One of the most amazing things happened this morning. I walked downstairs from my apartment and stood beneath a large tree in the yard beside the spring-fed creek some 30 feet from my door. There was a small rustling just over my right shoulder, and I turned to find an interested squirrel sizing me up and slowly but surely making her way closer to me. I stood watching this beautiful, little creature crawl toward me, occasionally raising up on her hind legs to casually investigate me and any potential danger I might pose.

With each step she took toward me, my eyes grew bigger and full of disbelief until the squirrel was close enough to sniff my pants. Every few minutes, she'd walk out a couple feet from me for a broader view and then return to within six inches of my legs. I carefully got down into a seated position on the ground, and at one point, I thought she might actually jump onto my lap, she was so captivated by me. Even when I slowly got up and walked back to my apartment to retrieve some leftover mixed nuts, she only scampered out maybe three feet.

Once I procured my peace offering, I sat in the grass and tossed bits of pecan and other assorted nuts a couple feet out, and without any real hesitation, she picked up the treats in her paws and began whittling them down to nothing with her teeth in a matter of seconds. Another squirrel decided to hang out at a safer distance and found one of the larger nuts I'd thrown further out. He'd had his fill of snacking for the day and instead, proceeded to bury his newly found treasure in the grass, covering it with spongy-looking, dried, flowery tree droppings. The whole encounter was absolutely mesmerizing, and while I couldn't get enough of it, in the back of my mind, I could hear Margy saying "Squirrels are just glorified rodents. No way!"

I got to talk some with my downstairs neighbor Charlie. Apparently, the guy who lived here before me wasn't quite as friendly or considerate (much like my luck way back when with the "dogshit guy" at my last place.). Also, I found out Charlie knows one of my co-workers at the spa. Small world, eh? And she gave me a few more clippings from one of her plants, so I planted them, trimmed up some of my own plants, and watered everything. After that, I sat outside on the balcony and read for a while.

...So far, today's been one of the best days I've had in a long time.

So, it seems that in weather most of the country would call August (Texans call it late Spring), I'm well on my way to developing a farmer tan...on my left arm. Apparently, working the PM shift at a spa located northwest from my apartment means the sun is almost always shining on my left side on the way to work. Those who get to see me in person, please note the crispier looking (yes, that's right. I said crispier.), golden hair on the left arm. You know, this might explain why I haven't written many blogs lately. The right side of my brain has been deficient of sunshine. It's not just laziness after all!

Over the last five months, I've said goodbye to the evil, life-sucking chiropractic office and have since been working full-time at Lake Austin Spa Resort. Things are going really well. So well, in fact, that I'm now in the land of the insured. Yes, ladies and gents, I can go to the doctor when I'm sick and not have to run screaming and tearing my hair out when they give me the bill.

For the first time...ever, things are coming together for me. I'm making more money at the spa which allows me to envision a foreseeable end to my debt. Don't get me wrong, it's still way off, but I can at least see a tiny glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. I am also very lucky to be with one of the most amazing women ever! Not only is Margy absolutely breathtaking, but she's highly intelligent, she makes me laugh more than I ever thought possible, and for some strange reason, she loves me. *sigh*

On a very opposite and irritating final note, for some unGODLY reason, I've had Kamoze Ini's "Here Comes the Hotstepper" running through my head all afternoon. What the h?!

Over the last month, my absence from the blog and life in general has been filled with the packing and unpacking of my belongings, paying unsubstantiated amounts of money to multiple third parties with latex-gloved fingers smeared with vasoline, and working my ass off to help ease the discomfort brought on by said multiple third parties. Unfortunately, they forgot the vasoline. Despite the awkward chafing (is there really any other kind?), I feel right at home in my new digs. Not only do I have more space, but I'm by one of the greenbelts and I'm living it up in south austin...more specifically, Casa Maria's.

Casa Maria's. It deserves its own paragraph, it's that good. To date, this is quite possibly the best mexican food restaurant I've been to (...tied only with Juan in a Million. Tough call.). Nummy breakfast tacos...check. Migas?...there are no others. Bakery?...oh, my god. If they'd let me, I'd be their new spoke's person. South First and St. Elmo. Go now before I devour all their delicioso food.

