Better Late Than Never...

SUNDAY Sunday Sunday....DECEMBER December December...14 14 14

Nikki Andoga finished the White Rock Half Marathon in 2 hours and 24 minutes!!! That's right, 13.1 miles at about an 11 minute mile pace. That doesn't account for the two bathroom stops or the horrendous wind we had to run against for most of the course, but it does reflect the 7 minutes it took for me and Philip to actually cross the starting line.

The day was actually pretty exciting, despite the fact that we had to be up at 5:45. Pre-race was only semi-madness...17,000 people had signed up to run the Half/Full Marathon, so needless to say, Victory Park was jam-packed. I have a slight crowd/claustrophobia issue, so Philip steered me directly into American Airlines Center where we waited for the sun to rise and Blake to meet us. The whole AAC was open to racers and few of them were taking advantage of it, so we found seats and ate our Power Jelly Bellies (goo-type energy sustaining grossness disguised as jelly-bellies. See, real runners eat this kind of stuff before long runs. I eat bagels or peanut butter crackers. But since I'm attempting to be a real runner, I figure I might as well eat the real runner food. Plus Blake bought it for me.). Once Blake found us we joined the thousands of others at the start line, sang the national anthem, then started! Of course my bladder decided by mile two that enough was enough and I had to stop at a gas station. Philip went on ahead, which partly accounts for his slightly faster time of 2:05. That, and he runs faster than me.

The race itself was pretty uneventful. There were people EVERYWHERE along the course...garage bands playing Christmas music, police escorts, friends and family cheering on racers, even people handing out everything from toilet paper to beer to cigarettes to bananas. Mom and dad were there to cheer me on, and Blake was at the finish line ready with McDonald's, water, and Vitamin Water. Philip and I headed straight for the beer corral once we had hydrated and taken our victory pictures. Then we headed inside the AAC for more beer. Then back to the beer corral for more beer. Beer was EVERYWHERE. Which may be why we couldn't find the parking lot with his car in it. Once we did, though, we headed to Massage Envy for TWO HOUR MASSAGES. That was the best idea EVER. The rest of the day was pretty much a blur-I was tired after all the getting up before the sun then running like Forrest for two plus hours. I think I went home and went to bed. With my medal on. Yes, I'm a freak.

Thanks to everyone for their texts, emails, and phone calls expressing your support and encouragement. More proof (as if I needed it!) that I have the best friends and family in the world!

Mom attempted to get a picture of me crossing the finish line. Instead, she got a picture of me crossing into the view of the camera lens (look waaaaaaay to the left).

The triumphant friends with McDonald's and medals.

The beer corral. Finally, a real smile from Philip. I'm thinking, man, is beer a good idea after 13.1 miles? The answer is YES.

Cookie Day (WARNING: The following account is long but true)

For the first time in my life I find myself approaching the holidays with a solid job, long-held friends in the same state and nearly the same zip code, and a boyfriend who makes me giddy with happiness. So of course I am diving into Christmas with unusual verve, since it's my favorite holiday and I love all the silly things you can do for other people with the excuse that "It's Christmas!". Last year, in the midst of recovering from my break-up induced depression, I attacked the after Christmas sales determined to buy little knicknacks for next year, hoping that I would have people (preferably office folk or good friends) to give them to. Well, it worked. So I decided to fill the pretty little bowls I found with home-baked goodies.


Okay, if you don't know me well, then I have to warn you. I'm

1. not a baker (I tend to be improvisational in my cooking, and baking isn't really responsive to "just another dash of" whatever)


2. extremely clutzy


3. not much of a cleaner-upper (I swear there is a fairy dishmother who comes in the night and washes all those dirty dishes)


4. more enthusiastic at the idea of baking a ton of stuff and less inclined to actually plan out the baking itself.

And to top it off, Blake thought it would be fun to take a day off work and join me in the massive baking adventure. He thought, wow, a chance to spend a whole day with Nikki. I thought, wow, I wonder if he knows what he's gotten into.

8 A.M

Blake rings my doorbell and I hand him my list of, oh, about 8 recipes I want to make. He doesn't cringe. That's a good sign. We sit down and make out a list of ingredients we need to buy. So far, so good. Off we go.

9 A.M.

We begin our raid of the Wal-Mart baking aisle where all goes well until we look at our list and see meringue powder. Meringue powder? Can't find it anywhere...but hmmm, you know, we are at Wal-Mart. Maybe Target has more specialized baking stuff. It's right across the street, so we'll just stop there. Peppermints...sold out. Okay, we're going to Target anyway. 4 nutty s'mores trail mix bars.

Nutty s'mores trail mix bars.

I head for the candy aisle. Blake heads for...the granola aisle??? He assures me that they mean the s'mores granola bars. Okay, this is for a recipe called "Almost A Candy Bar". Surely they mean the candy bar S'mores? Blake insists no, they mean the granola bars that are s'more flavored. So we debate. For almost 15 minutes. Then decide to settle the debate at Target since we can't find s'mores candy bars at Wal-Mart anyway.

10:30 A.M.

Target doesn't have meringue powder. Or peppermints. Or s'mores candy bars. Or the paste food coloring that we forgot to look for at Wal-Mart. I sigh and cross one of the cookies off my list (the recipe that sparked my cookie adventure in the first place, I might add), and leave it for a day that I can go to a specialty store and get the very complicated ingredients that are disguised as innocuous everyday items in a cookie magazine that is very clearly trying my patience by not marking said items as *not found at Wal-Mart. I also give in (after a spirited, stare-drawing debate in the middle of Target) to the s'mores granola bar theory.

So far Blake seems more tickled than annoyed. Which slightly annoys me. Mostly because he's turning out to be right more than me.

11:50

Okay, finally time to start making the cookies! I send Blake to the stove to start homemade gumdrops while I begin the chocolate cookie dough that needs to refrigerate for an hour. Mom drops in and I recruit her (okay, force her) to participate by starting the Almost Candy Bar recipe (in which she thoroughly annoys me by agreeing with Blake that the recipe did, indeed, mean GRANOLA bars).

OOPS. I dump in 3/4 cup of cocoa powder instead of 1/3. And since I'm really not that smart, I say it out loud. Blake looks at me like I'm the cutest thing he's ever seen. Mom laughs and says, "Well, that's just the first oops of the day." I cringe and start scooping out as much of the cocoa as I can.

