Someone got a drawing tablet

It never rains in Austin except on my head

Oh Internets.

Life has not been super bueno around these parts.

• The weekend after Crazy Poop Lady left her mark on our front door, a drunk driver (Crazy Drunk Lady #2) drove into both Abe's and my parked cars. Neither was totaled, but the insurance situation is a mess - it was a hit & run, she's now in jail and not responding to the insurance company's requests for a statement, etc.
• My job (which used to consist of mostly lovely interactions with lovely people) has lately mostly involved getting yelled at on the phone about things that aren't in my control. And two of my good friends and favorite coworkers are probably going to be let go.
• We are about to put my condo on the market, and some unexpected repairs and fees (along with the vehicle repair nonsense) have us feeling a little financially strained.

I know so many people have things way worse - but I'm feeling run down. I wind up in tears from stress and anxiety pretty much every day. When neighbors knock on the door, my heart races and I wonder what horrible thing is about to happen. I'm irritable and grumpy - I'm sure I'm a joy to be around. Abe is so stressed enough about his new job that I'm reluctant to dump my problems on him.

I don't know what to do. Am I depressed or just sad? Anxious or just reacting logically to recent events?

Maybe in a few weeks I'll be back to my glass-is-half-full self, and have everything figured out again. I sure hope so.

Thanks for letting me vent, Internets.

Pass the bon-bons; I could get used to this

I have a week off between jobs. I haven't been a *complete* bump on a log. I mean, we moved last weekend, and I've mostly unpacked, and I'm taking my niece to her swimming lesson this Thursday (which should be adorable), and I've set up pest control and cable and internet and phone service...

But... To be honest? Mostly, I've been napping, watching Netflix, and listening to this album.

I should probably get moving before I start growing moss. I think I might need another nap first, though.

Blogiverse non-awesomeness

Dear Internets,

Sometimes I am not the brightest tool in the package of lightbulbs.

This is one of those times.

A week or so ago, some guy I'd never heard of emailed me to ask me if I wanted to buy the domain jamieann.com.

"Jamieann.com?" I thought. "Surely someone is not trying to steal JamieLovely's internet identity?"

I checked jamieann.net. All seemed normal.

Mistake the first
I did some thinking. "Jamie's readers number in the thousands," I thought. "This guy probably saw my blog, realized that I blog for ten or so people (on a good day), and figured he could scam me out of a credit card number."

Mistake the second
"I'll show him," I thought. "I'm not falling for this."

Mistake the third
I archived the email and promptly forgot about it.

Fast forward to about an hour ago. Lovely Jamie tweets that someone bought her domain name out from under her.

She is freaking out.

I feel an awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"I don't know how to say this..." I start to write.

****

I feel AWFUL. Forwarding that email to Jamie with a quick, "Um, hey, WTFBBQ girl, everything OK w/your domain?" would have taken mayyyyyybe 5 seconds.

I think ultimately, I didn't forward the email because Jamie is kind of a big deal. What would she think if I emailed her out of the blue? What if all 5,000 of her blog readers/Twitter followers got the email? Surely one of them would have said something if it was legit. Worse, what if it wasn't legit? I'd look like the kind of girl who'd send money to get a Nigerian government official out of jail.

I didn't want Jamie to think I was some hayseed blogger who doesn't understand how the Internets works.

(Um, yeah. That worked out really well for me.)

The moral of this story is that the Internet is kind of like real life. Sometimes, you have to have the huevos to risk looking foolish or to talk to someone who intimidates you. Otherwise, you may end up being the person who was too distracted to save someone a lot of heartache.

Don't be a Jane.

Countdown to 30

I'm turning 30 this week. I don't really wan't to talk about it.

Don't get me wrong - I don't think 30 is old, or that life is passing me by. (Helpful note to any young person who happens to read this: when you turn 25, you are not "getting SO old." However, you do make anyone older than you feel sort of matronly/spinsterly when you complain about how terrified you are to turn 27.) There's nothing I really can't do anymore at 30, except maybe be a high-dollar hooker. And to be honest, I don't know enough about the career path to know whether that particular door has closed or not.

