Can't Wait for This Week!

Why? Because it's going to be AMAZING.  Here's what's going to happen:

• Through the power of positive thinking, I will lose 8 pounds this week while eating whatever I want, AND my hair is going to look great everyday.
• My backlog of work, which would probably congest the administrative facilities of a small island nation, will yield to the slightest of efforts, falling away like a prom dress at 1:00am,
• The mountain of laundry on my bedroom floor will somehow magically wash, fold, and iron itself,
• Lighting bolts of positivity and enthusiasm are going to shoot out of my ass with the force of an intercontinental ballistic missile,
• Hell, I might even grow a few inches!!

Honestly, I'm pretty sure this week is probably going to be another marathon, and I have got to get a handle on my to-do list, which at last glance was one and a half pages long.  Unfortunately, it's college ruled paper, mind you.

Seriously, though, I am trying to be positive about the days ahead.  I have no idea how it is that I'm always behind, except that I must get some kind of thrill out of biting off more than I can chew.  The idea that I'm addicted to the martyrdom of all-nighter and work-life imbalance is surely not palatable, making me sound...well, imbalanced. 

I need therapy, don't I?  I'm pretty sure they must have some mystical analytical tradition in India that would help me overcome it (if not, I know for a fact they at least have scotch!).  Geez, leave it to me to fabricate a mental disorder out of simple disorganization, and use that as an excuse to go drinking in India.  No matter how I think of it, all roads lead to India. 

Get Busy Living

No news isn't always good news, is it?  Permission to speak freely, respected blog-o-sphere.

2011 has completely, totally sucked, with notably few exceptions.  What's more, the promise of lingering suckage through at least the end of the 3rd quarter is providing a kind of suspenseful dread usually reserved for slasher movies. 

But you didn't really think I'd bore you with a litany of complaints, did you?  Come on, I know it's been too long, but I'm not that kind of gal, am I?  Because if I am, I guess I should resign myself to a hell populated with similarly annoying people who stage endless monologues about their irritable bowels, mother issues, and cellulite.  Say it isn't so!

No, if I'm going to bore ANYONE under ANY circumstances, my topic of choice will be my travels to India and the incredible people, sights, shopping and food there.  In fact, in the face of a 2011 that (like the famous Dyson vacuum) "never loses suction", all I can think of is how much I want to chuck it all, pack my bags, grab my dogs and move to India.  Forever.

Ladies and Gents, this is not an easy sell to a man who loves Dr. Pepper, peanut butter, and beef.  Some days, he seems totally into the idea; other days, he acts like I'm mentioning for the first time that I want to amputate my right arm and replace it with a prosthetic carved out of cucumber.  Of course we'd have to sell the house, sell the business, figure out endless logistics (you know, like a job in India for yours truly), and generally jump backwards through flaming hoops to make this happen.  As if that weren't enough, we'd also have to adjust to a totally new lifestyle, social standards, climate, food, and procedures for doing every single damn thing that anyone does in daily life.

You know what?  That sounds a hell of a lot like learning, growing, and flat-out living.  Remember Shawshank Redemption?  My favorite quote of all time comes from Red, Morgan Freeman's character, when he tells Andy, "Guess it comes down to a simple choice really.  Get busy living, or get busy dying.".

Get Nailed

For those of you who live in Atlanta, this one's for you. If you haven't already, you've just got to go and get Nailed.

The Rusty Nail is on Buford Highway near Druid Hills, not exactly the culinary epicenter of the city, but do not be fooled by its location or humble exterior. The chow is this place is mouth-watering - literally. The menu has a good mixture of bar food like burgers and wings, but the real focus here is barbeque and the homemade side items that come with it. First of all, I SWEAR the Rusty Nail did not pay me to write this, but never in my life have tastier green beans or macaroni and cheese passed my lips.

In short, I'd eat here every day if it didn't mean that I'd be buried in a piano box and would eventually wind up on some humiliating Discovery Channel special so fat I would have to be draped in awning fabric and propped up with 2x4s. Plus I don't think the Rusty Nail delivers, so the key to keeping it coming is not getting too fat to drive. Anyway, I digress...back to business.

Having spent many years in Texas, I can tell you that the barbeque scene in and around Atlanta is decidedly weak with the exception of the Rusty Nail. Even the venerated Swallow at the Hollow doesn't compare to the incredible brisket and pulled pork, which is cooked inside a giant gun-shaped smoker in front of the restuarant.

Speaking of smokers, this restaurant does allow smoking on one side of the bar, so there is a slight odor of smoke when you first walk in, so unless you're really sensitive to the smell, it's not too noticable. Like all other establishments in the area that allow smoking, the under 18 crowd is verboten. Even though I don't like living under the laws of nanny government, I do like not having small kids around while I'm trying to relax, so it works out for me.

One last thing about the Rusty Nail, and this is one that only the ladies will be able to enjoy. In the 2nd stall of the ladies' room, there is some really amusing invective directed at, of all fictional paramilitary mariners, Cap'n Crunch. One clearly agitated potty-stall poet calls the Cap'n a rat bastard, and invites him to make love to himself in some very crude terms.

I love the Rusty Nail.

The Time Machine

Has it been long enough, or just entirely too long?

I feel like I've been in some crazy time machine, and it's almost impossible to believe that it's been 18 months since my last confession. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

Lots of things have happened since the last post. When I say a lot, I'm not kidding.

Jared has graduated high school and spent the last year and a half wasting every minute on girls, booze, chewing tobacco, and any other imaginable trappings trailer park opulence. He has also, in that time, joined the Marine Corps, and is currently enjoying his 2nd week on beautiful Parris Island. I understand the bugs are particularly juicy this time of year.

Tyler is a senior this year, and he's enjoying the easy schedule that comes along with it and looking for a job that suits his skills, which include arm wrestling, pie-eating, video gaming, and watching football. If you know anyone who would like to hire such a young man, please contact me. Immediately.

Garrett is still cool, and I'm still a trophy wife.

A trophy wife with a new job, that is! I started a new position in July and now I'm managing a team of offshore recruiters in India. I love this gig...and get ready for this...drumroll, please! I'm going to India in October for two weeks to train my troops, and I'm so very excited. Stay tuned for updates on my upcoming trip; I promise not to wait 18 months to tell you about it.

By the way, I still have that Effing Car, Auto Von Crapp. Auto is paid off and will continue to vex me until my desire to drive something other than rolling poo exceeds my desire to save my pennies. Keep waiting, folks....Garrett, that means you!

Now that we're all caught up, I'll resume the regularly scheduled silliness and observational humor in the next post. If you're still reading, thanks for hanging in there!

Vacation Day

Oh, the romance! The luxury! Who am I kidding? A day off from work can be a beautiful thing, even without romance and luxury.

Sometimes it's not the presence of swaying palms that makes the time special; it's the mere absence of the constant hassle and endless emergencies, even when those pressures are replaced by grocery runs, Costco trips, bank deposits, and laundry.

Case in point, I had no choice but to take a day off today, since I've gotten so behind in my household tasks and errands. Of course, the recent drama at work hasn't helped much, so on Wednesday I decided that a day off would be just the thing, and blurted out at the end of a meeting, "Hearing no objections, I'll be taking Friday off."

Response: "That's sudden. What's going on Friday?"

Me: "Nothing. I just need the day off to recover from recent employment-related threats to my mental health."

So, here I am, with a list of errands and a mountain of laundry. Strangely enough, it feels like a day on the beach.