I’m not dead.

I do, however, have a new job. Another dog. A husband. And two daughters. (But no stretch marks. I didn’t birth ’em.) Long time no chat, eh?

I often wonder what happened in someone’s life when they stop blogging. (Like did they for real die? I could’ve sent flowers had I known.) In my case, I entered a “blue period” – I loathed my job (Well, if I’m going to keep in real up in here, I have to correct that. It wasn’t so much the job as it was “the management.”) so much that it sort of (or did) turn me into a Negative Nancy/Debbie Downer. And who wants to be around one of those? Trust me, you didn’t want to be around me. I didn’t even want to be around me. I’m pretty sure my dog put himself in the classifieds.

So, since I needed a new job, I had to start applying and interviewing for ’em. Times being what they are, I figured most people would Google me upon receipt of the ole resume – and finding this blog might lead them to think that I was somewhat of a liability. Especially those uber cautious politicians. They can screw up every other minute, but their staff can not. (If they do, they aren’t staff for very long.)

At any rate, I made this blog private (and allowed access to only those who asked for it) in an attempt to combat that. Once I did, however, I didn’t feel like writing on it. For some reason, knowing who was reading really inhibited me. The very reason I like to blog is that I don’t know who reads what I write or even if they like it – something you don’t get from posts on Facebook or Twitter. I like that people can anonymously troll through and don’t have to “have permission” to see it. I loved it when I’d meet someone who would say they had been reading my blog for a few months because a friend of theirs recommended it. I guess you could say that’s what drove me to post almost every day. Not wanting to disappoint someone who used it as a break in their day.

Making the blog private limited the amount of users I could “allow” to see it. At the time, I didn’t have the time or energy to move this blog to another site that didn’t limit users. So, I would type a post and delete it – always thinking to myself, “What will so-and-so think of this post?” It turns out that my give-a-damn-what-people-think isn’t so busted when I know who’s reading.

Cut to present day. I have a wonderful job with the coolest people on the planet. They are creative geniuses, those people. I started working there in October, and time certainly flies when you’re having fun. It seems like my first day was yesterday.

There have been a few other changes in my life since I last posted, so I’ll bring you up to speed on all that jazz in the next post. You won’t want to miss it because it involves a stripper…and a bear.

Ok, it doesn’t involve a stripper and a bear, but I had to say something to make you come back.

I don’t care for text message shortcuts for words. Maybe it’s the writer in me, but when someone uses, “u” for “you” – I get a little violent inside. I mean, you left out two letters…was it that much of a time saver?

Confession: I occasionally use def. for definitely, but that’s only because I say it that way.

Many people have asked me “What gives?” with the privatization (ok, that’s a stretch for that vocab word, but I really wanted to use it) of this blog. I wish there was some big dramatic reason, but: No, I don’t have a stalker, and no, someone didn’t leave a nasty comment, no, my boss didn’t insist, and finally, no, my ex has nothing to do with it. Thanks for the offers of hunting the “person responsible” down, though. I like that you guys have my back.

I created this blog in July of 2008. I made a decision then to have it linked to my real name, a decision that was fine at the time. But, as I get a little older and a little wiser, I see that sometimes it’s not always best to put your thoughts, beliefs and life on display for everyone to see. Let’s say, for example, that a board member from the organization I work for Googled my name (highly unlikely, but I like my paranoia, thankyouverymuch). The first thing that would pop up would be this blog – and boy could they get the wrong impression of me. I write things I wouldn’t typically say or express in any other format, because, in real life – I know when to shut my big mouth. Usually. (Side note: It’s always a bit awkward for me if someone I just met tells me they have read my blog, because I feel like they expect me to perform on the spot. Like, “Say something funny. Go.” And then I can’t perform. I’m rarely witty without a keyboard.)

At any rate, I appreciate more than you know the kind comments and requests to be added to my “safe list” of readers. Time will tell if keeping this blog private will stick, but for now, I’m putting on my biggest Jackie O. sunglasses, covering my face with my hand and saying, “No photographs, please.”

Wow, I’m such a diva. Thank god I’m not famous.