1:00 P.M.

OOPS. The peanut butter sauce for the candy bar needs 1/2 stick, not 1/2 cup, of butter. Oh well, it's already melted in there.

OOPS. Did you know that just about every cookie dough known to man needs to refrigerate before you bake it? Also, that's how gumdrops set, and the Almost Candy Bar. Hmmm, I should have cleaned the fridge out...they're all in big long pans...

1:25 P.M.

Stuff is starting to smell good and Mom has decided that her talents would be better put to use as a taster rather than sous chef. Blake has started in on the fifth load of dishes while I am trying desperately to make sure that the oven (which is set on 350 degrees but whose internal thermometer reads 375) doesn't burn my pretty peppermint biscotti, which is the only thing I haven't "OOPS-ed" on yet.

1:45 P.M.

OOPS. I'm trying to "drizzle" melted milk chocolate over my layered Almost Candy Bar and my ziploc baggie that's supposed to do all the drizzling without all the mess goes pop. You know, like when you blow air into it, shut it tight, then hit it and the zip either breaks or the seams burst. Only when mine popped, it popped milk chocolate instead of air.

OOPS. My mini loaf pans of cherry-pistachio bread are overflowing and creating lovely little green volcanoes. The pretty pistachio lava is burning to the bottom of the oven. Luckily, a cookie sheet placed underneath my mini-Mt. St. Helens stems the flow.

Blake is still doing dishes. Mom has given up on the baking and has returned to decorating the house for Christmas, which has been her project for the LAST TWO WEEKS.

4:00 P.M.

Okay, Almost Candy Bar-check. Gumdrops-setting. Biscotti-double baked and ready for drizzle. Chocolate pretzel cookies-baked, iced, and hershey-kissed. Cherry-pistachio bread-dormant and ready for wrapping.

OOPS. Remember my drizzle oops a few hours ago? Yeah, apparently I didn't either. So a few pieces of biscotti are a little more drizzly than others. Oh, well, they're supposed to look homemade anyway.

5:00 P.M.

Gumdrop time! In theory, the gumdrops (which are currently in a thin sheet in a pyrex dish) are supposed to just plop out of the pan onto wax paper after you loosen the sides. But if you've made it this far in the day with me then you know that nothing is going to work like the recipe says, so of course Blake ends up prying the ooey gooey mess out of the pan with his very patient fingers. He plops it on the wax paper and we get out our very sharp, very small, very cute cookie cutters, dunk them in hot water, and start cutting gumdrops. Easy enough.

Until we try to pry them off the wax paper.

6:00 P.M.

Still prying.

6:30 P.M.

I have a headache. The first batch of gumdrops have finally been peeled not-so-gently from the wax paper (I thought NOTHING stuck to wax paper) and placed on another sheet of-you guessed it-wax paper to "dry". Blake heads to church choir promising to return after for round two of gumdrop-mania. I wouldn't blame him if he never got in the same zipcode as me ever again.

9:00 P.M.

Ahhhhh. After dinner, sitting by the fire, and watching "White Christmas" with my Mom, I feel much better. After all, most of my desserts are sitting on the dining room table, cut up all pretty and decorated, and my boyfriend is ringing my doorbell. Apparently being an absolute mess in the kitchen is not a deal-breaker. Whew.

9:15 P.M.

We have the bright idea of spraying EVERYTHING associated to the gumdropping with PAM. And PRESTO! It works! After prying the second sheet of gumdrops out of the pan onto PAM covered wax paper, it takes us a mere half hour to cut and sugar the ruby-colored gems. I will include this helpful tip later down the road when I post the recipe and accompanying photos. But not today, because yesterday, I was too busy being covered in chocolate, sugar, peppermint, and super sticky Jell-O to grab my camera.

10:30 P.M

Blake helps me finish washing the rest of the dishes (which is basically every pot, pan, cookie sheet, and utensil in the kitchen, plus a few I didn't know we had). Then-and this is the part where I have to go, "huh?"-he hugs me, kisses me, looks me in the eye and says,

"I love you so much. Today was so much fun."

Huh? A full day of washing my dishes, dodging exploding chocolate baggies, hearing "OOOPS" every few minutes, and generally surviving the mayhem that-let's face it-is life with me, and he still loves me?

He still loves me. He loves covered-in-chocolate-dripping-with-gumdrops-stubborn-oopsing me. So yes, he's nuts, I'm lucky...

And I can't wait to do it again next year.

AMMENDMENT

NEWS FLASH: I was wrong. Refer to one of my earlier posts (to which I will link when I figure it out) about Johnny Depp's rumored paycheck for the fourth installment of "The Pirates of the Carribean". The radio dj said $500 million dollars. The article I just ran across on the internet said $56 million. So maybe he won't be making more than Aaron Spelling did in a lifetime for one movie. It's still more than the top paying actress (Cameron Diaz) made for all her movies in 2007-2008. And I'll probably still see the movie. And I'm still jealous. So there.

Just When I Thought I Had It All Together...

reality hits like a nuclear bomb. Okay, well maybe not quite that dramatic. I've been talking and talking about how I'm running a half marathon Saturday, December 13 for AGES now. I even posted a link to the marathon site. No one bothered to tell me that the marathon was SUNDAY DECEMBER 14. Ahem. So anyone who is interested in seeing their dimwitted friend cross the finish line should show up on SUNDAY DECEMBER 14TH. I'll be sleeping in on Saturday.

Prince Charming, Part 1

I've never considered myself a "girl's girl". I mean, okay, I like twirly skirts (who doesn't??), I wear pink way more often than necessary for someone who claims to hate it, and I own three pairs of heels for every pair of sneakers in my closet (at least). But when it comes to friends, I've always migrated to the guys. Let's face it: even though romantic relationships are often messy and tough to navigate, guys as a whole are far less complicated to understand than girls. Or maybe it's just me. Whatever.

The point is (hah! you knew I was gonna get there, I mean here, eventually) that I finally met a Prince Charming. And my relationship with him has opened my eyes to the man in my life who came before him. I know, I know, you're all probably dying to know more about my Prince, but to understand how I can love him (and, maybe, how he can love me), I thought I'd wax philosophical about the other Prince Charming in my life...the one who taught me what a man should be.

