previously mentioned plus one (an 8 year old boy who belongs to someone, I think). It was also 100+ fuckin degrees and our house has window air units. It tested my patience. I know that kids like to have "chores" to do and desire to feel important, so I put those kids to use by having them bring in a couple carloads of crap to the house. I feel that somewhere in that art of delegating, curtain rods were misplaced. sigh. Also, while moving cleaning crap from the old house to the new one, somehow Jess' phone charger and a tub of god-knows-what-the-f-else grew legs and walked away. It's not in my car nor Jess' car. Praying to St. Anthony that it turns up. St Anthony, St Anthony, please come around. Something is lost and can't be found.

I've never moved into a place with more than one other person moving in and let me tell you, having three people move in who have accumulated crap, is ridiculous. We have boxes everywhere with three sets of everything from plates to crock pots to paper towel holders. It looks like the week after a wedding and we just got back from a honeymoon somewhere fabulous, instead of moving from one rental to the next.

I hate instability and I hate not having my routine. I'm tempted to run outside and suffer a minor heatstroke, only because I miss so much running outside instead of a damn treadmill, resembling a gerbil and wheel on a KIA car commercial. And lucky for me, there are cops EVERYWHERE in this town (and it's the end of the month, so they are looking to meet quotas, etc) so if I do happen to pass out and shrivel to the size of a drug addicted sorority girl, help shalln't be far!! Lord, I need a break.

I think a dinner and movie with the boy will do the trick. Then a KC Royals game and spending time outside 66502 with people that I genuinely care and enjoy. Mainly getting out of town and not seeing another cardboard box for a few days. Or just 48 hours would be nice.

so excited so blessed

The run down on the great events/activities/blessings I have coming/earning over the next week:

1) Graduate class portfolio is done. Grant it and I will be honest, I did not pull 110% effort into this, because, I struggled with finding the need to perform and put more effort into a project that won't affect my career. That is a lesson I learend over my years since the days of stressing over a .05 change in my GPA during high school. Sometimes shit does not matter. Why dedicate and pour stress into a situation that is not going to matter 5 years from now? So, perhaps that was the lesson of that class: to learn the "deeper meaning" of higher education?? Perhaps.

2) Moving tomorrow! I have to give credit where credit is (will be) due: ajl is helping me pack my bed, big dresser, and dining room table with chair tonight. And I also being allowed to borrow a trailer from his work to load this in to. To my credit: I have pulled out all the dresser drawers and have taken the bedding/mattress off my bed and plan to unscrew the bed as much as I can before he comes over. Our new place is closer to campus (19 minute) walk, so I may be able to walk to campus on good weather days. However, allow me to be honest: I like to dress like a banging hot advisor with heels, so I am not sure how many times I will really walk to campus. But, it sounds good.

3) Manhattan Day at the K! on Saturday! http://kansascity.royals.mlb.com/kc/ticketing/group_manhattan.jsp for more information. It'll be a blast and ajl is dedicating a lot of time for the organization of the event, so I know he'll be relieved when it's all done. And I'll be proud. Also, will be hanging out with ajl's sister during the game and after. So a great get-a-way for us both!!

4) Trashy reality shows premiering all week long! We have Jersey Shore on Thursday and Real Housewives of DC as well. AND the finale of the Bachelorette on Monday night. Sadly, ajl will be in DC for his fraternity's international convention (he's the chapter advisor), so I'll have to re-watch it when he gets back. That's right. He watches reality TV with me. He does have a brother, but he is taken :)


I'll leave you with this picture of my sisters and I, as Alayna (number three) is wrapping up her College Algebra class before she packs up and starts her new chapter @ Fort Hays State :)

I'll be taking the next few days to move (and hang out with ajl in studio on Thursday!!), you'll be left to entertain yourself until I return!!

steers and abnormally large zucchini

What a rush of activity this past weekend was!! I was busy with the Wade Bowen concert on Friday, but before that I enjoyed a pretty darn good time at Brew at the Zoo. Supported the bf and his team at Fair Factor on Saturday (which they WON!! Go Manhattan Broadcasting!!!) then rounded out that night with the Rodeo before stopping by McGraws for a few beers.

