Me, Beyonce and the Apple Guy

You might remember that I dropped my phone a few times, but found a new functional normal. I think this is so weird because I’ve owned phones for 10 years and have only destroyed one phone, but I’ve destroyed this one phone FOUR TIMES! And it just keeps working. So, I basically had no reaction when the phone fell into the bath this morning. I just fished it out, polished it off, and thought, silly phone.

The thing is (and here is where you will start to scratch your head about me), I had almost boiled myself first, so I think you will agree that my judgement was compromised.

It was a rare morning with hours of time, nobody home, and an appointment at 11a to deal with a few inches of premature grey- my favorite day of the 12 weeks! Fine, 8 weeks. Fine 6. Fine, my favorite day every 4 weeks. The point is, I didn’t have to wash my hair! I had just exercised (in my imagination) and we have this perfectly relaxing garden tub. But our master bath sometimes doesn’t get super hot-hot. I tried to fix this once and ended up flooding the house. Now, instead of accidentally wrenching entire fixtures off the wall, I boil water in teakettles and giant soup cauldrons to pour into the tub as it’s filling up. This also satisfies my frequent homesickness for Belize.

Usually one or two teakettles of boiling water does the trick, and the bath is toasty. But last week I got a little greedy and boiled two teakettles and two dutch ovens of water. It was extra cold out, and I thought it would be just perfect. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation, grabbed my phone and book, turned on the jets and jumped in.

Instantly boiled legs. I gently placed the phone on a raised portion of the ledge to turn on the cold water and perform my own first aid (I’m trained). As soon as I stabilized myself and the water temperature, the phone slid itself off the little raised box and plopped into the water. I have envisioned this exact thing happening several other times, and therefore, am typically extra careful with this blasted phone around the water. But, you know, I was distracted.

To my surprise, the phone dried right off and worked as usual. I texted and called and played music and shrugged at this magical phone’s will to live. But, I was late for the hair lady. So I threw on some clothes and ran out the door. On the way, different functions of the phone stopped working, and by the time I was at the hair place, the phone was stuck.

The home button was dead, so I could only respond if some kind of alert appeared on the screen like a phone call or text. But then I couldn’t get off that screen until something else appeared. I thought I was very creative when I spent two hours at the hair lady sending texts to friends and family that said: Can you send me a Facebook message to get me onto Facebook? And Facebook messages that said: Can you send me a text to get me back to the text message screen? This, to coordinate work and clients for the rest of the day. I could never get to my contact screen, which had all the numbers programmed. You might imagine that all hell broke loose when my calendar alert for the hair appointment I was already at kept popping onto the screen and whisking me away to the calendar. I had to wait patiently for someone else to contact me to get out of calendar screen and back onto messaging or phone mode.

Next, I thought I would stop by the Apple store, because others had convinced me Apple might just swap out the phone. I thought to myself: If they ask me, Did you drop your phone into the bath? then I’ll say yes. But if they don’t ask, it’s just the home button issue. Oh, and the 45 cracks have been there since May, so I’ll tell them to disregard those. I thought I might be inside my year warranty, but I learned that 45 cracks voids the warranty. Also, when they opened the phone, water poured out. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Apple store checked me in and said it would be an hour wait. This is where I find myself in that commercial where one bad decision leads to another, and I blame everything on everything else. Obviously I had no choice but to eat a burger at the food court, sample everything at Williams Sonoma three times, and collect my free chocolate from Godiva.

All this at the Fashion Mall, wearing an outfit I had just thrown on, which means I liked each piece separately a lot but should never have worn them all together. It was worse than sweatpants, which I still maintain I can pull off even at the mall. But on this day: brown Uggs, a pink-brown-turquiose tie-dyed peasant skirt, a black shirt, brown leather jacket, and my brand new bright red Valentines purse containing three plastic Mardi Gras coins, a tiny little king cake baby, and the iphone I had just dropped into the bath, which had navigated itself to the music playlist via voice control- not MY voice- and played Beyonce Countdown on speaker, over and over, for the entire hour as I was stuffing face with chocolate and samples at William Sonoma.

