worth waiting for

I agree. Twelve days without posting is simply not acceptable. I did plan to post on my birthday, but it turns out Wendy and her mom did it for me. (And oh so well they did it... I am still tickled pink...) I've even seen a sea lion or two in the meanwhile (only rescued one, and really I was more of a bystander, but still...) unfortunately I haven't yet uploaded the pictures. In fact, I have started any number of posts but since there was only one thought in my head (I want my score), nothing seemed worthy of being published.

But now, now my dear internet friends, I can relax. Indeed, scores are in, a few days early as predicted. And let's just say I opened the bubbly, not the oversized cheap wine (which I bought at Costco more for the blue bottle than for its contents...) for I have seen my score and I am happy.

What does happy mean? Happy means my brother has to give me this cute ipod holding thing called a Howdy (I get the Howd-oui) which I have been bugging him about ever since he told me he was buying it for himself. He finally agreed he'd give it to me if I beat my average practice test score. Otherwise he challenged me to steal it (from two states away, I had no fear I would succeed). Isn't he sweet? Mostly, though, he told me to get a job and buy one, cuz as my mom is fond of saying, people my age have jobs...

Anyway, happy also means I've scored high enough I may get fee waivers when I finally do apply (next fall for school in 2009). Happy also means I may get offered money to go to a lesser school but happy means I may very well have the opportunity to explore my intellectual vanity (at my own expense) perhaps even in the ivy league. So happiness means I may be living in snow? Happiness is a very confusing thing.

I'm hoping happy means I'll get into Boalt (which is now, apparently UC Berkeley School of Law) and the internet seems to think I have about a 60% - 70% chance just based on my numbers... Of course, the internet also thinks I am of average height, and I'm sorry to tell you internet, but 5'4" is short...

Most of all, happy means I really have to get off my ass and start exercising, cuz there's no way in hell I'm taking all this extra me to law school. In the process of studying for and stressing over the exam while burying (okay, burning) my dead cat and fretting over my orange one (who is doing great, by the way, 3 weeks out - he's beat his average, too, and he so totally passed his butt inspection this morning), I have now become the biggest me I've ever been. Seriously. I am scary big. I'm so scary big that at certain times of the day I can't even get my wedding ring off. Not that I have to get it off, mind you, but it's disturbing that I can't. It's one thing to break down and buy new fat jeans, but it's simply not acceptable to have to resize your rings to keep up with your gluttony... And I love that ring. And so I know I will lose weight. Cuz I just can't leave my shiny little rainbow maker alone in a drawer...

So what does happy look like on paper? Well, at the risk of being mocked like you tube girl by people who are active on a certain forum I sometimes visit, happy looks like a 176 (out of 180) - the 99.6th percentile. And believe me, I am happy, but happier would be if I hadn't missed that one question in the puzzles section (I never miss any in the puzzles section) and if I hadn't been tricked by that darned unicorn / centaur parallel question (stupid parallel questions - I had time left over, I really should've triple checked my choice). Of course, I quite deservedly missed the other 3 questions and thus I would've never tasted perfection, but, hey, even Mary Poppins is only "practically perfect." That's good enough for me.

Anyway, happy also looks like I'd better get moving and start cleaning my house cuz Erik and I have invited people over for a bbq this afternoon. Sure, the sun is not yet up but it will be soon and I have not done anything around here for about 2 months...

So apologies again for the long wait, but believe me when I say I was unbearable. And I'll make it up to you in November, for NaBloPoMo when you'll get so sick of me you'll stay away for 12 days.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, I almost couldn't handle Drew Carey hosting The Price is Right, but Madisyn, my little niecelet, encouraged me (vicariously, through a quote in a text message) to give him another chance. He's still on probation and, of course, he'll never be Bob, but I do appreciate that even though he clearly does not know how to play the games, he is willing to openly mock the contestants when they do something dumb.

And, as a public service announcement, you can enjoy pomegranate margaritas for breakfast as long as you drink them with a hearty omelet and have time to sleep the entire day away later. Much better than Apple Jacks and white wine and far kinder than Froot Loops and prefab margaritas... This is how I passed the day Thursday when I knew the scores would not be in, but I really could think of nothing else.