I am Going to the Gym...

Today is not going to be a day of leisure as days past. Today is different. Today I’m dragging my butt to the gym. Oh man, I hate the gym. I would rather have a root canal than go to the gym, or even better yet play Russian roulette than drop some sweat of on the gym floor.

I will be the first to admit that I’m lazy. I even own a Lazyboy recliner. The way I figure it is this: if the guys at Lazyboy wanted their customers to go to the gym, and be active they would have called their recliners ‘Get-off-your-butt-and-do-something-already’ recliners.

How did I get myself caught up in this mess? It all started yesterday when a friend of mine came over for tea. (Bad sign when friends come over for tea instead of Starbucks. That should’ve tipped me off right there.) My friend is young but having some medical issues, and her dumb doctor told her she needs to exercise to cure her ills. What happened to modern medicine? Isn’t there a pill she can take? I hate voodoo remedies. Anyway she asked if I would workout with her, and since I don't want her to be afflicted with pain anymore I said yes. (Plus she knows my days are flexible.)

Here’s the thing; AFTER I said sure. (And by the way I was sitting comfortably in my Lazyboy recliner.) She told me we would be enjoying the gym’s facilities for two hours each time we went. Excuse me? Can’t you see that I’m lazy? But since I don’t want her to have massive pain, and it probably wouldn’t hurt me to go to the gym I agreed to her two hour Nazi regiment.

I’m all packed and ready to go: I have my cute pink water bottle, a towel, my Cosmo for the exercise bike, my Ipod for the treadmill and elliptical machine, and my medical ID bracelet… just in case.

*I know that once I'm there I will be glad that I went. And did you know that once upon a time I was addicted to going to the gym? It's so strange that the addiction was so easy to break. Weird.

Up Date on My Date

I’m just going to come out and say it. Things are not going as I planned with my surgery date. It looks like my surgery will be delayed until September. I’m going to be put on a waiting list of course, and I’m going to believe with all of my heart that I will get my surgery in the time frame that I desire. David thinks everything happens for a reason- maybe the anaesthesiologist is too focused on boating during the summer months, and he does a much better job in September. But David he might fish in September. I need the guy present and accounted for. Whatever the reason for the delay I don’t have a choice. I hope the months will go by fast, and I will remind myself that this will be the last summer I go without a bikini. I guess I will have to babble on about something else for the next five months.

Where is Everybody?

Dear Readers,

I was just looking at my stat counter today and I noticed that there are 2,600 hits for my blog this month. I am very pleased. (I'm doing a happy dance!!!!) I have a question: why are there no comments? Am I that good? Is nothing left to add? Someone must have something to add. Hey, if your a drive-by-blog-reader I totally understand. The thing is: you all know who I am but I have no idea who you are. If you want to share with me that would be really nice. If you perfer to read silently that's okay too. I will love you just the same

Won't You Be My Neighbour.

A few months ago I received a notice in my mail from a new neighbour who had just arrived in our complex. The note was glossy, and it was an invitation to join a painting-getting-to-know-you-so-we-can-have-barbecues-in-the-summer-and-be-great-neighbours-party! You know what else? If we were to go to this painting party we would be getting appies! (I don’t know what it is about the word ‘appy’ but I simply can’t stand it. There are some words you can shorten, but in my personal opinion appetizer is not one of them.)

I didn’t go. For two reasons:

One, I've never picked up a paint brush. I have my father on permanent retainer, and he does any job for free. He doesn’t even require food; all he needs is a radio that plays country music. Given that my painting skills are zilch I didn’t want to have to send my father over to correct anything that I had touched, so I thought it best that I stay away.

The second reason I didn’t go, and this sounds really shallow, but remember I’m always honest with you guys: I found the letter to be a little too much in your face. We currently live in a time where we don’t go out of our way to meet our new neighbours, and the letter scared me away.

WAIT A MINUTE BACK UP…

Ha! I did the exact same thing as my new neighbour did. Except I did it differently, but with the same intentions; I hosted a complex wide Christmas open house. I went door-to-door handing out Christmas cards inviting all of my neighbours to my home. At the time I felt like a door-to-door salesperson. ‘Hi, I’m Amy. We’ve never met before, but since its Christmas I thought it would be a wonderful time to change that. I’m having a Christmas open ho…’ You get the idea of my sales pitch.

