Ingredient Two
Every other week my friend Lindsay and I share in “family therapy night” at Taco Bueno. Yeah, we made it up. On occasion others choose to partake in the festivities. Should you decide to join us, you will need to make yourself familiar with the rules:
Rule #1 Dine-in only.
Rule #2 It’s required to spend a minimum of five minutes deciphering what to order.
Rule #3 When placing your order, you have to be very complicated and do your best to confuse the persons taking the order. Two or more modifications must be made to your selected menu items.Rule
Rule #4 You MUST order a party burrito.
Rule #5 Before consuming the party burrito, it is required that you sing in song and shake out a little dance as instructed by Lindsay or myself. this is what we refer to as, “the celebration of the party burrito.”Rule #6 You have to eat off of your tray.Rule
#7 The Bueno plays awesome music. Bring a pen and paper to write down the music you hear. Immediately go home and purchase the music on itunes.
Rule #8 It is essential for each individual to take a moment to appreciate the fine artwork on the walls.
My dearest Julia joined Lindsay and me for our most recent session of “family therapy night” at the Bueno. We discussed much of what I wrote about in my last blog entry, but then of course many a more questions were raised, which means that I had more thinking to do,this means you have more reading to do…
What derails us from extraordinary living? Common causes of disrupt: laziness, resentment, fear, failure, and exhaustion.
LAZINESS.Main Entry: 1la·zy Pronunciation: ..ˈlā-zē.Function: adjective Inflected Form(s): la·zi·er; la·zi·est Etymology: perhaps from Middle Low German lasich feeble; akin to Middle High German erleswen to become weak Date: 1549 1 a: disinclined to activity or exertion : not energetic or vigorous b: encouraging inactivity or indolence 2: moving slowly : sluggish3: droopy , lax
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RESENTMENT. Main Entry: re·sent·ment Pronunciation: ..ri-ˈzent-mənt.. Function: noun Date: 1619 : a feeling of indignant displeasure or persistent ill will at something regarded as a wrong, insult, or injury, ill feeling, aggrieved feelings caused by a sense of having been badly treated
Resentment is found with one’s self or with a loved one. Most common cause of resentment: Placing ALL of your trust in others or in yourself alone. You cannot make someone else happy. Someone else cannot make you happy. So often we rely on some individual to be our satisfaction. This will always be a blueprint for diasappointment, wich in turn can lead to resentment. You have to find your joy in something more consistent than relationships. Instead of putting all trust, hopes, and dreams, into a person who is likely going to let you down at some point or another , and looking to them for contentment, trust in faith for those things. After all, people are just people. We fail all of the time. We hurt others constantly and repetitiously. And in my experiences I have found that I have hurt others the most when I myself am hurting. This is why I esteem grace. Grace is pertinent. The beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair. A quote from the book I am currently reading captured the meaning of grace for me. “For some reason, beyond understanding, she seems to love him now more than ever, even though I get the sense that he hurt her something fierce in the early years. I suppose that since most of our hurts come through relationships so will our healing, and I know that grace rarely makes sense for those looking in from the outside.”—William P. Young “(The Shack.) When I am consciously taking stock of what I place my faith and trust into and focus on granting and accepting grace, there resides harmony.
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FEAR.
Main Entry: 1fear Pronunciation: ..ˈfir.. Function: verb Etymology: Middle English feren, from Old English fǣran, from fǣDate: before 12th century transitive verb 1archaic : frighten2archaic : to feel fear in (oneself)3: to have a reverential awe of 4: to be afraid of : expect with alarm intransitive verb: to be afraid or apprehensive — fear·er noun
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FAILURE. Main Entry: fail·ure
Pronunciation: ..ˈfāl-yər.. Function: noun Etymology: alteration of earlier failer, from Anglo-French, from Old French faillir to fail Date: 1643 1 a: omission of occurrence or performance ; specifically : a failing to perform a duty or expected action .. b (1): a state of inability to perform a normal function .. — compare heart failure (2): an abrupt cessation of normal functioning c: a fracturing or giving way under stress .2 a: lack of success b: a failing in business : bankruptcy3 a: a falling short : deficiency b: deterioration , decay4: one that has failed
At first failure sucks. It hurts. Its mirrors defeat. But learning to develop failure into benefit, could be life changing. The movie Elizabethtown perhaps makes the best references to failure I have ever come across. “So you failed. Alright you really failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. I do understand. You want to be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling. There's a difference between a failure and a fiasco. A failure is merely the absence of success. Any fool can achieve failure. But a fiasco, a fiasco is a disaster of epic proportions. A fiasco is a folk tale told to other's to make other people feel more alive because it didn't happen to them. No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy. A motto of the British Special Air Force is: 'Those who risk, win.' A single green vine shoot is able to grow through cement. The Pacific Northwestern salmon beats itself bloody on it's quest to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current, with a single purpose, sex of course, but also... life.”
