On divorce ...

I think my brain's so tired of dreaming about weddings or matrimonial bliss it decided to give me some variety last night.

Here are a few of the highlights:

My family and I live in a super crummy apartment in New York which is attached to some college dorms.
Mangy cat wanders aimlessly.
Jenny*comes over and starts flirting with two boys by the drinking fountain and expects me to join in.
I protest. Neither boy is that cute anyway, I tell her.
Jenny announces she's getting a divorce.
Jenny gets into a shouting match with my mom after she insults my waxing techniques and my mom tells her to shut up because at least I didn't miss all those stray hairs Jenny has hanging off her chin.
Jenny gets angry and leaves, stray hairs waggling in the wind.
I drive Jenny home and mangy cat wanders aimlessly.
Then I'm on a ski lift.
So are lots of other people.
We get off and go to class.
USU has clearly made improvements to it's student transportation.
I steal a sign I made for an Institute dance.
Jenny and I walk into an office and begin filing for a divorce.
Mangy cat wanders aimlessly.
I have to show the sign that has the words "Young Single Adult Dance Committee" to prove that I am now officially single and need a divorce.
Wait, I'm not the one who wants a divorce!
Wait, I'm not married yet!! I don't want to be single! And I definitely don't want to be on the "Young Single Adult Dance Committee!
I start searching frantically for my ring.
Lady at the desk tells me to sit down and wait.
Sign won't count alone as proof of singleness. I'll need an e-mail from one of the advisers.
Nice judge in a bright red shirt comes out and takes the next customer in line.
Jenny and I sit down.
Mangy cat crawls on my lap as creepy homeless guy talks to me in waiting room.
Jenny scores a date with water fountain guy.

I woke up feeling itchy because I'm allergic to cats.

I think I'm ready to go back to the dreams about cheesecake and a Mexican honeymoon.

*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.

On diagnosis...

The doctor peered into his pupils with a light and jotted down some notes. I waited anxiously next to the table.

"WAY too much Spongebob," he said.

I cringed guiltily.

He took the stethoscope, listening to the young patient's heart, and looked at me disapprovingly.

"When was the last time he had any significant physical activity?"

I wanted to melt into the floor.

He began pressing on his stomach and then whirled to face me.

"What did this child have for breakfast??! PIZZA?? ICE CREAM??!!!"

"I didn't know what else to do!!" I exclaimed in panic. It all came rushing out. "There wasn't any cereal. My mom hasn't had time to grocery shop in weeks. I figured the pizza at least had some protein. And I was so busy with invitations while she was out looking for the perfect color of raspberry to coordinate with the centerpieces, I didn't even know he had gotten the ice cream out until he was halfway through the carton! Besides, he likes Spongebob and I can't possibly ... "

"Invitations?" the doctor said coldly cutting me off. "These wouldn't be wedding invitations would they?"

I looked at the floor and murmured a 'yes.'

He scoffed and then looked with pity toward my youngest brother, sitting bored, practically mother- and sister-less and nutrient deprived on the exam table.

"Disgraceful," he said writing a prescription for an all-boys campout and a week of constant doting. "This is the third case of wedding neglect I've seen this week."

I shuffled slowly out of the clinic vowing to do better when I saw my fiance checking in with the nurse. He looked lonely and forgotten. Traces of disappointment still lingering from rejected date offers to accommodate florists and photographers, and hurt from curt responses to simple questions like "What did you do today?" and "There can't be that much left to plan, can there?" lined his face. I tried to sneak out undetected but the nurse spotted me and glared as I exited.

"Get ready doctor," she shouted to the back room as she drew some blood and found uncommonly large amounts of velum and satin in his blood stream. "I've got a good feeling this will be case number four."

On yearning ...

I want to blog but I have nothing to say ...

Except for thoughts on the difference between cream and ivory, the fact my heartrate is unusually high, "the talk" with the gynecologist, insurance, apartment leases, microwaves and the advantages of freesia over stock.

Oh, and last week in San Diego I met a dolphin who let me touch her and feed her. Does that count as a blog post?

On vacations...

Apparently my mind was on vacation before my body was ... at least according to the typo in the heading of the previous post.

I love that because I didn't have Internet access for a week it took me close to 10 days to catch it. Even more I love that the "something doesn't look right bell" didn't go off in my head when I typed it originally.

Ah well. More mistakes and more posts to come.

On Indepence Day

Today I am free ...

From editors.

It is my last day as a journalist and I'm spending it alone. No rush at deadline, no arguments between the government and courts reporter, no cursing from the copy desk to send me off. It's just me, the scanner and the fluorescent glow of the computer screen.

It's a nice way to say goodbye. I'm liking the chance to sit, think and wait for 1 p.m. so I can go interview people about the city celebration and why they like fireworks. Until then, no editors. Just static, chatter on the radio about opening and closing parade routes and my blog.

So here are some other things I am glad to be free of this Independence Day:

• Nylons. I didn't remember how much I hated them until I pulled them on the other day and just how long 18 months with a dress code requiring hose really was.
• My last name. I'm proud of my heritage but my last name is pretty bland. And exchanging it for my fiance's also means freedom from singles wards, freedom from ever again having to worry about being placed with crazy roommates and freedom from questions about my dating life.
• Twitter. Fail-whale status is now permanent.
• Pepto-bismol colored cubicles and fluorescent lighting. Farewell office and hello California beaches!
• Debt. I love paychecks, self-discipline and online payment methods.
• Wedding plans. For the next five hours I don't have to think, speak or look at anything wedding related. The fact seemingly normal and frivolous items like chair sashes, centerpieces and guest lists can lead to anxiety/massive amounts of crying is ridiculous. How did these traditions get started anyway? It's absurd. I am of the firm opinion that marriage is of God and weddings are evil.
• The night shift. I don't mind working holidays. Especially when I still get to see the fireworks tonight!

What freedoms are you celebrating?

On final moments ...

I have great coworkers. I'm particularly fond of this one.

It's overhearing conversations like this that will make me miss working in a newsroom.

Di (on phone with a chatty interviewee): No; I really appreciate it. It's always good to have more. I can always take out but I can't just make stuff up.

I'm going to miss working with her ... and I'm not just making that up.