all is good and all is well.

Reasons Why I’m In Love With Tuesday Summer Mornings:

#1. You roll outta bed consciously expecting to be faced with a lengthy to-do list, but are surprised when you come to your senses and realize you have… nothing to do. Spontaneity/creativity here we come.

#2. 99.5% of the time you look out the window within 3 minutes of dragging your ass out of bed [big accomplishment for some of us, so self-pride is already soaring by this point] only to see depressing weather. Seriously, it’s like the weather and its weather forecaster [who is convinced he holds the power in that relationship by the way, pisses me off to no end] have this secret deal or unwritten contract stating it WILL be gray and cloudy and blah on Tuesdays. And let me tell you, those gray skies have got lazy and PJ’s and hot cuppa joe and food network/project Runway marathon written all over it, so I guess that weatherman should feel as though he can go on and do whatever he damn well pleases because I usually don’t object him determining my mood in the long run.

#3. Grocery shopping, need I say more? If I’ve failed to establish my mild addiction to supermarkets, here it is: SAFEWAY/ALBERTSON’S/HAGGEN’S owns my soul, and always has. I kid you not [and I wish I was considering how much shit I get for it from my friends], I treat the day I “have to” make a trip to the grocery store as some sort of sacred holiday. It’s just walking/running/skipping/any other form of exercise you very well choose to perform while picking up your necessities [and trust me, I’m known to get creative depending on my energy level] up and down every aisle, knowing once you reach the end and ‘round that corner, only bigger and better things are to present themselves… it’s like a Hollywood thriller, some kind of suspense flick. You never know what’s going to be on sale or, better yet, if new products have hit the shelves and are soaking up their 15 minutes in the time between the time you step foot in the store and last week’s Tuesday grocery run. And don’t get me wrong, bakeries, flea markets, delis of all kinds… they all fall under the category of One Of My Favorite Things In Life. Oh, and not to mention whenever I’m on one of my food adventures, I’m just so inspired to re-start up my not-so-healthy health kick [I’m known to go overboard whenever d i e t is in my monthly vocabulary, and my all-or-nothing personality is to blame]. I see it almost as a competition: I pass people with carts piled high with HFCS-dominant sugary cereals and horribly processed frozen TV dinners, and I consciously think to myself, I’m gonna show them, okay guys, nutritionally-smart Dr. Chissus has entered the building, “can you please point me in the direction of yogurt and broccoli?” Eating healthy makes me feel on top of the world, because, well, my waistline is a whole hell lot smaller than yours so HA. Nonetheless, Tuesdays are reserved for grocery shopping and has been ever since Mom got me hooked on it [I view it as a hobby and not a chore for the record] when I was a little girl.

#4. Coffee’s always more satisfying on a Tuesday. Whether it’s that aroma of strong black off-brand Costco/Starbucks-mixed making its way throughout the house and to your bedroom, and nostrils, or a relaxed internet-blogging session at the local café while soaking up a lowkey and wonderful day, or a quick Starbucks afternoon fix, there’s something spicier about it come the second day of the week. [Note: if the thought hasn’t crossed your mind until I said something, now I bet you’re thinking about it and going, “You know what?, damn, I think she’s really on to something here…”] Maybe I’m speaking for myself, but it seems as though I always fail to make time for a Starbucks run between running errands and OCD’ing my ass through the house, that or I don’t actually sit down and give my senses the opportunity to enjoy the cup of java in front of me on Mondays, and with that said, I try to make up for it on the following day. 12:23pm on Tuesday morning, August 11th, and I hear the café calling my name, mmm iced white chocolate double shot americano w/ nonfat milk , here we come…


#5. Tuesdays are not important. Which makes them fun. I mean think about it, Mondays are the start of the week, The Beginning, the sneak peek of what’s to come and what we should be expecting for the remaining six days, Wednesday is the middle mark of an-already hectic week, Thursdays we find ourselves in TGIF’s-almost-here!,-let’s-start-counting-down-the-hours-by-our-lunch-break-today mode, and Friday’s are, well, Fridays. Code for the best day of the week, English translation: oh hey girls night out with chilled strawberry martinis and cute little lime cosmos in hand, that or lazy night in after a godly long week of work/stress/finances/etc. with some action flicks and forgetting to watch the TV screen and getting distracted with action from the man. But… Tuesdays. Tuesdays. It’s insignificant name is just asking for a lazy/unproductive day [which actually, according to Webster’s, and me, has completely different definitions].

