I am an old soul.

As far back as I can remember I have always felt old.

Ancient like an old, wise owl.

(Well…maybe we can skip that whole “wise” part since I think that things like drinking Diet Coke for breakfast are totally acceptable. Except I CAN say with UTTER WISDOM that this song is AWESOME. I highly recommend it with utter confidence. Even if your husband yells at you to “GET ANOTHER SONG, ALREADY!”. Whatever. What does he know anyway? He’s YOUNGER than I am, SO BOO ON YOU, MR. YOUNG AND INTOLERANT TO REPETITION OF MUSICAL AWESOMENESS, WHIPPERSNAPPER!!!! You should respect your elders! I had to milk 300 cows and haul the milk teaspoon by teaspoon uphill both ways before walking barefoot in blizzards to a one room school house while carrying my lunch in a bucket and chewing on hardtack in stockings I had to spin and knit myself!!!!!!! So, PPPPFFFFTTTHHH!!!!!!)

Wait…where was I again????

Oh, yes…

I have always felt old.

But…

In some ways I am exceedingly juvenile. (You know, besides the fact that I say “rad” and use emoticons a lot. Heh. :) )

IT OFTEN UTTERLY SURPRISES ME HOW OLD I AM.

I’m not just referring to how old I am as in the number of birthday candles I have on my cake (thought that is shocking enough) but the fact that I am an adult.

A grown up.

I will be shopping and from time-to-time I’ll gleefully think to myself, “Wow. I can buy WHATEVER I WANT WITH THE MONEY HAVE BECAUSE I AM NOT A KID LIVING IN MY PARENT’S HOUSE ANYMORE! I AM A GROWN UP!!!”

(Unless my husband is grocery shopping with me. Then he puts back items I have selected that are on his “disapproval list” back on the shelves when my back is turned. Drives me nutso, that.)

Take this evening as a case in point.

I’m heading to speak at a conference in Phoenix next week.

And I realized tonight that I will need to rent a car.

All by myself.

I’m not sure how I got to be 35 years old without having done this before but it’s a virgin experience for me.

Weird, no?

Anyway, my point to all of this is that I’m having a moment where I feel ridiculously grown up. And I feel just a LITTLE bit ridiculous admitting that I still have many, many moments where I feel like a kid dressing up in her mother’s high heels and lipstick, but it’s true.

Anyone ever have these moments or am I hangin’ out here by myself on this one?

I uncharacteristically snapped at a Goth couple in their early 20′s the other day.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t eaten anything since the night before.

Maybe it was because I had a fever and a throat so sore I had to mentally gear up and brace myself to swallow my own saliva.

Or maybe it was because THEY WERE HAVING A PICNIC AND ROLLING AROUND ON A BLANKET HUMPING EACH OTHER AND MOANING IN THE CEMETERY NEXT TO WHERE MATTHEW IS BURIED and it made me so disgusted and pissed off that I told them,”Get your whore party away from my son’s grave.NOW.”

Things have come up lately that have been very difficult regarding Matthew and many painful memories have been dredged up. I was sick and stressed out and while I was out getting some medication I drove to the cemetery because that is what I do when I get to a certain point.

Nothing and no one will do but my baby.

All I wanted was to get a little peace and comfort by watching the sunset near my son and instead I got to watch people that were definitely old enough to know better desecrate a sacred place to me.

I am so sick and tired of people glamorizing death.

It is not sexy.

It is not pretty.

It is not romantic.

It is ugly and painful and traumatic.

And if you are one of the blissful for whom none of this is a reality?

Fall to your knees in thanks.

And if you can’t even bring yourself to do that?

Don’t drink wine, eat chocolate dipped strawberries and do sexual things in the place where a mother had to bury her baby.

Please.

Because like the loved ones of every single person laying in that cemetery?

I have been through more than enough already.

The video for “A day in and a night out” for BlogHer and Macy’s “Putting it all together” series IS DONE!

I love it.

And I’m posting it here today with a few explanations to go along with it. (You can see my “behind the scenes” story and photos here.)

(Click on the speaker icon in the middle of the screen to play audio!)

About those few TINY disclaimers/explanations….

Mainly, uh…about my “beautiful” outfit for “A day in”.

There is a reason I walked around looking color blind, people.  I told the story when filming but it ended up on the cutting room floor, so I’ll tell it here.

One of my favorite sets of PJ’s are scrub bottoms and a long sleeve white tshirt.

Sometimes when I have a fierce streak of lazy going on and I need to run to grab a gallon of milk or to get a Diet Coke or fill up the car with gas, I will put on my scrub top over my tshirt and tennis shoes in the hopes that people will think that I have come off a long back-to-back medical shift and that instead of that I am totally lazy and fiercely addicted to being comfortable, I am just REALLY DEVOTED TO MY JOB.

(Disclaimer: I never actually SAY I am a medical professional. AND, I do not think medical people walk around looking like ick. Pinky swear. However, If I were one and had to work some of those crazy shifts I can say with certainty that I would look like utter road kill at the end of it though. Thus the inspiration. Heh.)

:)

Erin liked the story so she stuck me in the zebra pj’s and scrub top and her red fuzzy socks. (And truthfully, if it stood between me and my Diet Coke I would totally go through my gas station drive through in that, so…yeah. Hey, at least I’m honest about it.)

Also?

I wish I could wear dresses.

But I have cankles.

And legs that should be seen by NO ONE.

EVER.

God gave me many beautiful features. My legs are not one of them. :)

But.

I DO wear dresses on occasion. AND, they ALWAYS go to the floor.

However, it usually is more for things like this:

Or like this. (Hi. My name is Tiny Tim, dudes.)

Hope you enjoyed it. I had such a blast with Sheila, Ree, Erin and Lisa.

It was the time of my life.

(You can be part of the rest of the series by leaving comments on Susan’s blog, Friday Playdate as we continue the series by sharing ideas for the 2nd installment about how we “give back” in our communities.)

xo

P.S. My name really isn’t Tim.

P.P.S. Nor am I tiny.

P.P.P.S. Although once you’ve weighed 300 lbs, everything is tiny so I am not complaining about my size.

P.P.P.P.S. Nor am I complaining about anything about myself. For one that was labled a “far away face girl” I think I (and we all) look GREAT in the video.

P.P.P.P.P.S. Really, I have zero complaints about things right now.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Ok, maybe there is one, and it is that I am pretty sure I have strep throat.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Which means I pretty much woke up with a sore throat that is so bad I have to mentally gear up each time I swallow my own saliva.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Hopefully it will go away soon. I live in perpetual fear of having to be checked into the hospital.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I loathe hospitals with the power of a thousand burning suns.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Really, the only good things that come with hospital stays are warm blankets and good drugs.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. And, you know, the very BEST thing about hospitals are the AWESOME MEDICAL PEOPLE THAT DO NOT LOOK FRAZZLED OR LAZY OR RUMPLED OR BERAGGLED OR ANYTHING BUT ALL SUPER HOT AND “MCDREAMY” IN THEIR LEGITIMATE AND NON-POSER SCRUBS AND THAT WOULD NEVER SEND A POOR LOCAL BLOGGER HATE MAIL OR MISS THE STICK WHEN SHE HAS TO GO IN FOR ANY KIND OF TREATMENT BECAUSE UNLIKE HER YOU ARE LOVELY FABULOUS PEOPLE THAT DO NOT SUCK. :)

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Hey, I know! If you have to go out looking like ick you could just say you are a blogger like “Looney Tunes”! For reals. Are we even now? :)

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. :)