Monday, December 29, 2008

Happiness at year end

I see it has been two months since my last post. I guess I have been very busy since then and haven't taken the time to post. Since October 22, I've experienced:

1) The Best Day of My Life: aka New Kids on the Block concert in Charlotte, NC

2) A week in Hilton Head, SC courtesy of work, with additional day trip to Savannah, GA

3) Thanksgiving

4) Jolie's baby shower: sex of baby TBA at birth. It's killing me.

5) Christmas Party Season

6) The actual Christmas holiday

So, yeah, I've been busy. We'll start with what made me post today and work backwards.

Today's post was inspired by several things, namely: wireless internet, my new TV, my dad, pretzels dipped in ranch, pub mix, my favorite CBS Monday night shows, South Park and as always, wine. You may ask, what about this particular mix of items draws Emily out of blogging retirement? We'll start with my dad. I think he rocks. He always knows how to do EVERYTHING. Seriously, I've never met a challenge that my dad could not meet. He has thankfully given me his ability to do things myself. However, when he wants to do them for me, I am not going to argue. TonightI was treated to the set up of my new wireless router, which allows me to post from the comfort of my favorite family room chair in front of my new TV. Yeah for being able to watch all channels - not just the ones in English and with sound, like on my previous $20 TV that I purchased at Goodwill. This brings to me to my show watching snack, pretzels with ranch dressing, and pub mix, sometimes dipped in ranch dressing. I never buy pub mix because I will eat it all in one sitting, but someone sent me a giant package at work. I can't refuse such a wonderful gift! I'm sure my breath is lovely. While posting, watching my shows and eating my snacks, I had a lovely glass or two of Gallo Cafe Chardonnay, which is surprisingly tasty for only $3.99 at Kroger. After my shows were over, I realized I'd seen all the Jon and Kates on during the marathon, so I switched to South Park. It makes me laugh and remember my old friend Christi and high school boyfriend, Russ. So those, my friends, are the series of events that drew me out of blogging retirement. Coupled with my productive day of working and cleaning up the post-Christmas mess in my house, I am in a fantastic mood and thought I'd share it with you all.

I will work backwards and start with the actual Christmas celebrations in my family. I visited Crystal, Rob and Layla yesterday for Layla's 2nd birthday party/Christmas. I never thought I'd be excited about a Dora birthday party, but I am always excited for things with Layla. She is so smart and funny. She doesn't mean to be funny, but she is. Yesterday, I taught her how to take a picture. She was pointing it toward her and taking pictures of her belly. I made a comment about taking pictures of her belly, so she walked over, pulled my shirt out at the neck, pointed the camera down my shirt and took a picture of MY belly. Then she said, "I got YOUR belly, Mimmy." Crystal andI couldn't stop laughing. Rob missed all of this, even though he was sitting right beside me, because he was watching football. His child is taking pictures of people's boobs, thereby resolving any doubt that this is his child. :)

I spent half of Friday and Saturday driving to/fro Louisville, KY with my 71 year old cousin Carol. We were going to see her brother, his wife, kids and grandkids. Our normal 3.5 hour drive was lengthened due to freezing rain Friday morning, extending our drive to 6 hours. We did finally make it there safely and enjoyed our time with family. Normally, my parents go on this trip as well, but my dad got the flu on Christmas day. I felt bad for my mom because she enjoys spending time with the kids, but she was unwilling to leave my dad in his state of illness. I brought home my most sentimental gifts from this trip: my 5 year old cousin Jackson made me a snowman bracelet, and his 7 year old sister wrote out the attached card. I will always love those items. I am worried about my 13 old cousin Caroline. 13 is such a crappy age, and she is right in the middle of the crappiness. Should I send her a letter saying, "Hey, everything is going to be ok. I love you," or just let it go? I'm taking suggestions.

I spent Christmas day with my parents, grandparents and cousin Carol as usual. It was a good day, except that my dad's flu hit shortly after opening presents at my grandparents' house. He spent the rest of the day in his recliner. I'm having a hard time believing that the hype is over, most of my gifts are put away and/or in use. As far as gifts go, I got most everything on my list with one big surprise: a houndstooth wool coat from my grandparents. It's so cute and I will get a lot of wear out of it. I spent much of my life complaining about being an only child, but am reminded at Christmas about one of the perks. I don't have to share with anyone, so I receive all the benefits of my parents' and grandparents' gift giving generosity. Generous they are, as are all my family members. We have been very blessed, and not a day goes by that I am ungrateful .