I give him grief all the time...more than any man deserves. The truth is, my father is the man who has made it so difficult to find someone worth giving my heart to. He has given me so much...trips to exotic places, a first class education, a comfortable home (that he keeps letting me return to). He's given me an example of what marriage is supposed to be like (thirty years of marriage and he still talks about how attractive he thinks my mother is). Growing up I never noticed if we had more or less than my friends, though there were times we certainly did have less, or more. He's provided for our family in every way.

The two most valuable pieces of advice I ever got were from my father. The first wasn't even advice. When I left college to pursue a career performing, there was a small part of me that wondered if I was in some way disappointing my dad...glamorous though it may be, an acting career for their child is not the dream of most parents. Plus, my father was quickly rising in management, and having inherited his personality I wondered if that was the path that I, too, was supposed to have followed. I wondered...until the day my father told me about a conversation with his co-worker in which he expressed such pride and admiration for his daughter who was pursuing her dream and catching it. It didn't matter that it was far-fetched, unstable, unconventional, and completely different from the path he followed...he was proud of his daughter for having a dream and going for it.

Fast forward a few years, and I'm back at home, choosing another path (and now worried that I'm disappointing my father for choosing a different dream). When I finally expressed this through racking sobs, daddy simply looked at me and said, "Whatever you do, do something you're passionate about. If there's no passion, it's not worth it. I only want you to be happy, and the only path to happiness is passion."

We may take jabs at each other-and we do, because we're too much alike, both stubborn, set in our ways, independent, moody, always thinking we're right (and we usually are), bossy, nosy, and determined-but there is never a moment when I forget that he was the first man to love me. He is the man who has tenaciously held onto my heart for a lifetime. He is the man who may lead a company to success, but first and foremost led a family to a happy ending. And someday he'll give me away, but he'll be the only man to do so without losing my heart, my love, or my devotion. He is the man against whom all others will be measured.

He is my first Prince Charming.

Happiness is...

...a warm belly to bury a tired head in.

...a Gramma's lap to sit in.

...a friend to learn to crawl with.

...hugs, hugs, and more hugs!

Already?

I can't believe it's been two weeks since I've been on here! A lot is going on (as usual), so here are some of the highlights:

• I'm loving my job at Microsoft! Even though I said I never wanted to sit all day in front of a computer, that's exactly what I'm doing and very much enjoying it. Of course, it's not just data entry or mindless work...my mind is constantly occupied. Which we all know is a very good thing.


• I'm very happily dating a wonderful man named Blake (yes, he's the one I mentioned a little while ago when I said "I met someone."). It's been almost two months, which isn't very long, but when you haven't gone past a first date in almost two years, two months is monumental. Plus, he's amazing in every way possible, and everyday I find out more to adore. I know. Vomit now. We're THAT couple.


• Along the same lines, last week was the 2 year anniversary of D-Day, Independence Day, the day of the big breakup. Last year I celebrated with a few drinks with my mom and a few friends. This year? I ran a 15K and cooked dinner for my boyfriend, and completely forgot about the anniversary. Which, in my book, is a HUGE milestone.


• For the entirety of my life I have bitten my nails. Nothing has worked. Manicures, horrible tasting nail polish, fake nails, promises from people to buy me jewelery, ridicule-I stay true to my stubborn Andoga roots and refuse to curb the appalling habit. Then I started dating someone who likes to kiss my hands, my palms, my wrists...and my fingertips. All of a sudden pretty hands have become priority number one (right next to moving out of my parents' house). So far I have a 60% success rate. And it's kind of bizarre to have nails long enough to feel when I type. They're not super long, they're definitely not pretty, but they're healthy(er), and best of all I'm losing the urge to pick or nibble at them. Yay for personal progress!


• Yeah, did I mention the 15K? Philip and I completed the third of of our four races, the Rockledge Rumble 15K Trail Run. 9.9 miles of hiking trail (unpaved, in some places not even fit for running, and slightly longer than the posted 9.9 miles since, as the race coordinator said, they "just estimated the distances with their best educated guess."). So now we're mere weeks away from running our half marathon. For any local readers who want to come cheer us on, the race is The White Rock Marathon, December 13th. Let me know you're coming so I can keep an eye out for you as I cross the finish line!


• I know, I know, I still haven't posted pictures of my nephew. So if you want to see them, go visit my Facebook page, there's some there.
  

All right, that's it for now! Blogs will be coming more frequently when I have finished my marathon and exited the cocoon phase of my relationship (which, I admit, may be some time). Happy start of the Holidays!

Overwhelmed

Today is one of those days I'll remember forever. I have witnessed and participated in history. When I think of "history", I think the JFK assasination. The first moonwalk. Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech. The bombing of Pearl Harbor. In my lifetime I can remember only two moments that were truly stunning...so stunning that I can remember (even though for the first I was very young) every single detail of those days. The first was the explosion of the Challenger with Krista MacCauliffe on board. The second was 9/11.

And now I have today. The day when America seemingly rose as one and said, "We're scared. We're not sure where we are. We're not sure where we should go. But above all we are hopeful, and we believe that CHANGE is all those things." Today was the day that more people than in the history of our country chose to exercise their right to vote. Today is a day we can and should be proud of.

My cousin Rachel is ridiculously smart, funny, and has summed the history of Obama's election up so well that I can only refer you to her blog. I think she pretty well expresses what our generation is standing for, and it's a generation I am finally proud to count myself one of. Congratulations to us all!

Friendship

Friendship was so easy when we were in high school and college. 99% of our friends were right there all day, every day. So those first 18 years of learning to be a good friend (and yes, there was A LOT of learning, for all of us!), while valuable, just didn't prepare any of us for friendship outside protected walls. I know I can't be the only one who has spent her young adult life learning how to be a long-distance friend, the difference between a friend and an acquaintance, what happens when you get you first REAL boyfriend or girlfriend...and how that affects all the other friendships in your life. We betray our friends in more grown up ways, but we love them more maturely, too. We practice forgiveness, listening, giving advice, holding our tongue-and all without parental supervision. We lose friends for various reasons, good and bad, and we reconnect with some we never valued properly. For many of us, our friends become our family as relatives dwindle or become distant. For all of us, our friends help give us an identity and a place in the world.

