Here's just a few of the many pictures taken at the Cowboys & Indians party. These aren't all of them, they're just the few I've had time to convert.


Black Bart says, "Draw!"



The winning chili made by none other than that fabulous maker of chili: Troy!



Indian Chris trying to coax Troy's chili recipie outta him.



A very blissed Merinda.



Don't mess with Sheriff Marty's moustache. It'll getcha!



A big hat.

So, I only had a sip of grape flavored smirnoff last night, so I know I'm not hung over...I'm just guessing it was all the things I did in my bare feet last night (which I did everything in but move the straw...I wore shoes for that). I went to look for the camera this morning and it's vanished, so I'm not sure if that means I never took it in, someone took it with them, or dad found it and hid it away because he was so scared that I'd try to download the pictures without him there again. He knows me so well...and I'm pretty sure that's the case so I'm not going to have a heart attack about it. I'm missing three bales of straw this morning, so I'm also guessing dad did something about that. Handcuffs from a certian Andy are on my patio table, that should prove pretty funny to return when I do so today at Lindy In The Park.

I was so glad the chili got eaten up last night. I also believe two little wooly boogers stole all the oyster crackers, but that's more funny to me than anything. Kristin was so worried there wouldn't be any indians at the party last night...how could she know? She was wrong, I believe there were seven cowboys total last night. I believe there was a taking back of land of sorts last night. Hilarious. Becky won the chicken chucking game, Vivian won the roping contest, and Tim and Tita won the square dancing game (of which Kristin kept changing the rules). Good times were had by all.

Now it's on to the cleanup...guh, cleanup. Get along little doggies.

Ding-dong the bells are gonna chiiiiiime...not really, but I thought I'd leave you with a treat. This is Kevin and Carla I believe. She has uber self-control. Kills me.



*sigh* Someday.

So, I was at Sam's Club with mom today and was talking about Sundays' Lindy In The Park and made a joke about being "underneath the bridge downtown" if it rains. She didn't get it. I simply shook my head and told her I was being hilarious. She just kept walking to the car. It's okay. Not everyone has to get my sense of humor. I mean, who really walks around making jokes out of Red Hot Chili Peppers lyrics? I'm sure I'm pretty close to alone in that endevor. It's okay. I enjoyed my joke. I frequently enjoy my jokes when people are around who don't know how to appreciate what I've got going on.

Nothing to report tonight really. I did food shopping & realized there was only one thing missing for this weekend: watermelon. I'm not sure it's a cowboy or indian type of thing, but I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that it's a summer thing. Ah well, I still have enough left over in the budget to get a big one. Yay! I have to warn you all that I've begun drafting the next party in my head...Sorry guys, this one's for the girls...I had Holly and Dana and Sam come over to watch a movie with me last night and came up with what adds up to a brilliant idea in need of a proper excecution. I'll get it yet. By the way, this picture is hilarious and I'm pretty sure one of the gals is a guy. See if you can guess which one I'm thinking is not so she-she (I know, I'm using it different than it's usually used).

I'm listening to my songlist once more and I'm thinking tomorrow night should go pretty well. I finally did call everyone on the list with two exceptions: 1) didn't get back to me and 2's) phone number was missing. Ah well, hopefully she's there tomorrow night and I can confirm she'll be there. The party lights will probably go up Saturday morning. Paul's coming in town tomorrow and will be joining me tomorrow night for dancing and will stay for the party on Saturday. Everyone needs to make friends with him. He's a good kid. Don't be afraid to give him a kick in the pants because he takes no mercy on anyone else.

I almost walked out on work by accident today. My head is so full and the calls today were so bad that I slipped into a case of the sillies. I started walking away from the desk having logged out of everything and cleaned up my area...someone on my team asked me what I was doing and I realized that even though I thought it was time to leave, I still had an hour left. Not the first time this has happened in my life, but the first time at this job. We all had a pretty good laugh on me. I gave them that.

So, I'm having the craziest time. It always gets like this around party seasons. I have had four places to be every day this week at the same time and yesterday forsook all of them to go party shopping with my sister because we were in dire need of a few things. Shopping is by no means finished this week. There's still the matter of ice cold beverages and frosty mugs to worry about. So here's the announcement: if you want alcohol, bring it. We'll be providing water and rootbeer because that's what the budget says we're providing...aside from the ice cream for the rootbeer, oyster crackers, hot sauce, milk (just in case) and cheese. If you see anything missing or that you want that's not on the list, don't hesitate to bring it. It's a party.

