My 300th Post

Get ready for a long, rambling post, written off n' on throughout the length of the day...

WRITTEN AROUND 9AM: How kinda funny/odd is this? Over the weekend, I graduated with my Masters in Public Administration [Hear me now in a very loud, very deeep booming voice: I AM THE MAHHSSSTAAAHRRR!], and the post in which I'm gunna write about it, happens to be my 300th post! Why is this funny? why mention it at all? Well, the Blogger 'Dashboard' will only "show" up to 300 posts... Can anyone tell me what happens with Blogger when you hit #300? Is that all I get? I'm done with my masters degree, so I'll have to go blog elsewhere now? Okay - so it's not funny at all.

SPLIT BETWEEN 10AM & 10PM: Anyhow... Soooo much I could write about right now, and not much immediate time for writing right now either... YES! I graduated = Stick a fork in me, cuz I am done! The entire weekend was jam packed with nonstop "going from here to here, to there from here and here and back again" activities. Many smiles were had. Many hugs and kisses exchanged. Lots of laughter shared. Loads of gooood food devoured. Lots of limping around was done ~ I was lovingly called "Gimpy Girl" all weekend long. Any talk over the weekend as to when I'll pursue my doctorate degree in PUA was promptly shut down. I'm way too pooped to think about THAT issue right now. In fact, right now I'm utterly exhausted. I feel like I've been run over with one of those big industrial machines that rolls itself over blacktop, with the huge roller thingy to smooth it all down. I've been packing for over 3 hours tonight, and ahhhh, there's A LOT more to pack by Friday!!! Plus, I gotta sell various major furniture items ASAP!!! I'm moving out of my apartment, stashing my stuff in storage for who knows how long, moving into my aunt's home, going to Utah and Idaho over Memorial Day to see my mum's fam and to visit my mum's grave, for what may be my last trip for several months to come... OH and ya know, somehow I gotta search for and find a job in an insanely competitive L.A. job market, and do so from Vegas. I'm tired.
But how 'bout some good stuff? There's always some good stuff...

WRITTEN @ 6PM: This is the first Monday night in two years for which I don't have a class I must go to!!!

WRITTEN @ 11AM-ish: My immediate family from Iowa met my honey-man's angel boy-O for the first time and the kiddo scored a PS2 from my parents!?! Initially, my honey-man told them, only 1/2 joking (which they may not have realized), that they were both going straight down to Hades for it. However, by the next morning, he and the angel boy-O, were both hungrily looking over the contents of the PS2's packaging, combing over the manuals, muttering many breathy, awestruck "cool"s and "awesome"s, etc.

WRITTEN AROUND 2PM: The boy-O managed to effortlessly charm the socks off the entire crew: #1 He's just absolutely freakin' cute!!! #2 Did I tell ya he's freakin' CUTE!?!!! #3 The angel boy-O said his 'please's and 'thank you's like an absolute pro and was quite the considerate little boy all weekend... with the exception of one incident, comical in retrospect, but not at the time... Late last Friday night, waiting for his Dad to unlock my door, he pulled the fire alarm at my apartment complex. A grand story in itself, of which I won't go into now, poor kid. But I'll share this: I told him that although it was a mistake (of sorts) on his part, what he had done was wrong and that he should feel bad about it, but regardless, "You're still lovable." And oh my! The increase of strength in his grip around my neck and the sobbing that poured out of him?!? when I assured him we weren't going to sell him on the black market? HE IS THE CUTEST!

WRITTEN AFTER 4PM: The very first night, with him sitting on the floor near my step-mum's feet, and all of us waiting on my father so we could leave to dinner, the angel boy-O told my step-mum -with complete and utter sincerity, in the sweetest, lightest tone imaginable- that he liked her sandals. During their first dinner together, several of us quietly witnessed the angel boy-O giving slow-winks to a table of giggling ladies nearby, who were all happy to wink right back at him. He also impressed my parents when he spoke up so politely and so very confidently to ask the waiter, "Can I have some children's chopsticks, please." At some point, when my brother was leaving to use the bathroom, the boy-O wanted to go with him, "please"... as my brother slowly pulled the patio door open to go inside, the angel boy-O was doing his best to also pull the door open... Looking up at my brother who was still standing beside him in the doorway, he very proudly said "It's okay, I'm holding the door for you," unable to see that far, far above his little figure, my 6 ft. 6" tall brother had a large hand on the door's top outer corner, keeping the door propped open. There's also the boy-O's insistence that we all call my brother "Mr. Pete." And yesterday morning before brunch, when my uncle knocked on my parents' hotel room door, the angel boy-O was told in chorus to "Go ahead and answer it." Some of us peeked around the corner to watch him handle the enormous, heavy door... With great effort, once open, he greeted my uncle in a most adorable, bright and sunshiny voice: "Why Hello, Loren!" COULD HE BE ANY CUTER?!? Put a lil' whip cream on him and he'd be better than a dark chocolate drizzled cream puff!