I find myself needing a reminder that not all of us have the same learning curve. When we as friends have misunderstandings, shouldn't we take a deep breath and remind ourselves that, "Hey, this is my friend. I know this person." It's not baseball people. We get more than three strikes. Otherwise we would all be alone. Or perfect. So there it is. My friendship lesson for the week. Guess I'm still a pretty good student...or at least attentive :)

The Half Billion Price Tag

On the way to work this morning the DJ's were doing their daily "Sleazy Look At Hollywood" segment, which I of course listen to religiously. The bit that caught my attention was an update on the fourth installment of "The Pirates of the Caribbean" series. Apparently Johnny Depp is not so keen to jump back into Jack Sparrow's eyeliner and dredlocks, but said sure, why not-for $550 million. HA HA HA said the devilish Sparrow on his shoulder, THEY'LL NEVER GIVE IN TO THAT RIDICULOUS DEMAND.

HA HA HA said Disney. HALF A BILLION DOLLARS? YOU GOT IT!

That's right. The world's most favorite pirate will return to the silver screen for the bargain price of $550 million dollars. Which is absolutely ridiculous, of course, but when you're Disney I suppose there is no price tag too high. Just out of curiosity I Googled $550 million dollars to get a better idea of its worth (because I can't even comprehend what I would do with $550 million). Here are some of the results:

• MySpace sold for half a billion dollars in 2006
• So did Facebook.
• It cost $500 million to make Spiderman 3...the ENTIRE movie.
• According to one article, half a billion will buy you 1,500 houses, 83,000 pairs of diamond earrings, 200,000 flatscreen tv's, 23 million toasters, or 179 million Big Macs.
• The Rolling Stones grossed $500 million from their concert tour in 2007...a concert tour that spanned TWO YEARS.
• Aaron Spelling's ENTIRE ESTATE was estimated at half a billion.
• The 2008 presidential nominees raised a combined $500 million in 2007 in campaign funds.
• The four Seminole tribe casinos in Florida bring in a combined half billion each year.
• Grand Theft Auto IV sold $500 million in it's first week.

Who says we're in a recession?! Let's all go work for Disney, since they obviously have moolah to spare. And congratulations, Mr. Depp, I admire the balls it takes to even throw that kind of number out there. Now, if I could only figure out what the taxes on that would be...

How Can I Keep From Singing?

Today was my first Sunday actually singing in the choir at church (I missed the first Sunday because I was visiting my brother's family in Kansas). Of all the good things that have happened over the last month or so, this was sort of the culmination. The service was inspiring, the singing was beautiful, and even though I had to get up at 6 am-that's SIX IN THE MORNING BEFORE THE SUN RISES AND NORMAL HAPPY PEOPLE SHOULD NEVER HAVE TO SEE THAT HOUR OF THE DAY (ahem, I'm not complaining)-to be ready, I felt sunshiney and glowey all day (especially after my nap). I hated the chore of singing in chapel in college, but that's because I was there by demand and not choice. This was not a chore but a joy. I've been given a great deal in my life, not least of which is a second chance at making my life what I want it to be. The least I can do is give a little back. I can't tithe yet (I'm still in the red financially speaking), but I have one thing I can give back to God/the universe/whatever you want to call it and that's my voice. So when we sang this song today, I felt like we were singing the anthem of my life. The recording that follows was sent to me by a fellow choir member. It's from The Prairie Home Companion, and the singer is Martin Sheen-yes, that Martin Sheen. Forward the sound to 82:30 to hear him sing these great lyrics:

How Can I Keep From Singing?
Traditional Shaker Hymn

My life flows on in endless song
Above earth's lamentation,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing,
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

What though the tempest 'round me roars,
I hear the truth it liveth.
But though the darkness 'round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble sick with fear
And hear their death knells ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near
How can I keep from singing?

To prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging,
When friends by shame are undefiled
How can I keep from singing?

No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth,
how can I keep from singing?

Update!!!

Oh my goodness, friends, since September life has been an absolute whirlwind! There is so much to catch you up on, so here are my last two months at a glance:

• "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change" opened, ran, and closed in Lewisville to near sold-out audiences. We transferred the show to Garland last weekend for a one-night-only fundraiser and have now retired, at least for the moment. Great show, great cast, great fun-but lots more happening, like...
• Philip and I completed the first two races of our four race commitment, the Addison Oktoberfest 5K and the Lake Joe Pool Pumpkinfest 10K. Philip beat me in both races, by a mere 7 seconds in the first race and a good 4 or 5 minutes in the second. However, I finished 3rd in my age group at the 10K (but Philip keeps reminding me that he "is in a VERY COMPETITIVE AGE GROUP!"). We are now gearing up for our 15K in Grapevine, which is a trail run. That means new training techniques and new shoes. Woo hoo!
• I finally went to Philip's church, Unity Church of Dallas, and loved it! I decided to join the choir, which I have, which led to...
• A new job!!! Last week I hung up my bar key and retired from Chili's to become a full-time employee of...Microsoft. That's right, folks. I work at Microsoft. Technically I'm employed by CompConTech, which is a vendor of Microsoft, but I work in the Microsoft offices in Las Colinas as a Duty Manager (basically I route software problems from the customer service representative to the properly trained engineer). I work 4 day weeks (Mon, Tues, Thurs, Fri) from 9am-7pm. So far I love it, and the fact that I get salary, benefits, and PTO is a major part of that.
• I met someone. Infamous last words, right? I met a guy who is funny, charming, smart (he understands my SAT vocabulary!), employed (this becomes surprisingly important as I get older), sweet, and he thinks I'm wonderful. Which was the first wonderful thing about him. Many many wonderful qualities have followed, and I'm hoping that my first instinct (that this guy is the kind of guy-hell, THE guy-I should have been dating all along) continues to be proven right. I'm a little terrified because this guy is so amazing and we click so well that I'm just waiting for the ball to drop...then I remember that if that's all I think about then eventually it will drop. So I concentrate on all the goodness that is happening and, well, let's just say I'm glowing :)
• My nephew Jack (who needs some pictures on here, I know, Alicia! I've been so busy with everything else that I'm constantly playing catchup right now!) is 5 months old. He is wickedly close to crawling, is eating rice cereal and sweet potatoes in addition to the breast milk, and his little personality is absolutely adorable. He laughs from deep in his belly, and a smile is never far from his face (although he hates the car and wails from the second you get him in the car seat. Oh well, no one is perfect.).

