happy birthday baby sister

To my long haired, freckled faced, silly little sister with an amazing sense of humor and killer fashion sense,

You were born 16 years ago today at 12:34 in the afternoon. You were scheduled, not as in Mom and Dad had planned you necessarily but as in the doctor told Mama to show up at 6:00am on the 29th to be induced. Haleigh and I were on a field trip that day and playing in a pool when my teacher announced that our baby sister had arrived safe and sound. Our sunburned arms ached to hold you. After Dad had collected us from our day of fun, we posted pictures specially laminated in our "Big Sisters in Training" class to the inside of your incubator so you could recognize us when you got home. I'll never forget how excited we were planning for you, picking out names we loved and choosing the outfit you wore home.

I can't believe the last sixteen years have gone by so fast, I am so proud of the beautiful young woman you are becoming and the responsibilities you have taken on. You are goofy and brave, fun loving and thoughtful. I am honored to call you my sister and am thrilled to watch you blossom into adulthood. Continue to follow your dreams and defy the norm.

 I love you Emily!!!

i hope your 16th is the sweetest yet!

scary movie

By nature I'm not a scary movie type of person, the suspense in the movie the Davinci Code is enough to keep me on the edge of my seat and my mind wandering long after I should be in dreamland. I have however been victim of cheesy horror film re-runs on TNT when visiting my Dad. They ALWAYS have a scene where the girl is running from the uber creepy guy and can't start the getaway car in time because she has the wrong set of keys, a weird alarm system, so on and so forth. In  my head I'm thinking "yeah right, in real life you would just start the car and drive away and that would be the end of the movie". Then I'm usually annoyed by the ridiculous plot line.

This last week my Dad was out of town and dropping him at the airport left me in possession of the big white truck he drives. It was awesome, I was ramping curbs and taking turns so wide I felt I was in a semi. Late one night I was on my way out to visit my sisters, racking my brain for a clever nick name to be used on a CB system when I realized I could be the star of a horror movie. The keychain my Dad had left me had four small keys looped on it. Two of these keys were GMC and the others looked like they opened front doors and office cabinets. My arms were loaded down with an overnight bag, my blue Nalgene bottle, my shoulder bag, and my cell phone. I carefully chose the square GMC key and shoved it in the lock. No dice. I reassessed and tried the round one. Bingo.

Note to self: This seemed really weird because my GMC automobile is opened with a square key (the round one is only used for the trunk).

So I haul myself and my belongings into the cab of the truck and stick the round key in the ignition. The car won't start. I pull the keys back out tried the square key to start up the massive engine. After a bit of turning, the truck roars to life.

 I have flashes of myself in a dimly lit WalMart parking lot at 2:30am being mugged/raped/having someone taking a photo of me and posting it on people of WalMart all because I can't remember which flipping key opens and which one starts the white monster truck.

My life theory about scary movies was quickly disproved and left me feeling all too vulnerable. I considered the options and risks and decided to drive the hunk-of-gleaming-white-junk to my Moms. Besides, my car doesn't have air conditioning and going down tragically in a website post is not near as bad as sweating.

i hope your imagination is used on more productive thoughts.

the return of bike riding

As you may have read here, I am not an expert in the bike riding department (which probably has something to do with the mysterious disappearance of my lovely pink beach cruiser). Despite this unfortunate fact I have recently inherited a blue beach cruiser from my new mother-in-law! While it is not as new or shiny as my old bike, it rides wonderfully. Well, as wonderful as the person who happens to be steering it. On the weekends Clayton and I ride our bikes to our local coffee spot and during the week we sometimes ride them to happy hour. I have most recently started riding my bike to work. And this my friends is where the return of my bike riding tales begins:

It was a fine morning just a few weeks ago when I set out on my blue cruiser. The early morning air (okay, it was a little after 7...) was still refreshingly cool on my skin. I was running just the teeniest bit late and had decided to save myself a few minutes and take my coffee on the go. I had been riding my bike to work for approximately three days, so I felt like the challenge of balancing a scolding mug of precious mocha coconut coffee freshly brewed from my Keurig (Thanks Sara, TC, and Lane!) would be a piece of cake. It was a shaky start but once I reached the bike lane I was set: left hand steering the bike, owl mug in my right fully extended arm, and my brown Coach bag slung over my left shoulder. I was admiring myself for not veering too badly when I came upon my first obstacle, speed bumps.

Note to self: Why? Why do my neighbors have to speed racer down third avenue!?!?! Don't they realize going over speed bumps with an almost-full cup of coffee is a terrible idea!?

Shockingly I made it over the speed bump and the next two without spilling a drop. Ha! I showed the citizens of Willow. I was on my way to becoming a bike master.  Then I came to the crosswalk.

I mentioned I was running late, right? I decided to dismount my bike and pop up on the curb to press the 'pedestrian crossing' button in hopes that the light would change faster. The light was going to change and I was going to hop back on my bike and gracefully cross Thomas without being late. I hauled my body across my bike and after some arranging (it is actually quite hard to get back on said bike with a large shoulder bag and only the use of your left arm) I began to pedal across the crosswalk.

Note to self: Really Aimee? Do you need to haul the large bag to work EVERYDAY? Not only is your balance shot, no one even gets to see how fab it really is because all it does is sit in a locked cubby all day. Definitely switching into the smaller one ASAP.

