Circumstances have been conspiring against my posting anything new.

My computer kept crashing and had to be taken to the shop (where it lived for almost a week). I must say, the computer crash coinciding with my trying to finish up my thesis has not been good for my stress levels.

We've suffered a private family tragedy, I'm not going to discuss it here, but it has been very trying. I simply haven't felt like blogging about anything fun and frivolous.

I canceled my internet, left my apartment and have been staying with my parents, who don't have wireless anywhere nearby.

Not to mention I've been crazy busy. Moving is a big project, but it is going very smoothly. The movers are gone with my stuff. Josh gets in today, and then we leave for Chicago.

But I'll be back in the saddle soon.

These days I am obviously thinking all the time about moving. Moving, moving, moving, moving, moving. There are a lot of other things on my mind too, but none of them pleasant, so I try to concentrate on this one pleasant thought; moving. In less than a week the movers come to pack up all my goods, and in a measly ten days Josh is coming to Denver to visit and then I am never going to be alone again.

Please don't think I'm complaining or having second thoughts, I am just taking the time to say good bye to my life as I know it.

See, I'm a planner. The kind of person who enjoys planning the vacation as much (if not more than) the vacation itself. I make lists and I do research and I create cross referenced databases of stored information that I can access at a moments notice. I become consumed with the plan.

I had this master plan about finishing grad school and moving to the city and starting my life anew. I'd make fabulous new friends and wear cute little outfits and flirt shamelessly with Cubs fans... and nowhere in this plan did I live with my boyfriend. I like plans, I'm an over planner, but leave it to me to go and screw it all up by falling in love.

I've lived alone for many years, and I'm the kind of person who is built for alone. I love solitude. I drive with the radio off, I love going to the movies and dinner alone. I can spent three days without talking to anyone else before I notice it. I'll miss sleeping in the middle of the bed.

I like not having to answer to anyone or check in with anyone. Or maybe I'm just used to it. I like acting like a ridiculous fool with Jill, traipsing around and getting into trouble. Some of the stories I could tell you... and some of the stories I have!

So now we're moving into the strangest little apartment. And here is the funny thing. We've never lived in the same city. We've spent maybe 15 days together, so you could say this is a leap of faith and you'd be grossly understating the matter. But it doesn't feel like the wrong thing to do. In fact, it feels like everything that has happened in the last 8 months has been designed to get me here. Sure, it's a big step, but so is moving across the country.

Like I said, I'm not complaining. And it's not as if something like this comes along every day. I guess my plan is just changing.

But I like that, because I'm a planner. And now I can make a new plan.

Last Sunday we were up in Basalt to spend the day tubing on the river. If I could I would spend every Sunday on the river.

The day started out early enough but, sadly, trapped inside watching VH1 due to some bad weather. Jill and I entertained our selves by balancing things on Quincy's head.

Jared took Jill for a little spin on his motorbike.

Around lunch time we met Mak, Schaeff, and Jared for lunch.

Due to the prevalent clouds we'd decided to go golf instead of tube the river. This is my explanation for the silly outfits.

But I have no excuse for the faces Kate and I are making in this picture.

Hey, at least Jill looked good.

After lunch the clouds broke and we decided to tube after all. Jared and I spent a good hour spitting on each other on hte river. I have no idea what is wrong with us, so don't ask.

It just wouldn't be a day on the river with out a little ass-out-the-window.

For the longest time it hadn't yet sunk in that I was moving. That I was actually leaving Colorado and Golden and my friends and family. I certainly knew that was the plan, but it hadn't felt real.

It didn't feel real when I accepted the job in Chicago.
It didn't feel real when I signed the lease on my new apartment.
It didn't feel real when I notified the post office of my forwarding address.
It didn't feel real when I canceled my utilities.

But today I went through my apartment and took everything I'm not bringing to Chicago to Goodwill. When I came home to my apartment dismantled and in shambles, it felt real.

I have movers coming in one week(!) to pack up all of my stuff and then off it goes to Chicago, I'll meet it there on September 3rd.

