Wake them up and make them mad
To let them know that I’m ok
- Garth Brooks

So, yeah, I got on Facebook. Yea! I am really enjoying it, just like all of you said I would. It’s really interesting to see what people are up to now. Only thing is, I have a couple of hanging friend requests out there and it makes me wonder if they don’t want to be my friend anymore, or if they don’t remember me or if they just quit using Facebook. Of course it doesn’t help that one of these requests is to GRACE. Who, by the way, is one of my best friends. Hello? Did we revert back to 10th grade – are you mad at me again? Ha ha!

Anyway, Facebook has also highlighted how uncool I really am, which is ok because I already knew that. I need to get busy with a social life and take some pictures and post exciting status updates and all. But you’ll probably just continue seeing things like, “Amy Dabbs is going to sleep until noon on Saturday.” You know being the zebra with the unchanging stripes and all.

I hope everyone has a great weekend!
-ames

I did what people told me
Did what my mother said
And let my father mold me
But that was long ago
Now I’m in control
- Janet Jackson

Ok, people. I come to you with a burning question. (SIGH). Has the time finally come for Amy Dabbs to get a Facebook and/or MySpace account? Don’t you all get enough Dabbsness with this site? Or do you want to “friend me” and “facebook me” to your hearts content?

I’ve resisted for SO LONG that it is going to be hard for me to give in at this point on principle. All I seem to hear lately is Facebook, Facebook, Facebook. And I’m getting some flack for not being on there. What if I get an account and I have zero friends on there? I mean, isn’t the point to collect friends there, sort of like how some people collect baseball cards or whatever? How embarrassing will it be when (notice I didn’t say if) I have, like, two friends? And don’t get me wrong, I’ll be proud of my two friends, but won’t everyone else on Facebook, (i.e. the ENTIRE WORLD) laugh at me and say how pitiful my friend count is?

Yeah, this is what worries me. Along with a deep seated fear that sometime in my future I will interview for a job and the person interviewing me will be all, “Oh YOU’RE AMY DABBS. I read all about you on Facebook!!” Well, I guess they could say they read all about me right here, though, too. (But here there an no pictures, etc.).

So, I can’t make this decision, dear readers. I need you to do it for me. I’m leaving it in your hands. Based on your comments below, I will continue abstaining from all this social media drama or I’ll finally succumb to the peer pressure.

Comment away…

Hey! I tried to comment on my own site and was spammed blocked! LOL! Anyway, I wanted to answer Chris and figured some of you might be interested in my reply. (Oh and if anyone has a clue what bad word I put below to kick up the Spam filter, let me know).

No, they said the floaters were just a result of being nearsighted. I have always had a few small ones. Unfortunately, even though Lasik changed my life and I don't have to wear glasses or contacts (well, they did write me a script for a small prescription if I want glasses for night) it doesn't fix the fact that my eyes are shaped oblong. So basically when you're nearsighted, there's more pressure in your eye due to its shape and more chance of that vitreous layer pulling away and causing floaters. I do need my Lasik touched up, though, maybe one of these days when I save up some money, ha!

And to anyone that is curious - I do recommend Lasik - IF you have a surgeon that has done it for many years - do not go to some local yokel eye doc in the box and expect good results.

Happy Birthday America and my pal Chris! Hope you have a great birthday!

- Amy

Check it, wreck it, let’s begin
- Tag Team

Ok, so I’ve been tagged. Thanks Chris! =) Apparently I’m supposed to write seven things about myself that you may or may not know. Let’s see, where to begin…

1) I’m allergic to sand. Seriously. I know -- it’s sad isn’t it? I couldn’t play in the sandbox as a kid or I would break out something ridiculous. I’m not much of a beach person anyway (see previous sun burn post), but the sand issue is the primary reason for that. It’s not as bad as it used to be, but still. Allergic to sand? Pretty depressing, huh?

2) Along those same lines, I hate, hate, HATE to get water in my eyes. During daddy/daughter swimming lessons I always dreaded going underwater. One time I convinced them to let me hold onto the ladder instead of holding hands in the circle to go under. When they came back up I was in the locker room, talking about, yeah, let’s go home dad I don't care if I can't swim. I was four. Nothing’s changed. I love to swim, but I have to keep a towel and goggles very near by.

3) I took dance for ten years. Ugh. Can’t believe I just admitted that on the public interweb or whatever we’re calling it these days. I started out in the combo class – ballet and tap at age 5. I did a few years of that, then it was jazz until I was a freshman in high school. I was awful. No seriously –terribly, terribly awful. I tried my best, but some of us just ain’t born with taps or jazz shoes on.

