I miss my flip flops.

The hint of warm weather, the longer days, the advent of spring, the coming of Easter (even though I'm not quite sure when it might be), all of these things are really getting to me. Winter is over in the blink of an eye, though it seems neverending in the middle of those cold cold weeks when you can't quite get warm and the bedsheets are always freezing cold.

I'm longing for the beach. For the warm sand and the ocean breeze and the sting of just a little too much sun on my skin. I miss my flip flops. I miss coming in out of the heat and drinking a big class of ice water, or sitting outside in the evenings with a beer and some friends.

I want to grill things, open my windows, breath fresh air instead of the stale recycled heat. I want to work in my yard and see the green green grass, or even the dandelions.

I know winter around here is mild with a hint of bitter at the worst. But I'm really not a winter kind of girl. Sure, I welcome the suprise snow storm, but only because it might get me a day off of work. What I really love is the heat. Though, ask me how I feel in the middle of August, and it may be a different story.

I'm getting the beach early this year, my friends, thanks to my dear generous sister. We are going to Key West. I know little about this place. I also know that people have said it's beautiful country down there, and that Key West is a fun place to go. I was going to tell you what hotel we were going to, but you know, internet safety and all of that. Regardless, I'll get my first beach fix early this year, and since we don't have a major house project this year (due to lack of funds and poor tax return), maybe we'll make it to the beach a little more often.

Who wants to cat sit? Or maybe we'll just take them with us, like you would a dog. I'm rather certain they are part dog anyway.

Sushi and popcorn.

My sister took me out to dinner tonight, for sushi.  It was very yummy.  The problem, though, with sushi is, that while it fills me up immediately, it tends to leave me hungry a couple hours later.  

So I made some popcorn when I got out of the shower.  Better than the Edy's loaded chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream calling to me from the freezer.  It sucks though.  You know how sometimes the kernels don't seem to quite pop all the way?  You, watching tv and not paying attention, grab a few pieces, pop them into your mouth, and you bite down, only to be painful made aware of an unpopped piece.  Or a partially popped piece.  Not pleasant.  Oh well.

I don't know who reads this.

It would be nice to know though. There are things I might like to say, but I'm not sure that I should. Though, most of me really doesn't care anymore.

I have found, as I have gotten older, more mature, busier, what have you, that I don't have time for the bullshit. I really don't. I don't have the patience to smile and nod, and I don't have the energy to keep my mouth shut. I'm really down with honesty. Really down with it. Even if it means hearing things about myself that I don't want to hear. Chances are, I already know most of them, even if I don't tell you or talk about them.

I want full disclosure. I want you to have the guts to say that you don't like me, or that I'm overstepping my bounds, or that you don't want my advice. I want you to tell me that are sorry you asked my opinion, or that you're just plain sick of me, or that you think I'm full of shit.

Ok. So, I'm probably not going to email or walk up to someone and list out my reasons for not liking them, either. Though, at the same time, I'm fiending for the truth. I just don't want to give fuel to the fire, and I'm trying not to be unnecessarily confrontational. Maybe it's better to let things be when it comes to some people. The value of the relationship might not be worth the hassle. But don't sit in my home and purposely exclude me from things. Don't be short with me or ignore me without some explanation. Don't take it out on me that your life sucks. Don't use me up, lie to me, manipulate me, suck me dry and then take your leave.

The fact is, when it comes down to it, I don't need this kind of drama in my life. I know what's going on, and I'm not going to feed into it.

But here's a little truth for you: As much as I don't need it, as relieved as I am to be free of it, it still hurts.

You can make fun of me, if you'd like.

I have long had a weakness for ABBA. It is cheesy stuff. Pop-y stuff. It lends no real value to the intellectual bettering of my life. It lends nothing, in fact, aside from making me happy. Very happy, guys. I put on ABBA and I smile. It had been a while since I had listened to ABBA, aside from catching it on the radio or tv, or whatever. Then I was slightly turned off when I read that Dancing Queen is in John McCain's top 10 songs, according to Blender Magazine. (An aside here: I wanted to search to verify this information, but I could not, for the life of me, remember John McCain's name, for a good thirty seconds. How quickly I forget.)

Then, something happened. My dear Mother-in-Law bought me the Mamma Mia dvd for Christmas. I am somewhat reluctant to admit this next fact, but aren't blogs, afterall, a place to divulge our most intimate information for all the world to see? I have watched that movie, since Christmas day, at least 7 times. Which I think is a lot for a busy woman. And it's really only been 2 months or so. Sometimes, I will replay it immediately after it finishes. I like to put it on while I sew.

A younger me would be very embarassed by this, I think. But the current me embraces it as a part of who I am. ABBA makes me happy. Their songs are corny, fluffy, and stupid. But there's just something about it all. It pleases me. Their songs are fun to sing to, and silly to listen to.

I need some fluff and some smiles. And ABBA is doing it for me right now. And I'm not afraid to admit it.

Judge away.

(I plan to write a few more posts about music in the coming days/weeks, and hopefully I will at least slightly redeem myself. I'm taking a trip in the way back machine and discovering some old favorites.)