To finish the day, when the Apple store guy was setting up my new refurbished phone, he asked if I had backed the phone up recently. I was like, No. I can’t back up, because every time I plug the phone in, it says I need to download the new iTunes. I can’t download the new iTunes because my Macbook has an Operating System from 2008 (Leopard), and the most recent iTunes update needs at least Snow Leopard, which was being delivered to my door at the exact moment I was at the Apple store. Do you know how I know? Because I got an alert from UPS, but I couldn’t access it on my broken phone thanks to Beyonce, who just would not stop. And there we were: me, Beyonce and the apple guy, my bad outfit, 8 thousand calories, and a puddle of water.

***My mom wants a moral to this story. I don’t really know where to go with that. Don’t drop your phone in the bath, maybe?


Flak Vest with Kevlar Plates

Hi, it’s me again. I had to take a little internet break, because I almost came back to disclaim everything from the last post. Pride has a way of making you want to shout: WE ARE OKAY. NOTHING TO SEE HERE. EVERYTHING IS FINE. even though you let your own self out of the closet.  But then J reminded me: this experience has drawn us closer to God, demonstrated our frailty, and humbled us. Sometimes those things feel uncomfortable, and part of humility is being okay with people feeling sorrow on your behalf.

(But seriously, we are okay.)

To everyone who reached out earlier in the week: Thank you! Our phones and inboxes were filled with messages from friends and family offering support and love. Some of these messages were from right down the street, people we see weekly. Others were from old friends we haven’t spoken to in 15 years in other states and countries. Many are walking the same journey at this exact moment. To quote Kim again (she’s good at this, obv):

However you’ve come to join this community—infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, interrupted adoption, or other form of desire unfulfilled, may I offer you a very sorrowful welcome? What I’d really like to do is come over to your house, wrap you up in the coziest blanket you own, pour you an inappropriately large glass of wine (if wine isn’t your thing, please have mercy on us both and substitute “hot tea” wherever I mention it), and just sit.

Yes, that.

To those who are walking alongside us: I know that down the road when/if we become parents by whatever means we’re able, I’ll likely have thrown the journey aside for the prize, and God’s work is evident in the journey, whatever the outcome. If we’re never able to become any kind of parent in any way, or if 3 weeks from now, you find me rolling on the floor eating a sleeve of Oreos, you’ll be able to point me back on track with my own words. At least it’s documented.

God has protected our hearts, and save for just a few of moments of despair, we are hopeful.

A couple of months ago, my mom posted this status on Facebook, and here was my brother’s response (If you don’t have a funny brother, go out and get yourself one):

What are some ways YOU guard your heart? “Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life. (Proverbs 4:23 NLT)

Bryan Wilson Flak-Vest with kevlar plates in them………and my Jesus Chain

Brooke Hartman I usually just check the weather radar and stock up on water and canned goods. Sometimes I sit on my heart’s porch with a shotgun, though.

Bryan Wilson You mean, you haven’t heard of the Heartometer 3000….ADT sells them in a package deal with your home alarm system..It comes with a little heart pendant to wear on your shirt to let people know you are “protected”.

Trisha McInnis Sellers You guys are brats and you’re probably going to hell for making fun of your mother

Bryan Wilson You should have picked up the Heartometer 3000 or invested in a vest…you might not have been offended by this!!

Brooke Hartman Mom, obviously your heart is exposed. Guard that thing!

Bryan Wilson Brooke, can you check your warranty paperwork…I think it also cover “not going to hell”….but I’m not sure???

Brooke Hartman My agent is Jesus. I’ll just ask him. He said yes. Policy is good for life. And death. Boom.

Bryan Wilson Mom….we can save you 15% or more on heart protection…Just make the switch – it’s so easy a Brandon Wilson can do it!

