Want to lose your appetite? Read this post.

First of all, consider this line as a warning: you will be grossed out in reading this post. So if you're eating, do yourself a favor and just stop. Stop reading or stop eating. Although I know I'm not a doctor, but pretty sure that you probably shouldn't be doing both.

Okay, then.

To lay the groundwork, you should probably know that my work place is full of complete idiots. It's full of people that ACT like idiots, but I also believe that if you tested our IQ, we wouldn't exactly score highly.

So one of the guys from "The Perilous Puddin' Pig Out" (that has yet to occur) accepted a dare today.

The dare? Eat two fully loaded Qdoba burritos. Fully loaded meant that the burrito had to contain beans, rice, a protein, a salsa, cheese, lettuce, and some sort of liquid-ish topping (queso, sour cream, or guacamole).

One burrito was 1.48 pounds and the other was 1.5 pounds. And he finished both in 28 minutes.

So, I encourage you to think about that. Just think about all of that food filling up your stomach. And think about that the food was THREE POUNDS AND that the sheer volume of the food is pretty substantial.

Just the thought of that has me nauseous.

So the rest of us (the spectators, if you will) started questioning which would be harder to do - eat three pounds of food or drink three pounds of liquid.

So, because we were all having a SCIENCE based discussion, he opted to drink 30 ounces of water too.

The result? He gained 5 AND A HALF POUNDS in 32 minutes.

So think about that. Can you imagine how full he is right about now? Like, if he leaned down to tie his shoes, you KNOW he'd be urping up something.

The worst part is that halfway through his second burrito, he paused, and spit something out into a napkin. Then he calmly walked over to the trash can and threw the napkin away.

When questioned what he did, he said, "Um, I'm pretty sure that was a fingernail."

But remember, I said that he ate two whole burritos. So this means that he found a human fingernail in the burrito AND THEN HE FINISHED IT ANYWAY.

I'll be having nightmares tonight, I'm sure.

And lemme' guess...you've lost your appetite, no?

Technology free weekend

First of all, I want to say how much I appreciate your response to my last post. To be honest, I didn't know so many of you read it on a consistent basis. Somehow it helps knowing that I am being read. So thank you for indulging me.

I'm not sure how I'm going to change things, but there will be changes for sure.

In fact, I was so burnt out about thinking of everything that I didn't look at a computer from Friday when I left work until last night around midnight. I have many emails to respond to, but it felt SO good just being away from it all.

To take it a step further, my iPhone died on Saturday and I didn't get it back up and charged until LATE last night.

It was lovely.

And now, after this weekend, I have more perspective. I gained some great insight from people that I admire and respect and feel like I am re-energized...ready to make the blog happier, funnier, and pantsier.

In other blogging news, I'm debating doing the whole NaBloPoMo thing again - mostly because I apparently like punishing myself. In case you didn't know, NaBloPoMo is "National Blog Posting Month" and the whole idea is to make blogging as painful as possible challenge bloggers to write one post a day.

I did it last year...and while I won't say that it was the most exciting series of posts, it was fun.

I know for sure that I'm going to vow to post at least 5 comments a day on the blogs that I read. I figure everyone can use a little comment love...and I'm vowing to be better about spreading it.

The love, that is. :)

Free to be... you and me

"Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken"
--Oscar Wilde

Last night, I found myself on the phone with a fantastic person. She's actually a friend of my boyfriend's. She is working on a fantastic project - one that I am so lucky to be a part of. And through us talking about the project, we've actually gotten to know each other better. And guess what? She's kind of my friend too now. I am SO lucky. :)

Anyway, during the phone conversation, we talked quite a bit about blogs.

I told her that I'm struggling. I'm struggling with blogging. I'm struggling with having two blogs. This one and Smaller Fun Pants.

There. I said it.

She asked why I started blogging and I told her it was mainly to keep in touch with people. I started by writing about my day to day life. And I get a kick out of making people laugh. Wait...I really get a kick out of making people laugh.

I love blogging. I love sharing my thoughts and I love being able to comment on other people's blogs. It's like a mini-community where you can bounce thoughts and ideas off of people. It's fun!