The other day, I passed an elderly gentleman on I35 who was driving 40 miles an hour. 40 miles an hour!! Sure, the geriatric population tends to be a little more cautious than most while operating a moving vehicle, but this seemed a little extreme, especially considering the posted speed limit on this particular stretch of highway was 70mph. The most comforting part of the story I discovered when I pulled along side the man. I imagined seeing both his hands securely gripping the steering wheel in the 10 and 2 o'clock positions, but no. While one hand was steering the vehicle, the other one held a cell phone approximately six inches from the man's face so he could see what he was texting someone. That's certainly a new one for the Grampy Patrol* log books.

On a final note: Jason Castro got booted from Idol. Bout f'in time!

i don’t get many things right the first time

in fact, i am told that a lot

now i know all the wrong turns,

the stumbles and falls brought me here.

and where was i before the day

that i first saw your lovely face

now i see it everyday

and i know

that i am, i am

i am the luckiest

what if i’d been born

fifty years before you

in a house

on the street where you live

maybe i’d be outside

as you passed on your bike

would i know?

and in a wide sea of eyes

i’d see one pair that i recognize

and i know

that i am, i am

i am the luckiest

i love you more than i have

ever found a way to say to you

next door

there’s an old man

who lived to his nineties

and one day passed away in his sleep

and his wife, she stayed

for a couple of days and passed away

i’m sorry i know that’s a

strange way to tell you that i know

we belong

that i know

that i am, i am

i am the luckiest

--written by ben folds

A lot of things have happened over the last few weeks, and I apologize for my tardiness in informing most of you. The biggest news...I gave my notice at the chiropractor a week and a half ago! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, after a year and a half of being promised better things and instead treated like crap, I am leaving the doctors behind. As of next Tuesday, I'll officially be full-time at the spa. What does this entail, you ask? Double, almost triple what I make at the chiropractor (plus, my taxes are taken out!), health benefits, and less bullshit.

The only downside to leaving is that Karen will be left in my wake, and I'm sure the doctors won't waste any time dumping all my admin responsibilities in her lap. That's what they do best. It's funny, though, because they've already had a slight wake up call where she is concerned. Dr. H. walked into the office and found the craigslist job search on Karen's monitor while she was in the back office. That very same day and completely out of character, he gave her a $100 gift certificate for shoes (which she could totally use!). I told her she needs to leave a copy of her resume on the desk and see what happens.

The second bit o' news is that I signed the lease for my new apartment. The move date is April 4, and money willing, I won't be bugging any of you to assist me in this strenuous task if I can afford movers. Cross your fingers.

...And last, but most definitely not least...Margy was here this weekend, and a certain complicated situation got a lot more fun and even more wonderfully intense. The bad thing is that the weekend's over and the physical miles between us are back.

...I miss her.

Apparently, someone's guilty pleasure, "Laird of the Mist", isn't worth admitting. The book still sits on my nightsta-- *cough* *cough* I mean atop my printer in the livingroom. Second chance...any takers?

The countdown begins. In seven days, Margy, my really good friend from mississippi who now lives in seattle ;), will be here!! We haven't seen each other in almost 13 years, so I'm pretty excited to see her! It's amazing...despite the amount of time we spend on the phone, it feels like we'll never catch up...but I'm looking forward to trying.

Additionally, I'll get to meet her son, although, it feels like we've already met. He's a wonderfully incredible kid who's brilliant beyond his seven years.

On a final note, I'd like to send out good thoughts to Margy and the boy tonight. They're testing for their yellow belts in taekwondo. DO IT!

Are there words that, for whatever reason when used to describe you, just make you cringe? One of my trigger words is "sweet". It's a word cast from the best of intentions, but when fired and cooled, it can still cut through you like nothing else.

There have been several occasions recently where my...accomplice in a complicated situation told me I was sweet, and while I know she means it in the sincerest of ways, my heart still hears, "you're the nicest, sweetest person I've ever been with, but I'm no longer in love with you." How is it that a bad memory can make me feel so pigeonholed by a word of endearment that I can't take it at face value?