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EXHAUSTION.
Main Entry: ex·haus·tion
Pronunciation: ..ig-ˈzȯs-chən..Function: noun Date: 1615 : the act or process of exhausting : the state of being exhausted1 a: to consume entirely : use up .. b: to tire extremely or completely .. c: to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent 2 a: to draw off or let out completely b: to empty by drawing off the contents ; specifically : to create a vacuum in3 a: to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely b: to try out the whole number of intransitive verb
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~I write everything as if it is truth or absolute, when most of it is purely my opinion. But I like sounding confident. Just so you know. Oh, and this morning I went to Starbucks and ordered a leprechaun. Not to be confused with Spencer.
End.
ISAIAH 40: 28-31How can you say God ignores your rights?Have you never heard?Have you never understood?The Lord is the everlasting God,the Creator of all the earthHe never grows weak or wearyNo one can measure the depths of his understandingHe gives power to the weakand strength to the powerlessEven youths will become weak and tired,and young men will fall in exhaustionBut those who trust in the Lord will find new strengthThey will soar high on wings like eaglesThey will run and not grow wearyThey will walk and not faint(Music helps bring energy to life too. It’s remedy for the soul.
Friday, June 5, 2009
it takes time to extract joy from life.
Ingredient One
This was initially a four page entry. But I did not want the lengthiness of my writing to detour you from reading all of its contents, for it is a personal testimony that resulted from some intense soul searching, and hopefully you, or someone you know, can extract some subsistence from my notions. Although I am sure my thoughts are not truly original, it’s all innovative to me. So, you are currently reading part one of four. Hopefully, it is somewhat cohesive.
I sit at the Regal Beagle, with my new sweetheart of a friend Spencer. As we shuffle thru the motions of the “getting acquainted” stage of a new relationship he asks a question that poses a problem. The problem being that, I do not know the answer to his question. “So what drives you?” he asks. I have never been asked this before. I never really thought about it. I did not know that I was driven??? It’s rare that I am at a loss for words, but this question successfully had me puzzled. I did a nice little tap dance for Spencer, but I never truly gave an answer that sufficed. After being annoyed with myself over my own lack of insight, I took some time to think and reflect upon this subject, and I composed this response.
For whatever reason I’m not very good at hiding what I want or desire. If I want it, I go after it…always have. I have gone through a couple of stages of trying to be what I thought others wanted me to be, or of doing what others wanted me to do, and I just recently tapped back into who I certainly am. There is such peace in embracing who you are. I don’t even know why I ever cared about how I was perceived by others in the first place. I hope that those who know me consider me to be genuine. Every individual is created with specific and intrinsic, fashioning and fastens. Every person is bestowed with special and specific abilities, passions, gifts, and desires. When we learn to grasp a hold of what our passions and desires are, we discover authentic living and purpose. This is to say, your life’s purpose lies within your passions. So, all of the things that I am passionate about are that which drive me. I don’t have to question my inadequate existence when I know I am doing what I was created to do. I am content and also almost always rewarded by how others are impacted and affected as well. (I hope that finally answer your question Spencer.) “That which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves.”-- Garth Stein.
Those of you that have spent any amount of time with me, are aware of the fact that you have a walking, breathing, clumsy, living, ”rain cloud” for a friend. Whether I have locked my keys in my car in a “tan or get towed” parking spot on a Saturday morning shortly after cutting a chunk of skin out of my ankle while shaving, or I come home to find the apartment has flooded for the third time just after receiving a phone call that same day that someone has died, it doesn’t matter. Just details. I still have joy. I choose to believe everything is going to be okay. Bad things and amazing things happen to good people. Bad things and amazing things happen to bad people too. Life occurs for all people. Maybe there’s not a list to keep of good or bad experiences, or of the way a person behaves toward you, or of curve balls existence throws at your face. Maybe it’s just life, HAPPENING. I have also found that an optimistic faith-filled outlook on this life is the best way of navigation. Sadness is easier because its surrender. But I say make time to dance alone with one hand waving free. Run forward, full speed, arms extended out in flight, with a goofy look on your face, even if you are being assaulted by a downpour of rain or stub your toe on unpredictable rock, just keep running. Just keep trusting. This is what we call, the art of racing in the rain*.