I guess because I didn’t ask people to paint, and I offered ‘appetizers’ the whole complex showed up. I know; how wonderful was that? I know everybody. Well I used to know everybody. People keep moving out, and at this rate I’m going to have to throw another Christmas party next year. I’m so thankful that the door-to-door thing doesn’t bother me.

Ever since my new neighbour moved in I felt as if I should fill a basket with baked cookies and muffins, and take them over to her place. (I mean the painting is done right? What damage could I do now? I’m certainly a better baker than painter.) But something kept me away. Which isn’t like me at all; heck I will befriend a mailbox if I like it enough.

Well isn’t life funny. Last night I was face to face with my note-sending-appy-painting-neighbour. (I’ll call her Jay.) My friend begged me to go to a ‘girly night’ as she put it, which in layman’s terms meant: Arbonne spa party. I didn’t want to go. In fact I was lucky enough to escape my first invite thanks to my medication! But this time I had no time to prepare a crisis. I had to go to this one.

Nothing against Arbonne products they’re actually wonderful products. I dropped over $170 last night. That’s the reason I don’t go to these kinds of parties. My motto is stay away from: Tupperware, Pampered Chef, Mary Kay, Avon, and anything else that involves me sitting in a good friend’s home watching a consultant sell me something. I can’t resist. I love my friend, and they have cookies at their parties.

I should have known this, but it blindsided me just the same; Jay is a straight shooter. She introduced herself as the crazy lady who sent out the invitations. (How did she know I called her crazy?) I’m not used to dealing with straight shooters as most people have filters. But apparently Jay forgot hers at home. (Did I forget to install mine? Darn it, mine is at home too! This is going to be a crazy night.)

Jay also caught me out of my element. The host request we had to do ‘smoky eyes’. Mine looked more like ‘chimney sweep eyes’. I think I’ll stay conservative-thank you very much. But the host was thrilled, and to me that was all that mattered.

Here is the interesting part I think Jay and I share a lot of the same characteristics. I don’t often meet people who are as passionate about life as Jay is. We have the same story; I just haven’t told her yet. Remember the lack of filter that I think Jay misplaced? During the party one of the guest mentioned that they were tanning. And of course I just had to say something in my smart ass way.

The conversation went like this:

18 year old that is killing herself by tanning: (something-something) I’m tanning.

Me: How, there is no sun?

18 year old that is killing herself by tanning: ‘No I’m using a tanning bed.’

Me: ‘Oh, don’t you know those things will kill you?’

18 year old that is killing herself by tanning: ‘Yeah, but I quit smoking.’

Jay talking to me: ‘Way to be passive aggressive… “How are you tanning when there’s no sun…”

OOOO this girl is good. Nobody calls me out like that. Most people either don’t catch on, or they don’t know how to confront me when I’m playing cat and mouse. One point for Jay!

I learned a few things last night.

1. I should still stick to my princple and avoid home parties, as they are too costly.
2. I’m not suited for the ‘smoky eye’ look
3. I shouldn’t judge people based on their choice of the words, such as ‘appy’.
4. Jay has my one of my cherished characteristics in a person, which is ‘I do what I want, as long as it makes me happy.’
5. Maybe I will drop by Jay’s house with a basket of assorted cookies, because after all she is a character, and us characters have to stick together.

Communication Breakdown

Writing this entry may take longer than usual because of the simple fact that I must mult-task. I’m sitting by the phone trying to make it ring. I want a call from my surgeon’s office telling me that there has been a cancellation, and my number is up. So far the phone has not rung, damn! I’ve gotten so pathetic that I’m call forwarding all of my home calls to my cell phone. I don’t want to miss the call.

My day is filled with miserable hope. My telephone rings often throughout the day, but most times I find a telemarketer at the other end of the line; excitingly announcing that I have been selected for a free cruise to the Bahamas. I tell him that he has called five months too early. I have to wait for my bikini body before I can cruise anywhere.

Its taking everything I have not to call the surgeon’s office, and tell the receptionist that I’m willing to prepay now. ‘Here just take whatever you want out of my bank account, and I’ll meet the doctor on the operating table.’ I know he’s good. He has all of the qualifications, certifications, and references I need. He can draw on my tummy with his sharpie just before my operation. It’s all good.