But I think that the people that used to read my blog, don't anymore. And that makes me sad. I wonder if I've offended people. I wonder if I've turned off people with my language or with my content. I wonder if everyone's comments are down or if it's just mine.

At the same time, I realize that I have a responsibility - one that I've been slacking in. I think I'm not as good about commenting as I once was - especially on the people's blogs that got me interested in blogging iin the first place. And I hate that...because I know that it is HARD to blog when you feel like next to no one out there is reading and/or liking what you post.

Believe me, I know. So I'm vowing to do something about it. I'm vowing to comment more - on the blogs where I know the bloggers personally and on the blogs where I lurk.

I was asked by this new friend what my favorite blog was... and I thought about all of my favorite bloggers out there. My favorites are the ones that seem authentic. They're the ones that seem like they blog about their lives - they pull me in, they make me laugh or they make me think about things in a different way. They write what they want to write and let the chips fall where they may.

THAT is the blogger I want to be. And THAT is the blog I want to have.

So there may be some changes around here. Because I want to continue to make you laugh and make your day a tad more fun. But I also want to be able to blog about other stuff that may not be so funny. I want to be my own authentic self. Because, as the quote says, everyone else is already taken.

But I'm hoping that through these changes, you'll love me anyway.

You will love me anyway, right?

Right?

10 things you probably didn't know about me...

A few weeks ago, my blogging friend, POD, made a list of 10 things that we probably didn't know about her. I commented it on the list and what did I get for that? Tagged to do the same list.

The "award" is actually called the "Honest Scrap" award and, as legend has it, was intended to have the person receiving the award to write 10 honest scraps of information about them. Also anyone reading it must immediately send $5 to the blogger that they're reading. Don't go back and look at POD's blog. Trust me on this one.

Anyway, to me, if you rush your words together (as I am wont to do), it sounds like the award is "Honest Crap." And really? It basically has the same outcome.

So, without further ado, 10 honest things that you didn't know about me:

1) I like lists. Like a lot. It may be because I feel more sane when they're around. It may be because I love scratching off things that I have completed - because sometimes in my life I feel that I haven't completed much. I'm not sure why, but proclaiming my love for lists seemed to be a good way to ease both you and me into this award.

2) I loved math workbooks as a kid. As in, my mom would take us to the store and they used to have math workbooks with a picture of a kid on it and I would get excited because IT MEANT I GOT TO PRACTICE MATH.

The kid on the workbook had his hand raised. The name of the workbook was something like "Who wants to get beaten up after school?" ANYWAY, inside the workbook was a bunch of math problems that were age appropriate. I loved these and begged for them when we went to the store because I loved to do math problems as a kid.

I think that's when my parents still thought that I might actually turn out to BE somebody someday.

3) Several years ago I went to go see a psychic in El Paso. She told me that I would meet the love of my life within the next few years. According to her, he would be older than me and his name would begin with a 'J.'

I'M NOT KIDDING.

Unfortunately, for all involved, right after the trip, I met a guy named Jon, who was older than me and who turned out to NOT be the love of my life.

I may burn down that place when I visit there again.

Then again, I think Josh Schmernsberger is a few months older than me...

4) I may or may not be allergic to radishes. I always remember being allergic to them, but when I mentioned it to my mom recently, she was all, "Uh...not so much." So it may be something that I think is true because I told myself that it was true a ton of times. I can see myself not liking the taste when I was little and then becoming convinced that I'm allergic to them. Tell that story a billion times and guess what? I became allergic to radishes. Maybe.

The thing is, since I'm not sure, I definitely don't want to try one. So as far as you're concerned, I'm allergic to radishes. Probably. Or not.

5) Have you ever heard someone say that they worked in a fast food place so much when they were younger that they can't even LOOK at (insert name of restaurant's food here) without getting sick?

How about the people that say that they ate so much of one type of food, got sick, and now they can't have it any more because it makes them nauseous?

Yeah. I'm not that person.

6) I just googled something that my mom actually DID say that I was allergic to when I was a kid. She used to tell teachers and friends that I couldn't have any of it. Only when I just read what the symptoms are for being allergic to it, I found out that they're bad symptoms.