#6. I feel like dancing, all day. Blame it on the fact Beyonce songs keep making their way to my ears/energy level via radio, and I started my morning off right with my 11 o’clock Ellen fix and boy does that girl have it GOING ON. Not so much considering I’m happily taken [and very straight, if that wasn’t established anywhere in that last label] but hey, gotta give it to her, she’s cute for a lesbian. Well, I take that back, she has impressive dancing skills for a lesbian. Well actually, I have nothing to compare her to but… I feel like dancing. I reserve Tuesdays for my perky good moods, end of story.

#7. Let’s just get down to business here and go on a rooftop and SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS: you’ll never guess who I just received a voicemail from. *suspense building up among the audience* [I know, I know, I’m pretty good…] So I was doin’ my thing and pouring myself a glass of fat-free milk to compliment my PB&J whole-wheat flax waffle breakfast sandwich [oh, and if you’re not drooling yet, there’s a good chance that something is clinically wrong with you] and apparently my phone was stuck on silent from my nightly ritual in which I make damn sure nothing in the world will disrupt my good and wonderful 8 hours of beauty zzz’s. Outta the corner of my eye I look over only to see Sadie [yes, I have a nickname for my cell, don’t act like you don’t] glowing with her bright blue background and new… what was that?, new voicemail? Considering it’s not everyday that I get calls at 11:47am, and not only that but calls important enough to leave a voicemail, I’m going to admit that I got a tiny bit excited inside. I was stuck there, the gallon of milk still attached to my hand, fridge door wide open and standing there dumbfounded and confused and yet giddy just because no one EVER calls me before noon, on a good day. So there was only one thing to do: call my dear ol’ voicemail and check the shit out and see what was up. And thankthelord I did, because as soon as my still-half-asleep-self-proclaimed-NOT-a-morning-person self came to my senses and realized the message behind the message, a huge smile came over my employed-but-getting-a-depressing-15-or-so-hours-a-week ass. I was officially offered to meet for a job interview with [insert name of the girl who runs the show here] at a local espresso stand down by the airfields. Now, I thought to myself, don’t work yourself up too much, it’s just an interview. If we were to get technical though, what exactly are my chances? First of all, let’s do the basic math: I would look 100% HOT as a barista and killin’ the shots all day long, not to mention, as genes would have it, I’m personable as hell, and bubbly and friendly [on a good day] usually go hand in hand with that, I mean right? Forget it, confidence is skyhigh, I should have this in the bag. So *fingers crossed*, and cross ‘em tighter than usual, and I’ll come back with preferably good? news in a matter of 23 hours or less [seriously, who in their right mind schedules official biz at 11:15 in the morning? I guess she works/lives around coffee so she does have a right to, but whatev]. Chances are I’ll busy myself self-prepping interview questions and speaking in business terms and big words just to get in habit for the entire afternoon and night, and tonight’s sweet dreams will likely consist of me landing the job and serving local caffeine addicts, and getting tipped from wealthy business people on their way to their multi-million dollar jobs whose checkbooks aren’t even the slightest bit affected by this economy, right and left [can you say hello automatic/out-of-habit/etiquette commission?] and WHAT.T.F., calllllllmmm down Court. It’s a shot. It’s a chance. And a damn good one, and one I will own if I have any say in it.

Until tomorrow at noon when I [happily] break the news, go soak yourself up some afternoon happiness, a satisfying energy boost/caffeine fix, and for god sakes, make it a good day. After all, it’s Tuesday.