People Watching

I wonder if people who have studied meteorology can look at the clouds and know why we're flying around them. Yes, here I am again coming to you from 35,000 feet in the sky and today, things are quite beautiful. 

Now normally, I'm the type who is fast-asleep on an airplane before the wheels lift off the ground but given the americano I had for lunch, no such luck today. Trust me, I realize the ridiculousness of consistently blogging from an airplane but such is life right now. Why? Oh, let me tell you! 

Let's start with the good: I got a raise! Remember that little chit-chat I was so worried about last month? Well things finally came to fruition and they told me this week that this year I'll see a percentage increase that made my parents' jaws drop. I'd really love to get excited about some new Louboutin shoes, for now, this simply means I'll get to have a savings account while simultaneously tackling my student loans. Ugh, fiscal responsibility is such a drag. 

What else is a drag?  Well, if a work week were a big road that you walk from Monday to Friday, my company just essentially paved that road green. Now, I do whatever, whenever which trust me...is amazing, but trying. 60 hour weeks are exhausting, which is why I'm now coming to you from a coffee-shop nestled in Old Town. Sometimes, it's wonderful to take a day to do absolutely nothing. So yesterday, I spent my whole day doing exactly that. It was awesome. Today has been far more exciting, however,  I went to church (more on that shortly), put some laundry in, finally met my neighbors, and now, here I sit. 

I think that once upon a time, Miss Kails and I had a conversation about how much we'd like to one day try a Baptist service in the deep south...hands, hats, amens, the whole thing. Yeah, we'd be outsiders, but we just needed to try. Well... let's just say there will be no need to visit the south. I was quite excited to find that my new house was just down the street from a Catholic church. (Old house had one kind of nearby that I did not like and I'd decided months ago that it was just easier to venture into the city every Sunday to go to one near work, so this was needless to say, a welcome change.) So, a few Sundays back, I wake up and get all dolled up to head down the street only to find myself in the midst of, you guessed it, a sea of hats, hands, and amens. Its surreal! I have seriously never experienced anything like this, much less at a Catholic service, but it's amazing. Anyone who visits is going with me. 

The neighbors are equally interesting. I've been there almost a month a half now and haven't met or seen them until today. Can't tell if they're married or not, but he's really nice and handy (fixed our dryer, yay!) and she's kind of cool and bitchy. Their dog runs away (awesome) but is also quite friendly and sweet. Her name is Angie. 

Really quickly, a GIANT group of Japanese tourists just descended upon the coffee shop and all ordered cups of water. If I worked here, I would rage. Hate that. And it's poor form on their guide's part to let them do that. 

Laundry is entirely uninteresting and does nothing to deserve mention.

Best friend is in town to visit Mr. Media, again. On Friday he was so kind as to pencil us in a girl's night (at her request.) We left the office after a few glasses of wine and headed to a local bar to nab a few happy-hour cocktails before seeing Hangover II (funny, but rent it) and afterwards nabbed margaritas a local Tex-Mex joint. Now, I may have mentioned this before, but let me reiterate, the Mexican food around here is terrible. Alas, I keep trying for a taste of home. So anyway, we hit this place up and order very large margaritas. Recipe: one gallon sweet and sour mix, one tiny smidgen of tequila. Sick. So being a little tipsy and a little sassy I hand the bartender a straw and ask him to take a sip. He does. 

"Do you taste any tequila?" I ask. 
He reaches under the bar, grabs a bottle of Quervo silver and smiles, "Just tell me when to stop." 

New recipe! One gallon tequila, one tiny smidgen of sweet and sour. Much better. Knee deep in our drinks, best friend starts talking about how she and Mr. Media have already decided that they're going to raise their kids in CO and that their big house will have a wine cellar and that their next vacation will probably be Turkey and when she's done with grad school they're taking a month in Spain...on and on and on. What? For a couple whose sole recreational activity is having sex in exotic places, that sure is a lot of planning. (Not to mention, shes looking at seven more years of school and his divorce isn't even finalized yet!) None of this is to say that I love best friend any less, I just happen to spend approximately 80% more time with her lover than she does, and to my understanding, there is very little interest in another wife, any kids, or doing much more than traveling the world with a trophy girlfriend - which, when you're 32, balding, and essentially free of any obligations outside of your job, is the kind of gold-star lifestyle every Esquire reader aspires to achieve. 

Another side note, why doesn't this place sell wine? They should.

Our dinner rolls forward, a comfortable mix of memories and conversation until about 10:30 when things come to an unexpected halt as Mr. Media himself stools through the doorway, quite obviously made aware of our location by best friend. Excellent. There is little to add to this except that I ended my night soon afterwards, uninterested in cuddle-fest 2011 - a spectacle that if I had cared to witness, I would have invited him in the first place. 

I get the long-distance-I-haven't-seen-my-boyfriend-in for-ev-er-thing, trust me, I really do. But in the same way that GB needs a night to get rowdy with his friends, I need time to be phone-free with mine. Exceptions to this rule include tiny children and dying relatives. (Shameless plug: Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssssssseeeeeeeeee come visit me!!!!) 

That's all. Xoxox!