I am not the only messy one.

I have been given a bad rep for being the messy one in my marriage. It is widely known in our circle of friends that Aaron is the clean one, and I am not. We are the polar opposite of most of our friends. This is true. However. I think Aaron has unfairly cornered the market on cleanliness. He is a messy boy. He puts cheese on his sandwich and leaves the wrapper on the counter. He eats cereal at night and leaves the bowl (with milk) in the sink. His shoes are everywhere. And I'm okay with that. Because I know at some point one of us will clean it up. No big deal. If I walk into the kitchen and it needs to be straightened and I've got some time, I'm happy to do it. The difference is that I can just clean the kitchen. Or just put the shoes away. Or just Windex the mirror. Aaron cannot. His cleaning the kitchen turns into vaccuuming turns into scrubbing the toilets turns into washing the linens turns into dusting the ceiling fans. All in one random shot. We'll be settled down to watch Hell's Kitchen or Conan, and the next thing I know he's got the scouring pad out. This is where my reputation as the messy one comes from. I am not willing to clean the entire house on a moment's notice. I'll do spot cleaning as needed, but I need to know a big fat cleaning is coming. If you want to clean the entire house top to bottom on a Saturday morning, great. I am there with gloves on. But if you want me to stop reading my Texas Monthly because you're having one of your moments, you are on your own. Just wanted to clear that up.

An intervention of sorts.

It's a weird place to be when you're not sure if you want to be friends with your friends anymore. There is a couple in our life that we are struggling with. More specifically, I am struggling with her. She is very harsh and overbearing, and I find myself biting my tongue more often than not around her. It's a hard relationship to be in... it seems to me that friendships should build you up and encourage, not stress you out and discourage. But that's where we are. I'm torn, though. First, I've never had to 'break up' with a friend before. This isn't the kind of relationship where you can just kind of stop being in contact - she will call and ask what's wrong and why you aren't around anymore. So this situation is going to have to come to a head one way or another. But she has said in the past that she can't seem to keep friends. She attributes this problem to how she is such a giver and when she stops, everyone leaves. She feels used. And while that certainly may be part of the problem, I think it's bigger than that. She pushes and pushes, she condescends in the name of helping, and she hurts feelings. That is why people leave when they get the chance. So I am torn. I don't want to just bail on her. It was through them that we first felt connected to Nashville and started to build a circle of friends here. I feel like an intervention of sorts is in order. I have gone back and forth and back and forth and back and forth about this in my head... she and I tend to clash anyway, and I don't want to come across as attacking her. But I'm not sure I can be honest in a loving way without hurting her feelings. Maybe I need to just accept that her feelings will be hurt and learn to deal with that. I also want to be careful that I am doing this for the right reasons. Last night, while we were discussing Blue Like Jazz, someone said that the characteristics that infuriate us in others are the ones we ourselves possess. I fear that she bothers me so much because I am like her. I judge her for judging me. It annoys me that she gets annoyed. I look down on her for having an attitude that looks down on others.

The hair or the fish, Marty.

One of my favorite things about my job (and living in Nashville) is random quasi-celebrity sightings. I grew up in a country music family, so I get really excited when I see a country singer in a restaurant or meet them when they come into the studio. Not excited to see or meet them, but excited to tell my family about it. Because, WOW, do they get a kick out of it. Last week while I was sitting at the reception desk, a certain large-haired country singer came in. This guy is a favorite of my mom's, and he comes in every now and then. We've also seen him out in a few restaurants, always looking pretty grungy. I've never spoken to him, just smiled as he walked by and sent an email to my mother. That day, however, he stopped at my desk. Him: Will you watch my fish while I go upstairs? (hands me a plastic bag) Me: Ummm... okay. Him: Thanks. At the time, I happened to be talking to my awesome sister on IM. I told her what had just gone down, and we proceeded to create an whole story about it. Her: You should name the fish and tell him when he gets back. Me: What if they already have names? He may be protective of those names and then fire me. I don't work for him, but if he told me to leave I would. Her: You could take the fish with you. Hold them hostage. Me: Take the fish and run... "You'll never catch me, Stuart!" Her: Hold the bag over the balcony and make him choose between the fish and his awful hair. Me: I'll drop this bag so fast you won't even see it coming I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING. So I'm good and laughing when he comes back around the corner to pick up the fish. He looks at me and says, in quite the gangster voice, "GIMME MY FISH." I was convinced he had somehow read our conversation and knew I was contemplating a fish-napping. I handed them over and told him they'd been on their best behavior. He took them and walked away, then stopped and came back and said, "I bet no one else asks you to sit for their fish today." And left. Now, while this event was pretty great all on it's own, the aftermath was even better. Every family member I talked to wanted to hear the story. My grandpa knew, my aunt knew, my cousin knew. I told that story 15 times. All it takes is an attempted fish-napping to bring the family together.