Going backwards to Christmas Eve, let's stop at my Grandma's house. Aw, my Grandma. She is wonderful but weird. We had an all meat Christmas dinner. Ham, sausage balls, pork tenderloin and meatballs, with chopped ham cheeseball thrown in for good measure. No veggies or starches with this meal. It was quite odd, but at least I know Grandma is officially a meatasaurus. She's a big fan of QVC and taught me all the virtues of Diamonique at an early age. You'll see me sporting an awesome new ring courtesy of her shopping prowess and surprising ability to judge my taste. Go Grandma!

The day before Christmas Eve was pretty shitty. I ran into Annie, one of Pat's neighbors, and she gave me some news about Pat that is still bothering me. As if he wasn't a big enough mess already, he has created even more problems for himself and is apparently going around blaming me b/c I wouldn't take him back. While I am perfectly aware that I did not create his problems nor can I fix them, I'm still sad. Not so much for him, b/c he's an adult that is responsible for his actions, but for his son. He should be thinking about how his actions are affecting him. Regardless, I am better off for being out of that relationship. While my brain is perfectly aware of this, sometimes my heart forgets and I get sad. You should've seen me when I found Pat and his son's stockings while putting up Christmas decorations. I was useless for the rest of the day. I know everthing will be ok eventually, and the majority of days are good. I think I'm doing pretty well for four months out of the relationship.

So, if you're my mom or any other member of my family, you'll be asking if I have a date for New Year's Eve. I do not. As a matter of fact, I effing hate NYE. My mother has spent my whole life telling me that I should always have something fun and cool to do that night and the next day. When I was a kid, I always had a NYE sleepover with Courtney and we would play Barbies, do hair and makeup, play Ouija, listen to NKOTB and all that stuff. No NYE has ever lived up to expectations after that. When 2007 rolled into '08, I was crying on the couch over Dick Clark's failing health while Pat snored into his Bud Light and his son slept soundly on my flowery chair. It's a painful memory. So, for this year's big plans, I'm going to a gathering at Laura and Jay's apartment and hoping for better than last year. I'm setting the bar REALLY low so that my bubble will not be burst. However, Laura and Jay are new friends that I made this year and really enjoy hanging out with, so I'm sure I'll have a good time.

I have spent the majority of the Christmas season just having a good time. I went to several Christmas parties/events with old and new friends and met a lot of new people. I kept hoping to meet a cute guy during the party circuit, but no luck. It's possible I'm too picky, but considering my most recent breakup, I think that's normal. I do feel sorry for whomever has to date me next. He has no idea that he'll be going through a group interview with Jada, Justin and Crystal, and Rob will undoubtedly find a way to do a background check, even from Iraq. I will need Jennanne to do the credit check and Susan to psychoanalyze his behavior/personality. This will all happen before my parents even know he exists. He must be a keeper by the time he is forced into meeting LaMarr and Larry. I am hopeful that the new year will bring me a new sweetheart!

I am too sleepy to keep going, but I have a lot more of the remainder of 2008 to cover. The Best Day of My Life is a big post in itself. Until then, I will say as always: thanks for being there for me! I am blessed to have the best friends in the world!

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Homecoming Photos

Still life of Omelet Shoppe's best: crinkle cut fries! Photo by Justin Marlowe (I promised I would give him credit)

Epsilon Delta alumnae and 2008 Homecoming Queen, Becca!

Current Epsilon Delta chapter members with Queen Becca!