I have a feeling I'm going to cry about a thousand times between now and then.

I feel lucky to have amazing girlfriends.

The kind of girlfriends who tell the truth, who don't connive and back stab.

Who let loose, and have fun.

Who sometimes bring new friends (and kindred spirits) along for the ride.

This weekend Kate brought her friend Meg out with us.

She fit right in, and we had a great time.

Until...

She said...

"The reason all the young boys like you is that you have that hot, old thing going on."

Really? Ouch Meg. Ouch.

Seriously?

There are lots of reasons people go to bars. I'd say 90% of people in bars on any given night are trying to meet strangers and hook-up.

However, there is the rare occasion that is the Girl's Night Out. The Girl's Night Out has little to nothing to do with hookin' it up. Especially if the girls in question are shameless attention whores, they might just want to get all gussied up, drink a little too much and go out dancing.

Jump ahead a few hours to the bar, said girls are dancing and snapping pictures of each other and having a great time in what is otherwise a pretty dead bar.

The dance floor is empty and we girls are out there dancing up a storm. Three young men walk in and grab the table next to ours. These young men are waxed, gelled and very, very shiny. Their white shirts crisp, purposefully adorned with man-jewelery they scan the room and move in on we seemingly oblivious Girl's-Night-Outers.

Now here's the thing. We may all be off the market, but we'll still dance with some sweet young things if the opportunity presents itself, and if they bring their best cheesetastic moves to the party. However, not a one of us wants to rubbed up on or dry-humped on the dance floor.

Now these greasy bohunks are the worst kind of dance-floor humpers because they can't take the hint and follow us around until we explicitly tell them to bugger off.

They respond by yelling "SLUTS!"

Now, I could be wrong, but isn't not wanting to be rubbed by total strangers sort of the opposite of slutty?

We decide that what they should have yelled is "PRUDES!"

Then we decide this is the funniest thing we've heard all night and yell it at one another repeatedly for the rest of the evening, collapsing in giggles every. single. time.

Because this is Friday and it's going to be a long day and I can't remember the embarassing (for Josh) blog I was going to write I am instead going to list it up today.

In 26 days I will be living in Chicago!

In 23 days I'll be drinking beer and floating down the Colorado River with 50 of my closest friends at CODFISH '08!

In 22 days I'll be enjoying the scenery and some Bob Dylan in Snaowmass at the Jazz Aspen Festival!

In 18 days Josh is coming for a visit! He's staying almost a week and then driving back to Chicago with me (and Murph, and Kitty; that should be fun). I can't wait!

In 14 days my weekend-o-fun with my ladies (and Mike) begins. I want to spend my last weekend in town at my favorite hot spot- Suzie's house. We have a long standing tradition of going out big on Saturday night and spending Sunday laying on the couch, eating pizza, drinking mimosas, and watching movies on her more-than-comfortable couches. I feel lucky that Nicki and Chip's engagement patry is also this weekend, so I won't miss it!

In 7 days I'm heading to my parents house. My dad will be out of town for the next couple of months, but my mom has her last triathlon of the season and I'm going to spend the weekend with her before she leaves for Nevada for a week. I am so going to miss my mom!

In 1 day Jill and I are heading to Basalt to spend the weekend with Mak and Kate and spend a little time on the river!

I have a lot to look forward to in the next few weeks, hopefully that will make time fly, because I can't wait to get to Chicago and move into our new apartment and wake up and see Josh everyday.

What can I say ? I got a little sappy there at the end. Deal with it.

I've mentioned before how much I love it when Jill and I go out drinking and she gets kind of aggro and picks fights with people.

My favorite story is one from several years ago. We were out and about in Denver and we went to this super-cheesy bar called Spill (we used to go there a lot). Well one particular night the door guy was hassling her about something and she got pissed, turned around toward the row of drinks lined up on the patio's ledge, and in one, grand, sweeping gesture violently ran her hand along the length of the railing sending about a dozen people's drinks flying.

I dragged her home after that.

