The AC Joint Monstrosity

See that camel-esque bump on the tip top of my shoulder? Greeeeaaaat job on my part. One wouldn't normally think trying to shimmy a box down from the closet shelf would produce a separated AC joint, but one would also not traditionally expect to discover gray hair at 25, so apparently I'm breaking all kinds of fun norms. Seriously uncool on both accounts.

This separated AC joint is not conducive towards my week ahead in Vegas nor moving into our new home on Friday (details to follow!). And I know I have a high tolerance for pain, but when you can feel the joint grinding out of socket, and when trying to curl the beer to your mouth, it begins to spasm- nobody wins.

Sympathy/house-warming beer accepted; pale ale preferred.

The Small Victories

When I sit down and think about it, it's the mini-victories in my life - the ones that sometimes happen every day and take place in mere seconds - that have come to make up my proudest moments. Maybe I'm just overly competitive, or maybe - I'm not alone. I'm willing to bet the latter.

The other day, I had about half an hour to spare and found myself sifting through racks of discounted clothing at one of my favorite stores. It was one of those circular racks, and as I neared the end of my circumference, there was a woman going the opposite way and rapidly nearing me as she weeded through the apparrel. We both saw each other, and as we got closer and closer to colliding, the question presented itself - who's going to have to step back, and around whom? I stayed strong and increased my sifting speed. She took one look at me, and quickly folded. Small Victory.

Not surprisingly, a good amont of my mini-victories also revolve around driving. Sliding in just before the opposing car to snag the front-row parking spot is gratifying obviously, but also...weaving through traffic, finding the small holes that set you in front of the pack, and then catching the light just right to allow you to keep on your merry way, and leaving the others in the dust. Huge Victory.

The flipside of this scenario is NOT catching that light, and ending up waiting at the light with the others, nothing gained and all the shame in the world. The key is to not look up, unphased as if nothing devastating had just taken place.

And then, there's the victory of the race home. Picture two roomates departing from the same location, and selecting different routes home. The point in which you cross paths again on the journey and wind up visibly in front - triumphant. In fact, this specific scenario merits a victory fist pump out the window, which I generally adhere to.

As the photo technician at CVS lives by, "it's the little things in life, ma'am." I think yes.




 

All Roads Lead to the Montelucia

The past few weeks haven't left me with any large amount of spare time. That's actally terribly delicate. In a little under a month, I have shown face in Colorado, Arkansas, New Mexico, Virginia and several locations outside of the Phoenix metro area. And for an already overbooked dual book-clubber, newly healed runner, bridesmaid, and painfully overworked ad gal who NEEDS free time to clean, do laundry and keep in-touch with out of state pals - let me just say...this month has been trying. I'm still not sure how I got through it, but suffice it to say I'm alive.

Part of my sanity is in large part due to mani/pedis, eucalyptus steam rooms, rooftop pool access, margaritas and sweaty, naked old women with fake boobs. That's right - I spent my day yesterday at the Montelucia's Joya Spa, and it quite literally rejuvinated me back to life. Mr. Produce Itule gets MAD props for setting this up for not only me, but one of my girlfriends as well.

If you've got to go hard for a month, there might as well be some pampering at the end of the road. And on my photoradar ticket laden journey, my desert mirage in the far distance proved to be fabulous.

Things always find a way to work themselves out. :)

The Dreaming Underworld

A couple weeks ago, I had the most horrifying and demented nightmare of my entire life. So horifying, in fact, that when I was snapped out of my slumber, not only had I drenched the sheets AND mattress in sweat, but I was crying. Once morning hit, I was already showing the first symptoms of getting sick (despite just getting over strep the week prior), and my classic baby dinosaur had regained residence in my throat along with a headache from hell.

Which got me to thinking about real-life effects in our waking life produced by our dreams. A simple Google search on dreams affecting reality pulled up results on, "wet dreams affecting reality," and "turning your dreams into reality," both of which didn't help substantiate my case. So, without traveling too far into this dream vortex (I was feeling sick, afterall), I'm going to toss it out to the group: can your dreams produce real effects on your body? People say if you die in your dreams, then you die in real life. I'm not sure I buy that, but what I do believe, is that our minds can pull some crazy stunts and stop us in our tracks.

It's that realization of just how complex and powerful our own minds are that makes me crazy. In my years of analyzing dreams and learning everything I can get my hands on pertaining to dreams, I truly paralyzed myself here. And not only was I paralyzed, I was unnerved with the level of darkness and downright dementia in which my mind took me. Recounting the experience to myself, I'm also ashamed that I was able to (literally) dream up something so deranged.

With that, I'll say it's gonna take a bit of encouragement to actually share the dream details with you all, so I'm requesting an extension/Part 2.

Stay tuned...if you dare. Muhhhhhhhhhahaha.

Breakfast FAIL

Turns out...string cheese doesn't melt in scrambled eggs.

[Insert "you might be a redneck if..." joke here]