All weekend long, the angel boy-O willingly and most freely hugged everyone. He engaged in multiple one-on-one conversations with everyone and at some point or another, he held everyone's hand. Particularly cute was the first time he wanted to hold my brother's hand, as we were all walking down a corridor in Caesars Palace. He kept grabbing for it and missing my brother's hand, and my brother was oblivious to the concentrated effort. The angel boy-O looked back at us, to me and my honey-man, to show his frustration with a funny lil' pouty facial expression... "You want to hold his hand? Just ask him." And then... *tap - tap * tap - tap* to the side of the small of my brother's back, while trying at the same time not to step or trip on my brother's heels... And then, watching my ridiculously tall lil' brother stop to turn around with a smile, to look down into the angel boy-O's earnest lil' face... "Can I hold your hand?" And then!?! to walk behind them, seeing his lil' arm stretched up to hold my brother's enormous hand? Ahh, my heart.

WRITTEN AFTER 4:20PM: And something else that was ga-ga-ga-guhoood... Sunday morning, after a long graduation-filled Saturday, my honey-man and the angel boy-O presented their graduation gift to me. Still in our jammies, my honey-man brought my present in from his car and it was an enormous gift-wrapped box (NOTE: "Enormous" must be my new favorite word.) and immediately, I announced aloud, almost scared (more like terrified), "That is NOT a rice cooker." I couldn't think for the life of me what it could be, as it sunk heavily into the bed's top when set upon it. The angel boy-O was ecstatic - dying for me to rip it open RIGHT NOW, dying to help me do it. By the way, he contributed some of his own money for the purchase of my gift and didn't want me to forget that point... I couldn't have been more slow moving. I hadn't even opened it yet, and I was absolutely stunned! After a couple rips to the wrapping here and there, "NINA" written in red lettering, in a font I know very well, was revealed and I think I died. I was stunned the rest of the day. My honey-man kept asking me if it was in a good way, unsure about my dazed and speechless state. I'd get this dreamy look on my face throughout the day...while standing in line, waiting for my bananas foster... when driving... in the middle of a conversation... "I have a Bernina. It's mine. My honey-man gave me a Bernina. A BERNINA! I have a Bernina sewing machine - a BERNINA!" I'm still stunned.

After I had first opened my present and once we had it out of its box, no sooner did we all need to get ready and going to meet my family for Sunday brunch at Caesars. For a moment though, amidst our efforts to get ready to go, at one point it had seemed to my honey-man that I had disappeared... he came looking for me, to discover I had my Bernina manual with me, um, as my chosen reading material for a visit to the bathroom. He couldn't have been more thrilled by this. For now, the only bad thing about my Bernina is I won't have a chance to use it for a while, moving out of my apartment this week.

WRITTEN AT 10PM-ish: Sooo in contrast to the beloved Bernina, the lovable angel boy-O, and THE MASSSTAAHHRRs degree, let me return to my complainer-mode (this is your chance to quit reading!): My honey-man's previous work in Vegas, which enabled us to build a relationship, has come to an end, no longer requiring that he come here each week. For me, although he'll be here to help me move and we'll be in Idaho with the angel boy-O the following week, also meeting up in L.A. the weekend thereafter for Garrison Keillor's "Prairie Home Companion" at the Hollywood Bowl, it's gunna suck not seeing him each week... Just temporary, I know - I know, but it makes this transitional phase sucky, nonetheless. But again, I recognize this is a time of major transition for not only me, but my honey-man. In Vegas, he has LOVED the chance to do what he loves to do, and this past semester may very well be his very last to ever enjoy such license and freedom and support to do what he so loves to do and get paid for it! For him, this makes me very sad, but to make certain things happen now and to set things up for 'tomorrow' and 'someday' requires sacrifice. I wish my honey-man could do in L.A. what he's been able to do here, but in his own words, "It won't happen."

To make my honey-man's absence from Vegas far worse and matters particularly miserable for me from here on out, at least until I'm in L.A., yesterday I lost my kitty boys to my L.A. boys... My Otis & Owen now live in L.A. and last night was my first night without them = Getting ready for work this morning, without any furry meowing bodies to trip over, I nearly burst into tears! Mmmkay - that's a lie. I did cry. I miss them horribly, okay? Anyone who's seen my with my kitty boys knows that I absolutely adore them and the two of them bring me joy on a daily basis! My father has often mused over my neverending enthusiasm for my cats, wondering what I'll be like with a child of my own. It's always been hard enough, not being with my L.A. boys, but my furry boys had always compensated for the lack a little... Now I'm without them all. [IMAGINE BOTTOM LIP PROTRUDING OUTWARD IN A MAJOR POUTY POUT] And YES, I am whining and I know it. Yes, I'll get over it (maybe) and this is just temporary, and it's better not have my babies around for the packing and moving frenzy underway, but I really miss my furry babies and it's only the 2nd night. Off I go to bed, without my boys... *sniff, sniff*

P.S. I know we'll be fine. CORRECTION: We are just fine, in relative terms, but fine, nonetheless.
Over the weekend, during another moment of complete insecurity, ladden with uncertainty, my honey-man said something along the lines of the following: Along a scale (if one were to exist), there's a beautiful life at one end, and at the other, there's a life of utter hell. Most people in this world, unfortunately, live their lives closer to the "hell" end, and we're very fortunate to be closer to the other opposite end; the "beautiful life" end, and not just in the middle between hell and beautiful. We're truly fortunate.