God is my happiness. He is my own personal miracle. Nothing is off the table and there are no limits when you believe in His power. Oh and, coffee helps too. Hope unswervingly and love extravagantly. I hold tight to theses convictions. My biggest fear- WAITING for everything to start, only to find out it's already over. So that fear drives me as well. With your mind power, your determination, your instinct, and the experience as well, you can fly very high. –Ayrton Senna
This was initially a four page entry. But I did not want the lengthiness of my writing to detour you from reading all of its contents, for it is a personal testimony that resulted from some intense soul searching, and hopefully you, or someone you know, can extract some subsistence from my notions. Although I am sure my thoughts are not truly original, it’s all innovative to me. So, you are currently reading part one of four. Hopefully, it is somewhat cohesive.
I sit at the Regal Beagle, with my new sweetheart of a friend Spencer. As we shuffle thru the motions of the “getting acquainted” stage of a new relationship he asks a question that poses a problem. The problem being that, I do not know the answer to his question. “So what drives you?” he asks. I have never been asked this before. I never really thought about it. I did not know that I was driven??? It’s rare that I am at a loss for words, but this question successfully had me puzzled. I did a nice little tap dance for Spencer, but I never truly gave an answer that sufficed. After being annoyed with myself over my own lack of insight, I took some time to think and reflect upon this subject, and I composed this response.
For whatever reason I’m not very good at hiding what I want or desire. If I want it, I go after it…always have. I have gone through a couple of stages of trying to be what I thought others wanted me to be, or of doing what others wanted me to do, and I just recently tapped back into who I certainly am. There is such peace in embracing who you are. I don’t even know why I ever cared about how I was perceived by others in the first place. I hope that those who know me consider me to be genuine. Every individual is created with specific and intrinsic, fashioning and fastens. Every person is bestowed with special and specific abilities, passions, gifts, and desires. When we learn to grasp a hold of what our passions and desires are, we discover authentic living and purpose. This is to say, your life’s purpose lies within your passions. So, all of the things that I am passionate about are that which drive me. I don’t have to question my inadequate existence when I know I am doing what I was created to do. I am content and also almost always rewarded by how others are impacted and affected as well. (I hope that finally answer your question Spencer.) “That which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves.”-- Garth Stein.
Those of you that have spent any amount of time with me, are aware of the fact that you have a walking, breathing, clumsy, living, ”rain cloud” for a friend. Whether I have locked my keys in my car in a “tan or get towed” parking spot on a Saturday morning shortly after cutting a chunk of skin out of my ankle while shaving, or I come home to find the apartment has flooded for the third time just after receiving a phone call that same day that someone has died, it doesn’t matter. Just details. I still have joy. I choose to believe everything is going to be okay. Bad things and amazing things happen to good people. Bad things and amazing things happen to bad people too. Life occurs for all people. Maybe there’s not a list to keep of good or bad experiences, or of the way a person behaves toward you, or of curve balls existence throws at your face. Maybe it’s just life, HAPPENING. I have also found that an optimistic faith-filled outlook on this life is the best way of navigation. Sadness is easier because its surrender. But I say make time to dance alone with one hand waving free. Run forward, full speed, arms extended out in flight, with a goofy look on your face, even if you are being assaulted by a downpour of rain or stub your toe on unpredictable rock, just keep running. Just keep trusting. This is what we call, the art of racing in the rain*.
God is my happiness. He is my own personal miracle. Nothing is off the table and there are no limits when you believe in His power. Oh and, coffee helps too. Hope unswervingly and love extravagantly. I hold tight to theses convictions. My biggest fear- WAITING for everything to start, only to find out it's already over. So that fear drives me as well. With your mind power, your determination, your instinct, and the experience as well, you can fly very high. –Ayrton Senna
phantom intruder III.
After much unrest and questioning of my sanity, I have found that there is in fact valid reasoning as to what has bean stirring up chaos in the Cabochon. Let me pick back up where I last left off.