So here we are: piled under flak vests with kevlar plates, Bry’s Jesus chain, a shotgun on my heart’s porch, the Heartometer 3000, warm cozy blankets and large glasses of wine, and cross-country hopes and prayers from friends and family. J and I are wrapped in love, hope, and a pretty solid dose of laughter.

In some supernatural way, God has made us glad. Thanks, God. Thanks, friends.

My blog brings all the Raccoons to the yard

A few years ago I found this little thing on my blog that keeps track of page referrals.  I was thrilled/disturbed to discover my words were a resource for immunization-seeking, parasitic, shingly or scabie ridden people who have blood in their stool but want it to turn out okay, for those seeking life-changing moments in either Paris or unemployment, for pregnant women in 19th week, and also for the Jewish. Go ahead. Google “stirrups doctor Indonesia me, there I am. Top of the page.

Tonight I logged on to see which health issues I might be inadvertently talking people through this year. Parasites? MRSA? It turns out, I have become quite influential in the field of… raccoons. Over 200 searches with 3-5 hits each, on the following (actual) searched topics:

Sleepy raccoon
Happy Thanksgiving raccoon
Raccoon driving a car
Smiling raccoon photos
Grilled raccoon
Raccoon climbing wall
Raccoon in red truck
A raccoon having sex
Raccoon crap
Raccoon homes
Raccoon wine
Raccoon fighting
Raccoon diet
Funny raccoon
Broke raccoon
Raccoon dancing
Mean raccoon pictures
Raccoon phone
World record raccoon
Raccoon ninja
Raccoon stare
Raccoon in school
Violent raccoon
Hilarious raccoon
Running raccoon
Raccoon thief
Caribbean raccoon
Funny raccoons driving
Birthday raccoon
Strange raccoon behavior
Raccoon house
Cute outfits for raccoon
Raccoon man
Raccoon jokes
Raccoon street in Belize City
Raccoon at bus stop
Raccoon in car
Wet raccoon
Raccoon toast

What?! I would deny any association to this raccoon business, except for that one time when I actually did post a picture of a raccoon chained up in the back of a truck in Belize linked with the following sentence: The minute I caught that first campfire and coconut smell and saw my first raccoon on a chain in the back of a truck, I knew I was home in BZ.

Just like that, my blog-fluence was hijacked by this raccoon. Although, honestly, he looks very sad. Maybe it’s not his fault? Just his other dancing, mean, sleepy, smiling, world-record breaking, ninja ones driving cars, and on the phone in cute outfits, or else the wet and thieving ones in the Caribbean. It was probably those guys.

Raccoon searchers, you’re the best. Thanks for keeping this space active.

Honorable Mention Searches

lipglosses that are exotic colors
(Guilty as charged)

denise sex fort wayne video
What kind of space do you think this is? (And Denise who?)

ninja shoes
Of course

“peed her pants”  
Yep. Google knows me.

hallmark card “thinks I’m funny” 
Punchline: they didn’t

sweatpants bulge
(Seriously, Google? I’m working on it)

friends are just parasites
Aren’t they?

sprinky lobster
I’m sorry. Did you say Sprinky Lobster?

kickball angry pirates
Yeah I got all those things

Waiting never prospers.

The thing about patience is, I don’t have it.

My brother said they weren’t planning to call anyone until after Lily was born.

(I took that to mean hurry up and get to the waiting room the second Jess is admitted.)

I resisted that urge all night.
I resisted it all morning.
At noon, I packed up a day’s worth of entertainment and headed for the hospital, sort of expecting to see her whole immediate and extended family, and the neighbors and the Target cashier and the old guy down at the bike shop, and, generally, everyone except me.

I parked and stepped up to the elevator with my little “hello sunshine” onesie in hand, and when the door opened, I was face-to-face with some lady holding two giant overflowing gift bags and a blue overstuffed human-sized teddy bear. I sighed and pressed the button. She had probably been invited.