 Except the thing about beach cruisers is, is that they are only one speed with coaster brakes. Since I had only been riding my bike at short intermittent times, I had not mastered the ability to get a rolling start from the brake position I had left my pedals in (to be quite honest, I am still mastering that one). With a quick 22 seconds I begin to push my left pedal down and hop myself and my bike across the crosswalk, right arm still extended. (Imagine if you will a bike-pogo stick combination) Halfway across I get the pedals far enough around that I can finally bring my right foot up onto the bike and begin to make up some time. With 13 seconds to go I begin to race to the far side of the street not taking notice of the uneven asphalting in my path. With a bump, my favorite morning drink is hurled from the cute owl mug and into the air. My khakis have been rained on and a large stain sits on my right shin. The next bump sends coffee across my glasses and into my hair.

Once I reach the other side of the street I decide to walk my bike the remaining short distance into my building. (I have received permission to park my blue cruiser on the storage floor at work since one got nabbed off of the bike racks right in front of the security office) Once I get myself and what is left of my morning caffeine up the wheelchair ramp I found myself in the lobby. The seven minute ride from my house to work has demonstrated the lack of muscle and coordination I have, especially in my left arm. I place my bag on the floor so I may better balance the bike and the cup of coffee while pressing the 'up' button for the elevator. Bad move. Trying to compensate I lean too far to the left and my bike goes flying out from underneath me and takes out my bag and my left pant leg. There I was standing in the first floor lobby with my belongings sprawled across the floor, my bike completely on its side, my pants covered in black and brown stains, puffy pink cheeks, dripping hair, and a quarter cup of coffee. 

All in all I learned that:

-Keurig don't make their coffee cold
-It takes me 10 extra minutes to ride my bike one handed to work
-Bike tire marks only disappear after scrubbing Coach bags for what seems like forever

i hope my boss didn't see me.

blog vomit

so right now my life looks like this:

i get married in something like 31 days, but who's counting?
i haven't written my vows
i haven't hired a florist or made a 'flower' plan
i haven't received any RSVP's (if all this planning was for nothing i swear...)
i think my sister's hate my soul because it has been taken over by all things wedding
plus i don't have anything borrowed
or any clue what to do for my EIGHT bridesmaids.

the entire time we've been planning this outstanding event i have had the goal of being done planning on month in advance in order to celebrate my sister's 21st birthday and bachelor/bachelorette parties totally stress free. which means i have four days to meet my goal.

this afternoon after getting released from a work training early (yay!) i decided to take some time for myself and hike to the top of Piestewa Peak. once i got up there i told myself all the smog was just fog rolling in off of a coast somewhere and it made breathing not seem so bad for me. and it wasn't.

i hope to keep breathing calm breaths

wonder woman wednesday

If I were a superhero I'd like to be the Caffeine Countess. I could hand out really cool looking re-usable travel cups of coffee/tea. Of course I'd be conscious of those who shouldn't have it like growing children and pregnant mommas. College kids would be alert in class, business people would be active participants in their meetings, loud obnoxious people would have something to put in their mouths to save the ears of others on the train. Perhaps even light rail conductors would become better drivers. Riders would be so energized we would probably burst into song and dance making the 6:30am train a musical scene brimming at the seems with sunshine and happiness.

If I were to become the Caffeine Countess I would be in need of a sidekick, as everyone knows coffee on an empty stomach is a preposterous idea. I would name my sidekick Pastry Person as not everyone likes one specific item like the bear claw. On second thought, who even likes bear claws? Pastry Person could make those kiddies and preggers not feel so bad about missing out on the wondrous liquid pouring from my veins sweetened with come sort of Shamrock Farms goodness. We would be an unstoppable team in the world of the over extended and under slept!

i hope you had your coffee this morning.

your. sex. is. on. fire.

adventures on public transportation.

These days I've been riding the light rail quite frequently. With gas prices rising and a sweet incentives program from St. Joe's, it's hard not to. On these trips most often I get to read, however I am easily sent into fit of motion sickness when the driver of the train insists on driving like he received his permit yesterday. In that case I get to people watch. Behind the safety of my Coach sunglasses I watch college students cramming 20 more minutes of studying in before their final, the weird guy who unsuccessfully attempts to pick his nose so no one else notices, and my personal favorite the mentally unstable.

As of late I have started practicing Bikram Yoga and my studio happens to be near a light rail stop. Today I rode the rail to class and back. After class I decided to shower in the comfort of home so I could shave my legs. Despite changing, my hair was still soaking wet and I had started to perspire into the second t-shirt when I boarded the east bound train headed back to our apartment. All that laughing under my breath caught up with me this moment. I became the object to ogle. My tomato colored face was still pulsing from class adorned with frizzy hair in a messy bun on the top of my head. My scent was intensely penetrating three seats away in either direction evidenced by the homeless man looking my way with a look that seemed to say "dear Jesus, I thought I had it bad".

In order to get the car I had to pass one bus stop after disembarking the train. Looking ahead I could spot two men in their late twenties, one pacing, obviously anxious about the arrival of the next bus and the other muttering a quick jibberish under his breath. I have never actually seen anyone strung out on a drug made in a bathtub, but these two made it easy to imagine. Eyes fixed firmly ahead, the plan was not to make eye contact or any friendly gesture toward either of them thus inviting an approach. As I quickened my pace, the seated man yelled out at me. Sticking to the plan I did not look in any direction other than straight and continued in a fast walk. My capri pants were riding up giving me a wedgie, sweat covered the back of my shirt, and my face was on fire. Desperate the man yelled out "You are beautiful!". If I wasn't so terrified I may have stopped to contemplate this. I imagined the look on his companion's face after hearing his declaration, and then heard my admirer say to him "what?! she is beautiful".

and then I smiled.

After sweating and concentrating and bending and stretching I had a clear mind and a pink face.

And I felt beautiful.

you are beautiful.

magazine covered carpet

the adventures of planning a wedding...

These "lover duckies" were on our engagement cake made for us by Clayton's Momma.

Who knew there was so much to plan?

i hope you're more prepared than i am.