You CAN Go Home Again

Last weekend, I went to Concord for Homecoming. I LOVE Homecoming. I look forward to it every year, regardless of the weather and who is/isn't coming. It is a weekend for me to rewind to those great four years and be utterly grateful for my experience and the lasting relationships I built. For those of you who didn't go to Concord, let me describe Homecoming. It's not a day - it's technically a week. But for Greeks, it starts as soon as Greek Week is over in the spring and you decide who you're running with next year. After the sororities receive invitations to run with fraternities, you vote, give the winning fraternity your answer, then decide who you're running for King and Queen. Then, you wait on the Homecoming Committee to tell you what the overall theme is for next year, meet with the fraternity to vote on your group theme, argue about it for a little while, have a social, then not understand why the guys don't like the theme you chose while they were drunk. This is followed by the girls preparing for Homecoming all summer - designing costumes and billboards, choosing lip sync songs, etc. - and the guys showing up to lip sync practice drunk and completely uninterested in learning their dances. They also show up drunk to paint billboards, make costumes and floats and pretty much anything else where they can have beer. The girls complain because the guys don't care enough and the guys complain because the girls care too much. Nevertheless, the constant togetherness has produced many romances which resulted in long-term relationships and even marriage. I started dating my college boyfriend, Mike, when he was the Pi Kapp Homecoming candidate and DZ was running with them. I was on the lip sync committee and had made the first mix tape of our songs. I won him over with my ability to make a mix tape! He was a DJ for WCCR - Concord College Radio. (I wonder if it's WCUR now.) Anywho, that was the beginning of our three-year relationship and I maintain that Mike is the only normal boyfriend I've ever had.
Back to Homecoming. In the fall, girls spend the first three weeks of school preparing for Formal Rush. After that, we are full of happy new members and begin frantic, constant Homecoming prep. The costumes and billboards that were designed over the summer have to actually get made. The lip sync dance has to be put together and taught to uninterested fraternity boys and sorority girls who don't like being in the front/middle/back row and want to be moved to the front/middle/back/fraternity boy she wants to be her dance partner. The float has to be put together, the banners have to be painted, the photos for the flyers have to be taken, the flyers designed and copied, the free stuff gathered and tagged for the favor table... I am tired just thinking about it. Oh, and there's school. Remember, college is what we were there for, not Homecoming. Right? Anyway, the point is that Homecoming is a BIG DEAL.
When the actual week arrives, The Rules must be followed. No campaign materials are allowed to be put up prior to 6 a.m. (or something like that) on the Monday of Homecoming Week. So, that Sunday night, all the organizations drag their billboards to their respective locations on campus and post people to guard them all night. They're placed face down on the grass, and people sleep (among other things) on them so no other groups can see the designs until they're unveiled the next morning. Bonfires and tents crop up all over campus for the guardians of the billboards. Lots of alcohol and caffeine is consumed. It's usually really cold. And it's the most fun night of the year, because all the Greeks are out wandering from place to place and everyone is socializing. When morning arrives, the billboards are put up and you go from place to place deciding whose are the best (DZ's, of course!), hang your banner in the cafeteria and put your flyers everywhere. You wear letters all week, tell all your GDI friends to vote for your sister and talk lots of crap about the other sororities. All in good fun, really. Lip sync happens on Wednesday night, and Monday and Tuesday are filled with extra practices and costume prep. Sometimes, you go to class. If you have time...I mean, lip sync is REALLY a lot of work. By Wednesday night, you are so convinced that your lip sync is the best that when you don't win, it's like the world ended. Especially if you are on the committee and everyone is mad at you for about an hour. Not that I'd know how that feels. But, when you DO win, it's like you're the best person on Earth and everyone LOVES you. I much prefer that feeling. After lip sync, there's a big party and everyone loves everyone (that's why the not loving you thing only lasts about an hour). Thursday brings the parade, and you don your lip sync costumes again for them to be judged. Then, you walk in the parade with your float, run back to the dorms to change clothes and go to the bonfire. This was my second favorite night of Homecoming. It was where the winners of billboard, banner, float and costumes were announced. Each group chanted, the band played, there was food...especially the cheesecake marble brownies from the cafeteria...and everyone was in a good mood. We usually won first or second place in all those categories and there was lots of chanting and being happy. Then, we would go back to the dorms again, put on our black pants and shiny Deb club shirts and go to The Club. There was only one, everyone went and we all dressed alike. No wonder GDIs think sororities brain wash you. I can only imagine what we looked like when we traipsed to the parking lot in our black pants and cheap, shiny shirts.