Apparently it doesn’t work that way. I have to meet him, he informs me of how much I get to pay before he does the surgery, and he gets to draw on my tummy at the consultation. It will be the same outcome, but alright. I guess he is unaware that I have the ‘retirement-recliner’, and I have been ready and waiting for months.

I am perplexed by my inability to wait. When I had my lapband surgery I moved my lapband forward a month. I could’ve done it at the end of August, but I decided to do the surgery at the beginning of October. I wanted that surgery just as badly. If you think about it I was going to receive a tool that would help me with my struggle with weight. This surgery isn’t as important. Getting a tummy tuck will be more painful, and the end result will be the elimination of muffin top. The lapband eliminated 83 pounds, and saved my life.

Why am I losing my cool? Waiting by the phone sucks. I think it’s time for me to relax. I’m not going to lie. I’m still going to call forward my calls to my cell. What if I win another free trip? It would be a tragedy to miss such a golden opportunity.

Emails

From now on no more chick flicks. I’m going blood and guts all the way. Except I have a roadblock and his name is David. He loves romance movies. He sees himself as the male lead character and me as the female lead. My husband cried at the end of the movie ‘The Notebook’! He identified with the husband and wife; to him they were him and me. What I know for sure is that if I should get dementia, move into a care home, David will park himself there, and try everyday to make me remember who I am and that we were madly in love. His favorite part was when the characters died in each other’s arms. (David was positive that the woman in the movie knew who her husband was when they died together. Awww...)

I’m revising my chick flick criteria. I’m not going to watch any life long friendship movies. I’m going to burn my copy of ‘Beaches’ as soon as I’m done writing this entry.

As most of you know I’m bipolar, and before I was diagnosed I went through bouts of depression, and highs. I had (the word is HAD) a wonderful friend, which I let go of during a bout of depression. There was no massive fight, or mean words said. I just told her I was too tired to have any friends. We were 25.

Ever since that moment I regretted my words, but I was sick. I would see her face everywhere. I missed her so much, especially as I started to get well. Do not misunderstand me in anyway- I am not making my mental health as an excuse for terminating the friendship; it just played a big part in it. I take full responsibility, and because of that I waited to connect back up with her until I was stable enough to be the kind of friend she deserved.

I sent her an email explaining what had happened, and that I was truly sorry. She sent me one back saying that I was so brave, and beautiful. I sent her an email telling her that I wanted to be her friend again. She sent one back, and her email said, ‘Goodbye.’

I’m not blaming her, she has the right to decide who to befriend, and she decided not to take another chance with our relationship. Fine. Am I hurt? Yes, but not for the reasons I thought I would be.

I’m so mad at being bipolar!! I hold it together. ‘Being bipolar isn’t that bad.’ ‘I’ve learned to deal with the ups and downs.’ ‘My family and friends are very understanding.’ ‘My medication keeps me stable.’ ‘Bipolar is just something I have to work through.’ I’m tired of reciting those sentences day-after-day.

Bipolar has taken away my career, my friendships, my trust, other people’s trust in me, and my ability to function at times.

But let’s be fair bipolar has bestowed gifts upon me too, such as: weight gain, medication, free hospital stays, paranoia, low self-esteem because I’m feel like I’m not living up to my potential, and seizers from the bipolar medication, (But don’t fear I control the seizers with more medication.)

We all have our own crosses to bare, our own struggles. I just wanted to get a piece of my old life back. I wanted to get back something that I loved. I know that I have to move forward and focus on the good things I have now. I know that I’m more blessed than most. But damn it, I think I deserve a second chance; I’m not a bad person.

I will never give up on my quest to have a better life. Bipolar may have put a weight on my ankle, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t move forward.

As for my lost friendship there is nothing that I can do other than wish her well. As for my mental well-being there is only one thing that I can do, and that is to keep fighting.

I have to sign off, and start working on David’s notebook. You know, just in case… Oh and put my copy of 'Beaches' on Ebay. Burning it is too harsh.

My Lastest & Greatest Ring.

