In honor of being 40 years and 1 day old, I examined my gray hair. There’s only one place where I can examine my gray hair: the restroom at work. So I didn’t spend a lot of time on it there, as you can imagine, but pulled out one of those little suckers that looked gray and took it back to my desk.

It’s not gray. It’s the fucking lighting. So bite me, 40.

This is the cake that my mommy bakes for me every year. I hope my mommy keeps doing it for at least another ten years.

I almost died from excitement when I found out somebody else paid for me to drive a race car. Yessss! Best gift from my husband EVER (other than the ring, of course)!!!

Like I said, bite me, 40!

It feels like 2008 lasted FOREVER, and I still have a few more hours of work and a couple of days to get through. In 2008, I sent The Kitten to Kindergarten, started a dream job, laid on my deathbed twice, broke my toes three times, derbied across the country until I had to give up for good, and made an effort to eat better so I will never weigh more than 200 pounds (again).

I’m ignoring whatever weight I gained after spending a weekend in the “country”…you remember the country? I had to drink a couple of six packs of Bacardi Mojitos to survive. Nothing my 4:45-in-the-morning, every-other-day-because-it’s-so-damn-intense, 30-minute-calisthenic-workout-from-hell can’t fix.

I normally don’t make resolutions, but one of my friends is so gung-ho about it, she really gets me in the mood. In 2009, I’m going to enjoy the last full year of my thirties by just relaxing because I spent most of the past decade chasing dreams and The Kitten. I’m going to need the rest for my forties if the way I’m only getting better with age is any indication. Also, I think I’ve worked up the nerve to stop ignoring Twitter. I can look at it one of two ways…either I’m already breaking the relaxing resolution, or I’m going to have plenty of time to play now that I’m relaxing.

For the past two years, I have complained a bit about the job I am leaving today. I knew within two months of starting the job that this proprietary university mumbo-jumbo was a bad deal, but the pay was decent, the stress was low, and the commute was manageable. So I wasn’t in too big a rush to find something better, and I didn’t want to be back in the situation that forced me into this job. I worked three different permanent jobs in three weeks…yes, that’s a true story.

While I was complaining about my job on a weekly basis, I was also checking Houston-area, Fortune 500 company (preferably oil and gas) websites for open positions that matched my skill set and applying to anything that remotely resembled something I could do. Friends and family kept telling me to get a headhunter, but I knew my pickiness would eventually become an annoyance to anyone who didn’t really understand. In the task of finding a new job, I was able to practice a high degree of patience, and I had faith that it would pay off the way it has. I announced a couple of weeks ago that I was resigning from the second-longest job I have ever had (I stayed at a community college as a cataloger for over three years…I actually loved that place and those people, but it was too far away). What I didn’t say is that I’m going to work for the second-largest oil and gas company in the United States as a Business Analyst in their real estate division. I will be working downtown, but the pay raise, the benefits, the company, and just the overall “betterness” of this job surpass that one negative by miles. Most importantly, my daughter gets to go to “church school”, just like I did.

I plan on setting a record for the longest I have ever stayed at a job. I think it’s about time.

Today is the 100-year anniversary of the birth of my favorite artist, Frida Kahlo.

I have wanted to visit the Casa Azul, Kahlo’s family home in Mexico City, since I first discovered her tormented paintings at an exhibition held at SMU way back in my year spent as an art major at UNT (1989). Now I have an even bigger reason to do that since 22,105 documents, 5,387 photos, 179 pieces of clothing, and more than 6,000 magazines and books found in the house a few years ago are now on display there. Also, through the end of August, the Museo de Palacio de Bellas Artes is holding one of the most extensive exhibitions of her art as part of the commemoration.

Put me on the next flight to Mexico City. Wait…can I borrow $300?

When I hurt, I like to know that there are others out there who feel my pain. I read sad books, I watch sad movies, and I listen to sad songs. This morning, I spent a few minutes looking for quotations on the darker side of dreams. Here are a couple that perfectly describe my current state of mind:

“We cast away priceless time in dreams, born of imagination, fed upon illusion, and put to death by reality.” Judy Garland

“We live, as we dream–alone…” Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

The people that have been telling me for the past five years how perfect I would be for a certain reality show were wrong. Turns out that a six foot tall librarian with a penchant for participating in full-contact sports is not dysfunctional enough to race around the world. But thanks for making me feel special for a while! Oh, and if you feel like boycotting CBS because they choose to exploit traumatic family situations, go right ahead.

Creeping Beauty tagged me, so here’s 10 random things about me. I’m going to stick with the facts instead of my idiosyncrasies…

1. I detest my current job, yet my library continually has the highest scores of any department for student satisfaction with services. I guess I’m pretty good at faking it.