The sole reason I stay out of reptile exhibits is because I don’t trust ’em. I don’t trust a reptile as far as I could throw one. They’re sneaky and slithery, and some of them are quite deadly. Like some men I know, but I digress.

When I saw on the Today show that a cobra (yes, a freaking cobra) had escaped from the exhibit at the Bronx Zoo I felt two things: justification and terror. If I lived in the Bronx, I would be a complete basket case. I realize that’s a ridiculous statement, but it’s true.

Anyway, some genius decided they would create a Twitter account as the missing cobra. And folks, it’s hilarious. I encourage you to get a giggle or two from the snake’s posts about his whereabouts in the city. My favorite one so far is, “City may not sleep, but I’m ready to. Oh a chimney! I bet you bragged to your friends about having a working fireplace in NYC. Hi roomie.”

The big story around my town this week is that Spring has sprung a little too soon this year. (No, for real: It was on the front page of our newspaper this week.) Everything is in full bloom, from azaleas to tulips to dogwood trees. And, it’s beautiful, it really is. But for the city of Augusta, it’s just a tad early.

That tournament hasn’t arrived yet. But, never fear. If you’re the Augusta National, no biggie. You just throw some ice on those suckers and make your own Spring. Nope, I’m not joking.

It’s so amusing to be a resident of this wonderful city and see how it changes for one week out of the year. We go out of our way to make sure that the people who come to experience the greatest tradition in golf are not disappointed. During Masters week, everything is first class, every person is polite, every restaurant and bar is packed…even the strip joints are packed with patrons. (They even bring in prettier girls for Masters Week. I hear the pimps do, too, but I digress.)

For one week out of the year, Augusta, Georgia, gets a whole lot of attention. (And a whole lot of positive economic impact!) Sure, us locals will be glad when things return to business as usual, but don’t let our complaining fool you. We love our city, we love our tournament, and we love that everyone else loves it, too.

This time of year, I bet ole Bobby is in heaven grinning from ear to ear.

So, in addition to Charlie Sheen, I also gave up fried foods for Lent. Now is probably a good time to tell you that I’m Baptist, and we don’t typically give up things for Lent. But, seeing as how my boyfriend is Episcopalian and that everybody and their mama gives something up for Lent, I decided to jump on the bandwagon.

If you are familiar with my eating habits, you know that foods dipped in batter and then fried in oil are a big part of my life. Especially fried chicken from Zaxby’s. I’m also quite the consumer of chicken wings, onion rings, fried okra and fried zucchini. I’ll basically take anything fried, dip it in ranch, and be one happy lady.

Life without fried foods is dull, y’all. I realize that it’s better for me, but every time I order something instead of what I would typically order…a small part of me gets mad at Jesus. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I don’t get mad at Jesus. I get mad at Ben.

yay for:
the snooze button
beautiful sunshine
lunch delivered to my office
azaleas and dogwoods in full bloom
friends who make me laugh
online shopping
an episode of glee tonight
my dog, the bee chaser
fun text messages
black pencil skirts
cold diet coke
co-workers who sing in their office

Priority: something given or meriting attention before competing alternatives

I don’t mean for this to sound as self-absorbent as it’s going to, but: I have a lot of friends. I do. I love making friends, I love spending time with friends, I love being loyal to my friends. I also love the organizations I’m apart of, the committees I sit on, my job, my family and my dog. And sometimes, it’s really hard for me to find a proper balance.

Perhaps it’s the “people pleaser” in me, but I hate telling people no. I don’t like saying, “I can’t be there” or “I can’t help you” – it makes me feel like I’m failing the other person, and who wants to do that? But, lately, I feel like I’m spread so thin that I’m not giving enough of myself to anyone or anything I love. Why is it that when we try to please everyone, we end up pleasing no one?

After lunch, my co-worker handed me a piece of Orbit gum. The flavor caught me by surprise, as the color of the gum was was white, and I didn’t expect the cool minty rush that took over my mouth. This flavor was familiar. What was it? Where had I tasted this flavor before? Aaaah. Got it.

“This gum tastes exactly like the gum I used to chew in high school before a make-out session.”