I am in a funk, though. I don't know if it's my birthday, our upcoming move, the holidays, or just my old friend Depression rearing its ugly head, but I can't seem to clear the fog. I've disabled as many birthday auto-reminders as I can so that friends and acquaintances will forget to say anything. I'm just not in a mood to celebrate myself.

It's about time for me to post my list of "30 Things I'm Proud to Have Accomplished," for my 30 Before 30 list. I made a list of accomplishments, but I feel like posting it would be dishonest. It's not time for my greatest hits; I'm still in my sophomore slump.

I don't mean to be a downer. Soon enough, life will be all baby chickens and new beginnings, and I'll barely remember feeling so worried and discouraged.

I'm just not quite there yet.

Random question

Is anyone else so afraid of X-rays that you'd rather disrobe completely at the airport than go through one of the full-body scanners? When you read articles that compare the level of radiation exposure to the amount of radiation you'd be exposed to on the plane, do you decide that maybe travel doesn't sound so fun after all?

Just me? Sigh.

I realize I'm in the minority, but I'm not afraid of plane crashes or terrorists - I'm afraid of radiation poisoning and cancer. (I sort of blame one of my aunts for my phobia; when I was about five or six she told me that using microwave ovens and electric blankets would cause all my hair to fall out.)

For the record, I'm not just afraid of radiation exposure at airplanes and airports. I'm also afraid of granite countertops, cell phones, faulty medical equipment, and radioactive soil. I'm highly suspicious of the massive power grid near my condo, my car, my computer, and my household appliances.

However, even though I'm a paranoid weirdo, I'm also a realist. I will continue to talk on my cell phone and use my appliances (although I don't microwave any plastic). If it's a choice between being a part of modern society and being a hermit in the woods, I vote for facing my fears. I never liked camping that much anyway. (I'll save my discussion of my fear of tree roaches for another post.)

I still refuse to use an electric blanket, though. Old habits die hard.

Breaking rules

I read on a "big" blog once that it's obnoxious to apologize for infrequent blogging. "No one cares!" the blogger said. "You're not special! Most people likely didn't even notice you were gone."

Her diatribe sort of hurt my feelings, as I've definitely been guilty of the near-criminal act of mentioning an extended blogging absence. I never thought of it as being self-important; I just figured it was my only way of letting my internet friends know I was still thinking about them while I was away, even if I didn't have time to leave comments or send long emails in response to their posts.

Still, her comment got to me. Who was I, really, to think that my absence from the internet (or anywhere else) mattered?

Then I realized - who was she to tell me it didn't? I don't blog for approval or attention or to feel important. I blog to connect to the twenty or so readers who feel like old friends. I've cooed over baby pictures, cried over losses, and (facetiously) threatened to cut brake lines when a fellow blogger has been crossed. (All jokes aside, Internets - my wimpy little arms and I totally have your back.) I don't need some self-appointed blogging Emily Post to tell me the rules of internet correspondence; I'll make up my own as I go, based on what feels right to me.

And what feels right to me is to apologize for being absent for the past month or so. Yes, I've been busy settling into my new job, running, spending time with Achilles, writing jokes, and doing a million other things, but there are no good excuses for being a crappy friend.

So, I'm sorry Internets. I can't promise I will magically find a way to balance my new responsibilities with everything else and immediately morph back into the comment-happy Jane you know and love, but I promise to do better.

Because nobody puts the Internets in a corner.

Or something.

Oopsie pt. 784

I took down my last post... I reread it and it sounded like I was saying bad things about my soon-to-be-previous employer. Honestly, I understand their decisions, and really don't harbor any bad feelings. I do feel a little overwhelmed and sad sometimes when I think of all the people whose are facing job loss and/or unemployment right now. However, that does not give me an excuse to say things without thinking.

Anyhoo... I'm going back to my promise not to talk about the whole job situation for a while.

XOXO

P.S. Thank you for the thoughtful comments on the post I took down. I definitely appreciated them. You guys are awesome.

Oops

Dear Blog,

I forgot our two year anniversary. Sorry about that! It's been a great couple of years.

Happy belated bloggiversary.