Despite the stormy cloud of darkness over my "sweet" demeanor, don't misunderstand me. I'm not requesting it never be spoken aloud to me ever again. It's simply a cry for help...help to recondition my spirit.

Is anyone missing a trashy romance novel? I discovered one in the backseat of my car today while waiting for my butter burger in the Culver's drive-thru. Mmm...butter burger. Wait a minute -- the book! It's titled "Laird of the Mist". Apparently, "They call him The Devil, but his kiss is heaven." If you are brave enough to admit your guilty pleasure, come forth and claim thy prize! In the meantime, I'll just be flippin to the slutty parts.

To continue the thread from my last entry, the Lost season 4 premiere met all my expectations and created new ones. My only disappointment was that the actual new footage was not two hours as the commercials led me to believe. The first hour was a recap but still beneficial to watch.

For the last month and a half, I've been working at the spa. It's a nice change of pace and environment. I still fumble around from time to time, but I'm learning the ropes and trying to remember the names of the 50 million other therapists (this one is not an easy task, and some of them wear name tags!).

The extra money the spa affords me will definitely come in handy this month. It seems I went over my cell phone minutes a little bit...295 minutes over to be exact. Most of it was talking to Margy, since we talk almost every day and can't NOT talk for several hours at a time. It's only fair that I had to pay $200 more phone bill this go around, though. She went over by about the same amount last month.

My eyeballs feel thick and coated with shag carpet. Cedar has not been kind to me, especially this last weekend. Oy. Today was the first day back to the regular grind. Despite having to go to work, it was nice being around people again. My weekend wasn't a total loss to sickness, though. I flexed my tv watching muscles, wrote a good bit and depressed the cushions of my comfy chair a whole lot wid my body.

Starr and Liz should be arriving shortly. We're watching the Lost 3rd season finale tonight, and then tomorrow night, it's all about the 4th season premiere at their place! Hells yeah! Heeeeh!

The crusade to rot my brain on tasty television continues and has apparently just been kicked up a notch. Not only am I already watching several shows on DVD (thanks to netflix and good friends), but I just agreed to two more series marathons with someone. At this point, I think it's safe to say I'll soon be a diagnosed TV diabetic.

Now, some of you might say, "But, Alison, you're going to get plump and swollen via lack of movement from the futon." No no no. I'm still working out, jogging, and as of Sunday...kayaking! My guts and muscles are still reeling from that one, but I had an amazing time and can't wait to go again. While I continue to lose weight, I am gaining muscle, and it will only be a matter of time before I'm a beefcake. Watch out. American Gladiators, here I come! (aaaand...shout-out to sandi.)

And in case you were curious, the phrase of the day is...health biscuit.

Saturday marked the first time in I don't know how long that I've stepped foot in a gym. It also marked the re-education of my muscles to that achey pain the day after. Oy. If someone told me it's impossible for every muscle in my body to hurt all at once, I'd call them a liar.

I also decided to start jogging again. Sunday, I took off through the neighborhood close to my apartment with my shin splints not too far behind. Despite the annoying, painful leg issue (which will hopefully be remedied soon), it was beautiful weather to be out in. Gotta love Texas in December.

It's done. Jen came to town last week to get the rest of her stuff and Slug. It feels empty and a little lonely without him around. It's also nice, though. I no longer have to feed or medicate him at certain times of the day. The furniture doesn't grow a layer of hair several times a week. I don't have to burn incense after he craps out a stinky duck turd in the litter box and doesn't cover it up (just so you know, Slug is on a special duck diet. He doesn't actually crap ducks.).

The difference in Cleo is astounding. Toward the end, she grew more adversarial with Slug as well as became more territorial with regards to the litter box (at least I hope that's what it was and that she doesn't have a UTI). She's now more relaxed, her coat looks healthier, softer and she's not all up in my face vying for any attention I might give Slug. Bonus: her food can stay on the floor all the time now.