Oh and I started Activa yesterday. Hello good digestive track. I'll keep you updated on this business.

Ajl and I are going to the Livestock Auction tonight @ Riley County Fair to rep the station. I'm eager to start tickling him prior to the Champion Reserve steer being auctioned off, because that's what I want in my office. A big ass steer to scare off my students. Before he spends his hard earned money on a steer, I'm going to be a big spender at the Cowgirl Bling vendor tent. I had stopped by there Saturday (twice) and did not buy anything. So, I feel as though that fasting equals me being able to pick up some items tonight, of course. The more I buy, the less they have to trek to Nebraska.

Enjoy the pic of Erin and I at the B104.7 Party Porch during the Kaw Valley Rodeo. We are quite the country queens, I would argue. I would also argue that my Stetson boots are quite the amazing investment.

Let's see.....16 more minutes of being paid by the state to avoid working for the state.

OH! This should be an entertaining moment for you and another reason for you to thank the good lord that you are not a college student worker. A had a prospective student meeting today and this chic was what I would call, stuffy. As in east coast stuffy who score incredibly high on her SAT score (just knowing she took the SAT allows me to assume that she's snotty. Or just avoided the ACT so she can put on the impression that she's east coast high class, because only east cost class take the SAT. Duh) Very disappointed that the Department of Art does not offer an Honors Program. For.Art. What would that look like? Fancy expensive paint on fancy expensive canvas? I'm confused. Typically, my artists are not concerned nor do they want to be considered 'honor' students. In fact, they strive to not be "those type" of kids. They are more concerned with finding themselves and being left alone. The schools she was also interested in were foreign names to me (no, they were not University of Phoenix), except for this one: Yale.

Yeah, I considered Yale. Until I realized that Daddy would have to sell the farm and live in a caddyshack for 1o years for me to afford that. And that was only for one semester. Talk about awkward Thanksgivings on dirt floors.

And her cardigan did not match her necklace nor outfit. Yes, I am critiquing a kids' outfit to mask the fact that I work for the best damn university this side of heaven that does not offer an honors program.

I feel a bit off on my sarcasm today. Maybe purchasing a steer would change that.

red dirt posing

I'm a sweater. I do not mean figuratively; literally, I am a sweater. I swear, I sweat most than 98% of the world's population. Light pastel pretty frilly shirts? Forget it, unless you want to see two perfectly placed circles of sweat within ten minutes. However, as I have gotten older, I have take the "eff it" approach to my sweat blessing. Two things motivate me in this motivation 1) sweating means I am alive and I kind of am a fan of being alive. It's pretty legit and pays the bills 2) I'm much more confident in my skin than I was when I was 21 years old. I have no one to impress, but myself. And I'm already on "team monica" :) Game over. I think when God was creating me in my mother's blessed womb, he was "this close" to making me a boy. Then, he decided at the last minute to make me one amazing strong woman. So, a bit of the testosterone is still in me from this split second decision.

Last night, I was rocking and sweating out hardcore to Jason Boland and the Stragglers at my favorite local bar in MHK (Longhorns). During this extreme loss of water weight, I was baffled by two things: 1) how many girls can be in a sweaty country bar adn have their hair DOWN! Geesh. That was the first thing I did when I got to 'Horns. Well, actually it was the second thing. The first thing was order 2 Keystone pounders to double fist. I'm a rebel, what can I say. It's impressive. Anyways, and the second thing 2) all the DAMN posers. Seriously.