Like it's all "Oh, is your kid setting fire to your dog? They might have a sensitivity to..." and then they listed the food.

I thought all I got was headaches and stomachaches but according to the interwebs, I also stayed in bed and sprayed what looked like split pea soup everywhere out of my mouth as my head was spinning.

Wow. I don't know how to deal with that so instead I'll say that apparently I had "behavioral problems" as a kid that may or may not be related to food sensitivities.

7) On a lighter note, the scene from "Shrek" where Prince Farquad is torturing the Gingerbread Man about where the Muffin Man lives makes me giggle every time. And when the Gingerbread Man screams "Not the buttons! Not my gumdrop buttons!" I laugh. Sometimes I laugh so hard, I cry.

Wow. Having that follow #6, doesn't exactly make me sound more sane. To clarify, I laugh because it's a rhyme that someone is being silly about NOT because something is getting tortured.

8) I like mittens. I like mittens a lot. And I wish that more people saw them as an appropriate item of clothing for people over 30. Sometimes I feel silly when I wear them around other people because I recognize that it's not grown up.

But then I turn them to the side, realize all over again that they sort of look like whales (when I'm wearing them and moving my thumb), giggle, and go on with my life. Because apparently, I'll act grown up about a lot of things - as long as I don't have to give up my mittens while doing so.

9) I have a daisy tattoo on my body. I thought that it would be so beautiful and awesome. I mean, I LOVE daisies!

In reality, the guy that did it, didn't do a good job. I went to have someone else "fix" it and although she clearly made it better, it doesn't look like something I'd ever look at and then be all "THAT! I want THAT on my body for the rest of my life."

I'd like to say that I turned it into something all powerful. Like I could say "That tattoo now stands for how I will stand up for myself and tell someone that I don't want what they think I want." But I still can't say that. Instead, I'm a little sad when I see it.

The thing is, it's on a part of my body that I only see occasionally. So sometimes it still takes me by surprise when I see it. I forget that it's there, realize it's there, get a little sad that it's not what I envisioned, and then remember that I had better get in the shower before I am late for work again. And so I hop in the shower and forget that I have it - at least for another day.

10) I absolutely positively don't like all-encompassing definitive statements.

And in case you're wondering, that's 100% true.

Oh, and also? I'm not tagging you if you leave a comment. Unless you want to be tagged. In which case, I'm TOTALLY picking you and I want to know about your 10 things too.

In a word? Twitterpated

So, I've been trying to come up with a few typical Fun Pants style posts all day. But no matter how much I tried to write a snarky, silly, or even goofy post, I can't.

Instead, my head is filled with gushing, sugary sweet, romanticized, and overly optimistic thoughts about my boyfriend and our relationship.

In fact, I completely unloaded my gushings via email on an unsuspecting person (that I barely KNOW!) in response to a casual and innocent question. She has no idea what she's about to read and I almost feel bad. Because when she opens that email, what's going to leap out are prancing unicorns, gum drop sunsets, and the smells of Strawberry Shortcake dolls.

I would feel bad or guilty if I wasn't too busy feeling so good. I didn't know that it could feel like this much fun AND be emotionally healthy.

It's wonderful.

It's bliss.

So, in short, I'll try to be my normal non-twitterpated self tomorrow.

But until then, I'll be over here - sighing dreamily.

Admit it, you have "Dream Weaver" playing in your head too

About 1 minute before I left work on Wednesday afternoon, I checked my email.

And that's when I found that JOSH HERNSBERGER (aka my 4th grade crush) left a comment on the last post that I talked about him.

If you're new here, I'm begging you to click here to read the back story...because is important.

It's okay, you can go. I'll wait.

SO, did you notice the comments at the bottom of it?

Josh Hernsebrger wrote (and I quote):

Sue you? Are you kidding? I was giving the link to everyone I know so that
they would know how awesome I was back in the 4th grade.

And I laughed so hard that I think I peed a little.

So I called my friend turleybenson up to tell her that her ex-boyfriend (look, apparently they dated for a whole 3 weeks in the 6th grade) commented on my blog. And then we laughed so hard on the phone that I think I heard her pee a little. What? She may or may not be a loud urinator.

Basically, I think it's frickin' AWESOME that he commented back.

