Meet New Friends, Keep the Old. One is Silver, the Other is Gold.

I wrote a post on Facebook today about how it's sad that I don't even talk to a couple of girls who were my bridesmaids just over 2 years ago.  These were girls I'd gone to high school with.  They were sisters to me.  But getting married and moving away changes everything.

I've met some pretty great people since living in Utah, don't get me wrong.  It's just sometimes difficult to see your single friends through Facebook and wishing you could still be with them, being immature and crazy.  I thought for the longest time that I would be friendless when I moved to Utah.  Sure, I have my husband, but he doesn't fill that "girlfriend" role- the girls you can tell everything to and get advice from and cuss at and know they'll still love you the next day.  That's how my friends from high school were.  But I knew they wouldn't be coming with me to Utah.  They'd be staying in the Midwest, a thousand miles away.  I knew I'd only see them a couple times a year.  I know they wouldn't necessary understand what I'm going through, since I'm in a different stage of life now with being married.  But I never thought we'd lose touch.

I'm happy to say I'm not friendless here, though.  I have some of the most amazing coworkers anyone could ask for.  For a while, I couldn't decide whether my team lead, Mandy, hated me or liked me.  She's sarcastic, bitter, and hilarious.  Turns out, she didn't think I was too bad either.  Being 32, she's the older sister I always wanted and never had.  She has more life experience and more opinions, therefore helping me out with my dilemmas.  We spend at least half of the work day goofing around and talking about everything from sex, to in-laws, to diets, to candy corn.  She's the most level-headed, no-BS person I've ever met and I love her for it.  She's taught me more than any parents or teacher ever could.  She's taught me that there's no point in taking life seriously.  Have fun.  Be loud.  Love and be loved.  And no matter what, never change who you are.  

Man's Best Friend

I've always been a winter person.  I absolutely hate the summer heat.  This was probably because I grew up in Nebraska which is ridiculously humid.  I don't know if it's some health thing, but I have hot flashes constantly.  I'll be fine one minute, and the next I'm sweating profusely and need to stand outside.

When I do have the occasional cold moment, I have the best toe-warmer around: my 105-lb mutt, Sophie.  She's the fluffiest, squishiest dog ever and the perfect personal heater.  I was lucky enough to grow up with dogs my entire life.  My parents had  Shepherd until I was a couple years, then we had a Bichon Frise, a Golden Retriever, another Bichon, a Beagle, and then my baby girl, and most recently another Shepherd.  She's definitely the biggest one I've had though.  I was lucky to marry someone who also grew up with dogs, so having one was just normal. 

Having her with us has been the best thing ever.  I was so depressed my first year away from home.  I didn't have anything.  My landlord had decided last minute to not let me bring Sophie.  When we moved from there and finally got her back with us, everything changed.  Sounds crazy, but she's been my best friend.  She's always there, always so happy when you're home, never argues, never makes me feel stupid. I believe all dogs have the effect.  And that's why I'll always have them.  

Norf 'O, Yo!

While working on my Criminology paper, I remembered some other weird difference between Nebraska and Utah.  Sort of depressing, really, so I'm not entirely sure why I want to blog about it.  But I'm desperate.  It's dead week and my brain is fried.

I grew up just north of North Omaha.  If you don't know anything about that area, google it.  Basically, it's the only ghetto in Omaha that's worth mentioning.  Enough so that you don't really want to be by yourself after 10:00 past 30th and Ames.  I made the mistake once of going to the Walgreens on 30th and Martin at 11:00 on a Friday night.  Granted, this is several miles north of the worst part still, but it gave me enough heebee-jeebees to convince me to not go back.  Nothing happened, I wasn't threatened or anything.  It's just a sketchy atmosphere.  My mom nearly had a heart attack when I told her I'd been down there so late.  It might have had to do something with the fact that I was driving her Escalade too....

I don't think Logan has a ghetto - at least not a ghetto where there is at least one shooting every single night.  Not even kidding.  I guarantee there'll be one, if not several.  My first experience with that area came when we were dropping my elementary school friend off at home one night.  As we crossed through one particular neighborhood, she instructed us to "get down so we don't get shot."  Again, I think my mother nearly had a heart attack.  But, I've never had a bad experience down there.  So I shouldn't be too judgmental. 

Worry-Wort

I keep thinking today is Tuesday, because it doesn't feel like there should only be one day left in the week before finals.  Let the stress begin.

I already started freaking out a little over a week ago.  If fact, I even started developing little bumps all over my face from what I can only guess is from stress.  On top of that, I don't sleep soundly at night, it's hard to fall asleep, but yet I'm exhausted and it's hard to get up.  It also doesn't help that for the last three nights in a row, my dog has been getting me up at exactly 4:30am to go potty.

I don't know why I do it to myself.  I always get all worked up about having to write a paper, but then I just sit down and do it and it's fine and I'm fine and everything's just fine.  I've become a worry-wort in my old age I suppose.  I'm already counting down the days until I get to see my family again - 15!

Cravings

Earlier, I was craving my favorite food from my favorite restaurant: fettuccine alfredo from Spaghetti Works. I'm not sure how I was even first introduced to the restaurant, but for as long as I can remember, it's been my favorite place to eat.  It's not just the food either.  The whole place is decorated in totally random decor. There's cars from the '20s that serve as the salad bars, there's Christmas lights year-round, a 5-foot tall Buddha statue, and advertising signs from just about every company you can imagine.  The lighting is low, the walls are dark, and it's just perfect for an evening out.  

On top of that, the one we go to is located in Omaha's Downtown Old Market.  It's this adorable little part of the city with brick streets, carriage rides, and shops for everything you can think of.  Kind of like a mini, old-fashioned New York City. Also, the food is fantastic and relatively cheap.  I have gone there every year for my birthday for as long as I can remember.  

The only problem?  There's no Spaghetti Works in Utah.  There's a couple restaurants that are in Nebraska but not Utah, but the 'Works is the only place I really miss.

Thankfully, my birthday is in a few weeks, and that's where I'll be spending yet another birthday dinner.