Last time we went out the little wallflower came out of her shell once more. We decided to cab it from downtown Denver to our favorite cheesy dancing spot Rockbar, and arrive about 1 am, just a half-hour short of bar time. The last three times we went to Rockbar we swore we'd never return, but we are liars. Rockbar, is on Colfax within walking distance of Suzie's house, they serve cheap drinks and the DJ plays decent dancing music. But that's not why we like Rockbar. We like Rockbar because their dance floor is surrounded in walls covered in floor to ceiling mirrors.

Jill and I are not particularly conceited, but we are probably two of the vainest people on the planet. We may not always love what we see, but we always love looking in the mirror. My dad has this long running joke, stemming from 1998 when my parents took us to Cancun for spring break (what were they thinking?) the there is not a reflective surface that we won't look at. Shop and car windows, shiny metal, puddles, you name it. It's a pretty funny joke but also? True.

Couple our unrivaled vanity with our attention whoring ways and the dance moves we've been working on since we were 14 and we make quite a scene. More then one of our friends has expressed their embarrassment at being out in public with us, but what can I say? Jill is right, we just can't help it.

At Rockbar we're drinking our beers and dancing with out reflections in the mirror (a favorite activity) and taking pictures of ourselves when I overhear this gal say to her two male friends "God I wish I was cool enough to dance in the mirror and take pictures of myself too."

Bitch.

I tell Jill what she said in a sort of why-does-she-care-what-we-do kind of way and all of a sudden Jill is off. She get's right in the mix (who not ten minutes earlier was trying to set one or both of us up with her friends) starts bitching her out and pointing her index finger right in her face. Now I don't know about you, but when someone does that to me, it just about pisses me right off. Und so wieder.

See, I'm more a lover than a fighter, but I'll get my girl Jilly's back. Although, under the influence and in this particular situation I seemed to think I could best help by snapping my camera right in this girls face over and over again. I am the picture of maturity.

When Jill wouldn't relent, the girls friends dragged her away and out of the bar, Jill and I went back to dancing. All the way home we talked about what her problem was, why on earth would she care one iota about what we do? I mean really, get a life.

The next morning I was looking through my camera and counted 37 pictures that we took at Rockbar alone. That's 37 pictures in 30 minutes. No wonder that girl was annoyed.

Is there anything better than grilling, drinking wine and night swimming in the summer? Maybe rocking out while you are doing it...

In true fashion our friend Fritz's kitchen turned into the Jill and Me show for a while.

It all started out mildly enough, drink a little wine, help load the dishwasher...

But when the tunes shifted to Bon Jovi and Ace of Base, we just couldn't help but move our feet....

And mortify the young teens who were trying to play Wii and ignore us in the other room.

I do love a good sing along...

And I'm a sucker for an impromptu photo shoot.

By the time the dishes were done and ready to be put away, Jill was in fine form...

And the rest of the gang was getting in on the fun.

Paul was maybe too into the dance party.

Cap the show off with Jill's interpretation of a fan dance...

Thanks Fritz for hosting a wonderful party.

Jill is a force of nature. I am unbelievably lucky to have spent my entire life as her friend. As excited as I am about moving to Chicago, I am bereft at the thought of living 1000 miles away from my favorite lady.

Jill and I have, of course, our inside jokes, our old stories, shared memories. We also have a language all our own. We can get to the bottom of things with merely a few words or a gesture or a look. We know how to make each other laugh at the drop of a hat, and do so often.

We also have some quirky little habits that our friends don't understand. We seamlessly lie to one another on a regular basis without batting an eye. Not that we ever fall for it; it's just that we both know in a few days or a week the phone will ring, and that familiar voice on the other end will say "So, yeah, I wasn't totally honest the other day..."

We have a lot of the same weird habits, and I can always count on her to make my day fun and my night wild!

I've often wondered what kind of person I'd be if my whole life I hadn't had Jill to reflect back to me our odd behavior and make it seem like the most normal thing.

I'm so glad that I never have to know what kind of person I'd have been if I'd never met Jill. My proudest accomplishment is that 22 years after we met we are still friends.