Whoever decided that daisy duke shorts and designer cowboy boots was considered red dirt country, should be shot between the eyes. Bullet between the ears, as my Daddy would say. And, of course, these girls are blond (sorry, I was just observing). I guarantee those bimbos did not know ONE word to ANY of Jason Bolands songs. I am always baffled by these people. I stand there, while I'm sweating out previously mentioned pounders, staring. And probably giving them the stank eye. I'll bet that those idiots "My Music" list on facebook lists Rascal Flatts, Julianne Huff, Nickelback, Brad Paisley, Kenny Chesney, and other pop country idiots as their favorites. Ugh.

Posers. Again. Posers. The girls who turn their nose up to cow manure and bugs, but yet squeal at the idea of a cowboy in boots and jeans. So long as the cowboy isn't "too cowboy" in starched jeans and chews. Or won't want to spend a day on the farm in a semi bouncing up and down enough to pull a back muscle.

Man oh man. It's a good thing I am past the days of getting blitzed and being terribly obnoxious, because I'd easily end up verbally abusing some of those girls. Or at least quizzing them as to their knowledge on red dirt. But, then again, I'd ask which red dirt artist is their favorite and their response would be something like "Dirt can be red? OMG are you serious?!"

Sigh. That reminds me I need to put on my deodorant. Just kidding. Seriously.

avoiding stores is like avoiding soft manure

There are some stores that I avoid like a pile of soft cow manure. The reasons for avoiding these stores are varied.

For some, the reason is because I have the tendency when I am in the stores to feel like I am 21 year old sorority college girl again. You know those stores, where all the staff are orange tan and "Like, oh my GOD. That is, like, an amazing top on you. So young and fresh. You just, like, have to in a million years and times over get that!"And for a few split seconds, you feel as though it is totally acceptable to whore yourself out at Tubbys Saturday night amongst all the trash of Manhattan, who also spent $20 on that barely-covering-your ass piece of bright pink cloth (dress).
And just because it is a dress, does NOT meant that it is classy, ladies.

The pieces of string and cloth may be cheap, but do not let that fool you. Do not try to talk yourself into buying it because it's so cheap. Don't act as though you're doing your savings account any favors by buying that skimpy top ("But, it's such a bargain! It's double duty: I am saving money AND I look 10 years younger"...ahem) Pull your head out of your teeny-bopper daydream. You look at the staff and wonder how old they REALLY are. Fun fact girls, the harder you try to dress and look like a 21 year old, the more obvious it is that you are NOT 21 years old. It's more apparent that when you WERE 21, fake plastic pants and big hair were really considered acceptable attire outside your ranch style home.

I digress.

Over lunch today, I went to our local Manhattan Town Center to return a pair of jeans I had bought last night at 8.30 pm. Big Star flares are not appropriate for boots and for some odd reason, I had thought I could pull it off. No dice. My plan was to go in, grab the boot-cut version and do the easy exchange and be on my merry little way back to campus. Ahem. The staff, bless their hearts, kept throwing different styles for me to "just try. You'll love them. I promise!" When I worked at GAP, I strived to NOT be that sales associate that could not take the hint when the customer says "I only have ten minutes. I need to make this quick." It's annoying. And if you know me and I'm on a schedule, I become cranky. Real quick. And I talk even faster and tense up. I know my amazing God-given figure quite well and I KNOW that Ultra low rise jeans transform me back to those days when my beer gut (bless you 1225 Bertrand Apt D) was glorious and I wore more tiny athletic tees that I should have been allowed. I left this said store with 10 minutes left until 1. I was famished. I was hot. I was sweaty. I was pissed. I was frustrated. I had bought the jeans that I had originally picked up, before I was swarmed around associates.

Will I go back to this store? Of course. Will I spend more than ajl's house mortgage at this store before I leave the 66502 zip code? Of course I will. Will I complain? See July 22 blog. It's the human in me. To complain and then go back for more, in this case: Big Star jeans.

saving and big stars

I am an impulsive person. An old boy I used to date (note how I said "boy", because he was a boy in a man's body) said I was passionate. Another boy I used to date, said I was crazy. I'll give him that, since I was a bit crazy during that interesting relationship. God bless him, because he had to deal with me. Anyways, I digress.

