My Baby Calf

I woke up from a hazy dream...to enjoy a deep and sleepy stretch.

And, as I flexed my leg muscles, reaching to the far corners of my sheets with my toes - a truly great stretch - something was very wrong. The muscle in my right calf was stuck... and pulsing. The pain was unreal. I tried to rub the muscle and unflex, then flex again. Before I knew it, I was literally crying out in my sleep.

Leg cramps - for the birds. And apparently, they're real.

I had trouble walking all day at work the next day. And I was even wearing flats. Really?

Watch out, people! It happens to the best of us. Leg cramps could be the new swine flu.

It was a beautiful day...

...at the U2 concert last night. Pure bliss, and I won't even try to put words to the excellence. So I shant.

I will say though, that the afterglow of the bliss seemed to have carried over into the next day - today. And despite my minor hangover from the two margaritas I slurped while jumping up and down like I was 12 at the concert, the day shaped up to be pretty amazing. No particular reason for greatness, just a busy day at work when - while I was completely buried in meetings, emails and my desk was COVERED in job jackets (ad speak...I know)and paperwork - I realized I was quite merry. I was literally whistling while I was working. And it was a nice realization to be delighting in the job, the people I work with, the city I live in, and the extraordinary friends I have (both in and out of Arizona).

It's been a beautiful day. Don't let it get away.

The Chronicles of Mr. Benson

When he enters a room, a sort of energy comes in behind him. And it's not just an energy that those present can sense, you can just plain hear the man. He's loud both audibly and in spirit. Maybe loud doesn't do him justice come to think about it.

A few years older than I, he has an overabundance of knowledge...and he'll tell you all about it. And then declare that he's the best. Over and over and OVER again. From coolant to Ayatollah Khamenei to brewing beer to graphic design to gourmet cooking to Roger Rabbit, you've gotta hand it to him. His mind is something spectacular.

He has an opinion, and let it be known, that he will state it! Crude, raw and often ebrasive, he'll filter things for no one. And to be honest, that is respectable in a sense. Believe in something and stick by it.

Frequently seen wearing a vest, he can be found at a number of Phoenix gay bars on any given night. On Sunday, he can be found at his grandfather's watching football and drinking beer. OR, you might notice him looking a bit too closely at one of the Metropolitan Phoenix police cars behind the wheel of his blue Ford Focus (who has been lovingly named Walter). Once upon a time, and he'll tell you proudly, he met an police officer at the QT. They made eyes over 'the taquitos'. The only thing he can remember is his shiny badge. It read 'Officer K. Pertz.' Or was it K. Hertz? He can't remember, but still keeps a log on his phone which eliminates vehicle numbers of the cars that are NOT Officer K. [P/H]ertz.

He lives his life the same way he walks down the grocery store isle and climbs Camelback with me - loud and shamelessly, often clumsily bumping into things and causing a large scene.

But amongst the crass front, he's downright loyal. As a citizen, as a consumer and as a friend.

This is my roomate, Mr. Benson, and this is my desert partner in crime. For better, or for worse - he's my fearless accomplice. Mr. Benson - take him or leave him.

No beer for Miss Alabama or Charlie

Is it crazy that I love my plants so much that I not only name them after beloved Cops Too Hot for TV characters, but found myself wondering tonight, as I sipped on my delicious pale ale, if they too might enjoy beer? I pondered this so much, in fact, that I found myself exiting The Patio and sitting inside googling, "Do plants like beer."

What I found, not surprisingly, was that no, plants will not enjoy beer. And I found myself saddened.

Bammer.

I'm skeptical...

...but also intrigued. It seems pretty entertaining and smart.

http://www.dooce.com/node?page=1

A site which a young mother, who was once an LA graphic designer, talks about everyday life challenges and whatnots living in Utah.

The skepticism isn't helped by the fact that Focker turned me onto this blog from watching...Dr. Phil.

Well, let's see.

These times, they're uncertain alright

Today was one of those double-whammy days. The first bad news hit mid-afternoon when I was notified that an old coworker of mine who has since become a dear friend of mine's husband passed away suddenly in his sleep. And later, after my post-work run, just as I had swallowed the first shock, I learned my good friend's father was diagnosed with colon cancer.

And it just hits you like a wave; Life is excessively short.

In my 24 years living, I've seen and dealt with death, albeit on a small scale, but in a large way. I've been through the 'pondering my mortality' before. It doesn't seem to get easier.

The only thing you can do is keep going. You have to embrace each day. My job, my car, money, even my newly adored patio - these aren't what we should be living for. What if we instead, focused on cherishing LIFE for the things that do matter: family, friends, love, good health, GOD. This is our only life, so the only thing we can try to do is live it to the fullest. If there's something we want to do - start making steps towards it and DO IT. Why wait?

Isn't it ironic that times like these are the times that take you back and cause you to really evaluate life?

My challenge from this is to reset. Breathe, love, care... and treat life just as it is: a precious gift, and one that is fragile. One that is temporary. One that is beautiful. It's our choice to make it that way.

The Patio - please seat yourself

Home improvement for the weekend: the patio. Two wrought-iron chairs, a bar table and a Creeping Charlie hanging plant - FINITO!

We christened the new digs Neil-&-Rebekah-style, with a candlelight evening complete with Louie Armstrong, Etta James and Billie Holiday...and a bottle of Chardonnay. And, the Phoenix weather couldn't have been more refreshing. It was really a perfect Saturday night.

We were the epitome of sophistication and simply relishing in our exclusive new establishment. At one point, approximately two glasses of vino in, Neil and I considered getting up and doing the tango. We then decided that next weekend, we'd make our patio evening a full-on affair - evening gown and suits required.

It's The Patio, seat yourself ladies and gents. It's something nice.

Don't sweat the small stuff

It's amazing that when you've had a great day - a relaxing, beautiful Sunday, topped with a wonderful night with your girls - that stupid small things can somehow bog you down.

I've decided not to let them. At least I'm trying. Don't sweat the small stuff. Don't sweat the small stuff. Don't sweat the small stuff, Rebekah.

I'm trying. I'm TRYING, ladies and gents. Give me some cred.

Saturday Hungover Cakes

I've discovered a fondness for baking. Reason # 57 I'm the oldest 24-year-old ever. And, for a girl who doesn't eat sweets, these turned out quite nicely, I think. Now what am I going to do with 12 Sprinkles red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting...?

Hmmmm...