Last Sunday Holly wanted to make cupcakes, but since she is lactose intolerant the days of relying on Betty Crocker’s cake mixes are over. She has to make her cake by scratch. By the end of the ordeal there was flour everywhere, from the cupboard door knobs, the cupboards themselves, and to top it off there were flour mountains on the floor. She even had flour on her cheeks, and her bum.

When she was cleaning up she informed me that her lactose milk tasted, and smelled weird. Even though the milk said it was good until April 4th it had expired, which meant my kitchen gave its life for nothing.

David felt bad for Holly. Being the dad he is he went and bought her cupcakes. The best part of these cupcakes was that they were the Easter kind with plastic chicken, and sheep rings on top!

Holly claimed the one and only chicken ring, but the good news is I was able to snag a sheep ring. Guess what? I’m wearing it right now. (It’s uber huge too.) I have been wearing it for the last three days. Holly had her chick ring jacked at school.

I have went out for coffee, conducted business, shopped, went to my physician, and hung out with my friends while wearing my Super-Sheep-Ring. I didn’t do it so they would mention it. I didn’t expect them to. In hindsight wearing my Super-Sheep-Ring to the doctors may have been over the top, but what’s done is done.

You might be thinking that I have lost my mind. True. Can’t argue with you there. If I had to guess most of you are probably reading this and thinking, ‘Doesn’t she know she’s 35 years old?’ I am totally aware of my age-thank you very much.

I have a theory as to why I do what I do.

I haven’t grown up all the way; part of my brain is still 16. I’m a very lucky 16 year old in that I have money, a nice home, a cool ride, no curfew, and I am able to go to Vegas whenever the mood strikes me.

*Just to clarify I did say part of my brain is 16. Not the whole thing. There is a part of my brain that acts 47. This is the part that makes sure that the bills are paid, Holly is well taken care of, maintains my home, enjoys adult relationships, and has the ability to makes adult decisions on important matters.

But why am I still 16? Simple, no one has required me to grow up. At 16 I was living on my own, working, and taking care of myself, so I already had that going for me. But I met David at 16, and ever since I met him nothing has been required of me on the ‘growing up front’. He has always liked me the way I am. To be honest I think both of us are stuck in our respective ages of when we met. When we are together on my good days all we do is play, and have fun.

There are two secrets we have for our relationship success: We don’t fight to be right, and we tell the other person EXACTLY what we want from the other person BEFORE the other person sets off to make us happy. We never play the game of: ‘If you really loved me then you would’ve known what to do.’ That game sucks!

Since David and I met when we were so young we brought no baggage in to this relationship as a result we get to live in a bubble. But that brings me back to my point. We never forced one another to grow up in spirit. As a result I pretty much do whatever I want when the mood strikes me. David finds me, and my antics endearing. My friends just know to expect the unexpected when it comes to me.

Totally off topic- but you know what gives me the warm and fuzzies? When my friends tell me that they wish that they could take some of David’s ‘Husband DNA’ and give it to their significant other. I wish they could too; then I would be rich! Wait…then everybody would be married to accountants…I have to rethink that idea.

Sleep Good.

Rise and Shine! I feel 80% better than I did yesterday. I finally got some sleep. Zombie Amy is gone, alive Amy is here. I am still a little drowsy from getting some shut eye last night. I think it might be because of the sleeping pill.

The good news is there was no online purchasing, or cat grooming last night. However I may put the cat thing on my list of things to do today.

Since I’m not feeling at full power today I have made the executive decision not to push myself too hard. I will do some exercises, and chores, but after that I am just going to hang out, maybe go for some decaf Starbucks with a friend.

Even my blog entry is short…

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep...

I guess I am in the mood to blog. Lately I have been chasing sleep the way I think drug addicts must have to chase their next high. ‘I’m tired man, can I have a sleeping pill, just one, man.’ The truth of the matter is: I am well stocked in sleeping pills. I’ve got three different kinds; I am totally covered.

I’m suppose to keep a sleep log which logs each time I get up to go pee, have tea, or whatever I happen to want to do at 2:56 in the morning. I also have to record the amount of time I spend outside of my covers. My doc wants to measure my sleep patterns to make sure I’m not getting ‘more’ bipolar; whatever that means.

