Because I feel daring.

  Bailey wondered why she had never sat in this chair before. It was a perfectly adequate, sturdy seat. It faced the left window in the downstairs den, and had lovely view of the yellow rose bushes flourishing in the backyard.
      It was one of those filler furniture pieces, she supposed. Although, she wasn't exactly sure what qualified this one. It was a little stiff, maybe. The cushion, a little lumpy. She bought it a garage sale, she remembered, a few months after she and Collin had celebrated their fifth anniversary. The dull green upholstery had called out to her from the crackled sidewalk, beckoning her to take it home. She couldn’t help but comply.
      She had been so pleased with her find.
      “Look what I got today!” she had exclaimed when she arrived at their quaint Victorian home a few minutes later. “It was only twenty dollars, can you believe that?” Collin had grunted something from behind his newspaper, but his coarse brown hair remained hidden behind an article over last night’s Yankee game. He hadn’t even bothering to look up. It was hardly the response she had been wanting.
      Bailey had felt so foolish for believing a piece of furniture could rekindle their spark that had been waning for so long; as if the missing piece of the living room would suddenly morph into the missing ingredient to their tattered marriage.
      Maybe that’s why she never sat in this green chair. It was another failure, another mark on her record. Another reminder that she couldn’t fix anything, no matter how badly she wished she could transform this icy house into a warm life filled with laughter.       If only furniture had that kind of power, she thought.
      From the window, she saw Collin’s black truck pulling into their long driveway. Dust flew into a whirlwind as the tires screeched to a halt. Bailey tightly closed her eyes and grimaced. When they were first married, she would run out to greet her husband as he came home from a long day at the church office like a child anxiously awaiting the return of his father. Now, she knew better.
      Collin was usually exhausted from the smiling, tired of trying to invest in the members of his congregation’s lives. By the time he got home, his compassion had cindered to ash and his moods became as uncontrollable as the dust flying around the tires of his truck. Bailey decided to wait in the den.
      She sighed as she fiddled with the faded fringe around her forgotten piece of furniture.
      It was perfectly adequate, she thought. Yet, they never used it. How quickly she had abandoned her magnificent find, when it hadn’t held up to her high expectations... 

Your heart is full of unwashed socks

...your soul is full of gunk.

Has anyone ever really listened to the words of "Mr. Grinch"?

I was taking a quick power nap in Dink today. I closed my tired eyes, feeling the warmth of the sunshine gleaming through my dirty windows.

Of course, Christmas music was softly playing on the radio because, like every other holiday-obsessed person, I'm currently in love with all the festive tunes.

Not long after I lowered the driver's seat into proper napping position, this song came on. Instead of singing along, like normal, I listened. After all, I was trying to nap.

"Your heart's a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots, Mister Grinch."

My nap was rudely interrupted because I couldn't stop laughing at all the ridiculous lyrics.

My skin isn't green and I don't think my heart has unwashed socks or moldy tomatoes in it, but other than that Mr Grinch and I weren't so different today... I was late to work this morning, because I forgot my keys in Grahm's truck yesterday. [Two things I hate: tardiness and forgetfulness.] That coupled with a stuffy nose and an annoying cough put me in a grumposaurus mood for most of the afternoon. Talk about a wart on a log.

Oddly enough, this song really brightened my day.

Sometimes the things that put us in bad moods are as ridiculous as the lyrics to this song. And sometimes, all it takes is a silly song and a power nap to turn your day around.

El Fin.

Currently, I am in bed listening to my Pandora Christmas station with my OU pajamas on. Jodi Picoult's latest book is sitting beside me, casually flipped open.

[Pleasure reading? What's that?]

I can tell from the stench that's threatening to take over my cozy little room that I still haven't showered. Actually, I've gotten up once, and that was because I didn't want my bladder to explode all over my comfy jersey sheets.

Oh, did I mention it's past three o'clock on a Saturday afternoon?
Lazy much?

Judge away, my friends.

I've got no place to be, no finals to take. The past five months of writing til my fingers bleed is no more. My semester is over and the fat lady is singing her happy tune.

This is almost as great as how I felt when I finished running the Route 66 and OKC Memorial marathons. Because really, this semester was a marathon for me. 26.2 miles of writing, if you will. They both required diligence and stamina, just in different ways. Personally, I would choose running all those miles than writing another book. No question.

Now, only four hours stand between me and my degree. Christmas is in two weeks. And I've got nothing but time. Sweet, sweet time.

So as my manuscript says on the last page, "THE END!"

Fat and Happy

Six plates of food, 185 dollars, and five extra pounds later,

Thanksgiving break is officially over and the start of a new week has officially reared its ugly head at me.

Truly, this manic Monday consisted of a bad hair day, a near-death experience by filing cabinet, miscommunications, cramping, and terrible terrible classes. Instead of focusing on the terribleness of today, I'm going to reminisce on the lovely weekend I had with just

about the sweetest people you'll ever meet. Okay, ready?

Grahm and I arrived in Dallas a little after eight on Wednesday evening. We snuck up to the top of Reunion Tower and took some pictures, spit on oblivious pedestrians hundreds of feet below, and sang our favorite Disney songs at the top of our lungs.

We wandered around the Hyatt, waiting for his dad and playing lots of random games. [If you ever get the opportunity to play the States game with Grahm, don't. You will lose.]

Lots of Saints football players were there for the game against the Cowboys. Too bad I don't know any of them...

After a lovely Hyatt room [all to my elfinwhich] that night, we went to the ranch in Kaufman [aka middle-of-no-where Texas] to see the family. There were about about a hundred smiling faces in the big house, and I was a tinsy intimidated.

The long dessert table provided instant me with instant comfort.

An obstacle course, flag football game, tug-of-war struggle, flag football frenzy, softball, arm wrestling competition [I represented the Roach family well and made it to the semi-finals], pie-eating competition, and pepper-eating competition later... we were all pooped and full of yummy food.

Such a great group of people, even if they are Aggies. ;)

THEN... even more fun began.

Friday we all got up at 530 and headed to the Dallas Galleria, which [for those of you who haven't been] is an Oklahoma girl's dream mall. It seems to stretch on for miles, store after store. My pink debit card was burning a hole in my pocket.

Did I mention I have the greatest boyfriend ever, yet?

He tried on everything I picked out for him and even dared to enter the daunting Forever21, holding all of my clothes as I milled around the store.

Papa Roach, Mama Roach, and Auttie are all wonderful. Grahm is wonderful [but you knew that already]. All the food was wonderful. Shopping [duh] was wonderful. And the Sooners heading to the Big 12 Championship is DEFINITELY a wonderful thing.

Great, great weekend.

I'm now fat and happy, ready to finish up the semester with a smile on my face.