Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

Category: stress (Page 2 of 5)

Bustle, bustle!

Yep, it’s bizzy ’round here. Big client meeting yesterday. Off to NYC tomorrow, back home on Thursday, then keep dog-paddling because there’s a big meeting/presentation next week to boot. woo-hoo! In the midst of all that, got to keep getting the ‘regular’ work done, and then handle the curve balls on top of it all. Because boy howdy, there was a curve ball, and I seriously wanted to remove heads from bodies with a croquet mallet. Yes, I was channeling my inner Red Queen, and all I can say is, good thing I read the emails at  home so I had time to explode and then calm the hell down by the time I could actually address it. GAH! Life is hard enough, when things are going well, it’s in everyone’s interests to make! things! work!

OMG Tripper is going to start marketing his weapons-grade gas to the government. That’ll help pay the dog food bills ’round here. He is seriously, seriously toxic with his farts. I keep a bottle of Febreze ‘Air Effects’ right by my chair, and it’s almost comical – he gets royally offended when I counter-attack with one puff of “Linens-n-Sky”. Sometimes he even gets up and moves. It’s the only weapon I have, and I have to use it!

Speaking of crazy dog stories – last Saturday night I met up with some of the LSG folks on Ravelry, which was great fun – and when James got home from his banquet duties (MWA banquet in Oregon, MO), I headed for bed & left him to take care of the dogs for the night. Good thing. Polly apparently dashed in the door, and he only caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, and knew she had something in her mouth. Uh, yeah. “Something” turned out to be an enormous full-grown rabbit that was in dire straits. At least I have a husband who can calmly handle these things, humanely. I’d just shriek and run into doors.  Just a regular Mutual of Omaha around here, I tell ya…..

Speaking of wild kingdoms, the seed-planting is well underway, as the gardener of the house starts getting excited for planting and gardens and spring. Since he’d gotten me a Christmas present when we’d agreed not to exchange gifts, I decided Valentine’s Day would be my turn to surprise-treat. I took the rest of the money I’d left in my PayPal account from my Loopy Ewe DPN holders, and with just a smidge extra, I bought him a set of Texas Tomato Cages. After all, tomatoes are the “Love Apple”….and he grows them so extraordinarily well, with all kinds of fantastic varieties, knowing how much I love love love fresh tomatoes. Apparently these things are THE support system for growing tomatoes, so we’re just going to start investing in them and add to the pile as we go.

Let’s see… working furiously on some more knits, including a couple of fun projects for classes I’ll be teaching, and really, just trying to not let too much slip through the cracks.  It feels kind of crazy that tomorrow is already Ash Wednesday, that next week is -yikes- March! and pretty soon we’ll see Spring really settling in, bursting through the ground and in the trees, welcoming us to a new season and another chapter. Despite being agitated about dunderheads, and feeling like I’m burning the candle at both ends, I’m really excited about what’s on the horizon this year – both with work and my life outside of work. (For instance? The Wo and I are going to take a vacation! YES! Where? Dunno! But it’s going to happen, and that’s all there is to it. The pool will be there for later in the summer, yes, but staycation be damned!)  And yes, eventually I’ll be able to throw all the nice facts up about the zombie, proving once and for all, the dead truly can live comfortably in California.

Bruised Orange

Today was a …. “Meh” kind of day. Last night’s sleep was interrupted repeatedly by dogs, and today just was one of those less-than days. Rudeness begot irritation, and it’s like watching a snowball roll down a really big hill. You simply know it’s going to get bigger as it moves ahead, and you feel your powerlessness. There were a couple things in particular that crept under my skin, there were a couple other things that made me laugh heartily, but the undercurrent was always an anchor pulling downward, and if a fork in the road presented itself, I chose the path more irritated.We all have those days….

One of my favorite singer-songwriters, all the way from childhood, is John Prine. I’ve written about him before, but my devotion to him never wavers. His songs run the gamut, from sarcastic yet cheerful, to plumbing the depths of a depressed mind or situation. So, given the greyness of the day, the general sense of malaise, I wasn’t all that surprised to find myself belting out my go-to song of his on my commute home. I even turned down the radio, so I could hear my voice resonate around me, to be undistracted in my ennui. And, as always, I heard my dad, reminding me of the lesson in the song. “For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter. You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there” (and I see his eyebrow raise as he looks at me, knowing I know the words by heart, just as he does, knowing that I handle things the way he does, knowing that I need to remember I have a choice…) “wrapped up in a trap of your very own chain of sorrow…”

So, I guess I need a hacksaw tonight.


Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrow)

My heart’s in the ice house come hill or come valley
Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley
On a cold winter’s morning to a church house
just to shovel some snow.
I heard sirens on the train track howl naked gettin’ nuder,
An altar boy’s been hit by a local commuter
just from walking with his back turned
to the train that was coming so slow.
You can gaze out the window get mad and get madder,
throw your hands in the air, say “What does it matter?”
but it don’t do no good to get angry,
so help me I know
For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter.
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
wrapped up in a trap of your very own
chain of sorrow.
I been brought down to zero, pulled out and put back there.
I sat on a park bench, kissed the girl with the black hair
and my head shouted down to my heart

“You better look out below!”

Hey, it ain’t such a long drop don’t stammer don’t stutter
from the diamonds in the sidewalk to the dirt in the gutter
and you carry those bruises to remind you wherever you go.

(P.S. When I was a little kid? I thought the words “Howl naked, gettin’ nuder” were absolutely SCANDALOUS and fabulous all at once. Now I just think they’re brilliant.)

Energized, yet Drained. Cheerful, yet Rageaholic.

Yes.  I am covering a wide swath of ground these days. And through it all, I am bizzy bizzy bizzy! I always love being busy, but sometimes it pushes the edges and boundaries of normalcy, and I find that’s when things like …oh… “politeness”, or … “consistency” start to fall by the wayside. Work’s been really busy & I have had some great conversations with my bosses about goals for the year & I already hit a couple balls outta the park, so I feel like th year’s off to a very good start. I’m behind on sending out presents and holiday greetings but hell. Isn’t it better to get a thoughtful note from me when I get around to it, than nothing at all? Or just my signature in a timely manner? That’s my approach & I’m stickin’ to it, dammit.

I joke about the rage-a-holic part, somewhat – I’m still PISSED at Time Warner Cable, because even using my connections, I got a VERY disappointing solution yesterday. Instead of our bill going up 60%? She could knock off a little and make that increase just 40%. FORTY percent. People, this is not gas, or milk, or any other commodity that is finite in its production. Yes, the internet has bandwidth, I understand. But TWC is still going to have to buy MTV and HBO whether or not I’m in their customer base, and there is absolutely NO reason I should stick around for a rate hike so substantial when there are other options. Options that involve hassle on my part, but what’s the best salve for hassle? Nostril-flaring joy that the fuckers over :there: aren’t getting your money any more. I’m not quite at that point yet, because I emailed my contact again with less-florid language describing the above, and it’s now gone on to a different department, presumably one higher on the food chain.  I shall keep you updated, because if I’ve picked up on one thing in this life, is that folks out there have some shared rage against The Man, who sometimes comes in the form of The Cable Company.

I spent a good chunk of my weekend making more DPN Holders for The Loopy Ewe, and my local yarn stores, so I’m chipping away at my cost to go to the LE Spring Fling at the end of April! Woohoo for cottage industry!

I’m off to a blogger meet-up tonight – should be fun & interesting,  since I didn’t get a chance to meet everyone at the last one.  I’ll be the one with my knitting, but I promise, I am oh-so-far from dowdy, shy & retiring.

Taptaptaptaptap….Yes! There’s a Pulse!


I wrote this great post on religion and I still need to proofread it & edit it, because it was in the midst of having some hideous short-lived bug attack me and give me stomach cramps that felt like being belted across the midriff with a baseball bat. Good TIMES! It’s just about gone.

So, the snow! It’s practically all gone. But so fun to watch falling, and really not all that bad to drive in, of course, we have a joke at the house that I fight the urge to become SUV Bitch, ever since I got the Murano. And I try really, really hard not to be that beyotch, blowing by you, but I’m sorry. When the roads are only as wet as if it had rained? And all the snow on the road is melted? You DO NOT need to drive 15 mph on a major street.

But there is still knitting. And yes. I’m behind on photos. So behind. Story of my life.

Work? Busy. Lots going on. It’s good, there are parties and plans and all sorts of things, new things, new projects, all of it. I need to remember what day it is, on almost an hourly basis, and then when I realize what day it IS, in relationship to the holidays, I have a little special panic attack.

