Meet Miss Wishy Washy. Hopefully, She'll Find the Green Grass in Vegas

One of my biggest pet peeves, well besides when Paul Bunyan refuses to pull back over to the 'traveling' lane after he's passed someone in the 'passing' lane, is when people come flying onto the highway and refuse to YIELD. They expect you to slow down or pull into the passing lane (which would be common courtesy) but sometimes you CAN'T. I once had someone flip me the bird because I didn't/couldn't do either and I was all, like, YOU HAVE THE F-ING YIELD douche. YOU are supposed to wait your turn to enter the highway. SLOW DOWN. douche.

Okay, that was fun. It's fun to say douche. Try it. Or not. You might be at work. I understand.

Well, I'm going to VEGAS. On Thursday. To see two old college friends. Teammates.

CAUTION: YIELD AHEAD!

My life today.
Claire asking in different fonts:
Do you like our house? me: Yes, but I wish we had one more room so if you needed to escape somewhere you could.

Do you like your kitchen? me: Yes, but I wish there was an island that people could hang around when I'm cooking.

Do you like your stove? me: Yes, but I wish I could keep it cleaner.

Do you like your bed? me: Yes, but I wish Paul Bunyan hadn't bought the TemperPedic copy.

Do you like your hair? me: Yes, but I wish I could style it like Alla.

Do you like me? me: Yes, but....

I'm sure she's afraid to ask. I'm Miss Wishy. Always wishing for something better. I've been that way for awhile now. Never content with what I have. It's a tough state of being. I'm sick of seeing the greener grass. And trying to reach my long snout through the f-ing fence.




My life then.



I was somebody.

I mean, not that I'm not someone now. But people used to watch. And interview me. And pay attention. And the grass was never ever greener...over there. I mean, we're talking Iowa folks.


Because I was so green. We all were.




And there was meaning and purpose. In his life, too. Which seemed a miracle in and of itself.


Not that there isn't meaning and purpose now, in my life. But it was clearer then.


And simpler. **





Debbie and I spent four years together. I think we became instant best friends when, at the first preseason practice, we realized we ran at the same pace. It just happened to be slower than everyone else. But we finished together.

We triumphed together.





And failed together.



And with Kristi, we graduated together.


It'll be good to travel down that lane. Although I'm sure the dark corners will come back to haunt me. The places that I almost veered off and slammed into a tree. Miss Wishy is going to revisit Miss Washy and I can only hope that Miss Washy yields nicely into the oncoming speeding traffic because I'm not sure I'm going to pull over for the bitch.


**Miss Nancy, we will talk about you, and all the life you had bottled in that Irish, freckled, red-headed body of yours. We will talk about how you died. How you ran that red light. How you left two babies and an amazing husband. We will talk about Micky's and the places you used to love and how we had so much fun in Michigan at your folk's place. We will remember Colorado and your smile. Definitely your smile. And maybe we'll talk about your third nipple too. I hope that's okay.