So I got the idea to write him a quick message on Facebook to basically say "thanks for not being a douche canoe" or something sweet like that. Also, I don't know if he knows who I am. I mean, we had several classes together and all, but I don't ever say what my last name is on this blog and also? I look a little different than I did in 4th grade. Because in 4th grade I sort of looked like a mongoloid. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT.

ANYWAY, I couldn't find him on Facebook. And he was no longer a friend suggestion. So I remembered a friend of mine (on FB) that *is* a friend of his so I clicked through to send him a message:

===========start of message===============

Hi there,

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I am the person who has written about you and the innocent crush from 25 years ago.

I actually signed onto Facebook because I wanted to send you a quick message to say thanks for being very cool and understanding about the whole blog thing. I would've written that you were being a "good sport" but I think that phrase is still reserved for use by people that are old - and I'm not ready to be old yet.

When I got onto Facebook, I couldn't find you at first - I mean, you weren't searchable and you were no longer in my friend suggestions. Around then is when I felt like a stalker for the first time in my life.* But like any GOOD stalker, I went ahead and continued to push through adversity. :) And then, it occurred to me that my writing about you may have made you want to
hide your identity somehow. And if that's the case, I want to tell you how sorry I am.

So basically, I wanted to say hi, to thank you for having a sense of humor about everything, to assure you that I'm very happy with my boyfriend, and to ask if you want me to take down the posts - or perhaps change your name to Josh Schmernsberger or maybe just "Josh H." I mean, the last thing that I wanted to do was to make your life more difficult in any way.

So if you feel comfortable, let me know if I've offended you in any way and how I can best rectify that... and I will go about doing so.

Oh, and this might be a bit overdue, but I'm hoping the last 14 years have treated you well.

:),
Anne

*Because that's pretty much the first time I've stalked someone on the internet...not because I've done it but never FELT like a stalker before.

And also? Come on...is "Dream Weaver" even playing a LITTLE bit in your head?

===============and scene!=============================

It's two days later and still no response.

I can only assume that the lack of response is because he is selling all his earthly possessions and trying to move to Denver - with the song "Dream Weaver" playing in his head every time he thinks about me.

And if that's true, I get to say to him that I'm very flattered, but that I feel like there just isn't that spark that was there in the 4th grade. Sure, he'll probably cry, plead, and maybe grab onto my pantlegs as I walk away. But I'll be firm with him. I'll tell him that he simply must try to forget my magnificence. Will it be tough? Undoubtedly. But he'll find a way to survive. And then dramatically, I'll walk away. And I won't look back...even though I can hear him sobbing.

Cue "Dream Weaver" one last time...

UPDATED: Okay, maybe "Dream Weaver" won't be playing in the background at the end. Maybe it'll be Hall and Oates "She's Gone" instead. Yes. That would be more perfecter.

UPDATED #2: I feel like I should still repay Josh for the blog fodder that he's given me. But since he clearly doesn't want to communicate with me about this, I can repay him the only way I know how:

Josh Schmernsberger is a fantastic and satisfying lover. He has a big penis. He is also very handy and knows how to fix everything. It's like he's McGuyver, Chuck Norris, The Dog Whisperer, and Dirk Diggler all rolled up into one. Anyone he's with is SOOO lucky to have him. Also he's really kind to his mom.

See Josh? YOU'RE WELCOME.

UPDATED #3: Everyone can breathe a sigh of relief. I do believe I'm done with the whole Josh Schmernsberger thing. YOU'RE WELCOME.

UPDATED #4: Alright, so seriously? The formatting on this post is horrible. I don't know what happened and I apologize to you if it's all wonky. I tried to fix it, but I can't. If only Josh Schmernsberger were here...

UPDATED #5: Just so we're clear, I totally Google myself. In fact, I totally do this more often than my own breast exams. Which reminds me, October is "Feel Your Boobies" month. So feel 'em.

Steadfast, revisited

I never do this.

I never go back to posts from one year ago to try to see what was going on in my life.

But today I decided to search through my archives to find three good posts for a project that I'm nominating myself for.

One of my favorite posts of all time WAS posted a year ago. The title of the post and the picture in question is "Steadfast."