4) I’m completely obsessed with music. I mean, I’m just completely fanatical about most kinds of music. I quote lyrics in everyday conversation; post them on this site and pretty much listen to music all the time. I have to make myself not buy every single thing that interests me. That in and of itself takes a great amount of self control. I harbor a secret dream of being involved in the music business somehow – whether it be a concert promoter or something similar. But what would be better than being a back up singer? You keep your anonymity, but get to be part of concerts every night? Awesome. Sigh, a girl can dream, can’t she?

5) I would love to just up and move to somewhere like Chicago or Dallas or wherever. But I know I would miss my family and friends way too much. Still, it would be cool for a change of pace. I think it would be fun to do that for a year. I would never make it, though. I’m too much of a homebody. Always have been, always will be. I guess I should just travel more.

6) I have won three Addys. I’m very proud of that fact. Two were for television commercials and one was for a billboard. I’m still pissed they wouldn’t pay to let me actually have a duplicate of the awards. Oh well, I’m comforted in knowing that at some point in time, my creative genius and ability was actually recognized.

7) I’m a huge introvert. It’s true. Those of you that know me are probably rolling your eyes right now, but think back to before you got to know me. Remember? I’m super shy. I don’t do well at parties because the thought of talking to strangers freaks me out. I just tend to clam up. Put me in a room with people I know and am comfortable around and I’ll talk until someone shuts me up. I know, I’m an adult and should just get over it, but the Myers-Briggs test says that is just how I am. (For those of you into that sort of thing, I’m an INFJ. Strong on the I, N and F and cloudy on the J. I’m definitely a P in my personal life, a J at work). “Too shy, shy, hush, hush, eye to eye.” (See, I told you I was all about the music!)

So, here’s the deal, I have to tag some other folks, here goes:

Justin – Come on now, you know you want to!
Scott – Never seen you turn down any type of game before
Liesa – Ok, so you’re having a baby, but you can work on this while you’re gone for the next, oh 37 weeks.
Holli – Dude, its fun! I promise!


Ok, so I can only think of four folks to tag. Ones that might actually do it and that blog. The rest of my pals reading this – you all should totally be blogging! Whatcha waitin’ for?

The rules:
Each player starts with 7 random facts/habits about themselves. People who are tagged need to then report this on their own blog with their 7 things as well as these rules. They then need to tag 7 others and list their names on their blog. They are also asked to leave a comment for each of the tagged, letting them know they have been tagged and to read the blog.

-- Maroon 5

First off, shout out to Maroon 5 – finally a new record in stores today. I can’t wait to get my hot little hands on it. Now…

I’m fair. Meaning, I’m totally white. That’s just all there is to it. 1/16th Native American and 15/16ths Irish and English do not a sun kissed beauty make. But I know this about myself. I can’t tan. I’ve tried before. The summer after my freshman year in college I spent my time working at Big Lots (shudder), swimming or being dragged to the tanning bed with my mother. (Side note, my parents are both easy to tan. The both usually have a nice tan by early May without even trying.) At the beginning of the next school year, I was all tan and ready. Tan for me, that is. Of course I’m still the whitest person on campus. So that was it for me, I gave up trying.

When I was little my parents slathered me with suntan lotion for a day at the beach. I ended up a little pink, but pretty much ok. That night before going to dinner, my mother dried my hair and I screamed bloody murder when the brush hit my completely raw head. So yeah, I have to wear a hat. It isn’t even an option for me.

Sunday afternoon I took my pale ass outside with a book. (Don't Sleep With A Bubba by Susan Reinhardt) I thought I would sit down and read in the sun to knock the chalk off my legs and arms at least a bit. No sunscreen, just a hat and shades. I had bought this book thinking it was a novel. It turned out to be a group of non-fiction humorous essays. I meant to read a chapter or two, but before I knew it, I was about 90 pages in and laughing hysterically. I glanced at my wrist that was lacking a watch and decided to go in.

There’s nothing like stepping into air conditioning after being outside. I guzzled some water, sat down for a minute and knew I was in trouble. My legs and arms were already bright pink. My knees already didn't want to bend from the suddenly hurting skin. Ugh. How dumb am I? Seriously. No sunscreen? And I had been out there for quite a while.

After a shower my legs were giving off enough heat to boil water. Luckily I had some Solarcaine which is probably the only reason I was able to survive. I expected to wake up and find a hole in my sheets from the searing heat coming off my shoulders and legs. Kidding, I know, dramatic much. Anyway, that was two burns in a row for me for the weekend - the first one came on Friday.