Upon finding my door cracked open, when returning from I’Fratelli's, Tonya and I decided to take some extensive precautions to secure our apartment. We vowed to not spend the night alone in the apartment and started using special locks on the doors. Everything was fine. For a while. Then, the bedlam began again.
Exactly two weeks following the first break in, there was another occurrence. I returned to my casa after dinner with friends and as soon as I opened the door I knew something was not right. Tonya was out of town for the weekend, so I knew the state I had left the apartment in before leaving for dinner. A decorative vase full of sticks had been knocked over into the living room floor (yes, we have a vase full of sticks), definitely not how I had left them. I instantly began a sweep over of the apartment. Taking note of anything out of place. My balcony door, open. The storage unit door on my balcony, open. Curious. I don’t call the police. Partially, because it made me feel better to block out reality as apposed to assuming the worst. To call the police, to start to freak out, would be admission to the fact that someone was entering into my home uninvited, and I was just not ready to accept that as truth. But this is how I cope. So calmly, I call Mikey, my friend who is a police officer, and my mother. They were skeptical, because of my lack of urgency I suppose. They told me to leave the apartment, and we would figure it out. Not much sleep happened that night. My mind raced from side to side with thoughts of justifiable possibilities. I HAD to figure this out. I stayed with friends and family until Tonya returned, and then we decided it was time, for a stakeout.
Gene and Mikey were more than happy to assist. I readily handed over my apartment keys to my two dearest manly friends for “Operation Stakeout.” Day one passed of the investigation, nothing. Day two, bagel. I came home from work to find my boys disappointed. They had hopes of a beat down taking place, but nothing ever matriculated. I think the stakeout must have felt like waiting for rain in a drought. Frustrating. I wasn’t there, so I don’t really know, but I am pretty sure in the end, it just gave Mikey and Gene a fantastic opportunity to muck around and drink on my balcony all day long. So in my parallel disappointment, I joined them. We collectively knocked back some beer and puffed on cigars in hopes that, I was just insane, and there was nothing to fear.
Answers. Later that evening I talked to Tonya on the phone. She had received a voicemail from the Cabochon office earlier that day. They had left her a message saying that they were having trouble getting into our apartment to show it to future tenants. Wait… WHAT? (We are not moving.) Tonya called them back, and apparently they thought we had put in a notice to move and had been showing our apartment to people! Really? After dealing with all of the frustration of comprehending the stupidity of our apartment office staff, I finally felt, RELIEF. I was not crazy. I have in fact, NOT seen too many scary movies. Someone was entering my home uninvited, they just didn’t know it. So many weeks of mayhem explained in one simple phone call. Just another day in the life of Penny Baker ; )
Upon finding my door cracked open, when returning from I’Fratelli's, Tonya and I decided to take some extensive precautions to secure our apartment. We vowed to not spend the night alone in the apartment and started using special locks on the doors. Everything was fine. For a while. Then, the bedlam began again.
Exactly two weeks following the first break in, there was another occurrence. I returned to my casa after dinner with friends and as soon as I opened the door I knew something was not right. Tonya was out of town for the weekend, so I knew the state I had left the apartment in before leaving for dinner. A decorative vase full of sticks had been knocked over into the living room floor (yes, we have a vase full of sticks), definitely not how I had left them. I instantly began a sweep over of the apartment. Taking note of anything out of place. My balcony door, open. The storage unit door on my balcony, open. Curious. I don’t call the police. Partially, because it made me feel better to block out reality as apposed to assuming the worst. To call the police, to start to freak out, would be admission to the fact that someone was entering into my home uninvited, and I was just not ready to accept that as truth. But this is how I cope. So calmly, I call Mikey, my friend who is a police officer, and my mother. They were skeptical, because of my lack of urgency I suppose. They told me to leave the apartment, and we would figure it out. Not much sleep happened that night. My mind raced from side to side with thoughts of justifiable possibilities. I HAD to figure this out. I stayed with friends and family until Tonya returned, and then we decided it was time, for a stakeout.
Gene and Mikey were more than happy to assist. I readily handed over my apartment keys to my two dearest manly friends for “Operation Stakeout.” Day one passed of the investigation, nothing. Day two, bagel. I came home from work to find my boys disappointed. They had hopes of a beat down taking place, but nothing ever matriculated. I think the stakeout must have felt like waiting for rain in a drought. Frustrating. I wasn’t there, so I don’t really know, but I am pretty sure in the end, it just gave Mikey and Gene a fantastic opportunity to muck around and drink on my balcony all day long. So in my parallel disappointment, I joined them. We collectively knocked back some beer and puffed on cigars in hopes that, I was just insane, and there was nothing to fear.