That's it in a nutshell. Not a very small nutshell, but you get the picture. Keep an eye out for lots of pictures in the near future, and start looking for me to be in touch, because now I have free time and can't wait to catch up with all my friends who have been sadly abandoned due to my over-loaded schedule. Can't wait to see you all...!

The Commitment

One of my New Year's Resolutions this year was to run a marathon. Well, that was pretty ambitious since I could barely run two miles outside in January. As the year has progressed, I've become more and more determined to do the thing...so I ammended the resolution to a half marathon, and today I finally committed. My friend Philip and I have been encouraging each other to push ourselves physically, and in passing conversation I kept telling him, "I'm going to run the White Rock Half Marathon, you should train with me." In the last two months he seemed to start taking it seriously, we both upped our mileage and our weight loss, and today we registered for four races, culminating in the White Rock Half Marathon. So here goes nothing, friends, there's no turning back now!

PS-I think this is the first New Year's Resolution I've ever even attempted to keep. This could be the start of something really good :)

Sigh

Sigh...what a long day at work. Today it was beyond miserable. I did the work of two managers for $2.00 an hour. My lunch consisted of one chicken finger and a handful of fries-pretty much shoved into my mouth all together while I ran up and down the line in the kitchen traying up food and taking To Go orders. When it was my turn to be busy on the floor, everyone else had completely disappeared. Typical.

Sigh...and sniffle. It's been a terrible day, but mom remembered that I requested spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. So I cry. The shower seems like a good refuge, so I escape for thirty minutes with an audio book and the hot steam. And cry some more. No use keeping it in.

Sigh...relax the vocal chords. Tonight begins tech week for my show, which opens on Friday. A twenty minute warmup begins the healing process. The familiar exercises ease much of the tension I feel. My voice finds its center, and so do I.

Sigh...a breath of relief. Rehearsal goes off without a (major) hitch. All the energy I was putting into being miserable I channel into a focused (more or less) performance. It's not perfect, but it's good, so I'll take it. Plus, I get to spend three hours with very charming, funny, talented people whom I like a great deal. They seem to like me, too, which is always a bonus. I thank my lucky stars that I have such an outlet for my emotions.

Sigh...the day is finally over. One more Monday down. One more miserable day at work over. It occurs to me that for at least a month now my Mondays have been wretched, but the closer I get to Friday the lighter my heart is. I don't like being that way. I miss liking my job. I miss enjoying what I do on a daily basis, rather than counting the hours until I'm free of that prison.

Sigh...and try again tomorrow.

Daddy's Little Girl

I love my father. He's been THE man in my life...for my entire life. He treats me better than any boyfriend I've ever had, which is why I'm still single-he's set the bar pretty high. I've spent most of my life trying to figure out exactly how I feel about my dad for so many reasons...I inherited his personality and drive, which often leads us to clash; I hero-worship him, so every time I feel I've failed myself, I feel I've disappointed him more; I admire and strive to duplicate his successes, but because I also inherited his streak of independence I want to do it on my own in my own way. In many ways I'm the "son" in the family...my brother has my mother's personality through and through. I was always the better student, the more driven sibling, the more outspoken child, the one of whom the family always expected the most. And like the prodigal son I've returned home begging for help and mercy.

Daddy has never tried to make me feel any of this...most of it is of my own creation, a reflection of my own fears and insecurities. In fact, he has never ever put me down. He has only continued to offer help and support in every way he can. When I moved home despondent because I didn't know what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, he simply looked at me and said, "Nikki, whatever you do, make sure you do it because it makes you happy. Make sure you are passionate about it. No amount of money can ever replace leading a passionate and happy life." It is the advice I have been trying to follow for the last year.

Tonight my father offered (not for the first time!) to help me find a job in his industry. Not to get it for me, but to be my compass in the search for my new path. This offer, in the past, has been met with protests (some of them quite rude, in retrospect), tears, defenses, and ultimately rejection. Remember, I want to do it my way!

Tonight I accepted. Tonight I begin to understand that being daddy's little girl means that maybe he knows me better than myself sometimes. Maybe it means he has confidence in me. Maybe it means he doesn't necessarily want to control my every move, but maybe-just maybe-he wants to give me a push with the understanding that in the end, only I can make or break the deal. One thing I know-it means he loves me enough to never give up on me.

Lucky Me

I love being a part of something bigger, greater, and infinitely more important than just myself alone. I just started rehearsals for a remount of a show I did last year, and OH MY GOD it is just amazing to be back in the theatre with familiar people. I don't know how I got so lucky to be paired up with Philip, Stephen and Courtney, but thank God for Alan Hanna who somehow knew our chemistry would be not just ideal but outright HYSTERICAL. We have not gotten through a single rehearsal without completely cracking each other up. Not only that, we have become more supportive of each other, which has given us the safe place to explore each character even further. Theatre people will tell you-this kind of enjoyable camaraderie is all too rare, and those of us who get to experience it never want it to end.

This is particularly exciting for me for a couple of reasons. First, this show holds a special place in my heart because it helped get me up out of the blues and back into a real life (one that included smiles, laughter, and friends-old and new). Second, I came out of it with several new and indespensable friends. Philip in particular has become one of the best and most loyal friends I could ever ask for (which is funny, because we DID NOT get along at all for the first month or so...which is probably a blog in itself). Third, these people think I'm funny and a pretty good singer/actress. I mean, I think I'm pretty good, too, but I also know when I suck and how hard I've had to work to get to this point. On top of that, I'm never really sure if I'm funny...I tend to think people are laughing AT me, not WITH me (which is a fine but important point in comedy...and life). But NOOO, they think I'm actually FUNNY as in ha ha ha you have a good sense of humor and timing. So hey-kudos to me!

Finally, this is the first time I've really conciously let myself be bare and exposed (emotionally) on stage. The first time around my emotions were right on the surface anyway, so it just kinda happened. This time I'm in a better place in my life, a little more balanced and way more in tune with myself. What all this means in actor-speak is that I actually have to access those emotional highs and lows rather than just let them happen because I'm already an emotional wreck. It's a little scary to throw out a gesture or voice that you think is funny or dramatic and know that it could just flop and fail quicker than the blink of an eye. Which has happened. And guess what? The world didn't end, I didn't get replaced in the show, and no one judged me. Turns out they were too worried about what they were doing to notice that I looked stupid. They only noticed when I actually made them laugh or cry. Hmmm, maybe there's a good lesson in that....