Like a minute ago, I remembered the cookies. And that I need to make 72 cookies. So I’m going to sorta cheat, and make bars. Iowans, we love bars. And the recipe is even FOR bars, and I have the Largest Calphalon Pan Under The Sun, so I have confidence I can knock them out on Saturday. (That’s six dozen for those pondering at home. SEVENTY-TWO.)  I’ll share the recipe & pics once they’re made! The ingredients include caramel, cashews & chocolate, so seriously, how can they not succeed? (OK, note to self, don’t burn them. That’s definitely one path to FAIL.)

We Kansas City residents have the odious joy of daily ridiculousness, courtesy of our Mayor & his wife; lawsuits, now ethics investigations, he continues to office from home because he refuses to work without her by his side, constantly – I definitely feel like an old lady, caught up in local civics, all frothing and irritated with the utter stupidity and ridiculousness of it all. At least Illinois’ taking some of the heat off us now. But still. It just doesn’t end.

OK. I’m guessing your plates are pretty full, too. At least put a cookie or two on it to sweeten the pile!

On Friday’s Shopping

I used to get up at the ass-crack of dawn, and go out into the cold dark winter air, armed with a list and a game plan. I say “used to” like it was ages ago, but in fact, I was out and about just last year. I even went back and read the post, because I wanted to remind myself just how lackluster & disappointing the experience was for me.

So this year, I didn’t go. Or I should say, I didn’t go at the ass-crack of dawn. And of all the sales, the only one I wanted to go to was JoAnn’s, so I made a list, grabbed my coupons, and headed out shortly before 11 am, thinking the crowds might be less and I’d still skate through with the 20%-off-before-noon coupon.

uh, yeah. Nice thought.

I wanted some wool felt, so I thought I was smart when I grabbed my number BEFORE finding my fabric. The line for the cutting table was huge. I looked at my number. E76. Went off and found the bolts of wool, and heard overhead, “D54! D54” Uh, WTF? Did that mean there were 75+46 (121!!!) people AHEAD of me? Fuck that. A woman putting fabric away told me they sold packs of wool felt fat quarters, and I decided I’d go that route. No line, and I’d use my 50% off coupon on ’em. It didn’t take too much longer for me to get the other things on my list. Another sales clerk asked me if I needed help, and inquired about the one thing I needed to buy as a present; she told me to get in line & she’d go get the item for me. Nice! Now, where’s the end of that line?

I thought I’d try to show you, through the magical powers of illustration, just what it took to check out.


My face:


Yes. I was standing a few aisles back from the ribbon. And we went all the way around through Home Dec, by floral, and then into the big chute towards the registers.


That’s me, about 15 minutes in. I can see Home Dec at this point. Then I run into my dental hygienist. She walks with me and chats for a little while, but then goes on to join her mom, who is already in line. Far, far ahead of me.

At about 45 minutes of standing there, my legs got a little tingly. Everyone in line around me was antsy; we’d watch each others’ carts while darting down an aisle to entertain the notion of purchasing something else. The lady in front of me left for five minutes to put back a no-sew throw she’d impulsively put in her cart. Everyone was running out of patience.


Meanwhile, overhead, a man came on the speaker system and reassured everyone their “shop before noon” coupons would be honored, not to worry, they appreciated our patience, etc. I was all, “uh, yeah, otherwise you’re gonna have some crazy-ass women starting a riot!”

Finally, after standing for an hour, it was my turn to check out.


And flee. And go home, and collapse, and take a cat-nap on the sofa.

ETA: Yes. I saved 50% overall on all my purchases, with the bonus discount. So it was worth it – but I’ll have to think long & hard next year if the total savings on what I “need” will justify my time!


annnnd 6.

I will admit, I had planned to get Mimi Murano’s official MO Safety Inspection earlier than today. It’s just been a bit… chaotic.  So after my morning of meetings, I took off about 2, and headed out to get the inspection, with plans to continue on to get new plates at the DMV, as well as exchange the faulty DVR remote at the cable store.

Stop #1. I am greeted by a hefty man who looks like he’s walked out of a small-town movie set, shot by Clint Eastwood. When I ask if they can fit an inspection in today, he sorrowfully shakes his head, adjusts his glasses, and prepares to write me in for tomorrow. Sorry, buddy. I’ve got a limited window here, so I’m going to try someplace else.