I followed her to Labor and Delivery. The desk attendant said we had to have an access code to get up to the waiting room. What are hospitals coming to these days? The other lady whipped out her code and was on her way. For me, they had to call the room, make sure it was okay, and then Bryan had to meet me at the elevator.

I stepped off the elevator, rounded the corner and there he was. I laughed, dropped my bags, and told him I just couldn’t help myself. Like any good brother, he said it was okay, and then he led me to the waiting room. Which was empty. I mean, not a single other person in the room. Turns out, when he said they weren’t calling anyone, they actually weren’t calling anyone.

He said it would be a while, that it could even be another whole night. I just smiled proudly at my resourcefulness and pulled out my handy computer and stack of magazines. “I’ll be fine,” I told him. “Don’t worry about me.”

We talked for about 20 minutes, which was nice, and then he went back to Jess, who had just received her epidural.

(Let the record show, I was first.)

So… now that we’re all just sitting here in the waiting room, what should we talk about?

Oh! I know, let’s play with the camera.

Here is me normal.


And, me without my V8


Without my chin


With extra chin


Before my nose job


After my nose job


With no teeth




Before a date…


…with myself



Double Wide


Extra Long


So, the intake receptionist keeps sneaking peaks over her computer, and I don’t want to be escorted to the psych ward. I think I’ll quit taking pictures of myself and cracking up at what appears to be nothing.

How about the Belizean Cuisizean party? It was a hit! The whole team came (minus, like, 2 people) and we had a great afternoon eating garnaches and telling stories. Although, packing up and walking out of the house felt like closing the door on a very significant and meaningful chapter in my life. Hopefully there is an encore. Like, in November.

Pictures of the day:

Note. It might appear as though my shirt says “hell” but it actually says, “hello” which I thought was appropriate for a welcome home party.

Lisa & Denise: the CFI peeps running the show while I was there


Denise is also a part time disc-thrower.


Tortilla station



David’s obnoxiously large Mickey Mouse tortilla


Oh, Becky. (I took 3 pictures to catch her taking a bite)


Me & Kenz


The crew, plus Denise spinning records, which she also does, part-time


Ashley E. Roomie of my heart.


Um, is the baby here yet?

Belizean Cuisizean Saturday

Hey you guys. Thanks for all the kind words in response to my SOS.
It turns out, people love.

(And while I’m at it, thanks for the gentle nudging to put down the Oreos. Thanks to Kenzie for wrestling me to the floor over a second slice of chocolate cream pie. And thanks to Sprinky for holding her back while I ate it off the floor.)

I have a few things to report, including reflections on my new hair color, the status of Samantha and Jon (my parasites) and pictures of our spectacular Belizean Cuisizean Saturday. But first I want to share a couple of insights from encouraging e-mails I received this week. Consider it eavesdropping. It’s much more fun that way.

God is good! He doesn’t leave us where we are to wallow in our pity. He shows us how to find love, joy and peace. He is where you are.

Did you guys know about this? God is right here in my extra twin bed at my dad’s in Indianapolis AND he is next to Inez and Bryon and Antonia and David in their beds in Belize whispering us all to sleep. I just love that about God. It’s enough to make me want to stand on my dad’s balcony and sing “Somewhere Out There” to the moon. But he doesn’t have a balcony, and his porch faces the pool. So that option is out.


You’re right. We’ve got lots of things really screwy. We’ll probably never get them unscrewed. Our “progress” has come at a cost.

Interesting insight. I’d like to counter it with the John Legend song that always makes me cry in the hopes that it’s actually true:

I still believe that-
We’ll get it right again

We’ll come back to life again

We won’t say another goodbye again

You’ll live forever with me

Someday, we’ll be together…

Unfortunately, I don’t think this will be fulfilled until we are all sitting on heaven’s curbs eating calorie-free ice cream and cheesy potatoes together. Steven (my step-boo) wrote something last fall. I hope I am not taking this out of context, but it struck me when I read it and has stayed with me ever since— especially in light of my visit with Hannah yesterday and the time we spent remembering Katie, and in the wake of the Cerak/Van Ryn family tragedy:

This is what heaven will be for us. It is a journey we should look forward to with great anticipation knowing that we will not be disappointed as we round that last bend and see it all unfold in front of us. There will be the laughter of those we love most, the old friends we’ve not seen in years, even those we have known in our hearts but have never seen with our eyes, they will all be there. There will be peace and comfort and every earthly pain we have felt, every bit of sadness and heartache, they will all be gone forever. It will be family and friends and life and love and it will be unlike anything we could ever have imagined but it will be just as we had always hoped. It will be perfect.