Love,
Jane

I probably just need a nap

Things that make me grouchy on Monday mornings (a partial list):

1. birds
2. responsibilities
3. alarm clocks
4. the sun
5. people who get up early and go to the gym
6. people who don't need coffee
7. people who already drank a lot of coffee and now want to talk to me
8. political discussion
9. lowest common denominator radio deejays
   
10. allergies
    

Apologies

Dear Internets,

I'm going to apologize in advance for the likely lack of quality posts and comments from the Jane-iverse the rest of this month. Between last-minute wedding details, comedy class, dance class, funerals, work, second work, and the sunshine and warm weather, it's been somewhat hard for me to find time to sit in front of a computer and be thoughtful.

Here are a few random thoughts:

• I baked a half batch of peanut butter cookies last night and ate them all (minus one or two eaten by Achilles) at one sitting. Just what I need to do two weeks before the wedding. But mmmm.... The texture was perfect. It really does help to get the butter to the perfect temperature when you're baking.
• I should totally invent something that makes sure the butter is the perfect temperature for baking
• Probably that is beyond my capabilities. Or someone has already invented it. Oh well.
• Celebrities: crack is whack, but mixing pills kills. Just because a drug isn't illegal doesn't mean it won't go midieval (on you). Hugs not prescription drugs, people. (I will keep coming up with stupid rhymes and puns until you young, talented, beautiful, rich people either stop killing yourselves or start sending me your money instead of blowing it swallowing it with a chaser of vodka. Consider this your warning.)

Clearly, thinking is not my strong suit right now. I still love you Internets!

Love,
Jane

Umm...

Dear Internets,

Ever since another student in my comedy class pointed out how much I said "um" when I was doing stand-up, I've noticed how much I say it. Internets - I say it all the time! The worst was Wednesday evening at our first dance lesson:

"What's your name?"
"Um, Jane."
"Do you have any dance experience?"
"Um, not really."

Seriously, this "um" business has got to stop. Maybe I should start an "um" jar (like a swear jar, except for when I say "um"). It's madness!

Love,
Um... Jane

GRRR....

Dear Internets,

Is it wrong to feel INCREDIBLY STABBY because people decided to add their son's girlfriend when they sent their RSVP?

If I couldn't invite my cousins or friends from college to my wedding, I don't want your teenage son's stupid girlfriend there!

At least you understand me, Internets.

Love,
Jane

Wednesday Wedding Weecap (or why I never get anything done)

Alternative Title I: The dilettante's guide to wedding invitations
Alternative Title II: I sure hope no prospective employers ever read this...

...

Dear Internets,

I've been feeling guilty about procrastinating about doing our wedding invitations, so I decided to just do them. I got some of the print your own invitations (I know you hate those, Internets, but that's because you're all graphic designers and/or millionaires), and the process seemed like it would be pretty straightforward:

1. Collect addresses for guests
2. Print invitations
3. Address envelopes
4. Update wedding website to reflect new information
5. Affix postage to envelopes
6. Drop invitations in the mail

In reality, the process has gone more like this:

1. Email friends and family members for their addresses
2. Assure friends and families that I just need their addresses because I have some chain letters I need to get out
3. Ask Achilles for his addresses
4. Ask Achilles for his addresses (again)
5. Look up possible invitation wording
6. Second, third, and fourth guess wording decision
   
7. Decide that inviting people places in the third person is just going to sound weird no matter what
   
8. Print invitations
9. Ask Achilles for his addresses again. Feel like a nag
10. Begin hand addressing envelopes
11. Decide hand addressed envelopes look awful
12. Print addresses on envelopes
13. Tell Achilles he's on his own for his invitations
    
14. Go to post office near house to buy stamps. Find that the only stamps they sell in the denomination we need have creepy dolphins on them
15. Drive to main post office across town on MLK Day. Find that post office no longer has stamp vending machines
16. Decide to use vintage postage stamps instead of creepy dolphin stamps
17. Spend far too much time on eBay looking at vintage postage stamps
18. Second guess decision to use vintage stamps
19. Order them anyway, figuring it will give Achilles time to get me his addresses
    