When God Speaks...

...He often does so through the most unexpected voices, and in the most unusual places. Here I am, feeling sorry for myself because I may actually have to do something about my teensey problems, and I post a mood update on MySpace. I say I need a hug...and a few hours later in my inbox I find a little note from a friend I haven't heard from in months. "Consider this a hug." This is not someone I speak to often or intimately. This is not a person I would necessarily turn to in a crisis. This is not even someone who lives in the same state as me. Yet they heard my cry, and those four words lightened my load so much!

Then I say that I must make some sacrifices to move forward. Again, hours later, from yet another friend who I only talk to occasionally, I receive a message of encouragement. She tells me how she has always admired my strength, has always looked up to me, and she knows that no matter what obstacle is in my way I will succeed. The words I had prayed to hear coming from the most unexpected person in the most unexpected place.

He speaks. We just have to listen.

Sacrifice

Tonight I made a huge decision.

I have been unhappy for some time now, for many reasons. I'm not making near enough money, especially for what I am capable of making. My job is taking more and more out of me everyday, mostly because I want to be there less and less. I am performing a lot (which makes me happy), but because of my rehearsal/work schedule I have little time for friends and no time for me (which makes me miserable).

Something's gotta give. That something is theatre.

The thing that keeps me sane, the thing I love above all others, and the thing that gives me (strange as it may seem) an identity is what I am going to give up, at least for the rest of the year, so that I can maybe achieve some balance in the rest of my life. I need a new job, and I need time to find it. I need to be flexible with my schedule (which theatre rehearsals do not allow). I need to save money and MOVE OUT-I am going crazy with just a bedroom to call my own. I hate that my sanctuary is also my office, my living room, and my storage space.

I'm not sure I know who I am without actively pursuing another role to play. Theatre has been such a staple of my life it's become a sixth food group. Some days the only thing that makes going to work bearable is the thought that in the evening or on that weekend I will be with people who will understand, accept, and love me. I will be able to inhabit someone else's life and interpret it as only I can for a few hours, then gratefully morph back into me (perhaps even learning something along the way...). The best friends I have ever made have all been from experiences in theatre or music. When I say I am giving up theatre until I have fixed the mess that is my life, I feel like I am giving up all of those other things, too.

Yet I say this with a sense of relief. All along I knew I would have to sacrifice something to pay for the choices I made in the past (which is what led me to this predicament in the first place), and I am grateful that I can at least identify the sacrifice. I am grateful that because I love it so, I cannot and will not sacrifice it for good. I will be motivated to make the changes necessary. When I chose not to make theatre my job, I relegated it to the realm of "hobby", and a hobby is something you do in your free time. Right now my free time needs to be dedicated to other pursuits. So I am grateful that I am sacrificing something that I know I can never give up for good.

Tonight begins the countdown. No more auditions (I'm giving up my first one TOMORROW-a show I really really want to do, but I have to FOCUS), no more applause for accomplishments, no more cast parties, and no more excuses. It's time to move forward.

A Dose Of Daily Good

I'm not a huge activist of any kind, but I do believe in helping wherever I can. A friend posted a bulletin on MySpace directing anyone who has pets or who just loves animals to the Animal Rescue Website to click on the big purple button to provide free food for animals in shelters. (These animals are often underfed or starved because the shelters are overcrowded and lack funding.) That's it! Just click with your mouse and the website will donate money for food! I have added the website to my favorites list, and everytime I sit down to check my email, my blog, my MySpace, or just to Google something, I go to the link first and click. Every click donates the equivalent of .6 bowls of food-and you can click as many times a day as you want. Has there ever been an easier way of giving?!? So for all my like-minded friends, here's the link:

http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com/clickToGive/home.faces?siteId=3

Happy Clicking!

To Need And Be Needed

Tonight I spent a few hours visiting a friend in the hospital. He's been suffering severe stomach pains for some time now, and it turned out he needed surgery to remove his gall bladder and relieve his pancreas. Nothing life-threatening, but hey-anytime someone decides to stick a knife and other pointy objects around in your stomach, it ain't fun.

The upside to this is that when I arrived (thinking that I would just visit and cheer him up, not realizing that he had gone into surgery since he had failed to mention that little detail), he was shortly to be released from recovery. Of course, he probably won't remember that I was there, but I will never forget that me and five of his closest friends were on hand to make sure that everything went smoothly and that he was well taken care of. Neither will I forget that when he saw us all hovered around his doorway he groaned and said, "I had a dream...and you were there...and you were there...." (Can you see why we're friends? Anyone who can reference "The Wizard of Oz" as they come out of an anesthesia-induced semi-coma is tops on my list!)

That got me thinking. Should something happen to me, I wonder who will be hovering around my stark hospital room waiting for me to be conscious. Will there be flowers? Board games? Movies? It's not that I think my friends don't care. If I thought that, they would not be friends at all. Our lives get so busy, though, and we often just don't make enough time for one another because of this or that. We forget to nurture our everyday cares and woes and victories, and we wait for the huge, unavoidable events. Relationships with friends, family, lovers-they take time and thought and effort. They are not easy. They shouldn't be easy-if they were, they would not be special.

I want to be special. And I want my friends to know they are special to me, not just when they have half their internal organs removed. If I (and you!) can make time for rehearsals, work, hair appointments, oil changes, prime-time tv, and blogging, can't we make time to call and say, "Hi" or "How are you?" or "Just thinking about you"?

After all, friends are way more important than laundry.

Long Time Coming

I have been absurdly busy over the last month (as I have already lamented...get used to it). I have composed some brilliant, sensitive, and insightful blogs, but they never made it from my brain to the blog. So sad for all of you. Those words and thoughts could have changed the world-alas, it was not meant to be.

What WAS meant to be was my attendance at this year's 20th annual Babin family reunion (the Andoga's are a branch of the Babin's...I'm not sure how, but our family tree is quite spread out now, so I pretty much just take it at face value). I love getting to visit with my cousins, but this year there was a marked difference between me and the girls I have grown up with (we're all about the same age). Missy is married with two kids, Cheryl is married and preparing for kids, and Ashley is engaged and living with her fiancee. They all have good jobs, plans for the future, and are the absolute picture of the all-American family.

Then there's me.