I went back and read it and am amazed at how I still feel the same way. I'm also relieved to realize that it's not as much of a struggle to just BE as it was at this time last year.

I'm so blessed. I'm blessed to have a group of friends (both via the interwebs and in "real" life) that love me for who I am. I'm so lucky to have a family that is constantly trying to heal itself and are supportive of my efforts to make myself a better version of me. And I'm happy that in this time of my life that I'm dating someone who seems to genuinely like me for me.

All of that support makes it easier to be the rock that I am. I know now I that I could do it by myself...but I also know that having their support and encouragement makes my goals seem more attainable and any static in the line less noisy.

This year, I'm realizing that the rush of the water isn't as fierce as it could've been...especially since I have the support and foundation of those around me.

So in case I don't say it enough, thank you.

Her cackles raise my hackles

We've basically got two receptionists where I work - although both of them would rather light you on fire than admit that that's their job. One has the title of "Inside Sales Support" where she does nothing to actually help us. Unless checking her Facebook status and talking on the phone to her boyfriend is helping someone that I may not be aware of.

The lady that answers the phones all day has decided that her title should be "Office Purchasing." I don't really get that because we don't need to purchase another office. If she's referring to the fact that she does the purchasing for the office supplies, then I don't really get that either...seeing as how it took me 6 months to get a ruler. But that's another story.

So the "Inside Sales Support" lady has this laugh that grates on my nerves. It's like a cross between an evil laugh (think "Buh-wah-ha-ha-ha") and a giggle (where it's fast). She laughs a lot. And loudly.

I also laugh loudly and a lot...so most days I *try* to be understanding.

But some days, like today, I just want to hit her in the head with the lid to a toilet tank.*


*That was from a scene from "Zombieland." I'm not usually that violent. :)

Reason #253 why I like my boyfriend

Today, I got an email from him that said that I would like this site:

http://isnickelbacktheworstbandever.com/

See? How could I *not* like him?

Also, I heart that site. :) Because in case you're new here, I do *not* heart that band.

MILK!

I live in Denver...and we have a major league baseball team called the Rockies here.


I've never been a baseball fan...which kind of sucks. Because really, I'd like to think that I could get behind any sport that allows (or encourages) you to drink beer while watching it. It's just that when I start to watch it, I usually find myself drifting off to sleep within about 2.5 seconds. Even if I'm at the ballpark, I just can't get excited about what is going on to want to stay awake.


I did go to a baseball game with my friend Jon a few years ago when I was in St. Louis. We had a great time in box seats and I even got to see a guy get beaned with a baseball on the side of his head. And let me be clear here, I'm not condoning having a horrible injury. I mean, that would suck a lot. I'm just saying, I was there when it happened.


Anyway, the Rockies are apparently in some sort of playoffs with the Phillies. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but it seems that there are about fifty bazillion games during the season and then eventually there are 3 different playoff bracket things. I think we're in the Division Playoffs right now. Next is the Championship Playoffs, which doesn't make much sense to me because the winners of those aren't the champions.


Because what comes after that is the World Series - even though it doesn't involve any other teams in the world. But again, baseball doesn't exactly make sense to me.


So anyway, a couple of guys at work are listening to the game on a stereo that is aimed at their cubes in the office (i.e. a boom box that is propped up on a chair in the hallway, powered by a 180 ft. extension cord).


And that's when I mentioned that I used to date a pitcher of a baseball team. It's true! I did. And just because I don't want to have another Josh Hernsberger situation on my hands, I'll just say that his last name is Loudermilk.

That's right.

As in "MILK!!!!!!" which is clearly louder than just "milk."

So the guys are shouting "MILK!" in my general direction - which really takes away from:
a) my ability to actually *do* my job
2) anyone else's ability to listen to the game
iii) my will to live.

It does, however, make me glad that that relationship didn't work out; that's probably a name I'd rather be without.

Please send bail money

So this morning, I received a call at work. The man on the other end of the phone is Bill. Bill is a customer of ours and I have talked several times during the last two and a half years. Bill and I have swapped emails on work related stuff...where in my signature it indicates that I'm an engineer.

I AM AN ENGINEER.