Okay here’s the problem: I was blessed with a small bladder, so I go to the bathroom a few times a night. (I got clarification on this just in case…) I’m supposed to record these small bathroom blips. My doctor wants to know exactly how many times I get up, what time, how long, and for what reason. As you can imagine when I got up to go pee I was faced with the task of remembering the actual time I awoke, and how long I was out of bed. Just calculating all of this would wake me up. I finally said, ‘Screw it’, and started to invent fake potty break times. I sleep better now.

Currently I am pulling all night think tanks in my head. I’m pondering such things as: How do I improve the cupboard space in my kitchen, I wonder if I could dye, and cut my own hair tonight, I wonder if I could dye, and cut the cat’s hair tonight, or would it be a good idea to remodel the house before David wakes up to go to work in the morning. These are not good thoughts to have at 1 am.

It’s been about a week since I have had a quality night’s sleep. My eyelids feel heavy, but still my mind races on! My mind is too strong, plus I really can order furniture off of the internet, and I have a feeling if I lose anymore sleep the furniture trucks will be rolling in tomorrow morning. American Express and online ordering is a bad combination for a manic bipolar that hasn’t slept for a week; let’s just say everything becomes a ‘good idea’.

To save my family from bankruptcy I am going to give in and take a sleeping pill tonight, and hopefully I haven’t went too far into the ‘Everybody Dance’ part of my brain, so I will be able to recover, and feel better by tomorrow. If I’m up at 4:00 in the morning tomorrow I’m totally going to blog about it. If my blog is quiet then that means that I’m tucked nice and snug up in my bed not ordering crap off of Ebay.

My First Video is Now On Youtube...

I did it! I did it! I posted my first youtube video...eek! (Entry below explains everything.) Yeah you're probably right; I have lost my mind, but that is besides the point.

Here is the link:
http://www.youtube.com/user/acdane

Make sure you subscribe to me so you can catch all of my crazy videos! Ahhh...what have I done. I did it live in one take too; can you tell?

Update…

I have emailed my friends to let them know that I am now a super star via the internet, and now my tummy is in knots. Have you ever done something which you thought was a stellar idea at the time, but then afterwards thought better of it? Like adopting an orange-ring-stealing-cat. I’m just saying is all. But now that the word has been spread, the show must go on, even though I am having second thoughts. I think it became more real when I informed my friends.


I like to live life on the edge, and this gives me a thrill. I am really committed to this project, but I just wanted to share my feelings with everyone. I am shaking in my boots. I think...no I KNOW I am going to need your support to go through with this project. I'm not doing this without you guys. You guys are my biggest online fans- and I love you for it.

I'm going to do something I have never done...

If you send me comments either on my blog, or my youtube account I will dialogue with you. I haven’t done that before, because I wanted to remain a mystery, but now the cat is out of the bag, and you are about to see all of me. There will be no mystery anymore. It is going to be a very interesting ride.

Youtube

I have been vey busy lately. If you must know I have been enjoying my favorite past-time- SHOPPING! 'Cept I haven’t been shopping for my usual fare, instead I have purchasing items that are way out of my comfort zone.

I had to get a few things from the electronics store. I bought a web cam, a HD camcorder, and a movie editor. I am going to be a star.

I am going in for a tummy tuck at the end of May. To get ready for my adventure I have been researching the web, and youtube to get an idea of what other people have experienced during their tuck. I found some brave people who have shared their experiences, but after watching them I felt like I wanted even more information. I wanted a more ‘personal’ look inside of their journeys.

I decided that I would become one of the masses, and put my tummy tuck life online for people to experience as I go through it. I will post my first link to my first youtube intro video soon.

(I have to learn how to use all my new toys.)

Pulling An All Nighter...

It’s two in the morning and I can’t sleep. I have taken something to help me sleep but it hasn’t started to work yet. I found a few things hilariously disturbing today:

More people are addicted to prescription pills than most other substances combined. Holy Cow! I take over 18 pills a day to control my bipolar. That’s not including the pills that I have to take to help relieve the nausea, head aches, and insomnia that are caused by the bipolar meds. I hope my brain is reaping as much reward as it can from the medication intervention. You think by taking 6,570, which doesn’t take in to account the extra medication I have to take to treat the side-effects of the bipolar medication that my liver must be toast.