I'm sure by now everyone who knows me can easily enumerate the differences between those responsible tax-paying cousins and myself. What struck me this year was the realization that I will never be like them...and I'M GLAD. I finally see all the adventures the world has to offer to someone like me. I finally see that even if and when I have a family, it will be a totally different kind of family...and the world NEEDS my kind of family. I finally see that preparation and planning are good things (I learned that the hard way!), but the ability to veer off the beaten path and discover new and exciting roads (even if they sometimes turn out rougher and more dangerous) is a most valuable asset. I finally see that being different is not a negative, but a positive. My cousins have chosen the lifestyle best for them. Certainly there are aspects of their life I find appealing and envy-worthy. But I finally see how MY life could and should be cause for jealousy. I finally see how good I have it.

Finally I have found gratitude for my life.

So It Goes...

I always tell myself, "When this show is over, life will FINALLY get back to normal." Which is true, it does. What I forget is how busy, unpredictable, and utterly exhausting "normal" is. This last month, "normal" has consisted of traveling three weekends in a row, with more to come. I've managed to squeeze in a few friendly phone calls, emails and texts between plane rides and car trips, but I know I have been sadly absent (well, sadly on my part, I don't know if anyone actually missed me) from get-togethers, performances, and the general mayhem that my friends tend to create.

On the plus side, I got to spend Father's Day weekend with my six week old nephew, my brother, and my father. I stayed up with Jack for two nights in a row (poor baby, he wasn't pooping, which is one-third of what babies know how to do, so he was really cranky). I wasn't sure if my sister-in-law would trust me alone with him, especially with him not feeling well, but she was more than happy-even grateful!-for the help, which I supplied rather selfishly. It was my first alone time with my nephew, and I was gonna take it however I could get it. For two wonderful nights my Jackie boy cuddled up on my chest and shoulder and slept (albeit for only an hour and a half at a time) while I dozed. I fed him, sang to him, talked to him, rocked him, and memorized every feature of his face and every noise he made. It was torture leaving him, and I cannot wait until this weekend when he comes to visit us in Texas!!!

The following week I went to Napa Valley with my parents. It was pure bliss. Granted, the air was choked with smoke from all the wildfires, but it was so peaceful...so quiet. I spent the week tasting wine, making friends everywhere I went, eating constantly, and doing it more or less alone. Of course my parents were with me just about everywhere I went, but they left me to my own devices, allowing me to enjoy my first post-Ben, post-depression vacation on my own. And I enjoyed it. Pictures and more details to follow...I promise!

Finally, this weekend I went to San Antonio to watch my mom compete in a dance competition with her adult tap and jazz class. We spent a fantastic girls' weekend shopping at the outlets in San Marcos, visiting Fredericksburg, watching the dance competition, and wandering the Riverwalk. This weekend my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew are coming to stay, along with my Grandmother from PA, and my aunt and uncle and three kids from IL. Then I'm going to Pittsburgh for a family reunion. You know, I think I'm gonna need a vacation from all this vacation!

So that is my excuse for lack of blogging...pictures and thoughts on my travels will follow as soon as I have rested...and caught up with my friends for real, and not just through blogging. After all, I am still a people person, not a virtual one :)

Artistry

"I would love to touch somebody through my dance, it's my art, it's my voice." -Jessica (a contestant on So You Think You Can Dance 2008)

Wow, if that doesn't just sum it up, I don't know what does. Everything I (and all artists-visual, performance, or otherwise) work for is right there in those words. In the end it's not about the accolades (although they are nice), it's about what you give. Someone who doesn't perform will never understand that ultimately you give so much more than you ever get in return. Creating a character, singing a song in just the right way, getting the paint on the canvas exactly right-this takes more than 100%. But it's worth it when you see the smiles, the tears, the nods of understanding, and the glow of enlightenment in the faces of those who hear your voice.

Some people volunteer at soup kitchens. Some teach illiterate children. Some raise money for worthy causes. I walk onto a stage and occasionally burst into song. This is what I have to offer the world. You can feed the masses, teach them, and give them money. I hope through my passion and my art to give them a reason to take it and live.

Movin' On Up...

Tonight was my final bar training...I am officially a Chili's bartender. I arrive at this new, higher station in life with mixed feelings. I am super excited because there is the potential for a lot more money, and I am finally going to have a fixed schedule that frees up my nights and weekends. On the downside, this is as far as we go, friends. There are no more rungs on the restaurant ladder, unless I want to go into management (and ick, who wants to do that?!). I have in my hands a golden opportunity: the chance to make money, on my terms, on my chosen schedule, and in the meantime figure out what it is I want to do. Because God knows I don't want to bartend for the rest of my life. In fact, there's a lot of things I don't want to do. I need to start adding to the "want" side of the list. Which turns out is a lot easier said than done...

Gratitude 1

Just a quick "Thank you!" to all those who have offered help on formatting my blog and/or encouraged my random ramblings! You have all been helpful in many ways and I truly appreciate everything you have offered to me. Hugs, kisses, and lots of laughter are being sent your way via the internet :) Love and thanks, ...Nikki

Julie Andrews

I am reading Julie Andrew's memoir, "Home", which is thoroughly inspiring me to begin a disciplined approach to singing again. I was incredibly dedicated in high school and college-I didn't even sing to the radio without a proper warm up. I still have a great deal of training ingrained in my body, mind, and vocal cords, but I have definitely let many good habits slip. I must admit that I miss the daily routine of vocal warmups, tweaking songs and learning new ones. I continually tell myself that when "this" happens or "that" is taken care of I will get back into my routine. The things filed under "this" and "that" are replaced quicker than they are taken care of, and my happy little singing routine falls to the wayside.

Then today I read a passage that really spoke to me, reminded me why I worked so hard to begin with, and why, starting today, I will work twice as hard again. Julie's voice teacher (who she referred to as "Madame"-I love that!) said to her, "Julie, remember: the amateur works until he can get it right. The professional works until he cannot go wrong."

My new resolution: to be a professional, not just in singing, but in life.

It's Alright, Cause It's Midnight and I've Got 2 More Bottles of Wine

I've had a very long week, considering that I've mainly laid around the house with an infected lymph gland. I ended up looking like the elephant man for the majority of the week, then the first day I could open my jaw up wide enough to eat solid food I had to go back to work. My first thought was-God, is this real life? Four days of complete, pain-killer induced, parentally overseen rest then back to the grind? And no one is giving me a medal? What kind of world do we live in?