My first semester at K-State, I racked up enough purchases on my newly opened American Eagle card to supply a small amount of vaccines to a third world country. The same demolished credit was done to my Victoria Secret's card. Also to my Dillard's card and my Sears card. I am trying to make sure I covered it all. Oh, GAP, but that was about my junior year at K-State. OH! Old Navy, too. And don't ask how I accomplished that with an Old Navy 45 miles from Manhattan. For anyone who has shopped with me, you know that I take it seriously. I don't do that browse-shit and try clothes on, only to put them back on the racks. I buy and I buy big. It's what kept me working part time at GAP for so long. The fruits of this exercise? A closet full of clothes that encompass my life from my freshman year at K-State to my "professional" career at K-State. Everything from the time when I THOUGHT I could wear a size Small K-State shirt and the fact that it HUGGED my boobs meant that I was classy. Uh huh. However, as you may have noted if you've read any of my blogs (or know anything about my life as of present), a change has come.

I sold two pairs of boot cut Big Star jeans today at Rock star and Rogers here in Aggieville for a total of $16. For two pairs of jeans that are originally $100. Each. For thsoe who are not familiar with jeans and boots, that may seem ridic for someone to spend that much on a pair of jeans (I won't even TELL you how much my Stetson boots cost). However, those females who do wear boots (and I mean real boots. Not that black knee high zippered up the calf crap. I am biter towards this style as my calves are the calves of an avid runner, which I am and no boots that are designed to go up farther than the ankle do not zip on my sexy legs) will appreciate the look of Big Star jeans on a country queen, such as myself. When the kind lady told me she could give me $8 a pair, I normally would have said "Fuck that. I'll hold on to them and keep them on my office floor for another 6 months for no apparent reason only to let my students think that I'm running a black market jean sale in my office. I'll show them."

My response today? "Awesome! I'll take it"

And I saved those sweet sixteen bucks to go along with my savings account which has grown tremendously over the past several months. Saving. I am saving and not spending. Seriously. It's incredibly refreshing and reassuring to know that if something major happens to me, I have a good cushion to support myself and won't need to run to Harvey County for help. It seems so small and those who have supported themselves who are reading this, will think I have a silver spoon up my (ahem).To be frank to you, I don't care what you think. It's enough for me to know that I can support myself and I have been supporting myself. It'd be awesome to blow my savings on a new Coach bag (I haven't bought a Coach bag in a year.. Scoff if you will at that, but it's major for me. I downgraded my taste to a Guess bag and it's amazing)

However, we all make changes as we grow and mature. And for me, that has looked something like not being impulsive on clothing, accessories (even though I did spend somewhere between 90-100 at a great jewelry store in Holly), and (sigh) booze. I forbid myself to look at coach.com or gap.com, because I know it's toxic for me. It's like giving a shot of whiskey to Lindsay Lohan. It won't end well. Well, I guess that depends on who signs your paycheck.

Here's to the savers among us. Damn the help, when you can stand in your own Stetson turquoise boots, which are paid for. You're welcome, Uncle Sam.

chickens and bbqs

Sit still. Calm down. Just relax. Turn your brain off.

Since I have been a toddler, I have struggled with calming down and relaxing. My mom tells me that I had a difficult time taking naps and struggled with falling asleep. This fault in my sleeping schedule still haunts me to this day. I cannot have any caffeine after lunch, or it will keep me up at night. I will lay in bed for at least 30 minutes before I am able to drift off to sandmanland. I try to start the "night process" around 10 at night with reading my catholic meditations for the day and then journaling. Still. Up. It's incredibly frustrating when you toss and turn, knowing that you have to be up at 6.35.