Answers. Later that evening I talked to Tonya on the phone. She had received a voicemail from the Cabochon office earlier that day. They had left her a message saying that they were having trouble getting into our apartment to show it to future tenants. Wait… WHAT? (We are not moving.) Tonya called them back, and apparently they thought we had put in a notice to move and had been showing our apartment to people! Really? After dealing with all of the frustration of comprehending the stupidity of our apartment office staff, I finally felt, RELIEF. I was not crazy. I have in fact, NOT seen too many scary movies. Someone was entering my home uninvited, they just didn’t know it. So many weeks of mayhem explained in one simple phone call. Just another day in the life of Penny Baker ; )
i would like a number three, with barbecue sauce on a silver platter please.
During lunch today, I made a fascinating observation. Food trays. Most fast food restaurants use them for orderly food distribution. Have you ever noticed how people react to the tray? I shall conduct this blog in case-study format so that you and I may further explore and understand.
Type A: The NaturalThis individual will carry their food from the counter to their table on the tray, and will continue to use the tray for the entire duration of their meal, consuming their chow from the tray.
Type B: The Conventionalist This individual will accept the tray at the counter but then discard of it upon reaching their table. (Type B will generally have a pattern of placement when relocating food from tray to table.)
Type C: Too Cool for SchoolAnd then of course, there are those individuals that do not acknowledge the tray at all. Type C consumers remove their food from the tray and walk it to the table in hand, leaving the tray to sit on the counter.
Type D: Mixed BagType D individuals use combinations of the types listed above. There is no rhyme or reason to their tray usage.What kind of user are you? Why do we do this? What does it mean about your personality?
Observations:Continuing my with my research during the lunch period I came to several note worthy observations. Majority of business men are type A. Military persons are type A. I am usually type A, likely because it releases my inner child, leading me to feel as if I am even now in the grade school cafeteria, as carefree ten year old. On occasion I will switch to type B, typically because of peer pressure. (Which I guess really makes me type D?) Homeless people are type C. Consumers that are type C tend to be snobby. (With exception of homeless people.) Those that are type B on occasion will take on traits of type C. Persons that are type D are hard to distinguish. Majority of subjects were type B.
Conclusion:I shall assume that there are subconscious, psycho-somatic reasons as to why we decide to use or not use provided food trays to their utmost potential. Just not quiet sure what all of this means. I will let you decide. But I hope that you will take the time to ask yourself one very important question, what kind of user are you?
Type A: The NaturalThis individual will carry their food from the counter to their table on the tray, and will continue to use the tray for the entire duration of their meal, consuming their chow from the tray.
Type B: The Conventionalist This individual will accept the tray at the counter but then discard of it upon reaching their table. (Type B will generally have a pattern of placement when relocating food from tray to table.)
Type C: Too Cool for SchoolAnd then of course, there are those individuals that do not acknowledge the tray at all. Type C consumers remove their food from the tray and walk it to the table in hand, leaving the tray to sit on the counter.
Type D: Mixed BagType D individuals use combinations of the types listed above. There is no rhyme or reason to their tray usage.What kind of user are you? Why do we do this? What does it mean about your personality?
Observations:Continuing my with my research during the lunch period I came to several note worthy observations. Majority of business men are type A. Military persons are type A. I am usually type A, likely because it releases my inner child, leading me to feel as if I am even now in the grade school cafeteria, as carefree ten year old. On occasion I will switch to type B, typically because of peer pressure. (Which I guess really makes me type D?) Homeless people are type C. Consumers that are type C tend to be snobby. (With exception of homeless people.) Those that are type B on occasion will take on traits of type C. Persons that are type D are hard to distinguish. Majority of subjects were type B.