I have begged the doctors to lessen my medication intake, and they do, but then I get sick, and then I have to increase the doses again. It just doesn’t seem all together fair.

I have an idea- to all of those people who really want to take crappy medication-you can have mine on the condition I will magically feel better! ...I knew that sounded too good to be true! I am begging you all to stay clean, and I will do my part and take all the prescription drugs for you. Leave it with me.

Another thing that made my jaw fall to the ground today was when I heard that a New Jersey woman who is 600 pounds and is eating her way to 1,000 pounds.

Really? Can we do that? No! Really? Shut up, she has two kids! Is she a complete moron? This is a new one for me; if you can’t lose it- add to it!

I am really frustrated. Is this what we find entertaining? Who wants this weight record to be their claim to fame? She is a mother of two children. Why couldn’t her legacy be even a greater goal? She could start by raising a wonderful family that will carry on for generations to come. (Instead she'll be dead.) To me building a beautiful family is more important than breaking any record book. Hey, Ms. Simpson, please reconsider.

I am getting tired and I have no idea if I am making any sense…I think I am going to try and sleep…see you in the morning. I wonder if I’ve even made sense in this entry??? It's dangerous to be under the influence of sleeping pills and blog at the same time.

The Waiting Game

I’m supposed to be doing productive things around the house today. Today is my favorite day of the week, because it’s ‘Clean the house day’. I would really like to call it: ‘I am going shopping, because I don’t want to get in the way of the housekeeper day.’ (Insert sigh)

Speaking of clothes shopping; I haven’t went. I am forcing myself to wear last seasons old crappy clothes. I just can’t justify buying new clothes just before a tummy tuck, which the date is has yet to be determined. I have a strong feeling that I am not going to be getting my surgery until the end of May. Do you have any idea how much torture I'm endearing being forced to wait that long? Twelve weeks! It might as well be a life time. Maybe I should reconsider this no shopping rule that I’ve imposed on myself.

I should tell you that I did buy two new things: jammies; for my tummy tuck recovery of course. Oh crap I forgot I bought one more ‘un-mentionable’. This fine garment is my coming home from the hospital outfit. I am going to try my best to explain what this fine garment looks like. Just in case you would like to follow my fashion lead.

It’s a moo-moo, with white plastic snap buttons that go from top to bottom, it’s is a lovely shade of baby blue, and made of a light weight terry clothe material, but my favorite feature of said outfit is the pastel floral design found on the neck and shoulder region of the moo-moo.

My best educated guess is that you can find this moo-moo, or something similar at your favorite K-Mart, or Wal-Mart shopping boutiques.

I think I may burn it after my recovery, or save it until I’m 90. Both would be acceptable options.

Let’s just recap:

I have the moo-moo. I have the ‘retirement recliner’ a.k.a lift-recliner. I have the pjs. I have the money. I have the courage. I just need the darn consultation!

If I can get my car insurance company to give me more than I paid for my car, and do it within 3 days. Why can’t I get the plastic surgeon (who I want to pay) see me sooner? Life just doesn’t make sense.

Night Time Rituals

I have a quirk. My quirk is I get my home nice for night time burglars, or anyone else who might stop by. I know that sounds strange, but let me explain. Before I go to bed my home has to be pristine, everything has to be put away, no dishes on the counter, the kitchen counters have to sparkle, and so on. I often wonder why I do all of this work before bed. Who am I doing it for? …burglars, family or friends who show up at 2:00 am and need a place to crash, or is it for the strangers who have been running away from a ‘bad guy’ all night in the pouring rain, and now have to use my phone to call for help? God forbid I have newspapers lying around! What would those drenched strangers think? ‘Yeah, we're sorry but your house is a little messy we’ll use the neighbour’s phone. We sure hope the next place will be tidier’

How sad is that? I am tidying up my home for imaginary people!

Thank goodness no baddies were chasing a poor innocent couple last night, because my home was anything but tidy.

The kitchen dishes are piled up a mile tall, the floor needs to be swept, and cleaned, and the counters need scrubbing. The living room is messy. Papers are every where, and all of our throw blankets have been thrown around; not carefully folded on the sofa and chairs. The laundry hasn’t been done in the last few days, which would cause a major problem; I would'nt have bath towels to offer my late night guests.