It's even more nerve racking when your neighbors are having a cook out/BBQ in their backyard and are carrying on until 11.30 pm. Add the backyard door swinging against the back of the house and you have one cranky emotional Monica at midnight. How is this related to a restless Monica? My lack of being able to shut my mind off affects more than my sleep schedule. Right now, it's affecting the view on my life.

Over two months ago, I slowly began a new chapter in my life. That day in April I had no idea that that Open House would start me down a path that had already been laid out by God. My life has not been the same since; it's more beautiful and filling and complete. It's healthier and I do not mean specifically in the diet or foods I am eating. Although I have gotten back on track taking my Active women's One Daily vitamins. You know how you plan your ideal situation and incorporate that headless Ken doll with the house, kids, limestone sign with a last name and powercat, circle drive with purple iris' and pansies in hanging pots, a golden retriever , and a few chickens? You see your friends charting that new territory and wonder if you could have "it". They post pictures on facebook of their cute bungalows with all their disgustingly cute DIY projects. They're standing next to the "SOLD" real estate sign with some cheesy over make-uped real estate agent smiling holding "the keys to your next house". And, of course, they're kissing. Because that's what those people do all the time. They kiss as though they're going for some some Grammy award for "Best Kiss". It's iris' and pansies' all day for them, while we are stuck renting houses and refusing to mow the grass, because your landlord is an idiot and you're not getting your security deposit back, so eff it. As far as buying a house? Forget that, because you sure as hell do not want to be in this town another year to justify dropping too much on a piece of lumber and buffalo grass with dried up flower beds of rock.

Then, your delivery of purple iris' arrive. And you want the chickens and have visions of picking eggs from coops at daybreak for scrambled eggs with drizzled cheddar cheese and a dash of black pepper. As for the DIY projects, rain check. For now.

Going through the red tape

Well the surge of hormones or bad karma has left the building and I am back on my normal feeling that my path in life is magical. Ok, maybe magical is a bit too fluffy Disney sounding, but you get the point. Also helping with getting me out of my funk is that I am 2/3 done with my graduate paper that is due Mondays at midnight. Usually, I cram 2-4 pages of amazing theoretical college student developmentness between the hours of 1-5 on Monday. Let it be known, I do NOT work the best under pressure when it comes to sounding educated. So, why put it off? My motivation for this class is as low as Lindsey Lohons IQ on legal proceedings when driving your overpriced SUV while on every recreational drug developed. The class? Foundations of Academic Advising. I'll let that soak in, as I remind you that I've been an academic advisor for THREE years for over 450 young aspiring artists. Mmhm. And I am just now taking this class. No students have suffered that I have not been an expert on the ethical and legal dilemmas in dealing with stressed students over these past three years. I have not been receiving negative evaluations from my students over these past three years. Quite the contrary, as I BLOW my own tuba, I have received amazing reviews. Every year. So, you can see why my motivation for this class is ridic low. I've been doing this for years. I consider myself a professional when it comes to being an academic advisor for art students at K-State. Without this class. This class that cost me 1200 dollars (that is a lie, it cost me 400 after my Tuition Assistance...point still stands) and then 100 for the textbook is draining the academic advising life out of me. Like a sieve. Luckily, it ends on July 27 with a massive final portfolio, which undoubtedly will drive me to putting in my two week notice (not really, however it will be painful).

The lesson for today, boys and girls: You have to go through shiz to earn a piece of watermark paper. I am this close to being done, what is another tension headache? And when it IS done (Spring 2011, baby) no ONE can take my MS from me. No one. Even my own sanity.

you don't know my mother's maiden name? Lame

I pray I am not the only person who has those days that nothing seems to be going your way. You take a step back and you think "Shiz.... I have so many great things in my life right now and I'm getting emotional over the quick print machine at Wal-Mart Photo Center not working?! Am I serious?!" With the accumulation of my landlord suffering the effects of too many recreational drugs in the 60s and 70s (I am assuming this because everyone who lives in AZ partook in recreational drugs, duh) and "not receiving our money order", the quick print center at Wal Mart Photo not working yesterday (let's not digress on the heat wave and how I was glistening when I got back on campus after that heartbreak), still not receiving my new debit card after a bar establishment in Manhattan( whose name is not "Sugar and Spice and deals with an outside edge" (Salty Rim))) somehow got my credit card numbers when I was 350 miles away and I had to cancel it (the card), my phone bill jumping $30 for using data (assuming picture mail??), students who expect me to look up class information and their mother's maiden name along with the name of their first pet, and the painful heat yesterday blew.

