The epitome of status, redux

In one of my many other blogs (just kidding, there are only...uh...four? Seven? TWENTY THREE?? Let me change my answer!!!), I wrote about the epitome of status.

This evening, as I sat doing some homework, I got an email telling me that my Mrs. Prindables order would be arriving tomorrow.

The thing is, I didn't order a Mrs. Prindable's order for myself. And my husband didn't, either.

I'm pretty sure it was my very bestest friend in the whole wide world, and I want to scream with joy over it, but I cannot, because my half of the world is sleeping while the rain falls, and I can't be rude.

But holy shit, after over twenty years of holding those to the highest standard of what it means to be wealthy, I will finally have a Mrs. Prindable's apple.

Almost no gift has ever meant as much to me, because I never wanted anything this hard for this long. I will take loving pictures of it, and treasure it forever. Until I eat it. And then I will savor the memory.

Now if I could get my hands on some feathered heels and a mink stole, I'll be as opulent in those moments as I'd always imagined.

When I was thirteen, I wasn't terribly popular. I was gangly and awkward and kinda bitchy, and being an overly bookish know it all was the icing on my grammar nazi cake. On the way home from school one day, I saw a girl sitting by herself at the back of the bus. I couldn't tell you why, but I got up, sat down next to her, and said, "Hi! I'm Ondrea. I'm going to come over to your house, and we're going to be best friends." And we fuckin' were. Simple as that. She was weird, I was weird, we were weird together, and it's been the best friendship ever. Of course, we're still weird. But we can say fuck with a lot more authority now, and that's pretty cool.

I sent her a bottle of Colorado wine from my favorite winery a couple of years ago, and now I'm really going to have to think of something killer to send her.

We've been apart for far too long

I turned this blog off a year and a half ago.

I really shouldn't have. I was throwing a temper tantrum, and it's not like that temper tantrum really changed anything. I kept blogging, I just started it under a new url. Same account, same ease to find.

I'm kind of an idiot, I suppose. But I really loved having this blog. I'm not necessarily pleased with how melodramatic it became, even though it was all in earnest. It's weird to think that I thought I could erase all of that by making it go away. Except I didn't, really. I saved all of it. Everything is in here as a draft. Every embarrassing word. Welp. Let's try this again. I have so many fucking bogs now that I can barely keep track. At the very least, I should keep this one around. I've had it for such a long time. About five years, exactly, if I'm not mistaken.

So. Let's see. I still talk far too much and say barely anything. I've mastered that, and I'm not terribly keen on giving that up.

In the year and a half since I turned this off, I have:

started pursuing my MS in psychology
moved to Texas
got married (twice! kind of!)
started a podcast (it's popular enough, surprisingly)
gone vegan (except I flat out refuse to give up honey. Maybe I'm just a REALLY strict vegetarian that doesn't give a fuck about bees?)
traveled a fuck load (the highlight being Jamaica)
Stayed off of social media (technically, I haven't, because I have to keep my facebook active to keep my podcast page and my photography page open)
Acquired two new cats, Arbus (black and white, so named for my love of Diane Arbus. We cll her Murbles) and Popato (an orange tabby that was a stray, but we've taken him in and fattened him up, and we call him Paytoo)
Quit smoking (that was a BIG one. I still have the occasional cigarette if I'm in social circles and drinking, but I've only had...oh, maybe ten since I quit?)
Quit working to stay on course with school (I miss it, but I also hate working, so it's a draw)

I've also kept up with photography. I've done a few weddings (I have another coming up in a little under two weeks), done a few family shoots, but mostly, it's all been for me.

Let's see:

This is far, far, FAR from an exhaustive list of the photos I've taken in the last year and a half. But they're some of my favorites. My husband and I have turned our house into a gallery of sorts. All of our work is featured on our walls, and it's pretty nice to have people comment on them when they come over.

Hubs bought me a 5D mkiii for Christmas, and this makes three bodies in the ol' collection. I am in need of a new lens, but something is keeping me from pulling the trigger on the two I want.

What else?

I have my white privilege conference in a few months, I'll be packed to the gills with classes (nobody told me I'd have to ACTUALLY work at masters level classes. What kind of horseshit is this??), I have a few trips scheduled in the next few months (Colorado, Missouri, Motha fuckin' New Orleans!!!!!!!!, a midwest tour, and we're bandying around the idea of spending the summer visiting the National Parks. I'm doing my best to whine my way into Banff, but I think Hubs is going to stop short of drifting over into Canada from Glacier National Park), I have so many books to read, and I'll eventually have to get around to finishing House of Cards. Did it jump the shark for anybody else at the end of season one? I can't quite get past it.

Steffie and I are doing a branch off of our podcast that will focus on art and literature and movies, because why not? Even though people don't want to hear about those things as much as they want to hear about dicks, it seems. But oh, well.

I do have a fuck ton of school work to get started. It's my first day back after a not nearly long enough break, and The University of Colorado is a fucking douchey mistress. I'm also really fucking hungry, and a cup of coffee just isn't cutting it today.

I'm still the same.