I have a strong feeling that I am still in shock from Sunday. (If you have no idea what I am talking about; stop right here, and read the entry below. It’ll explain everything.)

Today is a big day. Today is the day I am getting my retirement-recliner-chair, and my new car. I am thankful that the recliner is coming today because I need a chair where I can watch crappy TV, and sleep at the same time.

I am just putting this out there: If you were planning to stop by for a late night visit; can you come tomorrow? I don’t know if I’ll have it in me to prepare the house for your arrival. Thursday night feel free to stop by. That being said I would strongly prefer it if you weren’t a burglar, or a bad guy.

Last Sunday Was No Walk In The Park...But Maybe I Should've Walked Instead.

This is a non-edited entry…mostly because it is a rambling story.

It was a cloudy, grey, Sunday, around 9:30 in the morning. I was driving (if you could call it that) the car I love so dearly, the car that was only three-and-half months old, the car that was fully loaded.

Here is my explaination to my split second story…

I was geography lost. I merged into a left hand turn lane at an intersection, and I cut off a woman in a 1989 Ford minivan, she did one of those ‘What the hell are you doing you crazy driver’ honks, I became flustered, I thought I had the right of way… Can you see where this is going?

Yep, I turned left into two lanes two lanes of oncoming traffic. I am admitting to you that I am 100% responsible for this accident. The best news is that NO ONE WAS HURT! (I don’t usually yell, but that is really important to emphasis.) Not a scratch, no broken bones, nothing. How all seven of us walked away as-good-as-new will always be a mystery to me. All I can do is get on my knees, and thank God for watching over all of us that day.

As expected the other drivers and I were stunned. I must say that the other drivers were kind to me. (As kind as you could expect one to be after their car just got totalled because some idiot turned left on a green.) No one yelled at me…

Wait there was someone who wouldn’t stop yelling at me…it was the lady in the 1989 minivan. The lady that I had previously cut off. She took it upon herself to yell at me, thank gawd somebody had to do it. She also proudly and loudly told anyone, and everyone that she would gladly be a witness when this accident went to court. The police had to ask her to leave.

I didn’t feel sorry for myself; sure I was sobbing on the side of the road, but I was the one who had caused all of this hardship on to the others. That being said it was difficult to stand at the side of the road by myself while wearing a hot pink wool jacket. I couldn’t have picked a better time to make a bold fashion statement.

I was supposed to be meeting a friend from the states. That is what led me into the left-hand turn lane. I was trying to meet up with her. She finally found me when she saw the flashing lights. She did stay for a minute to make sure I was alright, and she did wait at the coffee shop for me, but it took over an hour for the police to take pictures, listen to the crazy lady in the minivan, tow the cars away, clean up the accident, talk to the victims, and issue me tickets. She came up to Canada with a friend, and they were here to check out the post Olympic aftermath, so she couldn’t wait around all day, and it was obvious I wasn’t going to go with them as we originally planned. I will be honest and say I do wish I had a friend with me especially when I couldn’t remember my own phone number to call David, or when I was told that I had to stay because ‘The police have to deal with you.’ But like I said I did it with my chin up. And it was then I realized that people don’t think like I do. People have their own ways of doing business. Just because I would have stayed and never left my friend doesn’t mean that she didn’t have the right not to have a great time on her day trip. Why should my downfall ruin her trip to Canada? My friend is a great person otherwise.

I was very lucky to have other friends who dropped everything and drove like maniacs to get to me. (They even went grocery shopping for me that night.) I love them so very much. I think I was hugged non-stopped for 10 minutes straight when I got home. I am very lucky to have that much support.

Getting back to the scene of the crime…

When the police officer finally ‘dealt with me’ I found out that I was going to be receiving a traffic violation ticket. Bring on the tickets I was just happy that no one was hurt. However in true Amy style I did say, ‘Is there anyway I can argue my way out of this?’ I really liked this police officer she had a sense of humour. I received only one ticket for $84. You and I both know that I could’ve been ticketed until the cows came home, but I think she took pity on me.