Saturday morning brought sorority teas at 10 a.m. Really, which alum thought this was a good idea? Rousing a bunch of college girls at 10 a.m. on Homecoming morning to put on badge attire and be pleasant to alumnae they didn't know? Not the best idea, but it's been done for decades. After tea comes the game. It starts at 1 p.m., but everyone goes early for tailgating. All the Greeks and their alumni are in the parking lot with tents and grills and coolers and laughter. No one actually goes into the game until right before half time, because no one cares to see Concord lose another football game. We're only there to see who wins King and Queen. All the organizations crowd around on the track and cheer for their candidates as they walk across the field. Then the winners are announced...2nd runner up...1st runner up...King and Queen! It's so exciting to hear your group's name called. You jump and cheer and take pictures, and's over. All that momentum that's been building for months is suddenly over, and it's like all the air has been let out and you're slowly deflating. You go to dinner with everyone at Applebee's or Texas, and talk about how great Homecoming was. You go to a party with the fraternity you ran with and everyone really loves each other because by now, pretty much every single sorority girl has found a single fraternity boy (or two) to date. The next week, you go back to class and your professors wonder where you've been all semester since you spent the first three weeks of school prepping for Formal Rush and the second three prepping for Homecoming. I know I learned a lot at Concord, but seriously, where did I fit all that learning in between the fun?
Being the actual candidate is another story in itself. It is a lot of work to be the face of the campaign. I can't imagine how Sarah Palin must feel. I was worn out, and I didn't even have to take the time to put my hair in that poof every morning. My running mate was a Pi Kapp, my Best Guy Friend of All Time, Scottie. Neither of us would have made it through without the other. It should be noted, though, that the candidates are truly just the face of the campaign. Everyone is voting for DZ and Pi Kapp, not Emily and Scott. That makes it even sweeter for the group when you win awards. Regardless, the candidates have a lot of responsibility and "appearances, " if you will, that must be made, in addition to the regular preparations. I survived with lots of Tylenol and Mountain Dew. Scottie turned to a more natural substance. But hey, whatever works.
And so, now that you understand Homecoming, I hope you'll understand why I love to go back. Although it would be wonderful to have all my Concord friends in one place at one time, I understand it's not realistic. So, I go to see whomever shows up, and am happy to talk to them and hear about all that's going on in their life. I see my favorite professor, Dr. Burgher, tell him all about what's going on with me and listen to him tell me about his adventures in retirement. I look for our former President, Dr. Beasley, and his wife, Jean, my other two mentors from Concord, and ask about their family and new life since he retired in June. I find our CCD, Lisa, down on the track with the cheerleaders she coaches, and catch up on whatever DZ drama is going down. I am happy to see anyone and everyone that was a part of my life at Concord, because the impact of those people and that education is so profound that I could never begin explain it.
On the fun side, I love to spend the time with my old friends doing things we did during our college Homecoming days. We tailgate, we go on the track at halftime, we go to dinner, we go to The Club (which is now a non-dancing sports bar called Danny's - weird), we go to the hole-in-the-wall Last Resort (a bar outside of Athens that is TRULY the last resort) and have our midnight meal at The Omelet Shoppe. We reminisce about all the dumb stuff we did and sometimes, do more dumb stuff...but that is another post. Most of all, we are thankful. Thankful for each other, for our experience, for our long-standing relationships. I know that not everyone had this kind of college experience, and I will always be grateful that I did.
So, Homecoming is over, there are new stories to tell, and it's time to start thinking about next year. I have decided to get contacts for each Greek organization and see if we can have a concerted effort for a better reunion since our crappy Alumni Relations Director is not going to do it. Everyone who lived through (and enjoyed) a Concord Homecoming deserves to be part of it again later in life, to spend one day of their year thinking back on the fun times and being grateful for them. So, my mission is to provide that day for Concord alumni. Fellow Concordians, do you choose to accept?

