Smart pinky toe

I rang in my 26th birthday on March 13th. The days wasn't too fun-filled because work was cra-zee, as was the freelance editing gig I've got going on. I did, however, receive flowers at work. Not from hubby. From my aunt (a.k.a. M.O.M.—my other mother). It was the sweetest thing ever. I've never received flowers at work before. And the compliments I received. I felt like Ms. Popularity for the day. My co-workers let me go at decent time despite our being over burden with work (it's tradeshow season and we're one man down). So I headed home quite happy and excited to make tortilla soup from a recipe my sister had passed along. It was so yummy. Combine that with my favorite show Lost, I considered it a good birthday.

Currently, I'm spending the weekend at the Dad's digs. Figured it was time to get his Christmas present to him and see my nieces before they turned into teenagers. As they're just a little more than year old, they're running all over the places and jibber jabbering up a storm. It's so cute how shy they started out at the beginning of the afternoon, clinging to their parents like a koala to a eucalyptus tree, but by the end of the evening, they're more than eager to play and laugh with you.

My sister in laws shared stories, while I borrowed stories of the most recent adventure of my almost two-year-old nephew that my sister had told me. I told my sis-in-law Stacey (Hey Stacey; see, I told you I'd put you on my blog!) that I need to have a kid just so I can join the conversation. I even feel trumped up from old school friends; one in particular I had just recently emailed to see how she was liking her new job; her reply was that she was 10-weeks pregnant with her second child! It's email like that makes you want to take your top 10 list of the things that you must get accomplished before starting a family, crumple it up, and throw it out a window (no, not trash can, where you can retrieve post-insanity moment) and the wind will sweep it along.

Mantra to self: you're in no rush, you're in no rush; you're in no rush; you're in no rush. House, trips abroad, two or three pay raises, those are just a few things I need to get checked off that list. Plus, I don't know how my life would even work right now with a kid. My job is ever consuming. If you could see me right now, you would see that I'm writing with my pinky toe—all that is left of me. It's a very smart pinky toe.

National MS Awareness Week

Somehow National MS Awareness Week crept up on me. I firmly believe knowledge is power, and not just for doctors. Within the last few months, I've discovered while reading MS research that by doing my injections in the mornings, I can prevent the side effects. It worked, and my doctor had never heard of switching the time you take the medication to limit side effects. You never know what you might find by helping yourself. That's what Lorenzo's parents did.

For the latest news and research on MS —the disease that's impacting more than 400,000 Americans—visit www.nationalmssociety.org.

Woe is me

I love Black Beauty (a.k.a my Scion xA), but sometimes she's just a thorn in my side. Apparently, we've got a leak somewhere causing my Check Engine light to come on. Problem is it could be caused from one of two valves. One is covered under my warranty, the other isn't, and it could end up being neither valve. The long-term repecussions of the problem: zilch. Basically, I'm paying to not have my Check Engine light light up. Those carmakers are sure clever guys—they'll get your dough somehow, someway. If hubby and I weren't so damn responsible, we'd probably let the problem slide, but we are, so we'll keep sitting in Toyota Service Center until the sun goes down and I hope the problem solved. Jury will be out on that one. If the light comes back on, we'll have gambled with fixing the wrong valve. If it doesn't, we won!

In other news, we've been browsing houses. Yep, we're probably going to be buying a house this summer because we're afraid we might not be able to break into the market if we wait any longer. Part of me is excited. My own place where I can paint the walls and have space for all my great wedding gifts that are still sitting in my closet. But the other part of me thinks, "Oh the dread of unexpected expenses for repairs and then taxes." But we can't really move forward in our lives without taking this step. Can't have kids (not that you can't have kids in an apartment, but I've had kids in my apartment, and they feel like they're sitting on top of me or getting into everything—maybe that's not exclusive to apartment homes). With my 26th birthday coming up next week, I'm thinking about that ticking clock, or rather trying to find the damn snooze button for just five more mintues (or years). I think we're ready for home and the extra space, but part of me likes the uncomplicated life we lead. We don't have too much to worry about. Why give that up? Is the grass really greener on the other side? I doubt it. It will still be the same life, but just with another place to call home—and more bills to pay.