20. Decide to update wedding website while waiting for stamps

Notice how "update wedding website" just took up one little number in the first scenario? Here's how it really went:

1. Correct date, time, and location information on website
2. Decide that I'd really like people to be able to RSVP and request songs for the reception through the website
3. Research options for RSVP widgets
4. Discover that most existing options are crappy and/or seem to be phishing for guests' personal information
5. Decide to use Google Forms so that everything will be conveniently stored in a Google spreadsheet once the guests input their information
6. Realize that Google Forms doesn't really let you modify the form they give you
7. Find a way to hack the form so that it doesn't look so fugly
8. Realize that after people RSVP, they will be sent to a website to create their own Google Forms rather than back to the wedding website
9. Read Google forums for possible solutions. See that this is a "known issue that will be corrected in a future update."
10. Seethe
11. Realize that if I knew how to write JavaScript code, I could keep people from being redirected to the external website
12. Learn enough JavaScript to fix the form
13. After 946 tries, finally get JavaScript working correctly
    
14. Realize that people won't be able to RSVP online at all if they have JavaScript disabled
15. Decide that this doesn't really matter for a group of 20-30 people anyway
16. Realize that I will probably go back and fix the form so that it works with or without JavaScript because I'm anal
    
17. Decide that it is time to start drinking

This is why I never get anything done, Internets. I am like the kid from those Family Circus dotted line comics. Remember those?



Oh well. I will survive. The invitations don't have to go out for two weeks anyway, and as long as I get Achilles's addresses (COUGH COUGH), we should meet that deadline easily.

But seriously. Sometimes the extent of my distractibility frightens me.

Love,
Jane

Eating the elephant

Dear Internets,

So. I sort of lied about being back, huh? I did read all 749 posts in my Google Reader, although I didn't comment on most of them (because I'm not a robot, that's why)(sorry about that). It turns out they were mostly about how people either love or hate Christmas. Go figure.

I haven't been writing (or exercising or eating particularly well) because my brain has been a scrambled mess. My brain has been a scrambled mess because I haven't been writing (or exercising or cooking). It's a vicious cycle. (Rawr.) It's possibly also some mild form of SAD since this seems to happen to me every year. I know that's weird, since I live in the sunbelt and all, but I can't help but wonder be a hypochondriac.

Anyway, I'm going to attempt to defrag my brain by writing a huge monster update. Hopefully, we can all move on and I can get back to posting about breakfast tacos ASAP.

Thanksgiving
Food. Lots of it. Lots of family asking about the wedding. Lots of anxiety. Moving on.

Tahoe
It is interesting to travel with a large group of friends. Apparently the family you choose can be just as overly dramatic as the family you're born into. Overall, though, the trip was wonderful. I went snowboarding, my friends made me 29 cupcakes with candles on my birthday, and we danced and sang along so enthusiastically to a mid/late-90's alt rock cover band that the band thanked us (and only us) personally after the show. It was fantastic.

My Birthday
29. Bleh. What can I say about 29? I guess at least it's a prime number (but it's not nearly as good as being perfect). It was great to spend time with my friends in Tahoe, and I'm incredibly lucky to have the life I have, but I really just don't enjoy getting older anymore.

Snowboarding
Normally, I'm the person getting whacked in the face with a soccer ball or tripping down the bowling alley, but I actually seem to have some natural talent for snowboarding. Achilles and I are even thinking of heading to Whistler for our honeymoon. (Note to self: try finding sports that aren't so expensive.) My bruises are finally starting to heal. (Re: bruises. I know, I know. But I said that I had some natural talent, not that I'd morphed into a different person.)

Ghost Posts
To everyone who emailed me about writing a ghost post while I was on vacation - I am so very sorry I didn't get back to anyone. I was a nervous wreck. If you are still interested, please let me know.

The Wedding
Does anyone even want to hear about this? I know I don't. However, I may or may not have biggish news about the wedding (depending on how Achilles' and my families react to our new plans). I don't want to jinx anything, so I'm going to keep my mouth shut.

