I've moved...

It's been some time...enough time, that I forgot my damn sign in and password to get in here to tell everyone who's left where I am. After hunting for/through some old email accounts I haven't opened in 5 years, I finally located it, so I could get in here and do my thang.
Please Please Please come see me over at www.myramblingthoughts.org.

Hope to see you over at my new digs.   She's the new me. =)

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Running. An addiction I hate to love.

Running.

I don't understand, but I just know I do it. I hate it. I don't like doing it. But I love that I hate it and I can't stop.

I ran my first half marathon a couple weeks ago. That was a two year in the making process to get me mentally able to do it. That is 13.1 miles. Who in God's name enjoys that. And at the ass crack of morning. No one likes ass crack. So you get my point when I say how early you get up.

As I got into my 5th mile, I remembered this same run the year before. I had opted for the 15k part of it and scoffed at my friend, but stared hard at her like a Goddess in Adidas, and said you are mother flipping cray cray. I whined, I cried internally and externally. I walked A LOT.

Not this time. I was in my zen zone. I wanted this and I didn't want to be a quitter. Don't get me wrong...I still cried internally when the road inclined slightly. (Silently praying for some button to make the incline disapper). Mile 6. Mile 7. Mile 8...you get it...Mile 10. Hell to the yeah. Ms. Encouragement Award should have been thrown my way.

3 more to go. You are an animal.

Mile 10.2. A hot meltdown of epic Rambler porportions started to erupt within every cell in my body and I started shutting down. I pulled my sweaty phone out of my arm band and I placed a batman distress call to my CCBFF. We talked. She listened to me and maintained the positivity for my sanity. We talked about not farting...we listened to me choke on a bug...and then decided I needed to resume.

That was the hardest 3 miles of my running life.  I knew I was close.  And it was a pure mental battle with myself to not quit and beg people all my credit cards, monopoly money, bottles of liquor to save my life.  I'm dramatic.  I know.  But the struggle was real.

BUT...I did it.  I frigging did it.  When I crossed that finish line, I wanted to hug anyone that would let a strange person who's body was laced head to toe with dirty smelly sweat.  I wanted to scream out loud that I did it.  The humble don't draw attention to herself girl I am just bit my lip, to hold the emotionally almost out of control liquid on the corner of my eyes in.

Running.   The thing I hate to love and love to hate.

Life Changes--The Rambler Way

So...life changes.

My life changed.  And that change taught me I can definitely survive.  I won't go into details, but I do know why I got so immersed into this blog world.  Why I held onto every single comment from anyone I didn't know existed until they hit publish comment in my post.

Divorce.  That ugly goddamn word.  I swore up and down when my parents split, that hurtful word would NEVER end up as describing a part of my adult life.  I would work harder, I would love harder, I would do what it takes.  The reality, well MY reality,... was realizing, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, hard you love, some people just don't belong together.  Forever.

I won't talk about the ugly part of my separation cause who the hell cares about that...but yet the bitterly funny part of rejoining this world as a single person.

My first cynical single person moment was working my first holiday as a single person....Valentines Day and if you don't recall, I work in a restaurant.  I took phone call for reservations from men who just:

"loved the one they were with" (good for you),
"help me cause I think I might propose" (oh no..no no no no no...don't flipping do it),
"my lady means the world to me" (yeah, well, did I mention I don't care).

All this while oozing out of my mouth.

"How sweet, of course I want to help you dote genuinely sappy love adoration upon the woman who rocks your boat."

I wore all black that day and told my staff it represented my ninja like abilities to steer clear emotionally from the sickening displays of affection about to enter our doors for a full 14 hours of work.

I'm pretty sure I puked inside my own mouth when I had to help with the proposal.  Then I sorta internally freaked out and thought I shouldn't really touch anything they eat, drink or put on a finger.

What if my divorce vibes rubs off on them?

What if I lose the damn ring he begs me to help hide in something to bring out?
What if she blasts him with a fat NO, points at my face and screams " I don't want to end up like her" while I hold her whip cream dessert hiding the ring this man worked all year for with a stupid smile on my face that says...I get it...I don't want you to end up like me either.

Screeching back to THEIR reality...I smiled through that whole thing as his woman screamed yes, thanked me for being a part of it, and everyone nearby cheered for them.

