How many "swear jars" can one have? You know, the proverbial collection of quarters in a jar for each offense? Hmmm. Let's see, I think I have enough space with my counter tops and kitchen table to cover about half of what I'm working on. What to use the money for...that Hummer2 is looking mighty attractive...! Swearing, eating too many treats, gossiping, lying, cheating, coveting...you get my jist.

I'm back on the prowl--been looking around online for my potential spouse. What a strange E-world we inhabit. There are a few attractive options. I'll keep you posted. I decided to be more up front in my portrayal of myself--it's funny to try and describe yourself in a list of traits that you select from a drop-down. Heh.

NFL today. My prediction: Ravens hot this season. Raiders, not so much.

So, my various friends, I thought it would be fun to give you a glimpse into my life. Maybe you'll feel better about you, maybe you'll feel worse...it's win-win, is it not?! Livin' the dream in our separate little worlds makes it difficult for us to connect on a day-to-day. Plug in here for a few minutes, and then we'll have a great big virtual-bear-hug, then back to the grindstone. Ok? Ok. Read on.

5:22 a.m.
Alarm number one sounds, which is iMMEDiately snoozed.

5:37 a.m.
Alarm number two; snOOzed.

5:52 a.m.
Third alarm sounds. Annnnnnd snoozed.

6:04 a.m.
Number four. Same results.

6:12 a.m.
Fifth bell's a charm. Annnnnnd I'm up. I roll out of bed and kinda limp to the bathroom because my arthritic body is not quite ready for movement of any sort. Commence the getting-ready-for-the-day procedures, which include moving piles of clothes from one side of the room to the other to find clean new ones. Hey, I live alone. I used to style my hair; this morning I settle for some bobby pins and gel. It will dry on it's own; no need for a blow dry! I put on make-up, though I question this every day, because I sweat it off by about 10 a.m. But a girl's gotta try, eh?! One good thing about a uniform is that you aren't burdened with choosing just the right outfit everyday. It's my navy Dickies and baby blue denim button down with Chevron embroidered tightly just below where my right clavicle will fit. Black shoes and belt, magnetic nametag, and a golden smile, and I'm on my way.

6:59 a.m.
I move more piles of clothes/shoes/junk mail/etc. to find my purse and keys, pause at the door to say a quick prayer for the day, then down the elevator and up the street to work. The time clock at work is a convenient 6 minutes behind the time on my cell phone, so I should be pretty darn close to my 7:00 scheduled-in time. Crossing the street on 21st south is a bastard though. These Sugarhouse folk have no concept of P-E-D-E-S-T-R-I-A-N-S.

Rest of day:
Morning C-store routine, consisting of but not limited to: grabbing a coffee, I mean Diet Coke, checking the damage from the night crew, making a plethora of coffee, stocking/organizing the drink cooler, stretching my previously mentioned aching body, checking in vendors, chatting with my boss, grabbing something to eat from perhaps the roller grill or the Planter's rack, drinking more coffee/Coke, mopping, wiping counters, stocking in general, throwing large buckets of ice into a machine, lifting large cases of drinks and beer from various places to various places, handling lots and lots of grubby money, lifting more heavy things, keeping up with general messes created by John Q. Public., and more lifting.

Evening:
Find that I'm out of important necessary items such as hairspray and food, so I walk down to the Smith's. It's raining today, but I have to wash my clothes anyway, so I'm not too put out that the ones I have on get all wet in the downpour. I have a truck, but I can't drive it right now because it's plates are expired. Bad truck. Walking is good exercise though, so I'm ok with that. I get home and out of the rain, and turn on the T.V. Good night of programming tonight will be! It's Autumn, with several season premieres in the wings! Bring on Survivor and CSI! I eat a couple of hot dogs--I'm supposed to be on South Beach diet, but haven't had time or money to plan really good approved meals, but hey--close enough! I wash the clothes I'll need for tomorrow during the commercial breaks, because my day off is coming up, and that's the day I catch up on important household-ly chores.

Good T.V. tonight! Sigh. I check some email, write a bit, think about picking up the place, and think quite hard, you can be sure. But again, my day off is coming up, and there will be plenty of time to straighten up the place then! A couple of Tylenol P.M., a verse or two from my scriptures, a quick prayer to end my day, and I'm off to dreamland.Kind of. Well, after my mind stops racing and thinking of things not done and bills not paid and people not talked to and laundry not done and callings not magnified and people not pleased and calories not counted and dreams unfulfilled and Christmases not internalized and intentions not achieved and kisses kept quiet and loves not unlost and tears held back and fears not rectified. And things.

5:22 a.m.
Alarm numero uno...

Now come 'ere, you! Give me some love! Hey, I promised you a hug, damnit, now get over here and share the joy!

My friend is pregnant. Pregnant! Having a baby sometime in the spring of next year, I suppose. Her first appointment with the doctor happened yesterday, and before she left for it we chatted for a bit about the joys we women experience and look forward to throughout our lives. First and most obvious is the beauty of the menses. (Gentlemen, that is not *you*. Look it up.) Once this begins, we are blessed with its grace once a month, or 28 days if we're regular, until we're old. Some of us turn into monsters a week or so before we menstruate, and guys, believe me: much less fun for us than you. Don't argue or I'll tear out your eyes. The physical pain before a period is usually so intense it leaves us curled into a ball like a baby, weeping and waiting for relief. Whew! Glad that's only A WEEK LONG! That's just the beginning, boys! Yearly exams wearing nothing but a paper towel and socks and probed ultra thoroughly. Childbearing. Not only is a baby pushed out our vagina, but our bodies will stretch and grow and become somehwhat misshapen, and it's not a snap to get them back to how they used to be.

Ok, this really isn't an entry to complain about being female, but my friend and I chatted as women do, about what to expect at the appointment and OB/Gyn's and the yearly exam and how big baby might be so far; like women do. I tried to relate this to a guy (my little error in judgment) friend, and he's like "Girls talk about stuff like that? That's weird."

Weird? No, my magnificent male compadre. The other day, I was standing at my register trying to help two guys engrossed, en-GROSSED in their conversation. This is what I heard: "Yeah, I do thirty minutes of power stretching in the morning. Five minutes on one side, then push ups or sit ups, then 5 more minutes stretching on the other side and so on... It's really improved my high-jump-roundhouse-kick...".

Yes, I see...women are weird.