I caught myself thinking "Seriously, Monica. You have an amazing family with great looking sisters (thank you good genes), solid friends who care about you, a blessing you gave to a family in April 2009, extremely attractive boyfriend who can serenade everyone from elderly ladies to young college kids, and a God that has your back (even when it's sweaty). And you're whining about the WAL MART PHOTO CENTER?! Whoa girl. You're needing humble pie.

I know that it is natural for us to have bad days. Blame it on hormones (this is universal, not just pertaining to females), the heat, or the circle of life: everyone has a bad day, even though the stuff that happens really isn't all that bad (once a day has passed). Our lives our cycles and we have to go through the landlords to get to the days where everything seems to flow like honey from the promised land. During those days when you feel the urge to cry (or at least tear up) at the changing red light, remember it is a cycle and you''ll have those green light days. Just keep on moving. Just drink water. And don't trust the Wal Mart photo center.

I did get those pictures picked up. A day later than I had planned, but I got them. And that is all that matters. And damn, I look good.

Ma! The meatloaf!

You know those moments when you realize that you are an adult and you can't rely on the parents to call your high school science teacher to complain about a misunderstanding? You realize that IS all on you. This is so small, but I remember getting up in the morning when I was living at home and noticing that Mom cleaned the kitchen and did the dishes and cleaned up the clutter on the dining room table, after us girls' had gone to bed. I remember feeling protected, in some weird way. It was comforting knowing that while you were in bed, someone was taking care of the little stuff and the house looked differently (cleaned up) in the morning. Now, the way I leave it, that is the way it is staying. The little reminders that I am no longer living at home and can rely on Mom to wash that final dish. Sigh. Our landlord only positive contribution to my life is the home that I live in. For the second month, he has not "received" our money order. Kelly and I realized that we have to send Money Orders to him, otherwise, he was going to wait a month to cash our checks and one lesson is all it takes when that happens. It is not as if this is his only property. Him and his wife purchased this home for his daughters to live in while they attended KSU (they live in Arizona) and this year falls between the years that his precious daughters are not in college. Moral of my stress: He calls me at 10.46 pm last night and I am in bed by 10 pm, folks. I am older and I like to feel refreshed when I am at work on facebook killing time between 8 am and 5 pm. He left a message saying he did not receive our money order for this month and my bank proved that I sent the MO on June 28th. I called him back and left a pleasant message that the bank shows the MO has not been cashed yet so it has to be at his, what I am assuming, is a massive cluttered mess. Why do you I assume it is at his house? Memory lane, here I come.

This same scenario happened mid-April when he accused us as to not have sent our MO for that month. My bank showed that it WAS cashed on March 28th by his signature. I called him back and what do ya know? He did cash and said it must have gotten lost in his memory. Yes, because I cash 650 checks all the time and forget about them, constantly. How could I forget THAT feeling? No apologies from him for the stress and time it took contacting my bank (which is a phenomenal bank, btw). Ugh.