Friday night, I had the pleasure of having dinner with Liesa, Katie and Grace at Styx. It had been a very long time since I’d been on the Japanese side and we enjoyed it. But stupid me, I literally left the evening with blisters on my gums and under my tounge. NO, not from something right off the grill – I’m not a total idiot. But rather from an innocent looking crab wanton. A crab wanton that I’m embarrassed to admit was so freaking hot, it actually came back out of my mouth and back onto the plate. Yeah, you totally can’t take my chalky butt anywhere. Seriously.

Well what would you say
- Dave Matthews Band

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHOUT OUT TO LAUREN!

Hope you had a great one!

-dabbs

If it happened to you
-- Leslie Gore

So I hurt my back several weeks ago. I kept thinking it would magically heal itself, but no such luck. And after weeks of on and off again complaining, I finally headed the advice of my friends and parents. So last Monday, when I started to have back spasms, I dragged myself to the doctor. What a pleasant experience that was. I had to lay on the x-ray table (pretty much the same as a cold slab of concrete) in the most uncomfortable position my hurt back could possibly be in for what seemed like hours while they tried to figure out why the x-rays were coming out too light and unusable. After nearly 2 hours, counting wait time, I finally got the dreaded "pulled muscle/lumbar strain" diagnosis. There's nothing better than something as ambiguous sounding as a strain or pull. I got a shot and went on my way to get my prescription refilled. I was sad to discover that the muscle relaxers were not the good stuff and that I would be taking three a day and going to work. You know they aren't worth crap if you can still operate heavy machinery.

The next morning I barely made it through a shower. I couldn't bend at all. It even hurt to look down. I totally panicked and began to cry uncontrollably, thinking I would spend the rest of my life with wet hair and tepid showers since I couldn't do my normal routine. I called my mom and she came. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Trust me, you would've called your mom, too, if it was you. I had to miss two days of work. Which is beyond frustrating since off days in the spring/summer should be used for good and not evil. Anyway, I'm doing better but have had a little relapse today. The relapse has hurt my psyche just as much as it has physically hurt me. The trouble with back pain is there is no end, or at least that's what it seems like. It's not like a sinus infection that you can gage your progress of getting better by how your headaches are less frequent and that junk clogging your sinuses finally dissipates. With this, it's a day at a time and lord knows I'm not very patient.

All of this, coupled with the terrible March I had is taking its toll. I'm in terrible mood and everyone knows it. If you're reading this and also happen to have had any type of interaction with me in the last month or so, I apologize. I'll try to be more this and less this.

And different
You can't fence that in
It's like holding back the wind
-- Keith Urban

Most of you probably know by now that my grandmother died on March 10. I haven't wanted to write since then. Even though we were sort of prepared, death is never something you can truly get ready for properly. It happens and it sucks.

I wasn't ready for how hard I would take it. Nor was I ready for the sobs to give way to a nosebleed right before the funeral. She would have laughed.

I'm starting to feel better, but I tend to think of Louise (Nanny) before I go to bed, which can make sleep hard. I see her rocking chair in my bedroom and think of her. I pass her green chair in my other bedroom and think of her. I see her old rotary phone on my end table and think of her. But I'm glad I have these reminders.

More so, I'm glad to have a wealth of memories. Summer afternoons spent at Nanny's with my cousins Andy and Eric drinking Tang, eating Teacakes and playing in the soft brown dirt patch right off her garden that she always left for us to play in. 4th of Julys with lots of relatives, watermelon (that I never liked and she never got over that fact, even claiming I wasn't a true Dabbs), barbecue and fireworks.

When I finished college and moved back home, my dad and I would take her to dinner every Tuesday night. And mom, dad and I would go see her on Sundays, too. Later, I would stop by the nursing home to slip her some salt for her dinner and to be sure she ate it while listening to her complain about the travesty of having to be there. As depressing as that was, I loved it. I loved listening to her stories and fiery thoughts on everything from politics to the nurse that checked her blood pressure daily. She was always entertaining, whether she meant to be or not.

I had the opportunity to write a eulogy for her. I hope what I wrote would have made her proud. I know she would have loved that I slipped in there her love of ice cream and coffee, even though my aunt tried to make her quit both habits. I am eternally proud to be her granddaughter and have learned so much about perserverance, toughness and independence from her. I've learned not to take anything off of anyone and to speak my mind from her. My stubborness comes from both sides of the family, but a lot of it is her influence on me.

28 years wasn't enough, Louise. I'm going to stay down here for a while and kick ass as much as I can. I'll be up there shortly, ok?

I love you,
Amy

for the joy you keep bringing in my life
-- Kelly Clarkson

Happy Thanksgiving week, y'all. Be thankful, hug someone and tell someone you love 'em. Life's too short.

love,
Amy