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Oklahoma: PF Chang's, Central Time and me

Ladies, I'm in Oklahoma. As in, "where the deer and the antelope play." However, I've seen neither a deer nor an antelope. I did accidentally run over a red squirrel on the road today, and that's actually the only wildlife I've seen. God rest his little squirrel soul.

It's really flat here. I expected it to be more flat than it actually is, but it's still flat. No hills, no mountains, no curvy roads. My favorite thing about OK so far is the speed limit on the interstate: 75! Perfect for someone with a lead foot who drives with her knee. If I can do it on a curvy backroad, I should be golden in a state where every road runs parallel and vertical to every other road.

The weirdest I've seen since I've been here is the field of cell phone towers. I mentioned this to my OK-born-and-raised boss and she did not see what was so weird about it. We have cell phone towers in WV, right? Yes, but not in a big field. They're up on mountains and we can't see them. In Morgantown, they're even cleverly disguised as pine trees. In Oklahoma, there's no way to hide them. So, they just put them in big fields, and at night they look like really tall, really skinny year-round Christmas trees.

If you know me well, you know I love to eat. And that I have a policy while traveling: consume no food that you can have at home. So, tonight I adventured to P.F. Chang's China Bistro. Why, oh why, do we not have one of these somewhere in the Mountain State? That was the best meal I've had in months. Grilled Lemongrass Garlic Prawn with Noodles. i.e., giant, garlicky, buttery shrimp with equally garlicky, buttery noodles. I finished my meal two hours ago and my belly is still all full and happy. It was so delicious. I also had the nicest waitress ever, who more than made up for the two bitches (or hostesses) at the door. They wanted to seat me at the bar b/c I was by myself. When I explained that I wanted a booth so I could read while I eat, they told me that they were encouraged to seat singles at the bar for "social proximity." In a not-so-rare moment of equal bitchiness, I told them I wasn't there to pick up a man, wanted to eat my meal in booth and speak to a manager. I was seated before you could say, "Moo Goo Gai Pan." The manager was extremely apologetic and offered me a free dessert. Tiramisu it was, and although delicious, not as sweet as the taste of victory.

Oklahoma is on central time. Although I'm only an hour behind my regular time, it's really effing me up. I wake up an hour early and get hungry an hour early, but unfortunately do not get sleepy an hour early. I should be in bed since I have to get up at 4 a.m. for my flight to Dallas, but I am not sleepy. I'm still enjoying the full belly feeling of dinner. My central time co-workers have made fun of me for bringing snacks to fill in my cravings, but what else am I supposed to do? I NEED Pringles Stix at 2 p.m. It is pitiful that this one hour can mess me up so badly.

In non-OK related good news, I've reached a new level of my breakup phase. Last week, Pat unexpectedly stopped calling or emailing me. Although this was wonderful for one whole week, he has started emailing again. This morning's said, "You ever miss me?" I ignored it, even though I am secretly doing an internal dance of joy. I can honestly say, for the first time, "NO. I do NOT miss you. (you piece of crap, or insert your own derogatory term here.) I really, truly, don't miss him. I have this weird ability to block people out and pretend they never existed, and I'm starting to do that to Pat. I've already forgotten what it was like to be his girlfriend. With any luck, I'll soon forget he ever existed.

I have a lot more to share about Oklahoma, but I will save it for the photos. I got some reat ones!

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


Good morning girlies!

I hope you're all having a good week. In case you haven't heard the good news, I found out Thursday that I got the job for which I interviewed FOUR TIMES. It was quite a process, but worth the effort. Starting Monday, I will be a Public Relations Account Executive for Moroch, a big ad agency based out of Texas. My account will be McDonald's in most of WV and parts of KY and OH. My mom is excited: free french fries for everyone! HAHA I will be working out of our office in Parkersburg one day a week and from my house and/or on the road visiting clients the other days.

I found out Friday that I have some travel coming up. I'll be in Oklahoma City and Dallas for a few days each next month. I'll be in Hilton Head for a week in November. (Thank you Lord!) I hope to visit some Surfing Sisters in OKC and Dallas. Don't think anyone is close to HHI.

So, all the stress and worry of not gettng this job was for nothing. I really hope this job turns out to be something I'll love, because it's the type of position I was looking for as soon as I realized I wanted to work in PR.

Thanks so much for all your love and support over the last few weeks. It's been a hard road, but I've been so grateful for all your love and support. Thank you!!

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Cheese and Whine

I've always been told that I'm cheesy. But do I really live up to the definition? According to Miriam-Webster, cheesy is defined as:

1 a: resembling or suggesting cheese especially in consistency, color or odor

b: containing cheese

2: shabby

3c, cheap

I don't believe I resemble cheese in my consistency, but coloring...maybe. I am a little pale, but I think my end-of-summer color would fall somewhere in the pinkish red Port Wine family. Interestingly enough, this is my Big Sis Wendy's favorite cheese. Perhaps she chose me as a friend not because I sat with her on her first night of college and let her cry over missed parents, but because my skin color reminded her of a favorite Hickory Farms variety. It would make sense, seeing as how we later bonded over packages of said cheese that her grandmother shipped to Athens from her much warmer post in Florida.

How about odor? I generally smell pretty good, I think, and people generally consider cheese to smell badly, so I don't think this part of the definition applies to me.