2. I have worked in many different types of libraries, but never a public library. Thank God!

3. If I had to choose between being a rodeo volunteer and playing derby and choosing one would mean losing the other for life, then I would choose rodeo.

4. I would have tried out for banked track derby in Austin when I finished playing football if I had not gotten pregnant. And I was living in Houston at the time.

5. I played tight end for a full season but only caught 2 passes because my skinny ass was too busy filling in as right tackle for the fat linewomen that couldn’t move their feet fast enough to block.

6. I completed an application for Survivor in 2001 and never sent it in because I tore my ACL. One of these days, I WILL BE on a reality show (ok, that might never be a FACT…whatever).

7. I served 417 people at my wedding. I’m talking about plates of food, you pervs.

8. I dated a guy that was shorter than me for way too long.

9. I skated in a department store commercial when I was around 10 (along with my sister).

10. My grandparents had a vacation home in Pagosa Springs, Colorado, so for several wonderful years of my young life, my family skied for Thanksgiving and Spring Break. Oh how I miss that!

I’m not tagging anyone specifically, but if you feel like doing this, go right ahead and return the favor of a few seconds of amusement.

If you are living under a rock and haven’t heard that Catazon broke her ankle at Houston Roller Derby‘s Sixth Bout, then here’s your news fix. Now that I finally got my PC moved to the living room and I can lounge in my recliner and type in my lap, I can personally share the whole story.

I am awaiting surgery to repair the compound fracture in my left ankle. In the ninth jam of the sixth bout of the season Sunday night, I got stuck on the rope lights while trying to cut inside to avoid a block. I would have avoided that block if I hadn’t felt something funny and looked down to see my foot going one way and my ankle bones going the other. At the time, I thought well, hey, they can just pop that back in place like I did with my pinky finger when I was playing football and an errant pass dislocated it. We just popped it back in, taped it, and I kept on playing. Have I ever mentioned that I’m one of those people that doesn’t even need alcohol to feel like I’m ten-foot-tall and bulletproof? Anyway, I figured out real quick that that wasn’t what was going to happen when I looked to my right and saw the faces of the people sitting on the sidelines. So I just fell back, picked up my leg, and pointed at it so the paramedics could see what we were dealing with.

About twenty minutes later, I was about to take my first ambulance ride ever. On the way out on the stretcher, I have never heard so many cheers in my life. I commented that this was better than winning, because when I win, I get booed. Then it started to hurt, and it wasn’t much fun after that. I stayed in the ER until 5:00 a.m., where they tried to set it four times and then told me I couldn’t go home until I had surgery. I waited until Wednesday for surgery, when they told me that they couldn’t operate because I had an oozing abrasion and they didn’t want to risk infection. I told them to get me home somehow so they attached an external fixator to my leg on Thursday, and I escaped that night. My original surgeon told me on Friday that he didn’t want to see me again until next Friday, so I called another surgeon. He’ll see me on Monday and will hopefully operate soon after that. See, I’m trying to get to Austin on September 3rd to join the travel team that I was supposed to captain in my first inter-league bout. My determination is one of my greatest strengths, and a foot that flops around at the bottom of my leg does not abate it.

The one thing that everyone asks is whether or not I will skate on it again. I have no doubt that I will be able to skate again, but whether I want to or not is the question. I never planned to skate more than one year. A FULL YEAR, and travel at least once. Those goals were not achieved, and neither was the goal of not affecting my family in an adverse way. Do I ever want to put them through something like this again? This story is just beginning, so stay tuned over the next couple of months…

If you dream that your husband is dead and then, later in the night, dream that you killed someone, does that mean that you REALLY ARE going to kill your husband?

MySpace post on the same topic:
Dreams & Things
Posted on my other blog…
“If you dream that your husband is dead and then, later in the night, dream that you killed someone, does that mean that you REALLY ARE going to kill your husband?”

I skated on Sunday and felt like I did back in November. I can’t bend over very long yet without getting stuck there, which wasn’t very helpful doing a 20-minute endurance drill. And I can’t do high impact, which means no toe-stop starts or jumping. Good news is I’m not wincing when I sneeze as of this morning, so I should be back to my old ass-kicking self shortly.

Then all I’ll have to worry about is whether or not Disney was right.

Imagine my delight when Phil described the destination for the ninth pit stop on this season’s Amazing Race…the roof of the Salt Lake City Public Library! Hopefully the contestants were able to take advantage of the resources. Did everyone see the breathtaking views? How jealous am I since my library looks out on a heavily-traveled four-lane road towards a couple of factories?