So yeah, I am missing those days when Mom took care of finishing up the dishes and putting the final touches in the dining room. Then, I remember how sheltered those days were. Maybe dealing with incompetent hippies is not that bad. Maybe. Actually, I know it is better. I just like to wish for those days, for small moments.

sweet corn, sweet lessons

July 13. Really? It is July 13?! It is funny how we always wish our summers away, because of so many events that happen during those precious months from mid-May to mid-August. About this time of the year was when I'd always wish I had something going on when I was living at home. For those who are trained in the seasons of sweet corn, you know that it's about that time that that juicy goodness is ready to be plucked from the tall stalks. One of my Daddy's siblings started planting sweet corn in with the field corn and lo-and-behold, guess whose farm was doing it the next year? Mmhm. That is right. The Ponderosa located in the heart of Harvey County. It is funny and amusing now that I am older, looking back at all the things/equipment purchases my uncles made and how not long after that, Daddy was looking into the same thing. Thankfully, the Bergkamps are not foolish with their money, so we never ended up with an infomercial midnight purchase. We did end up with some plastic poly-pipe for the flood irrigation. Back to the point: when the Bergkamps do something, they do it BIG and sweet corn is/was no exception. I can still remember the aggravation waking up to husk countless ears of corn in the pickup bed, while Daddy was out in the field picking more. After husking and doing a half assed job on plucking off all that damn silk, we would place it in boiling water to kill off all the crap that festers in a field over a few months. Then, the best part: cutting the corn off the cob (ugh) or placing it on the cob in massive bags. Seeing that keeping it on the cob took up so much space, Mom would do about 90% of the "crop" off the cob. And that stunk, let me tell you. All that work, slicing it off the cob for a wittle baggie of sweet corn was not fun. At.all.

However, the taste when it was all said and done was amazing and it was awesome having sweet corn for dinner during those winter months. I guess that is another lesson in life: sometimes you have to slice countless ears and enjoy sweet corn juice hitting you in the eye to appreciate the good stuff.

However, I do have a good excuse to get out of putting up sweet corn this year, but I still want my stake in a few baggies.

it's 5 o'clock somewhere!

eTick tock. Tick tock. 15 minutes until the weekend is here and I can relax and not drive hundreds of miles to get to some amazing destination. Three weeks ago it was KC for Brooke's PnL bash (which was a bash, but thankfully not to the destructive lengths it has been in the past....oi vey) and two weeks ago down to the Ozarks with some quality K-State alumni ladies and last week it was a western KS-southeast CO adventure. My plans this weekend involve: gym after work, Papa Murphy's to pick up a pizza for Erin and I, then a girls night watching a disgustingly romantic comedy or anything that involves the phrase "chic flick". I am succumbing to the pressure of society and seeing the new vamp movie with Kelly and Karin, but before that filling our faces with Olive Garden. It will be an amazingly relaxed weekend. As much as I LOVE going and going and going and being places and seeing people, it is nice to spend a weekend doing nothing impressive. Ajl is still playing a farmer in flip flops and *should* be home Sunday for lunch with Mel and Mason and I. The work of a farmer is never done and lucky for YOU, it is like that. *ahem*

Needless to say, this HV county girl is ready for Sunday *** Enjoy the weekend, guys! Hit the gym, clear your head, do some laundry and get shiz done!

does this make you nervous?

Man on man. Do I feel guilty. Those who know me, know that I do enjoy amazingly trashy reality TV. Nightly. If not twice daily (thank you, hulu.com). Real Housewives. The Hills. The City. (I am still awaiting casting calls for "The Country"-> I'd be all over that. Up and down). The Bachelorette. The Bachelor. I am watching "The Bachelorette" from last Monday on hulu and they're hosting the Special Presentation of Jake and Vienna. For those whose lives do not revolve around spying on others love lives, Jake was the last bachelor on "The Bachelor" and Vienna was the lucky lady he chose to whisk away on his plane (he was a pilot). If you haven't been to Dillons or Wal-Mart in the past week, allow me to fill you in. They broke up. They didn't just break-up-here's-the-ring-and-I'll-delete-ya-on-facebook break up. They broke up as in tabloid covers, he-said-she-said shiz. It's intense.