Do I contain cheese? Of course! I eat cheese every day. Mozzarella, cheddar, smoked gouda, swiss, cream...I've never met a cheese I didn't like. It's part of nearly every meal.

Shabby? No. I consider myself medium maintenance. My outfits match, I like to have (self) manicured and pedicured nails, my house is always neat and clean, but not spotless, my car is mostly neat and clean, but definitely shows damage from being MY car...we are all aware of my driving deficiencies. But shabby? No. Not unless you add "chic" to the end of that, and then I'll take it.

Cheap? HA! Ask my dad how cheap I am, and he'll tick off a list of dance classes, prom dresses, sorority stuff, home remodeling and car fixing that'll make your wallet wince. Ask any ex-boyfriend and he'll tell you that my idea of a date night did not begin with a Value Menu. Look at my collection of purses and makeup and you'll find that I have an affinity for designer labels. They make me happy, even if no one else knows that I'm wearing YSL Touche Eclat concealer.

So WHY do I keep getting labeled as CHEESY? And why does CHEESE continue to be a metaphor for my life?

You see, I don't deal with change very well. I know it's necessary, but it still sucks. And I have to deal with it. I can't just go with the flow, roll with it, keep on keepin' on or any of those other CHEESY cliches that are being thrown in my face. I have to take it out of the package, hold it, play with it, or as Jada and my Momma would say...wool it. (For anyone whose roots are not in Logan or Mingo counties, this means to rub on something, get right up in it's face and drive it crazy until it smacks you, if it can see out of the hair you've wooled into a crazy ball on top of its head.) I have to make sure Change knows that I'm aware it's happening, but I don't like it, and damn it, I'm going to analyze it every step of the way.

This is both good and bad. How is it good? It keeps me educated and constantly learning. Nothing ever happens without me wanting to know why and what I can learn from it. How is it bad? I think about it too much, overanalyze and generally drive myself batty until I find something else on which to focus for a day or so. Then I am back to driving myself batty until all my problems are resolved.

You can imagine, then, that the last two months of my life, which have provided huge and unexpected changes, have caused me to spend abnormally large amounts of time analyzing. Since breaking up with Pat, I've found that the most absurd things remind me of him and make me sad. Today, it was CHEESE. Which is how I ended up writing this post and you ended up reading it. You see, when I used to ride with him on the round trip to Wheeling to pick up/drop off his son, we often stopped at Able's Cheese on Route 7 in Sardis, Ohio. We both have an abnormal love of cheese and found that a whole store devoted to it on our route was surely a sign that we were meant to be together. On the last trip I took with him, sometime in June, we picked up $30 worth in a variety of flavors...smoked gouda, gloucester blue, casino brick, and the cheese in question today: Hot Pepper. I got home late this evening and found that I was hungry but not in the mood for a giant meal. The answer: CHEESE! So, I cut up some slices of Amish varieties that my parents brought me from their most recent trip, and put out the last two pieces of Hot Pepper from my and Pat's last trip to Wheeling. All the other cheese has long since been eaten. Since I am a weirdo, I was saving this Hot Pepper Cheese as a damn memento of my former happiness. I was waiting for the right moment to say goodbye.

Why is it that the simplest, most ridiculous things are so hard to let go of when you are letting go of a person? It's CHEESE for pete's sake. Two, cube size bites of Hot Pepper Cheese. But this particular dairy delight is a tangible reminder of a time when I was happy and living in the moment. I remember every detail of that particular trip to Able's, because we were so hungry from saving up our calories for this visit that we couldn't decide what we wanted. The lady behind the counter just wanted us out of there so she could go outside and smoke, and plopped our selections into a bag with as much, "Get the hell out of here so I can get my nicotine fix," as she could muster. We sampled our varieties for the remainder of the two hour drive home and voted on the best cheese. For me, smoked gouda, for Pat, casino brick. We never could agree on the same one. Perhaps this was a sign of things to come.

Now, the days of cheese tasting contests on Route 7 are over. It's time to put the past behind me and start the healing process. Tonight, I will cry over eaten cheese. I look at this little cube of Hot Pepper and see my past. Tangible evidence of a relationship that had more holes than Pat's least favorite variety, Swiss. In order to remove one more piece of him from my heart, I have to take a bite.

The verdict? The flavor of my past is pretty good, but the taste of my future is delicious.