Rose's Glasses

It isn't often that you can actually type:

"My life is going to change." But today I can type it and mean.

Tomorrow morning, I'm getting Lasik eye surgery. So what does that mean?

Well, it means that the glasses I've had since I was in the 5th grade are going to obselete. My first pair, I remember having a blueish pink tint, and my mom wanted to make them pretty for me, so we picked out little gold stickers. A KQ to stick in the corner of my glasses.

Sure wish I had a picture of that. My glasses that I have now are simple wire framed, slightly cat eye-ish and have suited my needs just fine for the small amount of time I actually wear them, which was usually as little as possible.

Glasses made me feel ugly and nerdy. Not smart. I know I'm smart, but that didn't mean I wanted to put glasses on my face to prove a point.

When I started high school, I was horribly shy and insecure. My mom took pity on me and allowed me to get my first pair of contacts.

This was long before the disposal trend, and so contacts were to be treated like gold coins. Not like paper cups. And I was fairly responsible, but I was still 14.

And often dropped them in the morning when putting them on. I'd have to wake my mom up and she'd help me hunt for them while grumbling about it. But hey, at least she helped.

Tomorrow I'm facing a new frontier. One where I'll never again have to blindly stare at my alarm clock, haulcinate that there's a man on my neighbor's roof, or wear lenses that I'd accidently soaked all night in my mom's homemade face cream.

No more "faking it" at the eye doctor, or trying to discern was 1 really bettter than 2 or is that P actually an R?

Oh and the next time I go to the renew my driver's license, I'll be able to uncheck the box that says corrective lens.

Movie Night

No Oscar fever this year. Usually I'm excited to watch and do what I can do particapate, but this year, "I just wasn't that into it."

Instead I went to my new friend Monica's house and hung out with her, her husband and their freind Steve. Every month they host what's called, Scary Movie Night.

Now, scary movies aren't my thing, but this movie was more campy than scary and it was really all of just laughing, talking and snacking. I had a lot of fun.

Saturday, I had lapsed myself into a coma with to much snow and tv.

Yesterday, I decided to go get a pedicure, then walked around Royal Oak, got some mexican take out, and picked up my house a bit.

But socailizing was just what I needed to break me out of my slump.

The movie by the way was some Werewolf movie. Not scary, except for the wooden dialogue.

More Texts with Brian

In an ongoing series, I'll share text messages from my dad. A man who about a month ago bought a new Macbook, and has already burned a few keys off with a stray cigarette.

I'm so glad to see him embrace technology in new ways.



1. Roses are red. So what? I like daisy's. HAPPY VALENTINE DAY!


2.Just like Ernest Hemingway said: All true stories end by having a drink somewhere.

3. Are you having a mint Julip or ya'll settling for a Bud Light?

4. You Nashville Cats know all the little tricks don't you?

5. Do you want to go to a movie today?

6. Sunday is Super Bowl Sunday. A good day for football, bad day for shopping.

7. Thanks for everything.

Moody Blues

Women.

We are all over the place. Yesterday, I was crabby and mad.

Today I want to cry and I don't know why. One could say it was hormones, but I don't know if that's it. I kind of hope it is, because that means these mood swings are just a temporary thing and I'm not actually having a freak out for no reason.

Honestly, I'm a pretty level-headed person. And I don't suffer from mood swings too often.

Anyway, I thought writing about it would help, but it hasn't. So, back to work.

Wrong Side of the Bed

I'm a crabby ass bitch today.

Stay away if you know what's good for you or I'm likely to yell at you, like I yelled at my co-worker this morning. I was coming up the stairs, holding hot coffee which is a scary situation for anybody that knows me. As I'm holding the door, in an attempt to be polite despite my inner bitch, E. decides that I no longer need to hold the door.

In fact, he decides he will go around me and makes me almost spill my coffee. To which I finally say: Just go. I'm already holding the door. Just go through it. I appreicate the chivilary, but seriously this coffee is burning my hand through this thin paper cup.

He said he appreciated my brutal honesty. Not sure if that's true, but today I don't care.

Nashville and a vintage poem

Nashville was a fantastic time, and I'm in fact having withdrawal today. As there are no other female Quinlan's, BBQ, beer or good country music here in my cubicle.

What an office it would be, if there was. :)

I'm certain next year's trip will be even more fantastic, when even more attend the Quinlan extravaganza.

Today, I found this poem and it's a couple years old, I'm posting it below. I'm sensing a theme, some are less angry, but they all seem to center on loneliness. I'm all the more lucky for such a great family and support system.



Stir (ing) Crazy

In the middle a lecture on algae,
From a guy wearing corduroy pants,
you realize you’re jealous of your laundry,
and you would rather be home folding it.
He wasn’t worth the effort of shaving.

But being single is knowing the kicked-in–the-teeth, sharp pang of
loneliness will pass.

Being single is realizing that a bad relationship isn’t better than being alone.
He tells you on a weekend in the Hamptons,
he knows what he wants,
And its not you.

No guest to bring, you will spend the slow dances of wedding receptions
sitting at the table smiling, when you want to scream,
at the happy couples
Fuck you.

Every night is girls’ night out when you’re single.
Your girlfriends are sympathetic,
until a boyfriend blots their memories
like a Rorschach test.

Being single is knowing a good date is not a promise of happiness,
but maybe,
a chance to test the effectiveness of the pill.

It’s Sex and the City without the designer shoes,
It’s eating Ben and Jerry’s,
straight from the carton.

There’s no point in settling.
Being single is about enjoying your own company,
and hoping someday
so will someone else.

Nashville Bound

How will I celebrate the holiday that singles everywhere endure year after year with cheeky good natured disgust? I'll be hanging with Cupid in Nashville with a pack of female Quinlan cousins and Aunts.

I'm getting excited. We leave Friday. Even the car ride is sure to be an exciting adventure. These women are my family, but we're a very close family to the point that it will feel like a long weekend with some of my favorite girlfriends.

In the last few years, I've actually gotten over my Valentine bitterness. Realizing it's truly sort of a dumb holiday. But, I do love any reason to eat good chocolate and I'll celebrate that any day of the week.

I'm sure I'll have lots to report on the trip, so stay tuned. I'm really hoping we venture to the Grand Ole Opry. That would be sweet.

Shamrocks and Tacos

I was out at the bar with some friends last year and a few of them were British.

So, somebody says: "Isn't it Cinco de Mayo?"

And one of the Brits, says" What's Cinco de Mayo?

And the other Brit says: "It's like St. Patrick's Day for Mexicans."