So Bill works for a company that is now handled by a different engineer in our office. He's the same guy that gets bitten by vampire wannabes, doesn't know what platonic means, and has the Jackass Award on his desk more often than anyone else in our office. He's a nice guy and all, but...

Anyway, Bill calls up and apparently doesn't realize who he's talking to. He says, "So, you're [the guy I mentioned above]'s secretary, right?"

So I say, "Well, that'd be news to me."

He says, "Oh, well then are you just helping him out?"

I say, "He's on vacation until Monday. What can I do for you, Bill?"

And then I helped him even though I kind of wanted to beat him with a chicken pounder thingie (I happen to have one in my purse).* Not because there is anything wrong with being a secretary. Some of the most powerful and apt people I know are admin assistants. It's that he ASSUMED that I was a secretary. It's that kind of pig-headed crap that frustrates me. And to be my inept co-worker's secretary? UGH. It's like pouring lemon juice over a papercut.**

Besides, does anyone even CALL them secretaries any more?

I thought that it was kind of funny and a little obnoxious. I wrote an email to Joe telling him about it. I made a joke about me possibly needing to be bailed out of jail for an ALLEGED homicide.

A few hours later, Joe calls and says things like "Well, once you're done with the filing..." and "Could you be a dear and get me a cup of coffee?" and stuff like that. To be clear, he's doing it not because he believes it, but because he thinks he's funny.

I kept telling him that he is NOT funny.

But then he thinks of a new line, says it, and follows up with this giggle...this wonderfully silly laugh that I can't help but smile at. So then I giggle. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

(sigh)

So, to catch you up, I may or may not need a cake with a file baked in it. And my time in prison may or may not be due to me maiming Bill and/or Joe.



* That's because Kris read this post and gave me one. Isn't that sweet??
**A papercut that I would NOT have gotten from filing thankyouverymuch.

Cutco clearly has ties to the CIA

YEARS ago, my little sister had a job selling Cutco. You know, the knives that are super sharp? She would do in home presentations - including one that involved cutting a penny with her super sharp scissors. I'm not quite sure what that had to do with my culinary skills...but then again, I suppose I'd actually have to *have* culinary skills to compare it with.

At any rate, at the time that she sold it to me, I was in college. Since then, I have moved eight or nine times - in three different states.

And yet, I still get spam from them via email and home brochures. EVERY TIME.

I'll I'm saying is that if I ever am missing, contact Cutco. I have full confidence that they could find me.

Can you see me now?

The last two weeks, I've taken a boxing class at my gym. I was looking for a way to mix up my cardio and to do something fun besides just running. The boxing class is fun, it's a great way to get out any stress I have, and I leave there knowing that I put in a great workout.

But my instructor - who wears ripped shirts and boxing gloves - even though none of the rest of us do - has a REALLY weird habit.

He closes his eyes when he's addressing the class.

Like, not all the time, but if he's going to be talking for a minute or two, he doesn't look at us. They're closed during pretty much the whole time...and then every now and again, he'll open his eyes for a second - only to close them again immediately. Kind of like reverse blinking.

It's weird.

And I'd think that if he's used to being a boxer that he'd know that the best chance of not being hit would be to actually LOOK at your opponent.

WEIRD.

LiveSTRONG Day (aka cancer can suck it)

Today is LiveSTRONG Day - the anniversary of when Lance Armstrong was diagnosed with cancer. It is also my virtual friend, POD's, cancer diagnosis anniversary...and she asked some of us to blog about how cancer has affected our lives.

You should probably know now that I hate cancer. I hate what it does to people - those that have it and those that support others with it.

There are more than three people in my life that have had cancer, but I'm choosing only three to write about today because each of their stories still manage to affect my life.

The first is my uncle. Now I've only had one uncle in my lifetime and to say that Ray and I were close would be a lie. I hardly knew him. In fact, I hardly knew my aunt and my cousin. So you may be asking yourselves how an uncle that I barely knew could affect my life? It's because he was the first person that I knew that was diagnosed with cancer. Ray was a proud man - who seemed to me to be proud of the fact that he could provide for my aunt and my cousin. He seemed to know what was best in any situation - present him with a problem and poof! he'd know how to fix it.

