Prefers to travel with her own baggage.

So, a few months ago we traveled to the Emerald Isle for the coolest vacation I have ever been on. When we got off the plane we realized we had misplaced all of our directions, reservations, plans etc... We laughed it off and went on to have the best trip ever. All the details and bullshit? We didn't need any of it anyways.

Now we are gearing up for our big trip to Canada. It is the hubby's grandma's 90th birthday. I have yet to meet a lot of the relatives who live in Canada. I am going to get to see where his childhood years were spent. Initially I was skeptical that a big trip with his family would work (we had a bit of a tiff with his mom months prior to planning). We weren't speaking, so I didn't see how this would pan out.

Because-we are days away from boarding the plane and I am in total freak out mode. I (along with the 4 others travelling with me) have received an easy 10 pages worth of instructions regarding the trip. Everything from what to pack, to how to call a shuttle. Interesting enough I am the youngest one travelling at 24 years old. I can't wrap my head around why/how a fun "vacation" with mature adults has now turned into the biggest cluster fuck disaster so fast.

I think there is a reason we lost all of our plans back in Ireland. The universe was trying to tell me that not every minute of my life has to be on paper and happen as you think it should. I loved that change, and have implemented it back at home. Exploring the island my husband called home should have been the same way. An adventure every day. But now? It is plagued with a minute by minute itinerary chock full of rules and instructions. I am now nervous to pack my own fucking suitcase, for fear I will have skipped one of the many things on one of the many lists. Of course, the ones I am travelling with are used to this and advise time and time again to ignore her and delete whatever emails come through. But as a former over organizer who loves to comply with everyone it is damn near impossible for me to not hang the book of instructions around my neck with a highlighter marking things off as I go. (Hoping someone will think I am a lost child in the airport terminal and help me on my way-take me home with you!!!). Maybe on the front sheet I can put : If found, please send back to Georgia.

(the husband may kill me for airing some of this dirty laundry, but I seriously had to get some of it off my chest or he will never take me on a trip again-which is fine esp if it is a family vacation! oi)

Wanna hear a real vampire story?

The doc took 5 entire vials of blood from me today. Which would have been all good, except for one thing. I had never in my life had to give up blood until today. So when the lady walked in and both hands were full of clear little containers I got a bit antsy.

But I was a total trooper. I didn't get a sticker, but my man friend took me to cracker barrel after to celebrate.

Besides, he was ecstatic because he got to see our little monkey baby today too. We have quite a dancer on our hands already (and it's only 9.5 weeks old) Great. I won't be posting ultrasound pictures at any point during my pregnancy...not here...not anywhere.

I think it is 100% totally ridiculous that women post that crap on social networking sites. I don't need 500+ people checking that out. Just the idea of how that picture was taken = not cool for some people you never ever talk to (or don't know at all). No thanks. People don't post colonoscopy photos, and it is basically the same concept. So if anyone bugs me about not posting-I will tell them to shove a camera up their ass, post the pics, and see how they feel. A little violated? Alright then..

Diversity in the restaurant industry.

While the husband and I were driving to work this morning (yea, we work together too) We noticed that a new restaurant was opening soon, and the banner just said "Hibachi Buffet-Coming Soon!"

We talked for a minute about how we love hibachi, and i'm eating for two so the buffet idea was intriguing. All I can eat fried rice hibachi style? hell yes. Then we were taking stabs at what the name of the place might be. He guessed they may just leave it at Hibachi Buffet. Then I reminded him that Asian entrepreneurs know better than that. They will add a combination of Super, Jumbo, or Mega in front of that title. Or all three, Super Jumbo Mega Hibachi Buffet. For some reason they like to find every synonym possible for fucking huge, and throw that in to entice us fat Americans.

Then all of this reminded me of hispanic joints. Not the mexican restaurants that open for other mexicans (which actually have legitimate spanish names) But the mexican restaurants that open for the dumb Americans. You know, like El Burrito. The burrito? Really guys? Do you see us opening restaurants that serve american dishes and call it The Hamburger?or The Boring Grilled Cheese Sandwich? Of course not.

I guess that is all I have to say about that.

Mr. Jones is a regular Will Ferrell

I think that I hear that my husband is like Will Ferrell at least once a week. I'm not sure if that is because he is big, and has goofy curly hair that reminds people of Will. Or maybe it's the fact that he is totally ridiculous, and uncensored 24-7. This past halloween he dressed like the rough and weathered Ron Burgundy, complete with a milk carton full of booze. He played it well. As a tribute to Will I am linking to one of my favorite Will Ferrell skits.

