Diamonds and gasoline.

This is my grandmother in her garden, in front of her blooming apple tree. As she ages, seems to look more and more like Betty White by the day. And trust me, she's just as sassy. Grandma's great at dropping knowledge on you, as Grandma's should be. She can be a tad aggressive about it sometimes, but as I told her this past weekend, she's earned her soapbox. And she loves her soapbox. Grandma tells me I need to lose weight and start going to church. She also hates health care reform. This is a pretty typical Grandma position.

So, I spent my first weekend of unemployment hanging out with her, learning all about conservative wisdom. And West Texas. By the time I roll up on day 2 of my typical stays in Pampa, Texas, I'm pretty ready to leave. I mean, come on. It's west Texas. It smells like poop and diesel. But I've come to learn that I actually quite enjoy the bleakness of it all. There's a lot of beauty in being reminded you're so small. I told Chelsey that it takes a tough person to fall in love with the Midwest. As much as I love New Mexico, I've come to realize and embrace that Texas, that godforsaken state to the right (and now, to my left), is in my blood. I might not be that tough, but I'm genetically inclined for it.

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Also, I've got a major case of playoff fever.

And the only cure is more Broingtons.

An Oklahoma City team will be participating in its first professional playoff event next week and I'm quite excited. I'll be logging onto ticketmaster on Friday at 10:00 on the dot to try and get tickets, along with the rest of the state. No one seems to be giving the Thunder any kind of chance at winning against the Lakers, but I say don't count them out just yet. Oklahoma's never had a problem being an underdog.

I'm ready to go.

I've decided I hate waiting.

My temp job’s officially over as of tomorrow. I’ve sort of become an expert at last days of work in the last year and the last week is always the worst. Your bosses always stop giving you work, let you take it easy that last week. So there’s nothing to do except sit there and wish your internet wasn’t monitored so you could job search. You’re just waiting for it to officially be over.

I’ve got a job interview tomorrow at the same place, more super secret stuff. I think I have a shot at it, but I’ve been told that before (about 60 times thus far in that building) so no hopes on it. I’m waiting for that too, getting more and more nervous about it each day. Mostly because I’ve got about 8 hours to sit in the very building it will be held and think about it. I wish you could get notified about interviews an hour before they happen. Just enough time to get pretty and get there.

Probably the thing I hate waiting for the most is for school to start again. Get me back to overpriced text books, conservative vs. liberal battles in anthropological theory and all-night study sessions. Get here, August 23rd. Can’t wait to officially be a Sooner.

I’m waiting for Gertie to behave better, for my next payday, to find out where the payday after that will be coming from, for lunch, for my afternoon walk, for the wind to die down, for the weekend, for the next time I'll be home, for the Tom Petty show on May 15th, for my birthday… it just keeps going.

I’ve decided I hate waiting. So I’m done. Time to start doing.