And the coffee…

I love the part about the coffee. Thanks for letting me share, Boo.

The thing is, I had ice-cream with my old best friends last night.


These three saved my life once, literally. Tonight, they just reminded me that we really can reconnect even after 10 years. It gave me a sliver of what heaven might be like, because I couldn’t have pieced together better company, better conversation or better dessert. Unless, maybe, it had been Chocolate Odessey 2001.

Which leads me to my next comment:

No matter how much we want it and how much we miss it and how much we beg, Baskin Robbins is never bringing back Chocolate Odyssey 2001.

Well. I am starting a prayer chain calendar for a 2010 comeback. Who wants April?

Great. Moving on.

This is important, as Bryan would not let me touch the baby unless I had a note from my doctor:

I am parasite free!

I spent an exhaustive 3 days at the Doctor getting tested for things like TB, and making sure all my little parasites and E. Coli were gone, which involved a very intricate stool sampling kit. In Belize, they just handed me a container and told me to eat some burritos, walk around and come back with a full jar at 2. Here, I was totally confused by the take-home kit they gave me, and I’m sure Sprinky was thrilled to find the little container labeled “refrigerate” in the back corner when she reached for her Las Lomas leftovers.


Anyway, the TB test came back negative and the chest x-rays are clear. Whew!

Tomorrow is the welcome home celebration with CFI & my Belize team from last fall. Lisa, Mackenzie and I spent the day experimenting with all our favorite delicious dishes from Belize. I like to call it Belizean Cuisizean Saturday.

The results were fantastic! (Except for the tortillas, which looked like tiny little weird ovals. Antonia warned me this would happen if I didn’t practice. She also frequently sent me out back to pick cilantro from the grass and said I always came back with the leaves that would kill us.)

So, who wants to try my special cilantro salad?

Here are some pictures of the day. I WILL be recreating this event in Fort Wayne, so friends beware. You’ll be receiving an invite shortly.

The international isle at Wal-mart. Actually, we just think this picture is funny because it looks like I am caught red-handed trying to hide, like, a pack of Oreos under the rice and beans, drunk.


Tortilla mixing






Quote of the day: “Yeah, but I think she would say my balls are just too small.”


Empanadas (I realize taking pictures of food puts me on the same page as my Great Aunt Gwen, but I am just proud, okay? Cut me some slack.)






One out of one Randys found our food deliciously satisfying.



This was a trial run. Stay tuned for the real thing tomorrow at 2:30/1:30 central.

Thanks again for the support this week. I mean it.

I almost forgot the funniest thing. Hannah colored my hair yesterday. We got rid of the highlights and took it back to my natural color, black. You’d think it was a simple procedure, but, actually, there are a million shades of black. This one is dark. I loved it at first. But now (maybe it’s just because I’ve had sun-streaked hair for over a year) I sort of feel like the Wicked Witch. Especially when toddlers look at me and then start crying. I’m just sayin.

Got Carrots?

Imagine yourself driving along—its sleeting and snowy out—you pull up to a stop light, turn to your left and see a convertible full of rabbits. You try to look away, but they just keep honking and yelling things like, “Happy Easter!” and “Got Carrots?” and “What’s up doc?”

Can you picture it? Here, let me help.
The one yelling “Got Carrots?” was me— the cute one in the back.


