BUT WHY?!?!?!?!

I'm moving to Colorado tomorrow. I've been packing for weeks. Today, Mr. J and some of our family are loading up a moving truck (while I go to my last day of work) and tomorrow we drive to Denver.

While my move isn't a secret, of any sort, a lot of people keep acting surprised by this move. Not sure why. I've been posting to Facebook about it for almost 2 months. and I told most people directly, just so they wouldn't be surprised. The laid plans of Jane's and men...

People have been e-mailing/texting/calling me, panicked, about my move. "Why?" everyone wants to know. Everyone is awfully inquisitive suddenly. "Why are you moving?"

As much as I've heard that question this past week, I would have hoped that I would have a satisfying answer. None of the ones I've given seem to sate any one's need for closure.

Why are you moving?

Well, I've always wanted to move away from New Mexico, go some where I haven't lived before. This seemed like a good time in my life.

Why?

Well, I'm not cemented in my current job, our townhouse's lease is up, and Mr. J really misses his family. (His entire family makes up 43% of Colorado's population. I checked the numbers. Twice.)

Why?

Um... Because that's how human emotions work? Ask Mr. J.

Why are you moving?

To be closer to Mr. J's family and start a life up there. They have a ton of schools up there too. I might enroll after we get settled.

Why are you moving now?

Because if we don't go now, WHEN WILL WE?

Why are you moving?

FUCK! For someone who hasn't see me in person for over a decade, you sure seem interested in my business!

Why are you moving?

Why not?
- Ha! Do you have an answer? Not so easy, is it?

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There you have it, distant family members and ex-coworkers; my reasons for moving. The bitchy part of me would have said I was moving to get away from you. But that would have been rude, and not even remotely accurate. Distant family members - you live in far away states. Ex-coworkers - seriously, have we hung out even once since we stopped working together? I'm already away from you.

If you’ve ever mentioned carrot cake in my presence, you already know this.

I hate carrot cake. I’ve tried it. I’ve tasted many people’s versions. I don’t like it. Unfortunately for me, carrot cake is one of those foods that when you vocalize your distaste for it, everyone around you reacts strongly.

“What do you mean you don’t like carrot cake?”

I don’t like it.

“Well, have you tried it?”

Yes, I don’t like it.

“But it’s so good! C’mon, have a bite of mine. You’ll like it!”

No, I won’t. If it’s so great, enjoy the fact that you don’t have to share it with me.

“Why don’t you like it?”

No one ever asks me why I don’t like pigs feet. Or grasshoppers. I don’t ask people why they don’t like the taste of pigeon. That’s because the answer will be either, “I can’t bring myself to try it, it sound so disgusting,” or “I’ve tried it, and it just didn’t taste good to me.” People are allowed to have their own opinion when it comes politics, religion and what they think tastes yummy/gross. But that reasoning just isn’t enough for fans of carrot cake.

So every time. I have to justify my antagonist relationship with carrot cake. Which involves a little bit of a lie.

Carrot cake, is not cake. It’s technically a quick bread. (This is true. I haven’t gotten to the lie yet.)  Banana nut bread is a quick bread too. It doesn’t call itself “banana nut cake” though. Because banana nut bread isn’t a fucking liar. Until carrot cake stops calling itself a cake, and calls itself carrot bread I’m not eating it! (That part’s the lie.)

And truth be told, I have to admire the carrot cake. For dreaming bigger than its peers. Carrot bread didn’t want a life like his brothers. Being made by middle aged women with too many cats and too much time on their hands. It didn’t want to only be made when knitters ran out of yarn, and the craft stores were closed. It wanted to be made for special occasions. It wanted to have candles stuck in it, and spit blown on it after a wish is made. It dreamt that people of all ages would look forward to eating a slice, rather than only being eaten because there wasn’t time to make bacon.

Good for you, carrot cake. I still want nothing to do with you. But keep dreaming, kid. Keep dreaming.

No Awkward Singing

It's a tradition in my workplace, that on someone's birthday everyone gets a card and gives it to the birthday girl/boy and eat cake. No awkward singing. Which is nice.

Except, I never know what to write in my card. I mean, isn't that why you can get cards with text? So that the card companies can do all the work for you?! I follow Demetri Martin's lead and write whatever I find interesting at the time.


Lobsters have green blood, just like Star Trek's Vulcans.

Light bulbs make terrible traveling companions.

Toes are weird.


That sort of thing. I'm getting a reputation as the "weird girl" in the office. I just think everyone else lacks my imagination.

But for some reason, I never worried about "butt dialing"...

Now with almost all phone featuring voice dialing, I can't talk about anyone without constantly checking to make sure I didn't accidentally call them. 

I can't be the only two-faced person who talks behind friends' backs, concerned about this.