Oh, and a warning to all you out there who expect to find someone your own age: Not if I take him first. No real dedication on that one, but I thought I'd point it out since I'm having fun playing around with a 20 year old. It's spring, gotta have a little fun, no?

Yarr. My hair is playing Bridget Fonda circa Point Of No Return minus the bangs with me right now. It should probably cut it out. Stupid blowdryer.

I’m threatening bad poetry here. I just want you all to know before I do it. Well actually, I’m not sure I will; I may just go with song lyrics instead. When I was in high school and going through intense creative writing classes and writing all the time, I used to promise myself I wouldn’t write when I hurt or when I was angry. More often than not, it produced pathetic attempts that would have been more thoroughly thought out and more potently expressed with a clear head.

Tonight was by no means a bad night. I had a good time. Right now and the way I feel is a collection of things. I’ve had an epiphany that the hole is still here. I go through long periods of time where I ignore it and occasionally hit nirvana and forget that it exists. I’ve spotted those scars that I keep covered up so well.

I’ve been thinking about all those things that I miss missing. When I was younger, I thought I had it all figured out. I knew who I was going to be, what I was going to be doing, who I was going to be doing it with, when it would all start and how it would all come to fruition. I miss being so sure of myself and my future. I miss the present that my youth promised. I don’t know that it would be any better, but I imagine life would have proved a little less disappointing if I’d achieved even half of those things.

No poetry. Didn’t mean I didn’t write it, it just means I’m saving you all, and as bad as it gets, still, at least I’m inspired.

I know ultimately I’m not alone in this.

I can be the wall when you fall down
Find me on the rocks when you break down
I heard it in the song when you call out…
(lyrics courtesy of Mat Kearney)

I was looking in my garden today at all my irises that have finally bloomed. They are predominately purple, having one exception. I have one lonely yellow iris at the front of my yard on the left side. I meant to take a picture of it today, but I ran out of time. It's so lucky to be so unique. I mean, I realize I'm the only one of me, but it's really hard to tell sometimes if it's the truth.

I had a friend call me out today. He told me that I skirt around issues asking questions trying to get somewhere or get someone to say what I want them to without having to put myself out there. I won't deny it. I've put myself out there so many times that being open and honest like I used to be is, at times, paralyzing. How do I do that again? I know half the time I shouldn't say anything and I skirt around the issue because I'm teetering on the edge, but for the most part there are somethings that just cost too much to go directly to the heart of the matter. I digress though. It's about the idea of staring rejection in the face again. Every bit of it.

I haven't watched much tv lately outside of Grey's Anatomy. I haven't actually clocked in any normal tv hours in months. I will say this, I've only seen three of the American Idol episodes, and from the beginning I was hoping Taylor Hicks would just go for the gold and sing my favorite song (yes, favorite in writing). I was actually a little nervous that I would have to hear stories about it second hand. Not at all so. He sang it tonight and although not quite Otis, not quite John Cryer as Duckie lipsyncing Otis, it was damn good. I will be the first to admit that I didn't do any voting tonight, so if he doesn't make it to next Tuesday, I will make no such declarations of dissapointment.

I'm sick. I'm not sure if it's the giant bouquet of flowers on the cubicle behind me, the flowers from Lindsay Lindz, or the bug going around work (although I've heard it's a stomach virus and I'm pretty sure I don't have a stomach virus). I don't have any health insurance until June 1st, so I have to tough this one out. I'm going to go pass out now.

I can't sleep. I'm officially over my caffine limit tonight. I haven't had any caffine in three days and today I have tea, twice. So, I'm up and I've found myself at the point of dwelling on my life thus far, which is baaaaaaaad to do right before going to bed, because then you're up all night thinking about it.

It's my six month anniversary as a homeowner. How wonderfully terrifying, but I've gone into that schpeel before.