That day sucked my soul dry.  Being around a lot of love between man and woman, man and man, woman and woman...was too much for this newly single gal.  BUT...I survived.  Of course I did.

This year, I wasn't so cynical.  In fact, I wore a red shirt to celebrate the day.

I allowed myself to be more tolerable.  To swim with my head above the water.  (Albeit, screaming for a lifeline from the two romantically rowing a boat oblivious to the dramatic person drowning in ankle deep water.)  

More things have changed for me this year also....I'm smiling more.  But that's for another post.

Hello...anyone out there?

Dear Blog World,

Man...(or woman, whatever floats your boat)...it has been TOO long.  Like, you-old-now x infinity long.  Secretly feeling like I'm in a blog world nursing home about to find senile friends who may remember my name or might think I'm just the nurse making them eat cold cereal.

I don't know what to do about this.  3 years since my last post.   I think I'm ready.  To try this again.  

Life is so different.  Many changes, growths, stumbles (always stumbles), a trillion Rambler style stories to write and share.

So, I say hello...again...old friend.  It's me...(it's RAHHH-MMMblerrrr)  

Wiping my dusty screen off and spray canning the keyboard with that crazy cold air stuff ....

The last two weeks, I've been toying back and forth with starting, restart, re-restarting blogging again.  (Really Rambler, we are going HERE again?)   The keyboard and screen are beckoning me in an intense way.  And annoying.... like your little sister saying...."I'm not touching you, but I'm touching you with my mind"...OK, maybe blogging isn't that annoying.  And I say annoying because until I post something, I keep nagging myself.

My answer to all of that is simple.

I love writing.

I love telling stories in my Rambler way.

And I miss it. 

Sadly, sometimes we all don't have the time to pursue the things we love.  To cultivate it and maintain it.  We just put it in the back corner of our mind and retrieve it when we can reach our virtual hands back there.

I thought to myself, what should be a first post after months of nothing? I'm a funny gal, and you that have read me know I"m good for a laugh.

And then I thought, eh, I'll be a little patriotic and make this a "PROUD TO BE AMERICAN" post.  And I will quickly share with you a moment I had at work.

I work a lot.  Like a lot that my family or friends wonder if I moved out of the country.  The restaurant I work for is one of the busiest on the island.  So having said this, the people at my job have become my pseudo family.

Our BIG BOSS was in town to check on his Hawaiian location.  He's been running restaurants in the US for about 15 years, while making visits back home to England to visit his mum (giggle, imagine Rambler with an English accent).

He finally took his US Citizenship test and became an official bonafide United States of America citizen.   So to honor that we surprised him with a cake and about 25 employees on a back loading dock, we celebrated and impromptu-ly (is that even a word??) did the Pledge of Allegiance.

I hadn't done that since being a young kid in Elementary school.

I'm not gonna lie.

It was the coolest most American thing I'd done, with my staff of varying ages, that moment, reciting OUR Pledge of Allegiance to the United States of America. 

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty, and justice for all.

So with that Bloggy land....Happy Fourth of July.

Let's see how we can scare the crap out of Rambler.

Oh, the tale I will tell you....A tale about a tail.

Maybe a week ago, while having dinner with the 4 year old Lil Rambler, our fearless 17 pound Tibetan Spaniel Mr. Bow Wow (name changed to protect his innocence) growled ferociously at our air conditioner located in our dining room area.

As I took a leisurely gander I caught a sight of a tail that made my armpits immediately sweat and Nascar Speed'ed it to the "Holy Sheesh balls....WHAT?THE?HELL?" Lane.

First....Daddy Rambler was NOT home.

Second....Did I mention Daddy Rambler was NOT home?

Third...How in the world did the Lizards that live in the bushes down below make it's way upstairs and inside?  (Boy wishful thinking)

Daddy Rambler makes it home at some point, and the two female folk of the Rambler household tell him in excited elevated tones from the safety of the bedroom (because of course we moved to another area of the house...for Lil Ramblers protection) something with a long tail was seen.

After some consideration Daddy Rambler stated with manly confidence it HAS to be a lizard.  And maybe it was going OUT.  Not coming IN.