But Ray couldn't fix cancer.

They got some of the best doctors involved and at first we were hopeful. But in the end, cancer stripped my uncle of parts of his mouth, parts of his face, parts of his throat, and undoubtedly parts of his self-worth. Ray was a fighter - and he fought until the bitter, bitter end. I like to think that he still wanted to hang on - to keep providing for my aunt. He died in 2001. Since they lived in Michigan, I didn't visit them until the funeral but I sent cards often (my aunt seems to be a pretty private person) to let them know that I was thinking of them and praying for them. I hope my uncle knows that we all loved him.

The second person that has affected my life was a friend from my church in El Paso. Her name was Becky Rood. When I was growing up, going to church wasn't an option. We simply had to do it. And Becky had the most beautiful voice. She always sang the harmonies to the songs and I like to think that that's how she was in her life. She supported the main songs that were sung in the same way that she seemed to support people.

When I was a teenager and things were rocky at best in my home life, I remembered being at church for the Wednesday Lent Service. I remembered feeling SO alone before I walked into that church. I remembered asking God if anyone would even notice if I was gone - did anyone even notice me at all? And then, in the middle of the service, Becky leaned over the pew separating us and said, "You have such beautiful hair. I love sitting behind you. I'm so glad you're here." Somehow those words were enough. You can call it a coincidence - and that's fine with me. But I know that it was God signing the main tune - and her picking up the harmonies.

Becky was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago and she passed away this past year. Since that time at church, I've kept in touch with her - and her husband, Tom - two of the nicest, most genuine people in the world. Every time I came home to visit, I always looked forward to catching up with them. I loved Becky and I still tear up when I think about how I won't get to hear her again.

And now we come to my friend Rex, the third person. Rex was my friend long before we dated. To say that Rex is stubborn is like saying that ice cream is kind of good - it's an understatement by far. He worked in a hospital in a high level position and one day came home to tell me that a co-worker told him that he should really get a spot that was on his head/face looked at. To her, it looked like it could be cancer. Did he do it right then? Why no. Because that would be SANE. Instead, he took his own sweet time (aka a LONG TIME LATER) getting it checked out. And when he FINALLY did, the doctor agreed - it was cancer. I don't remember the levels and I don't remember the stage, but I do remember telling my dad (who is a doctor) what those numbers were and my dad said that it was definitely not good. Melanoma is never good.

Of course, at this time, I was madly in love with him and didn't want him to die, even if he did hog the covers some nights. In the end, the surgeon removed the entire area and was thankfully able to get clean margins - which means that he got it all.

You may be thinking "What is the big deal? If he got it all out at the time, then was it really traumatic?" And if you asked me that, I would actually consider getting a shovel and hitting you over the head with that. Mostly because Rex wasn't telling me if there were clean margins - he wasn't telling me what the surgeons were telling him - and I, of course, assumed the worst. He wanted his space - which meant, of course, that I wanted no space at all. It sucked.

Today, Rex is fine and although I don't have any recent data, I assume he still steals the covers most days. I am so thankful that the person at the hospital approached him - telling him that he needed to get it checked out. If she hadn't have done that, I might've had a very different story to tell today. Because she said something and because Rex finally went to go see someone, I have a great friend today. I don't know what I would do without him - as he is very much a major component of my support structure and has been for almost a decade.

I decided to tell all three stories for various reasons, but what I encourage people to do is to get checked out something that doesn't seem or feel right. If you're prone to moles or spots, see a dermatologist. For the women, get your yearly PAP smears and do your monthly breast exams. Early detection is SO important and knowledge IS power.

Lastly, POD is having a giveaway on her blog for various Lance Armstrong Foundation items...all you have to do is comment on her blog from today and you are entered. It's even an official LiveSTRONG thing!

What cries and is white with brown all over?

Possibly me.

I'm wearing a white v-neck sweater. It's really cute. It has longer sleeves which make me feel petite and little. Also, it shows off that I have boobs. Today they even look perky!

But I'm sleepy today...so I'm drinking tea. Tea that is brown.

And I swear, if I spill it on me, I will cry like a teenage girl at a Jonas Brother concert.