The truth: I'm lonely lately. I spoke to my best friend for the first time in a month today. She's married and she lives in a small town up north, so she doesn't answer my calls too much anymore and we've lost touch. My brother-in-law is kindofa stumbling block when it comes to me getting sister time (that and her broken phone). The guys in my life want nothing to do with me outside of three minutes they're processing where they want me to go and how they want me to get there (I feel it's really unfair of me to make this a deal, because it's really not so much all of them, moreso the ones I want to give a rip and don't that really make my heart heavy). The guys at work are all too new and it's just too impersonal a place to really get to know anyone. Especially since I barely know anyone there anyway.

Damnit. I said it was bad. It's also spring, which helps nothing. Who gets depressed in the spring? What the hell is the deal there? I guess this is the opposite of spring fever then.

And now for something completely different, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is playing at the Dundee on Friday, and I *will* be there. Let me know if you'll be meeting up with me. Cowabunga.

I was going to post a nursery rhyme here, but for some reason, anything written about a mother seemed, to me, to be generally demonstrative to any actual queen bees out there. So, instead I say, Happy Mother's Day.

I am pathetically tired lately. I think I may need to cut out the sugar again. Everything's slowing down for me, and I keep yawning and falling asleep on people and my night sleeping has been awful. I've been dreaming like crazy and can't seem to get past the dreaming. I have no motivation to do anything outside of dancing and am severly irritable. Or, at least severly irritable toward my mother. Guh. Okay, time for bed (see what I mean?!).

Dear Cowboys and Indians,

Nineteen days until the kick-assinest chili cook-off event of the year. You're already planning on which cowboy hat to wear or how to wear your feathers, aren't you? I know. You're planning on just how much kick you're going to give your chili, hoping you win the prize for best chili in order to justify your competitive streak, I know. You're wondering just what the biggest prize is because it may mean free stuff...I know. It's okay, I'm not nearly as offended by that as you'd think, because that's how I was planning it, and I'm good at planning those kinds of things. The truth is, I couldn't be more excited myself the closer the day gets. Boys and girls, dare I say, "Yeehaw."

We've been cleaning up the backyard in preparation for the big day. You wouldn't believe the measures we've taken. The beer garden is gone, we removed it to uncover a dance floor. We've done some sodding, some weeding, and some heavy mowing. We now have a bar and some other fun stuff. We've been looking into getting a few haybales for sitting on and trying to figure out what we want to use for rootbeer. I have no idea what we may do if it rains that day. It's been threatening rain like insanity lately, right? I'm not just imagining that, am I?

Anyway, all that is to say: Woo! It's May!!!

I don't talk nearly as much as I used to. I used to have opinions about everything. I used to always have something to say. Some kind of wisdom to impart or something funny to interject into conversation. Not that I don't have opinions anymore...I just never seem to get them out. It's like I forgot how to communicate. Or I've just stopped having meaningful conversation.

I miss the deeper things. Talking about them. Meditating on them. The whole iron sharpening process of opening up. I miss it all and I haven't the slightest on how to regain any of it. Hell, I guess I could settle for gossip. It's fun. It's just not the same. I've become known as "the silent one." My nickname at church is practically "Still Waters" anymore. They can all see that I have something to say on my face, I just never get it out.

People ask me questions anymore and I give them five word answers. I'm beginning to piss myself off. I think it doesn't really help that the people I'm around the most don't really open up either. People at work want to share everything negative and I want nothing to do with that. People I dance with are more gossip buddies than not, and the ones that let me talk don't talk to me nearly enough. Know this isn't a slam, more of an observation.

I guess my secondary love language is suffering a little. Words of affirmation are hard to come by anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm terribly independent. I guess I just need to hear and speak certian things every once in a while. It's sad to think that the quality time isn't really cutting it right now.

I've been having sensations of doing tuck turns all day. Like I'm phantomly dancing. Weird, I know.

Happy feet! I've got those hap-hap-happy feet!
Give them a low-down beat
And they begin dancing!

Just came back from another successful night of dancing. I'm coming down from the endorphins. Takes a while to finally poop out for me, so I thought I'd share a thought or two with you.

1. It's Spring. This is both a blessed and a dreaded event. I have a love-hate relationship with this season because of all the implications. New life - yay. No new relationship - boo. The sun comes out - yay. My allergies flare a little - boo. School is ending for all my friends - yay. School is starting for me - boo. Etc. It's like a never-ending boxing match as good and evil collide. At least autumn has no connections to any kind of "fever." There's always autumn to look foreward to.

2. Sorry kids. I crashed, there's no #2.