Stop #2. I am greeted by a burly man who looks like he could be cast as one of numerous State Troopers in a straight-to-DVD Dukes of Hazzard movie. I repeat my inquiry. He shakes his head. Tells me they’re scheduling inspections after Tuesday of next week. Obviously, that’s a bit too late for me. I am starting to worry a little bit about my afternoon’s plans.

Stop #3. I spy an inspection sign on a muffler and brake place, and veer into their parking lot, thinking they might be a little less busy. The waiting area is spartan, and I apparently startled a customer out a deep stupor. I am greeted by a skinny man who looks like he was an extra in Deliverance. It wasn’t so much his disheveled appearance – greasy, unkempt hair seemingly trying to escape its own destiny and owner by spiraling outward in various directions – nor was it the various-sized nodules studding his neck and face, but it was his eyes, vacant and staring, while he intoned they had no time, and astutely observed that this was the end of the month. I exited quickly.

Stop #4. Actually, it was a drive-by. I started noticing that all these places have their phone numbers on their signs, and as I passed another hole-in-the-wall, I shouted out the phone number to myself. No luck, they, too, were busy.

Stop #5. I pull into the parking lot, and immediately find myself in a sticky cluster fuck of cars, as suddenly three vehicles are trying to exit. I park. And call the number on the side of their building. No again. Their inspector hurt himself and is out for a week.

I am starting to get a little panicky at this point.

Stop #6. I pull into another little garage’s lot, and see a woman swiffering the floor to the waiting room. Having made eye contact, I think it will be a little odd for me to call from 5 feet away. I walk in, she gestures towards the back, and a man comes around to ask me what I need. I repeat my request for an inspection.  He tells me to come back tomorrow. I think my shoulders slumped a good four inches.  I started to succumb to what seemed to be the inevitable, and asked what time they opened. 8 a.m. How long will it take? The guy asks what kind of car I have. I start to flail. I’m feeling defeated, and frustrated, because I have a 2006 Murano that has just over 17,000 miles on it, for pete’s sake, and I can’t believe I even have to HAVE an inspection, and I’m saying all of this while flapping my arms like a flightless bird, spiraling on his freshly-swiffered floor. He pauses, and says, “Come here. Write down your name and address. I do it right now.”

At one point, while I waited, I’m pretty sure I uttered an audible, fervent blessing upon this man.  This wasn’t the most comprehensive inspection, I’d wager, but frankly, my car doesn’t warrant a fine-tooth comb. It’s still under warranty!!  The bill was $12? I gave him $20, with heartfelt thanks. And he blessed me, at that point! It was a win-win, in my book.

So, finally, I have new plates (that are grammatically incorrect, but yours truly & a Sharpie are gonna fix that), a new remote, and I dropped off a lemon-berry slush for my husband, who’s having parent-teacher conferences all day today. I’ve got to get my halloween costume pulled together tonight, and I must say, I’m ready for the weekend!  I’ll get some pics of the costume up tomorrow, and hopefully (fingers crossed!) get back to slightly more regular blogging! I’ve missed it – and while the blogs I write in my head are undeniably awesome, they’re also super-easy to forget.

One Indication of the Stress In My Life…

…is when I don’t blog. There’s been a healthy handful of work stress (some of which would have made LOVELY fodder, but then, we do like to pay our mortgage, unlike, apparently, eighty-million people).  And frankly, as stupid and trite as it sounds, I will never be able to read a memorial (such as Paul Newman’s) that says the person died at home surrounded by family and friends without thinking of my father. I believe there will be a time when it simply makes me melancholy, and it will feel like it is more of an arm’s-length away from me? But in this time of my life, it still has all the unpleasant qualities of being squished by a sweaty, garlick-breathed man on the bus.

Except it also makes me weepy. And, I cannot wait for the election to be over, because everything to do with that enrages me. I believe I alarmed quite a few drivers on Wornall this morning, while I listened to John McCain avoid the question as I screamed “FUCKING ANSWER THE QUESTION” and all my windows were down. It’s quite a pendulum to swing on, lemme tell you. All that we’re really missing are some mice in the house to make me feel like I’ve finally lost my shit. (You know, because you catch sight of them out of the corner of your eye?) And then I’d have to kill them and I don’t enjoy that one bit. But who knows? Perhaps election-year mice are therapeutic?!