Oh, and the picture? That's just my hunny, licking a tree in Ireland. Classic.

Friends in weird places

Recently at casa Jones we discussed what would be a good way for me to stay healthy for the duration of me hauling baby Jones around. We decided memberships to the YMCA would be best because they have easy peasy classes like beginners water aerobics and yoga classes every day of the week.

And off I went, in my saucey one piece bathing suit(pffft), to my very first water aerobics class. I honestly had no expectations in my mind (which is unusual for me). I can usually envision myself doing something, what sort of people will be there, what the place will look like and so on.

I told the instructor it was my first class, and I was preggo so for her to let me know if there is something I shouldn't be doing. Then I snuck into the pool seemingly unnoticed. Then they caught me. A gaggle of older ladies - they must have over heard I was pregnant and they all started talking to me. I got 10 new names to go with 10 new faces in like .5 seconds. That was the fastest I have ever made friends. ever.

I glanced around the pool, and I realized something. Everyone in the pool was over the age of 70. The old guys were on one end of the pool, and the old ladies on the opposite end. Like a 5th grade dance. Cute.

My new friends helped me out that class, they told me which water weights were the easiest to use, and different tricks to make the exercises work for me. It was neat. I liked the fun energy surrounding the whole class.

If the tables were turned, and it were a bunch of 24 year olds girls in that pool and one old lady, I doubt any of the young bloods would have even cared to help the old lady out. And that is a sad reflection of my generation. But seriously, it would have been a pool full of snobby bitches trying to out do each other. I have taken a handful of classes since then, and I hope to learn some lessons from my new swimming buddies.

Ice Cream in Alabama

I think some of my best childhood memories involve camping in Alabama. My parents had some property off of Lake Weiss and for years and years we would always spend our summer holidays and many weekends out there.

That is where I learned how to fish at the age of 3, and from then on I out fished dad, his buds, and every relative that would come out there with us. I was a little lucky charm out on that lake.

I learned that making homemade ice cream took way longer than my young mind could comprehend, but it was better than any ice cream I have ever had. Ever. I would now wait a lifetime to be able to go back and eat that ice cream.

Out on our dock is where I learned that fireworks don't always do what they are supposed to after you catch them on fire...You can pick up quite a pace when a flaming rooster booster is chasing you down the dock-even if you are 6 years old!

I learned that dad's friends were maybe a little more than drinking buddies. They played cowboys and aliens with me (not sure why I didn't stick to the traditional indians)...They caught baby ducks to the dismay and severe beating they received from mama duck- just so I could get a little ducky cuddle in before returning it to it's family. They also helped dad fight off a raccoon with rabies that was heading for me. Thinking back I really wish I could remember all of the crazy stuff that happened throughout those years on the lake.

When I was a teenager I guess things got tough (or too busy), and dad sold the property. It broke my heart. It still breaks my heart. The worst part? An uncle bought the land, and instead of being invited to visit the old stomping ground I get to see facebook updates about how they are all enjoying the lake that I loved so much. I should be glad my cousins, and their children are getting to have their own memories made there, but I am a little too bitter still.

I am sure there will be a spot, or several spots that I will take my kid(s) to in our camper and they will have some unforgettable memories to keep with them like I have.

closing a chapter

So today I pulled the plug on the art club I had formed 3 years ago. It was a really tough decision, but in the end a lot of it was about my ego and pride. Creative Out Loud was something that I had made with big wild ideas in mind. When the group slowly wasn't showing signs of the progress we had hoped it would- I still held on.

After 3 years of a select few helping and supporting the group it had become apparent that I was just: A- winging it B-Coming up with random projects for us to try to focus on & C-having terrible issues with solid membership (and so on.)

Since COL was "my baby" I couldn't stand to let it go down the tubes. I would try fundraisers, workshops, field trips, and for the most part they were quite fruitless. I can recall my sister and I spending hours upon hours making things and organizing group functions. In the back of my mind I would ask myself - Is it worth it? Things aren't picking up, why don't we quit? But I knew that quitting meant that I did a terrible job leading a group. I now know that this isn't completely true, and that previous members that I always thought were total lazy bums, well maybe they were just busy. Who knows, but I do know that I am ready to let it go.

So hopefully I will find a new creative outlet, and repair the little hole I just ripped out of my heart.