However, nothing was an intense as their interview they did with Chris Harrison that showed during the last half hour of The Bachelorette. And I feel so guilty. I do not feel guilty because they broke up, but because I just watched a massive fight that you know had happened 3902 times in the privacy of their posh apartment. And they just hacked it out. Jake was hushing Vienna, which it's obvious that he's done that to her many times, because she broke done bawling even more. We've all had those fights with significant or past significant others, where you are so exhausted with the yelling, the bickering, the hurt, the anger, the tension, the pain, and it all that you keep re-living those moments in the heat of battle. It's painful. So horribly painful and destructive. She was bawling and he was getting angry and I could see where he could be verbally abusive and have a short temper that probably lashed out on her, due to the stress of a relationship and the pressure of the fame (that they had asked for, btw).

Now, that the episode is over and feel extremely guilty, because I feel as though I should have stopped. We all should have stopped googling and oggling through the seasons (well, those of us who are crazy enough to admit to watching seasons of this stuff) watching someone else try to find "their happiness". But do we? Heck no. They put themselves out there, so we happily oblige to watch. Still, we feel guilty. And continue watching. And comparing.

I am serious though. If "The Country" ever were to be a possible reality TV (preferably Bravo.. I like Bravo a lot), I'd hit "apply" so fast, it'd burn my keyboard.

I'm a wild flower

What a week it has been since I last posted! Colby was a great getaway for me and spending the time with Mel was well needed. We had dinner at this amazing Mexican restaurant in Colby and we enjoyed my new favorite drink: frozen banana margaritas! At first, I thought it sounded disgusting. I LOVE bananas. Tangenet: when I was 1-2 years old I LOVED bananas and Mom would give always feed me them, because like I said I loved them. Low and behold, I had killer constipation. As in my cute face would become tomato red and I'd sweat my sweet brown curls off because it was so intense. My poor mother was at a loss. Again, I'm the oldest so I was the guinea pig in everything. Grandma Bergkamp asked Mom what she was feeding me and mom told her nothing out of the ordinary, just a lot of bananas. Grandma reminded mom that potassium can constipate people. My mom was giving me constipation. And you wonder why I am scared of mom giving me arsenic. Now you know. ANYWAYS, back to story: I love real bananas and usually find banana flavoring disgusting. However, I stand corrected in my rant: I love bananas (real) AND frozen banana margaritas. They.were.awesome. I am hoping to find the recipe online and make them soon!

Oh and if you ever are using your garmin or other popular driving device-that-has-taken-the-place-of-the-good-ole-torn-up-paper-map-that-you-could-never-get-back-into-its-original-form and are crossing time zones, please note that they (the device) compensates for the TIME ZONE CHANGE. Colby is NOT 1.5 hours from Holly, Co. Colby is 1.5 hours PLUS one hour from Holly, Co. Thanks Garmin. Or maybe I should be thanking me for being so gloriously insightful, because I most definitely did not realize this when I left Colby to head down to the Leikers.
Harvest was a great experience! Since Daddy always has hired custom cutters to cut our crops, I had never experienced the nitty-gritty of harvest. I always saw the crews roll in with their semis and combines and then Kenny Pauls would come by the house to collect the check that was large enough to buy a massive SUV with rims. First day: I had a tutorial in combine driving and ajl let me drive in on my own. The hardest most confusing part was driving the combine WHILE unloading on the MOVING grain cart. That part was the hardest for me to get down, because there were so many things to focus on. The biggest lesson I learned through that experience was that ajl has the patience of my mother. If roles reversed, I would have thrown ajl off the combine and told him to walk home and be useful, because I would have lost all my patience and marbles. I am blessed.

Speaking of going home and being useful, I made cinnamon rolls for the Leiker crew at Mel's. So domestic! And rumor has it that Mason was impressed (I had left some with Mel and him in Colby). I don't know if he was impressed by the recipe OR that I did that good with the recipe. I am a well rounded girlfriend. I can bake in my hodgepodege of a swimsuit that is essentially two swimsuits and I able to move heavy machinery with smile and charm.
Go Harvey County girls!