***

Well, that was really lame and not much of a monster post at all. I can't believe I've been avoiding this for so long. I hope you've had a fantastical month so far, Internets, and I hope you'll forgive me for being a little bit of a whackadoodle.

Love,
Jane

Stalky stalk stalk

Dear Internets,

So it appears that I don't have meningitis (which, logical or not, was my first thought when I woke up with a stiff neck)(I'm glad I'm not the only one whose brain works that way). I guess I just slept in a strange position or something. Anyhoodles.

I found a former coworker's blog (we worked together almost 9 years ago) and have been reading her archives all afternoon. It is so weird. I normally don't feel creepy reading blogs - after all, the writer decides what they do and don't publish - but reading J's blog makes me feel like a total stalker. Even though we haven't talked for several years, there's a weird sense of familiarity. I have eaten lunch with some of the people she talks about. We shop at some of the same grocery stores. Her voice as a writer is so similar to the way she was when I knew her: open, dry, sarcastic, matter-of-fact.

I wonder if she'd censor herself if she knew I was reading her blog (answer: probably not). I wonder how many acquaintances from my past have found my blog (answer: I don't want to think about it).

Thinking about all this has put me in a kind of weird mood. I should probably just stop reading, but that is unlikely to happen. Oh well.

I hope your day has been less weird than mine Internets.

Love,
Jane

Pain in the neck

Holy moly Internets.

I had a slightly stiff neck last night. I figured the best thing for it would be rest, so I went to bed.

I can barely move my head this morning.

I promise I will be back to read and comment on your blogs tomorrow.

XOXO,
Jane

Sorry about that

Dear Internets,

I am sorry about my melodramatic little break from blogging. I blame a mid-week crisis. I kept finding myself thinking "Where is this week going? Why am I here? Should I buy a little two-seat sports car while car dealerships are making deals?"

Kidding aside, I did realize that my most recent blogging has been heavy on the quantity and a bit lacking in quality. So I'm going to stop that. Yay, right? From now on, when the traffic in my brain is getting too congested, I'm going to wait it out. There's no need for me to develop blogging road rage.

I'm going to stop before I start mixing too many metaphors. Love you longtime Internets!

Love,
Jane

Growly things

Dear Internets,

Sorry for the crap post. I am sleep-deprived and irritable, and wearing the clothes from the back of the closet since I haven't had easy access to laundry for the past couple of weeks. I'm trying hard not to be super whiny/grumpy/homicidal about (STILL) not having my washer/dryer, since I realize it's hardly the end of the world and there ARE laundromats in Austin*. But it's hard to be upbeat when I feel so rumpled.

You know how there are reasons you don't wear certain articles of clothing as often as others? For example, maybe you have one pair of work pants that looks great with one of your tops, but when paired with anything else makes your hips look like you could give birth to an 11-pound baby without even noticing? And you should probably get rid of the pants, because when you run out of laundry you tend to pair them with a perpetually wrinkly tee shirt and a cardigan and pretend that's OK because the cardigan is black (and therefore professional-looking) and your boss works from home on Mondays and won't see you anyway?

Yeah.

I feel like the anti-Holly Golightly. I want my washer. Or my mom.

If you run into the Universe, you might mention that I'd like some donuts.

Love,
Jane

*Seriously, Sears Home Delivery is like a bad boyfriend. If they would just ADMIT that they aren't going to be able to deliver my washer/dryer for the next decade, I could move on with my life, get a roll of quarters, and go to the damn laundromat. Yet they insist upon giving me a false sense of hope. Sigh.

Does that make me cray-zay?

Dear Internets,

Someone mentioned this morning that they'd seen an article about the most popular baby names of 2008.

So what did I do? Well, I certainly didn't spend the morning thinking of nice-sounding baby names. Because I am not even engaged yet. And that would be psycho.

And I definitely did not imagine how different names would sound with middle and last names.

Or maybe I did. Just a little.

Oh god, I'm a crazy person.

Love always,
Jane

P.S. I kind of blame my current semi-obsession with baby names on my overwhelming desire to know the sex of my new niece- or nephew-let.
P.P.S. But mostly I think I just want to get a puppy and name her Daisy.