Today my insurance company called me and told me that my car is a total write-off. I went in to see the adjuster and they not only paid me fair market value, but they paid me more than what I paid for the car three-and-half months ago. (I also got a tax voucher. No need to pay tax again so soon.)

Here is the other weird occurrence…

The dealership where I originally purchased my Focus had the exact same make, model, and color on their lot. Shut up! I know, right? ICBC cut me a check today, and Ford put a sold sign on the car. I am picking it up tomorrow. It will be like this never happened. I’m out 130.00 for the ticket, and the rental car, but nothing else. How is that possible? And another weird thing is that everyone who dealt with me during my ordeal was so kind to me; from the police officer to the insurance adjusters. My insurance adjuster was apologetic for the letter that she had to send to me which stated that I was 100% at fault. (What planet are you from? I know I was 100% at fault- in your face minivan lady. I’m truly sorry that you’ll never get your day in court.)

Things that I have learned this week:

I am lucky to be alive.

Ford Focus’ are built very well. (I didn’t even get a headache.)

I can’t expect people to react the same way I would react if I were in their shoes.

Be thankful for the people in my life who will drop everything to come and rescue you, and then when you get home won’t stop hugging you.

Rental cars suck- but always rent them online you’ll get better deals. My rental car was only $19 a day! Use Enterprise they pick you up and DROP you off.

Eat chocolate because you never know what will happen to you tomorrow. Some idiot could turn left on a green.

I’m still in shock with all that went down last Sunday, but I am going to get through it. I’m tough, and still wearing my hot pink wool jacket.

All of us are lucky to be alive.

Seriously? No kidding...

Let’s talk about friends. What makes for a great friendship?

We all have different criteria, but for me it is simple: my friends have to be able to make me laugh. Not chuckle, but the gut busting, roll on the floor kind of laughing.

I know you probably are thinking that my standards are pretty free and easy, but they aren’t. In order to make me laugh so the milk is coming out of my nose- that is if I was stupid enough to be drinking milk while I was with said friend; they have to live up to some pretty high standards.

My friend has to know me very well, because most things that are funny to my friend and me are not funny to the rest of the world. The most hilariously things come from the famous in-side jokes. This shows trust, because someone I didn’t know well, or trust would think I’m was crazy if I was rolling on the ground turning purple due to some random thing that popped into my head. It also shows that this person and I are bonded stronger than Super Glue. (Which really isn’t too hard to be; unless it is on your fingers then it is a pain in the ass to unglue, but on every else forget about it. Super Glue really sucks. So Super Glue is really not the best example, but you get the point that I am trying to make.) I’m really happy when both of us are rolling around busting our guts.

My friend shows that they care about me by putting a smile on my face by doing or saying silly things when I’m in the dumps. I also like it if they spring for a coffee too, but that is beside the point. (I pony up for coffee too just so you know.)

A good friend won’t mind if I happen to crack up when they fall victim to a minor injury providing that there was humour attached to it, and they themselves will be able to look back on it and laugh…one day. (And it is even funnier if I by accident… of course; caused this slight mishap. Providing there is no doctors, bandages, or lawsuits involved.) This shows that my friend has forgiveness and tolerance.

My friends have to be honest too, but I like to believe that I don’t pick pathologic liars to befriend.

Why am I bringing this up? I got to thinking a few days back about all of my friends and what they had in common, and I realized they all made me laugh. You know the kind of laugh I am talking about: Gut-Busting-Until-My-Stomach-Hurt-Oh-My-Gosh-Please-Stop-Now-I-Think-I-Might-Die laugh. It is true that I find a lot of things hilarious, but it takes a special person to experience my joy, and at the same time put up with it. (Especially when I am laughing at my own jokes.)

Do you have friends that make you laugh? If not go out and get some; they’re priceless. There is enough sourness in the world. Why be with Debbie Downer? Instead you need happy. I am not saying not to be there for your friends when they need you; that is the best part of being a friend, but make sure you can make them laugh, and visa versa.

I need to share something with you; when I am chatting on line I never use LOL unless I am actually laughing my ass off. I know is suppose to be LMAO, but I use LOL just the same. So if you happen to be chatting with me online, and I write LOL you can be sure that I am having a difficult time typing because I am laughing, and laughing is something I take very seriously.