The Count Censored

Hilarious!

Time is Ticking

You have until 11:59 PM tomorrow to qualify for the summer writing challenge.

Victory!

Tastes strangely like throw-up...

    I'm sure you're all well aware that my all-time list of things that I hate goes approximately as follows:

        1) Vomit
        2) Genocide
        3) Canvassing

    I am happy to report that there was no actual vomiting last night, although many threats to do so. Rather, I would say I conducted myself with the famous MacStewart charm and grace. It certainly helped that the dress was so perfect (please post pictures, M2)!

    All this past week though, I've had that very special knot in my stomach. And as I left the clubhouse last night, I thought, Hey, it's over now! I can finally bid adieu to my unwelcome little companion! But boy was I ever, as usual, wrong about that. Last night I ran to the only place I could run where I thought it would finally be okay to cry, but I didn't cry at all, and if anything, the knot only grew tighter, and tighter, all the way home. It's still heavy as a brick in my stomach, and pressing on my vomit reflex in the back of my throat. I don't understand. Everything happened without a hitch --precisely as planned, as far as I can tell. So WHY WON'T THIS GO AWAY?

Giving Thanks

There's a special and unique feeling that comes with an answered prayer, and as is customary, I am publishing my thanks.

Thank you, St. Jude, for hearing me out and granting the intercession that was very much needed for the people I prayed about. It was a relief for everyone involved (especially the mom and dad, who were beside themselves with worry) that the test results were good.

I've always felt awkward when praying, wondering if I would ever share a special relationship with a saint. I was always shy about praying to St. Jude, who is known as the patron saint of hopeless cases, because I worried that whatever I might be praying about may not be hopeless enough. And in the middle of my prayer, I heard that little voice in my head that said if it seemed hopeless to me--if I was feeling despair or praying for someone who was feeling despair--then that's hopeless enough. When I gave up feeling like my prayers were insignificant, it made a big difference.

And the difference was knowing that deep down, my prayer would be answered in one way or another. Thank you, St. Jude, for showing me that, too.

Wordless Wednesday

Here's my contribution to Wordless Wednesday... I wonder who she's trying to be today?

Dear Pluto:

No matter what these crazy people say, you'll always be Pluto to me.

National Doughnut Day

Doughnut lovers of the world, unite!

I went to a seminar yesterday to satisfy the CEU requirements for my license, and I learned that in order to gain a pound in one day, a person would have to eat 17 Krispy Kreme doughnuts. That being said, today is National Doughnut Day (I read it on MSN first thing this morning). Being the country-loving, patriotic individual that I am, I intend to celebrate to fullest extent possible. This will most likely mean un-doing the progress I've made doing Pilates everyday for the past week, but I'll get over it.

How are YOU going to celebrate?

Summer Writing Challenge

Sisters, the writing site is in a coma. I know that I'm partly to blame, but I'm ready to do something about it. Here's the challenge: Post a piece of writing at least once each month this summer--June, July, and August. If you do, I'll give you a dollar. And, at the end, the site will have 12 shiny new excerpts for the world to enjoy! What do you say?

Musing on My Lunch Break

Here's a quick, funny post that I'm doing on my lunch break.

On the recommendation of Crazy Sister #3, I purchased a Pilates DVD featuring the stellar instruction of Ana Caban. I feel really good today, though my abs are a bit sore. But that's not the point. Definitely not the funny point.

I did the whole session right before bed last night, which actually worked out really well. I think all the deep-breathing induced a deep peace and relaxation and I fell asleep right away and slept HARD. The crazy thing is that I had the most bizarre dreams! Now, crazy dreams are nothing new to me, but these were exceptionally strange. To enhance the humor of this, I have to share that when I was visiting #3 in D.C. back in April, I had a dream that I was having an affair with the detective from Law and Order: Criminal Intent. I don't know his name on the show (Danny??), but it's the guy who played Thor/Mr. Dawson in Adventures in Babysitting. In the dream, we didn't actually do anything. It was just one of those situations where I knew I was having an affair. Weird, right?

Okay, so last night I dreamt that I was having an affair with another detective, only this time it was from Law and Order: SVU. It wasn't one of the cute detectives...I can't remember his name on the show (Munch? Muench? Something like that.), but it's the older guy with the gray hair and glasses. He tends to be pretty sarcastic and mouthy on the show. Not my favorite character, but whatever. My mind was working overtime, I guess, and I would also guess it's fixated on Law and Order because those are pretty much the only shows I watch. It was the same as the dream I had about the other detective, but this time, I kept kissing him. I was aware that I was dreaming and kept asking myself, "Why aren't you waking yourself up? You shouldn't be kissing this man!" FYI: He did kiss good for an old guy. I know, I know. Eeeeew. TMI.

Anyhow, I woke up from the dream, very puzzled and feeling naughty (and a little dirty, too), but I ended up going back to sleep. Now here's the REALLY crazy part. I had another dream--but I didn't realize I was dreaming at the time--that I actually met the gray-haired detective in real life and he came up to me and said, "Hey, I had a dream about you last and we were kissing!" And I said, "Yeah, I know. I was there." And he kissed me again!

Bizarre beyond any words, right? I woke up this morning and was just laying in bed, trying to figure out what's going on in this little brain of mine. Now, I've always had a thing for a man in uniform, but ironically enough, these guys don't wear uniforms.

Being the therapist and sometimes-dream-analyst that I am, I think these two detectives are possibly representing parts of myself, or at the very least, representing parts of myself that I'd rather ignore. Like Mr. Sarcastic giving me a wild kiss--like trying to stop the sarcasm that usually flows freely my mouth??

Any thoughts?