This weekend is the American Royal, and we will be judging…. everything. Invitational meat, open meats, side dishes and desserts. Lawzy. Thank god we learned from last year, and are bringing a cooler. I hope I get to bring home a 14-gallon brandy snifter of pudding. I seem to have seen a photo of something like that once, and obviously, it stuck with me. (Though I think we can all agree such a snifter would be useful for after-work beverages, too.)

I’ve also got some finished knitting items to get pictures of – Gigi, and the Sweet Tarts Montego Bay scarf has been blocked, plus some socks.  I also have a small baby sweater on the needles for a co-worker of James’; and tonight, I finished sewing in a zipper on his jeans. Which might explain why someone found my blog when they searched for “what’s the difference between sewing and knitting.”

I’ve stayed up too late as it is; got an early meeting & lots to do again tomorrow. Catch ya on the flip side, peeps! And congrats to Meesha for winning Pitch’s Best Blog!

Apricot Tart with a Mascarpone Cheesecake filling Glazed with a Raspberry Sauce.

That’s totally what I would make for my “Make-My-Head-Explode-With-Rage” pie, in the spirit of the utterly charming movie, “Waitress“. I don’t even know if it exists, but after the day I’ve had, I was about to lose my shit all over the Costco parking lot. And then? I decided to think about pies. And what I would make, if I were going to theme my day. It really does diffuse some of the stress! And makes ya hungry, to boot.

Fortunately, I’d picked up a nice big bag of shrimp, and the Wo turned it into delicious scampi. We had that with some salad & a baked potato, all of which he fixed.   After we exchanged twenty minutes of sharp political banter, in which we both just decided to scream at each other the worst things about each other’s party we could.  All on the heels of declaring our unconditional love for one another, so, no worries, we couldn’t be happier. Well, we could be a little less maddened by each other’s beliefs. But it doesn’t touch our love, thankfully! Two minutes of balls-out yelling is cathartic: I’m a tax-loving liberal who wants to hand all the money to no-good deadbeats who’ve done nothing to deserve it; he’s a fascist capitalist who rewards businesses who don’t need more money with more tax breaks and leaves everyone who’s not rich out in the cold. Oh, and yeah, I’m a baby-killer.  But so is he. Now that’s a fuckin’ pie.

Hi! (I get enthusiastic after long separations.)

Enthusiastic, that would be a good “E” word, were I keeping up with that Alphabet Soup project… 🙂 In any event, I could feel it in me, bubbling out, when I met up with my co-workers at LaGuardia on Monday. I’d spent the day traveling, but by myself, with little chitty-chat and moving amongst a sea of strangers. I remember when I first had a self-selected roommate, after college, and I chirpingly greeted her in the morning. (She was not a morning person, and I was more of one then than I am now…) I figured out that I’d spent so much of my life alone, or with just my parents, that upon seeing someone else in my life sphere, I became quite gregarious and happy for the company.

Now, I just hate people in general.

(That’s not true.) I would, however, enjoy the use of a taser while traveling. Not for nefarious purposes, but more for that person who thinks it’s perfectly fine to come to a screeching halt in the middle of the main-traffic-drag of the busiest airport in the world. The problem is, the longer the day got, the less judicious I would be. I would have taken out two people alone flying back to KC for their insistence on slowly putting their three bags filled with Walt Disneyworld purchases into the overhead compartments, rearranging them, with no sense of urgency whatsoever. Actually, only one of them was doing the stowing, the other one? Standing in the aisle observing. I might have half-body-checked her as she finally realized she needed to step back into her seat.  Might.

New York is a really kick-ass place, I love the energy and motion and the seventy-billion options you have, though it can get a bit overwhelming.  If I had the chance to go back in time and invest in two things? Parking and scaffolding. There’s a lot of scaffolding, and parking charges are crazy! We had drinks & snacks with one of our clients in Bryant Park, and it was just lovely, the atmosphere. On our walk there, I was bringing up the rear (that’s what we do, phat girls, we bring up the rear and take the pressure off everyone to slow their pace to ours.) I got waylaid a bit, waiting for a couple tourists to get their photos taken, and then I strolled by a Hispanic couple, her arms draped around his neck, as they stood in this little patch of green in the concrete jungle. They looked at me, I looked at them, she turned as I passed and said, “Your eyes are really pretty.”