He seemed fine with his answer until putting away our pots and pans under the oven and heard a rattle and saw a tail.  Now our seemingly not so worried about lizard turned into a bigger lizard with issues.  So I pretty much imagined a wild iguana roaming in between our walls.  (MASSIVE SHUDDER) because I don't know how to remain calm when it comes to animals.  They are my kryptonite.

Again, only the tail was seen and we convinced ourselves it was the mother of all lizards from downstairs and how do we get rid of it.  So while not entering my kitchen for several days due to the fact I was sure it would jump on my face and eat it, we contemplated.  

Yeah....well flash forward to yester-friggin-day.  My husband opened the dishwasher and saw a tail (AGAIN) disappear and water from the dishwasher starting to spill all over the place.

A hole through the wall behind the dishwasher and into the piping of the dishwasher confirmed our 'lizard' was no lizard.  It was hairy-er than a lizard.  It was maybe a rat/mouse.    (pray it's a mouse, pray it's a mouse, pray it's a mouse.  Sign of the cross....pray it's a mouse, pray it's a mouse).

Good Daddy Rambler did all the moving and cleaning and gagging of what was found when he pulled the dish machine out from it's place.  All he asked from me, when I got home late from work, was to place the traps because...well because it was better to lay them later than sooner??  (REALLY?  when we put the traps down earlier it might ruin the effect of the trap?)

So, I get home.

I tell myself if there was no Daddy Rambler in my life I would have to do all of this by myself.  So I pep talked myself, I laid the trap and waited for something like this to jump out.

 Cause if you know me....you know how active my imagination is. It would never be cute and talk or cook like this one...

So friends.  We lay the trap.  We repair our dishwasher.  We wait.

"Um, honey....could you pleasssseeee get me a drink of water...yeah, in my pink cup....yeah, with a straw...I'll be right here in the bedroom at YOUR computer."

Erm, I'm a big fat liar

Argh. I can't help it.

I keep saying I'm "coming back" and then months go by and all you find in my bloggy space is cobwebs and rickety cupboards.

May. That is the LAST time I was here.

And it's now friggin October.

Le Sigh.

Any that are left....how are you people? (Mammatalk...you totally prompted me to come on. One of the first blogs I really really got into.)

Me?

The new job has taken over any quality of life I had a grasp on and stomped and spit on it.

Le Sigh Deux. (Is that even french...deux, does that even mean 2...Eh, whatever)

I may have been gone, but MAN did I experience SO MANY blog moments that I wanted to share. It's fitting I share something that is truly Rambler style.

I embarrass MYSELF for other peoples pleasure. So those who will gasp in disbelief when they see my name in their recent blog posts lists....here is what I'll leave for you.

(God help me for sharing this story today)

So it's time for my annual you know what? (said in a hushed whisper....the woman thing...the pap smear thing...yeah, THAT.)

It's a new Doctor. I've never met her and I want to make a good impression.

We go through everything I may have concerns about. I talk like I've never had a friend before, and spill my 4 hour movie long life story.

And then it's time to do the thing. I scoot my tosh to the edge. She says relax, I snicker inside and say "Sure, Aren't I?"

I start up the sequel to my first movie and don't hear her correctly when she says..

"Are you ready, I'm going to.......(halfway through some fantasy about being rich and never having to work again apparently is what was on my mind)....Ok?"

"Yah, Yah, Yah...I'm good"

WHOAAAAAA......

Apparently the missing part I agreed to was just her warning that she needed to check (with her finger, mind you) the number 2 area. The poop shoot. The exit only zone for husband.

What the what?

I clenched so hard because I almost....

(wait for it)

(promise...it's so Rambler)

FARTED.

from surprise.

When she said relax I just shook my head. For fear that if I spoke....I'd be 'too relaxed' if you know what I mean.

And then screamed at myself "Oh lord, even though she's scraped the inside of your whoo-ha, please don't embarrass yourself by farting in front of this nice woman doctor. Not on your first date visit."

And no!

Like a woman I held it in.

....Until I got to my car half an hour later.

Geesus, what kind of lady do you think I am?

True friggin story.

Le Sigh...Trois. (I looked it up that time...that's THREE in french )

Awesome right? (said so sarcastically)