The other bunnies were Denise (founder of CFI) and Becky (our Belize Team 14 leader), both long-time friends of the family, and Lisa’s daughter, MacKenzie, also a good friend of the family who I happen to be staying with for the weekend.

Denise has been dressing up in rabbit suits and driving around the city in a rented convertible, hand-delivering Easter treats to friends, family and strangers for 20 years. I’m not sure how I got roped into it this year.

I mean—I’m not sure how I got to be blessed with this fantastic, unique Easter experience.

Step One: Bunny Prep





Photobucket Photobucket

Umm. Does this outfit make my tail look fat?



Step Two: Car Prep





Step Three: Dunkin Donuts

(It’s important to start the day off right.)

(Oh, and its even MORE important to NOT spill your entire cup of coffee down your right bunny leg and into the tub of eggs. I’m sure you guys already knew that.)




Step Four: The Open Road

We drove out of Dunkin Donuts armed with signs, candy, eggs, toys, stuffed animals and donut holes, and we made it as far as 10th & Emerson before we were followed into the Dairy Queen parking lot for a picture with some lady’s son.





We made a few house calls to friends (Ashley & Pulfers: hay-ay!)





At about noon (sorry, I have to mention it), Denise looked at a girl in shorts and said, in all seriousness—That girl is wearing shorts and a T-shirt in winter. Is she crazy?

We had to remind her that she was the one dressed like a bunny in a convertible with the top down in the snow, and also she was honking and yelling. We had a nice laugh.

Kenzie and I (frozen in the back seat) “hopped” out just in time for the afternoon matinee of College Road Trip—I think Raven and I could be good friends, just like I think Jennifer Garner and me and Sarah Jessica Parker and me, oh, and Sandra Bullock and me could be—and then we spent the rest of the afternoon with Sprink-a-docious and BabyGap at the Fashion Mall.

Here are my most recent purchases for Baby Lily.
(Note: I am the coolest aunt ever)



Other weekend happenings of note. We made Easter cookies. They were cookie-licious.




I also dragged Sprinky and Kenzie to the Black & White store, tried on the dresses and settled on the black one for my dad’s wedding. I had a private goodbye with the white one and promised to come back for it when I was older, financially secure, and could assure it a good life. Boo.


Anyway, Happy Easter!

Important disclosures

  1. That new chocolatey Kellogg’s cereal was made for people like me. Although, they really should add the word “moderation” somewhere in the slogan: It won’t undo your whole day, because people who eat chocolate for breakfast are the same people who will finish off the whole box in a drunken chocolate stupor at midnight, and if you eat the whole box at midnight, it actually does undo your whole day.
  1. Ambien went generic last week, and I was at the pharmacy 10 seconds later.I know people who have counted pennies for years because with or without insurance, the drug is $3 a pill and requires a savings plan.

    Well, friends and mom. The days of hoarding and splitting and burying and saving and taking only half-a-pill a night are over! Ambien for everyone! I took a whole pill last night for the first time in months and enjoyed a glorious morning of reading through all the crazy comments and messages I left on people’s blogs last night. I especially like the one where I pretended to have been in a coma for 40 years and just found out I was actually 79 and that my friends and I had been distance-learning friends for over 50 years.

    What a good 8 hours of refreshing sleep. If you come stay with me, you’ll find a mini bottle of shampoo/conditioner and a  complimentary ambien on your pillow. Just don’t be surprised to find a bunch of little cornflakes and chocolate pieces in the bed when you wake up.

