Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

Dear Robin,

I had a tuna salad sandwich today, and it SUCKED - you taught me that tuna salad sandwiches are all about rye bread and fresh ground pepper. Remember that? Or macaroni and cheese with WAY too much butter? Or watching every Leo DiCaprio movie we could find? Or the guys who mooned us on Senior Ditch Day?

Remember when you told Liz you were worried about me - that you thought I had a drinking problem?

Well, you were right.

I wish I could have seen it then. I wish I could have turned TO you. Instead I turned FROM you.

I'm so sorry, Robin. I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me.

I don't think I'll ever stop feeling guilty. I know that your death wasn't my fault...but I'll never stop believing that I could have prevented it. You always seemed to be better when I was around. I think it's because we weren't afraid to be broken, like the other girls who put on such tough fronts. We could be weak together.

I wish you could see me now. I wish I didn't feel like this is too little, too late.

I remember when I was so sick, and you jogged all the way to my house with Monty. I remember when you took me to see Prince and we fed him apples. I remember Senior Prom.

I remember how bright and sweet and beautiful you were.

I miss you, girlie.

Love,
Jacki

Sixty days sober!

Happy 60 day sobriety birthday to me!

Let me just say this:

The first thirty days were, with a few notable exceptions, mostly sunshine and bunnies.

The second thirty days were, with a few notable exceptions, a real bitch.

But here's me, feeling better than ever. How naive of me to think it would always be easy! What worth having is ever easy? I have learned to trust God - because no matter how bad things have gotten, haven't they always been okay in the end? I'm a fighter, always have been. No matter how tough this gets, I can be tougher.

When you can't run, you crawl. And when you can't do that, you find someone to carry you.

Thank God for my friends, who carry me when I can't find the strength to run. I love you guys.

Boy-crazy.

In addition to a drinking problem, I suffer from a man problem.

It's so embarrassingly cliché:
[abandonment by father] + [sexual abuse] + [low self-esteem] = promiscuity!

Of course, promiscuity is a broad term.

At any rate, boys. I tend to need them. To an embarrassing degree. I went back over my old entries and was embarrassed by how many were about boys.

Fortunately, that's not really an issue right now!

We are not allowed to date in the early stages of recovery. And I don't even WANT to. I'm too much a mess right now, I can't handle the pressure of someone making demands of me.

I have a video game boyfriend (I <3 Alistair) thanks to Dragon Age: Origins, and that's all the romance I want!

Although...

I was talking to a friend the other day...a guy. One I had a real shot with, til I got drunk and blew it. And I realized that he was the last good guy in my life. And I threw it away.

Maybe someday...when I'm less of a mess...oh, who knows.

Changing my middle name.

My middle name is Mabel. After my paternal grandmother. I used to hate it, but it's kind of grown on me.

HOWEVER.

Here's a story. And like all good stories, it starts...in a bathroom!

One day, I'm brushing my teeth, and out of nowhere I get a text from Helveck, who is not just my best friend but my actual hombre, which is a type of piñata. Also, he's Canadian.

The text said -

- are you ready for this? -

- "I demand you change your middle name to Maple."

If you've ever tried to brush your teeth while laughing hysterically, you can probably picture the next five minutes. For the rest of you, I'll just say that there was toothpaste foam EVERYWHERE.

If I did it legally and officially, he'll even make me an Honourary Canadian.

So, let's weigh my options here:

Pros:
1) Honourary Canadian!!!
2) Relieving myself of the burden of being named after someone who disowned me.
3) It's kind of an adventure!
4) Maple is a variety of BACON.

Cons:
1) Costs about $175.
2) Lots of paperwork.
3) Could cause some kind of legal complication at some point down the road.

As we review, let me draw your attention to Pro #4, which pertains to bacon.

Thoughts?

I honestly don't know how I survive the hazards of daily life.

Let me begin by telling you that I'm short.

SO short, that once upon a time when I was skinny, I could by my jeans in the Juniors section, and even if I bought the Short length, they'd still drag the ground, which is how my mother ended up calling me Smurf for the REST OF MY NATURAL LIFE.

I digress. This post is not about Smurves, mothers, or jeans.

It's about a heating pad.

I needed it, to prep a patient for an IV. So I went to the lab to get it.

There it was. At the very back of the highest shelf. Miles above my smurfy head.

The shorter of the two lab girls - slightly shorter than me, even! - laced her fingers together as if to give me a boost. Not for a second did she think I'd actually try it.

Not for a second did I hesitate.

I'd like to blame it on the earliness of the hour, or the unfinished state of my first soda of the day, but let's be real here - I'm just a great pile of derp. I grabbed the counter, placed my foot on her interlaced hands, and attmpted to launch myself skyward.

I must have made some kind of progress, because as I fell back down I whacked my ass on the edge of the counter which is slightly above waist-high to me. I grabbed the shelf under my target shelf to stabilize myself, somehow managing to not strew its contents all over me, my poor assistant, and the lab. We were miraculously unharmed.

The heating pad was unsurprisingly un-grabbed.

It was not my best day ever.

Chubby girls with short legs can hike, too!

Aaron and I went hiking at Kanopolis State Park on Saturday.

Not only was it awesome, but I didn't die!

We got a MUCH later start than we planned, on account of my uncanny ability to sleep in. It was probably aaround 1 when we got up there.

First stop: Mushroom Rock. It's actually two collections of rocks on either side of the road. It was pretty cool. The bathroom was disgusting - I got my 50 in hovering.

Next stop: Faris Caves. They are small, man-made, and full of water. I was disappoint. I wanted to get my spelunk on.

On our way back to the main road, we passed a gang standoff. There were cows on one side of the road and horses on the other. They looked pissed. What I REALLY wanted was to pet a cow, but the cows were standoffish and the horses were not. So I was willing to settle for petting a horse. Then another horse came over, so I was petting TWO HORSES AT ONCE! It was very exciting, can you tell?

The REAL hike was through Horsethief Canyon. There's a little creek that runs through, and the stone walls are COVERED in carvings...now including a "Suck It Joeski" - WorkPLace represent! At one point we saw a cave on the other side of the creek...so we pushed through the brush (much of which was thorny), crossed the creek, and climbed up to the cave. It was deep enough to crawl into, but not so deep that someone standing at the mouth couldn't still see you. We had a nice bit of a sitdown there.

The latter half of the hike was crappy. Literally. Because we were on a horse trail. Aaron says I got my 50 in dodging horse poop! We did find this epic towery kind of rock jutting up from the bottom of the canyon, and I won't discuss HOW he got there, but I've got pictures of him on it.

When we got back to the car, I was amazed I was still alive. We were taking a breather when we heard - a wild Galaga! If anyone knows what kind of bird has a call that sounds JUST like Galaga, please share.

On the way home, we stopped in Lindsborg, a.k.a. The Borg, a.k.a. Little Sweden. I mention this for one reason: fake horses. I dunno what it is, but there are horse statues all over town, mostly the same shape but painted differently. Our favorite was the one outside the bank, which has horns and wears athletic shoes. We got a picture of me on it...then we saw the "Please Keep Off" warnings. Oops.