Conclusion:I shall assume that there are subconscious, psycho-somatic reasons as to why we decide to use or not use provided food trays to their utmost potential. Just not quiet sure what all of this means. I will let you decide. But I hope that you will take the time to ask yourself one very important question, what kind of user are you?
tmnt part deux.
i have been asked to briefly share my thoughts on splinter...i believe splinter to be a happy medium of pat morita and yoda. if i remember correctly he was once human and somehow was transformed into a rather large rat. not sure how i feel about all of that. although i was a little frightened by his disturbingly long and bony fingers as a child, splinter captured my heart when he took in the four orphaned baby turtles as they hatched from thier eggs. under all of that wisdom and somewhat questionalable hygiene lies a father figure with a huge heart. here's an ice cream cone for you splinter! i would like to know his age and why he didn't eat more cheese though. i mean, i love cheese and i'm not even a rat. hmm?
for mairs.
i have fully accepted the fact that i have insomnia. so i finally decided to stop fighting it tonight and i ended up where else but on myspace. as i was lying in bed tossing and turning earlier i randomly had the teenage mutant ninja turtles theme song playing over and over in my head. for those of you who are not savy to the tune, the phrase, "teenage mutant ninja turtles" is sung thru about 3 or 4 times followed by, "heroes in a half shell, turtle power!" why this tune was on repeat in my head at 2am i have no idea, but it got me thinking...why turtles in half shell? what other way is there for a turtle to be? a whole shell? no shell? is it a half shell? it covers their back and belly...what would a turtle look like with no shell? hmmm.
as i pondered this i thought back to the TMNT movies. the first one rocked ( i wanted to be april so bad), the second only good because vanilla ice was a part of it, but the third...one big hot mess. i mean, how realistic is it to travel thru time by holding on to some light post...abnormally large, talking, crime fighting, pizza loving turtles, i can believe to be realistic. but come on, time travel? that i just cannot accept. and now the fourth, computer animation? son of a snapper! what were they thinking? glad i got that off my chest, now maybe i can get some sleep. cowabunga dudes.
as i pondered this i thought back to the TMNT movies. the first one rocked ( i wanted to be april so bad), the second only good because vanilla ice was a part of it, but the third...one big hot mess. i mean, how realistic is it to travel thru time by holding on to some light post...abnormally large, talking, crime fighting, pizza loving turtles, i can believe to be realistic. but come on, time travel? that i just cannot accept. and now the fourth, computer animation? son of a snapper! what were they thinking? glad i got that off my chest, now maybe i can get some sleep. cowabunga dudes.
i got my drink and my two step: 2009 thus far.
Attended Aunts funeral in Stanton on New Year's Day. Entire family stood up and started clapping and singing during worship song. Pastor fainted. Buried my Aunt next to my brother, realized his name was misspelled on his tombstone. Oops. Argued with mom and brother about joining the Navy. Took my mom to breakfast for her birthday. Went to Taco Villa because she didn't know they served breakfast and because they have excellent breakfast burritos. I told her to get a breakfast burrito. She got biscuits and gravy. Turned into a red-head. Drug mom and Christy to Twilight. They thought they would hate it so I bought their tickets. They loved it. I called them bitches. During birthday celebration at La Bodega, my nephew informed me that vampires only pee after dark. I laughed. Launched operation; Fall Out. Drove to Lubbock for a wedding. Fixed lots of hair. Ate lots of food. Drank lots of beer. Accidently paid five dollars to do the dollar dance with my cousin. It was two-step. I hate two-step, but I love my cousin. Sped back to Odessa. Got speeding ticket. Flew to Dallas. Ate nachos with Britta while she told me how to pick a lock with a bobby pin. Watched a special about sloth on the History Channel. Ate pizza with Lindsay at Campisi's. Should have watched the special about gluttony on History Channel. Kissed my dear Geno friend goodbye. Back to work. Had a surprise on my desk. It was from Brandon. Cut my finger opening surprise. Bled all over surprise. Surprise was a new twilight book. How ironic. Got pink eye. Appreciated that God's grace is more than enough. Went to hip hop salsa class with Tonya. Invented hip hop pops. Ate dinner with chop sticks. Watched the Buckeyes lose. Cried myself to sleep because I am Buckeye fan. Began training for Cowtown marathon. Decided I had nothing left to lose and everything to gain. Ate Taco Bueno. Conducted therapy session in Taco Bueno. Realized my expensive dermatologist prescriptions were finally working. Discovered hot, new barista working at my Starbucks. He called me Kate. My name is Penny. Currently trying to decipher if he is gay. Talked to dad after his colonoscopy. (Unpleasant.) Laughed at him because he was soaring high from the medications. Baking cookies tonight. I love my life. I got my drink and my two step. What more does one require?
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