Why does everyone feel compelled to make a New Year's Resolution to lose weight, eat healthier, and work out? I'll tell you.

Eating during the holidays makes everyone feel like a cow. I feel like a cow. I'm not a cow. But I feel like one. My New Year's resolution is to not make a resolution to lose weight. I will lose weight...when these darned leftovers finally go away, and I return to my natural state of not eating my weight in pie. I really don't need a resolution to do that.

I digress, though.

Christmas was bittersweet this year. I lost an old friend. A very close friend of my best friend was murdered. And one of my biggest pageant supporters died from a relatively unexpected heart attack. In all of this, I realized that immortality simply doesn't exist, except in the minds and hearts of those we leave behind. That being the case, I don't want to be immortalized as the person I can be sometimes. The people I love most in life, with the exception of my family, are the ones who make me feel valuable. They are the ones who greet me with, "Hello, gorgeous." These are the friends who find the good in me when I'm at my worst. I know that I am that person to several of my dear friends, but I don't think I should restrict it to them.

I am the person I want to be when I'm with my nephew. I don't cuss. I don't loaf around on the sofa commenting on how fat some celebrity is getting. I am fully engrossed in him for the time he is there. I tell him how cute he is...how funny he is...how smart he is...and how much I love him. And I feel good.

So I've decided (and no, this is not a NY's resolution, as those almost always fail and are easily forgotten) to be Aunt Mallory on a regular basis when Tyler is not around. There's far too much negativity and hate in the world for me to contribute to that.

In other news, I got a fiddle for Christmas. I'm working on it. I now play two instruments, and that brings me great joy.

And...I'm moving to Nashville to go to MTSU in two weeks. Don't tell the children; it will just upset them.


I leave you with this:
Good night, gorgeous.

I'm in the throes of a chest cold.  You have to love chest colds.  No other minor ailment has the overwhelming ability to put a fit young adult on her ass.  My head hurts from coughing; it's difficult to breathe; and I have that back ache that comes with this breed of cold.

I faced a great deal of internal conflict over the holidays.  You see, I had grown quite disgusted with my broadcast journalism major.  The thought of ever ending up with my name somehow attached to some rinky-dink local news program made me throw up a little in my mouth.  So I fixed things.

On Tuesday, I changed my major--a surprisingly simple process.  Now, you can find me in the Anthropology department.  The excitement just wells up inside me every time I think about it, and no, that is not sarcasm. 

My old house is for sale...215K...who wants to buy it for me?

So there's this old saying that you can never go home again.  I'm calling bullshit.  I've been in Jonesboro for two days now and have never felt more at home.  So I'm not at my old house, and my family's not together, but it's really nice.  Kinda like finding that sweatshirt that you should have thrown away years ago.

I started a new weight training program, and I must say I will be kicking tail and taking names soon.  However, I hit a road block early in the training...


Cardio bores me.  As of late, most mornings are far too cold or rainy to risk my health by walking my dear Annie.  Tae Bo puts a great deal of strain on my patience...and the Firm is too hard.  Some days I just want to enjoy my cardio.  So I do what any normal, completely sane, totally acceptable person might do when the cardio blues come 'round.  I bust out the old Britney Spear's CD and shake my bon bon until I sweat like a whore in church.  And as if by magic, I am released from my cardio depression and once again embark on the glory of exercise. 

My sister and I rented "Monster" tonight. Technically, it's a great film. But, man alive, it sucked every bit of happiness right out of me! I think I'll pop an extra 10 mils of prozac tonight :)

As depressing as the flik was, I did enjoy some precious bonding with my nephew. Tyler's now 18 days old...and still perfect. He slept on my chest, making cute baby noises every once in a while. I think we'll keep him.

I registered to vote Thursday. It was phenomenal. I only wish I could vote multiple times. Nothing would make me happier than to get our incompetent President out of the Oval Office. I'm not particularly wild about Kerry, but, quite frankly, the longer Bush stays in office, the greater the chance that a nuclear warhead will land in my back yard. That makes me unhappy.

Dubya and his daddy can go make S'mores and drink Dos Equis outside the Alamo while we pick up the pieces from this disasterous administration.

Wow...it feels good to get that out. I really don't like to talk politics because so many people are passionately ignorant. I don't mind vocal people even if their views are opposite mine. I can't stand loud, uneducated people.

On a lighter note, I bought a gorgeous shirt last night. I've decided I will not wear it until I've lost five pounds. I've got a lot of purging to do :) Jokes....people. I don't do eating disorders. chill.

I've got friends! Yea...Last Saturday, I was privileged to make the acquaintance of Brittany, Billy, and David. We spent most of the day together at the football game and movie-viewing afterward. I guess I'm not as big a loser as I might have hoped.

Even cooler news:

I'm an auntie...James Tyler Moore was born Tuesday night at 8:40. It was fabulous. I stayed out of the room for the delivery; I'm not much for blood and placenta and female nudity. (I've kinda taken the magic out of the childbirth process.)

Tyler weighs 7lbs10oz...he's 21 inches long. They had to use the vacuum sucker thingee to get him out, so he's got a hematoma thing on his head...poor thing.

I can't wait to help him hone his sarcasm.

Boredom crept upon me tonight like some sort of crippled midget with a crank addiction (how politically incorrect was that!?). I set my sights on going to Wal-Mart. My hopes have been dashed, though, because I cannot find an accomplice, and I don't want to move my car.

So I'm stuck in my room.

I'm peeved at Lee because he's not answering his phone. :) At the same time, I am sure he's having a hay day hearing his phone ring...and ring....and ring.

Jordan's brother is over for dinner.

Both Stephanies are too preoccupied to answer their phones.

Amanda's in a staff meeting.

Sarah has homework.

My suite mates are missing.

And my sister still hasn't had the baby.

And I have scrolled through my phone book at least three times in search of someone who might have interesting conversation for me.

It's too early to go to bed, too late to eat (not that I have any food here). I've watched every DVD in my collection too many times to get excited about any of them. I already worked out today. My eyes are too tired from required readings to do any leisure reading.

Life sucks.

I smile because something is funny,
something not happening to me,
for if it were to my demise,
not so funny would it be.

I smile because there is nothing
left in my head to say.
I smile because last night
your girlfriend called you gay.

I smile because you don't know
that I know you know I know
and round and round we will go
until you get bit by a gnome.

I smile because you are ugly
and you show little class
I smile because your shorts
are tucked neatly in the crack of your ass.

I smile because you are angry
that despite your miserable plight,
I can stand here and smile
while you try to start a fight.

I thought you might enjoy an impromptu poem on this fabulous Wednesday. I need a new hobby.

I had this Snoopy Snow Cone Maker when I was younger.  It never worked.  The metal ice shaver packed too little punch when turned by the flimsy plastic handle to actually shave any ice. 

My sister and I would wrestle with the plastic piece of junk all morning, until the ice cream truck rolled melodically into the neighborhood.  I would quickly eat my overpriced ice cream sandwich, licking at the edges as the hot Arkansas sun melted the frozen treat. 

The Snoopy Snow Cone device would be left on the picnic table to bask in the sun and fill up with water from the abandoned ice cubes, too strong to be shaved. 

For some of you, I am sure my extended absence was quite painful.  So I shall explain.

I sold cars...

in Baltimore.