* * *

Just when I think the doctors couldn't be any lower on the employer/human being chain, they manage to prove me wrong again. In this installment, it seems that Karen and I are the most ungrateful employees who completely take advantage of the doctors and their enormous generosity.

When they treat us to lunch or dinner (which is very rare), Karen and I allegedly just sit mute, staring at everyone around the table, unwilling to contribute any conversation, and at no time do we offer thanks or a semblance of gratitude. Boolchit! The allegations continue.

Working in a chiropractic office, we get adjusted for free. This is definitely a perk and one for which we are very grateful. Supposedly, though, Karen and I are bastard people and never thank Dr. H for adjusting us. WRONG! We don't like asking Dr. H to work on us because his job is physically demanding and he occasionally has back issues himself, but if we're hurting, we ask. Because he sees so many patients a day, we know he probably doesn't feel up to adding us to the list, so we always thank him afterward.

--Initially, I thought the doctors would be great people to work for, so I agreed to a pay cut with the promise that it'd be bumped back up once they settled into the practice and started doing well. To date, the practice is very successful and my pay has gone unchanged. Additionally, the doctors have cut my hours. Honestly, I'm quite surprised they haven't gone back on their verbal agreement, like so many others, to give me no less than 35 hours a week (the absolute minimum I need to make ends meet).

--When I began working for them, I left a job that gave me full benefits. I asked the doctors if benefits would be available to me. Not at first, they said, but they'd work on getting them for me and the rest of the office. Statement translated: they had one of our patients, an insurance rep, give us a medical questionnaire on our overall health, what we were looking for in coverage, and how much we were able to spend out of pocket each month. When all was said and done, we found out that we would be solely responsible for our own medical coverage (an amount three times what I could afford), and the doctors wouldn't flip any of the bill. To date, I am still without insurance. Oh, wait...they did get us dental insurance...that we have to pay for ourselves!

If any of you are still conscious from my rant, there is good news! A couple weeks ago I found out I got the job at Lake Austin Spa Resort! So far, I've only gone through training, but I should start working on people this weekend. God willing it works out, it should be a really sweet gig! Besides that, they treat their employees well.

There was never any mention to the doctors about my applying for/getting this job. I got someone to work for me last Thursday so I could attend orientation at the spa. Dr. H had no idea why I asked off, but he kept making comments hoping I'd say something. I did not. Thursday, he asked Karen why I needed the day off. She told him I got a part time job and had orientation. The rest of their conversation went something like this:

It's nice to know that somewhere in there, he realizes I actually am an asset to the office (although, the first three work paragraphs of this blog have come to light since this converversation with Karen, so it seems he's already flip flopping).

First, I'd like to thank rex and tara for hosting my 31st born day party last night. It was an amazing evening and just the absent state of mind I needed. Thanks also to those who made an appearance. The night was that much better because of you. For those who weren't able to attend, your presence was greatly missed. And last but not least, I would like to extend multiple thanks to starr and liz. Liz, you're gonna wanna get your own.

Birthday side note: The doctors actually gave me a $50 gift certificate to Old Navy for my birthday. ...I'm still in shock. Thankful, but in shock.

Since the money grubbing, incentively challenged, mostly absent, worst half of my two bosses cut my hours to 35 a week (and no more! *bitch slap*), I am forced to look for supplemental income elsewhere so that I can make some headway in paying off my enormous debt. So, over the last month, I've submitted resumes to several spas in the area. Keep your fingers crossed and think good thoughts. I need some sort of career hope.

My new toothpaste makes me not want to brush my teeth (although, that is not an option for me, let's be clear). The toothpaste is Tom's Natural Care of Maine, spearmint. First off, the paste has a relatively clearish appearance that kind of creeps me out. Then there's the ever so slightly minty, unbelievably uninteresting flavor. It tastes like what I imagine the inside of a balloon would...with a fraction of mint flavoring, of course. The most appealing characteristic of this mouth cleaning product is its dense, aluminum packaging. I'm not really sure why I'm so captivated by this. Perhaps it's the old-fashioned in me. Regardless, I have yet to decide whether the semi-soft, metal tube will be enough to keep me using it.