  1. My brother graduated high-school yesterday. Not the 20 year old, the 18 year old. Gosh, it seems like only yesterday I was bringing him a box of drug-free party favors for his sweet sixteenth in rehab. We’re still working on the 20 year-old. My dad says he only has 6 hours left to finish, but that he keeps leaving school after an hour-and-a-half every morning to come home and eat a bowl of cereal. My dad thinks he just leaves to get high. I think he has discovered Chocolately Kellogg’s cereal and can’t stop.
  1. I am going to Belize in September for 10 days, and then in January for 6 months to teach. My friend told me yesterday she thinks I am going to catch “the bug” (traveling bug) and not want to come home. I just really hope I don’t catch the tarantula bug. I am actually terrified of those bugs and have spent endless hours on the internet trying to find herbal and natural smells and treatments to repel those bugs.If you have any suggestions, please tell me.
  1. I have a smoke detector that kept beeping at me, so I took out the batteries–I know, I know, totally dangerous. I meant to grab some at the store, but it’s been about 3 weeks. Now that detector is hanging from the ceiling by a red and black wire, and it has a little tray sticking out (where the battery goes) with a bright orange sticker on it. Also, there are those two little lights on the surface that are supposed to light up and flash when the detector is working, but since there are no batteries, they are just black and glossy. So now, every time I go to bed or wake up and I am in that sleepy stage where I am not totally awake or totally asleep, I jump out of bed and scream because it looks like a weird animal is hanging from my ceiling sticking it’s tongue out at me. And plus, the bridesmaid dress from my brother’s wedding is hanging on my bedroom door, so sometimes there is an animal hanging from the ceiling AND a headless woman floating in my doorway. Just thought you should know.

6. I made an appointment with a dermatologist yesterday, which is a big deal because it involved calling my insurance company to FIND a dermatologist and explaining to a receptionist that, no, I didn’t have an actual problem right now, per se, but that generations of men in my family died of melanoma and that my dad was given 60 days to live when he got it at 26. I turned 26 last week, and read an article in Allure that said a if you have a first degree family member with melanoma, your chances of getting it are over 90%. I’d say that’s a problem that needs so preventative care, wouldn’t you? She agreed. I see my first dermatologist on Friday, for a full body exam. Yikes. FULL body exam, wink wink.


Well, I think that’s enough for now. I had to stay home sick today, if you’re wondering where I found the inspiration for these important disclosures. I was bored.

Life according to Alias

I am lying on my couch with a heaping bowl (the second heaping bowl) of Life Cereal glued to the 1am showing of Alias on CBS. I was exhausted at 11:15 and 12am and 12:30, but when I went to bed, every possible issue came from far and wide to cram itself into my brain…

So I’m watching Sidney talk to Vaughn thinking about how lucky she is and wishing I could live inside that show, you know?

I’m saying to myself, Sidney’s life is so awesome. She probably didn’t have to fill out Grad school applications online today and wonder who she was going to get references from or spend months trying to figure out which program she even wanted to apply for, and she probably isn’t sitting on the edge of her seat waiting for a callback from a job she really wants, and I’m sure she’s not flipping out about the loud noise her car is making even though she was just at Midas on Friday, and she probably isn’t trying to figure out how to best support her mom’s new internet boyfriend and her dad who has decided that now is the time to reconcile, and, surely, the farthest thing from her mind as she stares into Vaughn’s eyes is the growing mole on her arm and the faint recollection that she didn’t wear sunscreen this morning at the pool, or how, thanks to insomnia, she is going to have to explain, again, to 50 people why she skipped church tomorrow morning to sleep in. Nope. Not Sid.

I mean, in this episode all she is doing is saying goodbye to her mother, who just jumped off a skyscraper without revealing where her kidnapped father was, and she just found out her best friend is really a mutated double who just killed her other best friend, and, I mean, she ended up having to kill the mutated best friend, and she actually woke up two years later to find her fiance, Vaughn, married an evil double agent because he thought she was dead, but geez. It’s Sidney were talking about. She’ll handle it and still get Vaughn in the end despite Sloan, Sark, Lauren, Irena, AND the big red ball thingy. I guess, though, she had to give up Jack for it, which is REALLY sad. I guess in the end not even Sidney gets to have it all.

You can look for your own speck of proverb in all of that. I think I am tired now.

Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I graduated to a full-sized cubicle on Thursday. Sidney is silently cheering for me because she is watching my life from the other side of the TV thinking, ‘Brooke has the awesomest life. I bet her mom isn’t jumping off a skyscraper…’