Perhaps I'm bitter because I worked two doubles in a row. In real-life-speak that means I worked two days of back to back shifts. Saturday was an 11 hour day with only a 25 minute break-all on my feet. No sitting, one meal, and an overabundance of barely legal co-workers. (It really wasn't as bad as I'm making it out to be, but I'm just totally over not having someone to come home to that says, "Honey, it must have been a hard day. You deserve a hug." Which of course would be followed by a hug.)

The last few months have really given me a lot to think about. I've celebrated (in a mild fashion) several important anniversaries. January 28: a year since I've moved home. February 6: a year since I've talked to Ben. March-ish: a year since I totaled my car and got the new one. May 21: a year working at Chili's. It feels like all the things that happened with Ben were so very long ago, but they are still so within reach. It's been a year. ONLY a year. I am constantly riding myself for not "getting over it", but jeez, I gotta give myself a little credit here. I know I have a long way to go before I am fully healed (and believe me, that is hard to admit because I want to just delete a lot of my memories and reboot), but for where I was a year ago, I'm doing pretty damn good. I thought I could come home and everything would just fix itself. I figured by now I would be, well, perfect. I'm not. And it was ridiculous to think that I would be. It's a fine line to ride-understanding how far you've come and how far you've yet to go.

Part of the healing process has simply been keeping busy. I started performing again, which for me was huge. I started making friends, working full time (after a fashion), going out, working out-creating a life of my own again. Part of that life needs to be balance. And balance includes working out my emotions over what happened with Ben, why it happened, and allowing myself to become okay with it all. Not just SAYING I'm okay, but really being okay. I have a tendency to simply overwhelm my life with distractions so that I don't have to think about what's really bothering me. Well, stuff still bothers me. You know what? It's all right. Cuz it's midnight. And I've got two more bottles of wine.

Makeovers and Technology

Just a quick note to let ya'll know that I'm trying to figure out how to make this page more...me. It is a complicated procedure, since I don't really speak HTML or XML or any other languages that leave vowels out completely. This pretty little page will be undergoing some major transformations over the next few weeks as I figure all this out, so bear with me and enjoy the many views. If you have any tips, I'm always open to suggestions, especially if they lead to free (that means no $$$, cuz hello, I'm broke) solutions. Live and learn, friends, live and learn!

So It Goes

This weekend marked the end of The Full Monty, and I ended up feeling much more emotional about it than I expected. Ending a show is always hard-every experience is special, unique, and (usually) hard to let go of. You can never recreate the chemistry that sparks when the right people do the right show together. As you grow in life you bring different things to the table and the recipe changes. Having been in theatre so long now, I rarely get upset about a show closing. I have learned that all good things must, and should, come to an end.

This is the second time time, however, that I have done Monty, and I entered with some hesitation. The first time was a truly life-altering experience...I met some incredible people, worked with an amazing director, and for the first time in my life stepped out of my little ingenue comfort zone to portray two very different characters, both vocally and as an actress. I also fell head over heels in love with every one of the six "Montys". I didn't want to mar the memory of my first Monty experience by doing the show again and possibly have it turn out to be less than ideal.

I don't know if this show just attracts the right people, if the material galvanizes the group to become better than they are, if God was looking out for me and granting me a wish, or if I just got lucky. I'd like to think it was all the above. Once again I fell into a group of people who happened to be exactly what I needed. Performing our final show wasn't so emotional because I felt like I was saying goodbye. It was emotional because I was so full of gratitude and love for the old friends who became closer to me and to the new friends I never knew I needed so much. God works in mysterious ways...who knew He wanted to teach me through six naked men? So to each of my "Montys" I say thank you, for showing me that bravery and beauty comes in all different packages. To my working class women friends, I say thank you for reminding me that I am not alone...and that it's not all about me. And to myself, I say congratulations for allowing yourself to have this experience and love it for what it is itself, and not for what is was before. And thank God for knowing and loving me so well.

Chapter Next

Less than 24 hours have gone by since I created this new space for myself, and already friends are finding me, reading me, enjoying me, and inviting me into their blogging worlds. It feels good to know there are people out there who care what you think and do and who want to share their innermost thoughts with you as well. I occassionally blog on MySpace and find great joy and comfort in it, and I have already begun to think of this little page as a sanctuary. I am terrible at expressing many things out loud-appreciation, love, the need for help-but words just seem to flow when I sit in front of a keyboard. The written language is a powerful thing that our generation is ignoring and forgoing in favor of a more immediate gratification. Letter writing is a thing of the past, emails are reduced to acronymns, and books are available on cd-or better yet, just rent the movie. Thank goodness for spaces like blogspot, where in some form the written word is reborn and a little humanity is infused to that intangible world wide web.

Reading my friends' blogs is like reading their diaries...they share hopes, dreams, triumphs, sorrows, trivia, tragedies, and so much more. Fifteen minutes of glancing through my friend Tessa's blog gave me a much better idea of what her life and family are like than a year of random emails and comments on MySpace. Every morning now I read my friend Lauren's blog-I know that no matter what, there will be something to make me grateful for waking up and one more reason to love her. Alicia and Chris are chronicling their first attempt at parenthood...and not only am I enjoying it, but Hannah will love reliving those first few months of her life when she is old enough to read and understand.

Perhaps this is yet another attempt for an overdramatic, attention-seeking personality to shout "Here I am, world, look at me!". I don't think it is...I hope to offer my friends a glimpse into the warped workings of my mind. I hope to help others learn from my failures and successes. I hope to remind myself of what I love and am grateful for. I hope to express more clearly my desires, needs, and gratitudes. I hope to communicate. I hope to inspire. In short, I hope.

In the Beginning...

Well, friends, I have entered the digital age in a big way. Last year I gave in to the MySpace wave...and became totally addicted. The past few months I've continued to feed that addiction by purchasing a new laptop that I can barely turn on, a BlackJack PDA (Samsung's version of the Blackberry) that I can barely answer calls on, and I've subscribed to nearly every online service available from Shutterfly to this, my brand new blog.

I know this isn't much as far as blogs go, but seeing as how I've emailed everyone I know to guide them to this site, I thought I should have a welcome note (WELCOME!) and a series of excuses as to my newest self-indulgence. Much much more will follow (and if you truly know me, then you know that's an understatement!), but for now I'll close by saying...

ummm, how does this thing work again????