So much for all those New Yawkers being asshats, eh?

I’d love to have a trip where I could stay an extra day or two, just to do things at my own pace, have the Wo by my side, to see some things for the first time together, to see his face as he drinks it all in.  We had dinner at a Belgian bar, and then on our walk back to the parking garage, ended up going through Times Square. It’s a lot cleaner now, I’ll give ’em that – it’s been 15+ years since I was there. I’ll get the photos off my phone, at some point!

Well, I’ve gotten derailed numerous times trying to write this, so I’m giving up – my concentration is shot, I’m still “hung-over” from the very long days of travel & meetings, and I’m ready to have a good dinner with my sweetie. I made the choice to get Papa Murphy’s pizza last night, and while it’s a “10” on appearance and toppings, it was about a “1” on flavor – I couldn’t believe how much it tasted like.. nothing. Uber-disappointing. And I was disappointed today on another matter entirely, so I’ve had enough.  Tomorrow is Friday, I’m going to strive for stress-free right on into the weekend. Hope yours is as well!

Oh, hi. Miss me?

It’s been another crazy week here! Yup! Work has consumed a big chunk of my time/life/brain, and as a result of that work, I’m heading back to NYC on Monday. Since I was a late-addition to the itinerary, my co-workers & I are going to be engaging in an Amazing-Race-esque travel event, with me leaving before everyone, flying to Atlanta, then on to NYC. They leave an hour and a half later, go through Cincinnati, and yet we’re all supposed to arrive at La Guardia at the same time. My brain keeps seeing the two colored lines peeling out from Kansas City in two directions, and I hear Phil Keoghan’s voice conjecturing if one team will encounter delays, or will we both arrive on time, and someone…..may be eliminated.

So, there are worse places to be stuck for 2.5 hours, which is my layover time in HotLanta, and I have loving, fond memories of that airport, because I walked off a plane once and saw a Body Shop in front of me. That was the trip where I’d forgotten my hairbrush, so it was a welcome sight indeed. I’m going to charge up my Zen and add some more music/This American Lifes to it, and of course, I’ll pack a knitting project, and a book. I dreamed a couple nights ago that I ran into the Yarn Harlot on my travels, too, which was pretty cool. My favorite part of this trip was when my boss told me that if they encounter delays, to just take a cab and get to Times Square. (That’s when my AE said that’s where we’d have the Amazing Race carpet to jump on.) So if you’re there on Monday during rush hour, and you see a fat lady talking to the singing naked cowboy dude, come up and say “hi”, I’ll be there waiting to get my next clue.

In other news, it’s a busy day here at the shop, because we’ve got our annual client/vendor party this afternoon/evening. There’s been a lot of hustling & bustling to get the place ready, and I’m just going to say it, my office is a disaster. I’m going to have to remedy the situation pretty quickly, but I also have another piece of my presentation to finish for Tuesday’s meeting. Instead, I’m blowing off a little steam & blogging. I miss my blogging!

Last night, we went to BB’s Lawnside BBQ, which is a fixture in the KC BBQ community (and I love that they underwrite on NPR); I had never gone there, despite its proximity to our house, so when I heard co-workers were taking our out-of-town AE there, I ran it by the Wo, who heartily agreed it was better than scrounging in our (very messy) kitchen for something. They had a band, and a helluva special, with a full slab of ribs & two sides for $15. Pretty tasty! And the music was great, and I even got snorgled by the harmonica player. I was engrossed in conversation (more like listening to the conversation between my hubby & a co-worker), and suddenly there was a man with a cowboy hat & a harmonica, playing by my face. Whenever I leaned away from him, he followed me, tickling my cheek & neck with the air from his playing. I couldn’t stop laughing, it was that crazy mixture of fun, unexpected attention and a pinch of embarrassment!

All right, I need to crank out my spreadsheet, and determine what’s for lunch. I know I’ll be Plurking my way through New York again, so if anything hilarious happens, I’ll let you know, and I’m going to see if I can blog with my phone as well. Just in case there are pictures that need sharing. Who knows? It just might be my week for cowboys!

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