Five interesting things.

Five interesting things that have happened in the last 20 days: 1. Steve and Jessi's awesome son Justus was dedicated on Sunday. Her whole family was in town and it was just a great occasion. I didn't expect to get as emotional as I did. They are just fantastic people who have quickly become very dear friends to us, and for that I am so thankful. Justus is an amazing blessing after a long hard road, and the joy he brings to them (and to us, reflectively) is overwhelming. I love that kid. 2. Last week I was at Schlotzky's for lunch. That Huey Lewis song was playing. One of the lines is "Hot lovin' every night." I'm eating, reading the Scene, not paying too much attention, when I hear an old-lady voice say, "Fred." The old-man voice that accompanies that name grunted and the old-lady voice said, "Did he just say, "Hot lovin' every night"? Heh. 3. We have decided once and for all that we are no longer going to attend our Thursday night bible study after this week. It's the final week of Blue Like Jazz, and we won't be returning for the next study. Long story short, it is more stress than it should be. What used to be encouraging and challenging for us has become tense and uncomfortable, and we don't need to devote one night a week to that. It will be nice to have a night off. 4. We went to see Alanis Morrisette and Jason Mraz at the Ryman last night. So. Much. Fun. She was fantastic, the sound was great, and it was so awesome to sing along with the songs I grew up listening to. She is doing an acoustic tour celebrating the 10th anniversary of Jagged Little Pill. It was a crazily diverse crowd, too... lots of girls my age and older, lots of lesbians, lots of crunchie folks, all of which were to be expected. I was suprised by the number of older people there, people who would have been at least in their forties when the album originally came out. One of my favorite moments was looking over during "You Oughta Know" and seeing a man my dad's age rocking out. Rocking out. And, of course, the people playing air harmonica. Talk about rocking. And Jason Mraz? Incredible. That boy can sing. He has a very natural stage presence... he was just hanging out up there. Good times. 5. Camp. (This actually hasn't happened yet, but I feel like it is happening to me all the time.) It is in two weeks, and we have 17 kids signed up. 17. That's only 4 per team. At least we don't have to worry about having enough counselors.

Life is about making good choices.

There are many things that I love. But one thing I love more than most is the Sonic Blast. Soft-serve ice cream mixed with your choice of M&Ms, Oreos, Butterfinger or, the ultimate, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. There is no better thing than soft-serve mixed with peanut butter cups. Oreos are good, but boring. I don't like Butterfinger on it's own, and cold does not make it better. I will never understand people who eats M&Ms in ice cream. They get cold and hard and stick in your teeth and it is just an all around painful experience. But peanut butter cups? WOW. So a couple of nights ago, Aaron and I are once again doing something that has singlehandedly added 752 pounds to our marriage - getting Sonic Blasts in the middle of the night. On the order board sign where they announce new stuff (like the salad covered in chili - yikes), they've got a new Blast - cookie dough. Interesting. It was a real struggle for me. Old standby, or new experience? Do I risk being mad at myself for not getting the peanut butter cups, denying myself of their creamy non-frozen goodness? What if the cookie dough is for a limited time only and I miss my chance? I decided to go for it. I know life is about choices, and sometimes we just make bad decisions. Sometimes these decisions have major consequences in our lives. This was not one of those decisions. But wow, that cookie dough was not good. Not good at all. Lesson? When in doubt, go for the peanut butter cups. They will never let you down.