Sunday was a bad day. And not just in the oh fuck I stubbed my toe when I woke up and then we didn’t have any milk so how the hell am I supposed to have cereal this morning and WHY THE HELL DOES MTV SUCK SO BAD?! kind of way.

No, Sunday was a bad day.

And Sunday was a sign that I need a break. I need to take some time away from The Everything and focus on  The Important Things. And I need to remember what is Important and what is Not.

My relationship, my family, my friends, my mental health… Important.

Twitter… Not.

Staying rested, eating right… Important.

My Google Reader number… Not.

Facebook… Important. (I KNOW, I know. But there is some serious communication going on there, people.)

Farmville… Not. (Don’t. Just don’t.)

There is so much I’ve wanted to tell you over the years. So much you’ve missed, so much I’ve missed, so much we’re both going to miss.

It’s been a little more than eight years since you left us, Dad, but it’s felt like an eternity and just yesterday, all at the same time. I can’t believe I’ve survived this long without you. It’s hard to believe the eternity I’ve lived without you has really only been eight little years.

I know I tell myself this almost daily, but I’m not sure I ever let you know just exactly how amazing of a man you were. We didn’t have the best track record, no, but few people have taught me more than you did. You were so strong, so vigilant, so passionate. I get that from you, I think – the passion, the life.

We’re feelers, aren’t we? Yeah. That’s why it hurts so much to think about all the shit we’re going to miss, all the shit we’ve already missed. High school graduation, my first day of college, my last day of college and all the Dad’s Weekends in between. The good boyfriends, the bad boyfriends, the current boyfriend. And someday… the wedding, your grandchildren. You would have been the most amazing grandpa.

It’s these thoughts that prevent me from talking about you much. And I’m sorry for that, but it hurts.

I miss you, Dad. I always will.

{Day 10: A deceased person you wish you could talk to}

This one is hard for me. For the most part, the people I want to talk to, I do talk to. I mean, sure, there are times when both parties (me and whoever-I’m-talking-about) are too busy and phone calls and text messages become a little more rare… but I said for the most part.

There are some people I miss. People from my past, people with whom I’ve lost touch. Friends from back home, friends from college.

But I think the person I most miss talking to is, well, me. As corny as that sounds. I used to spend so much time thinking, analyzing, just all-around getting to know myself. Granted I was typically going through some sort of self-inflicted heartache that was, needless to say, only magnified by my over-analyzation. (Is that a word, analyzation? I’m getting the red squiggly line and the Googles aren’t helping at all… too early in the morning for blogging? I think yes.)

Don’t get me wrong here. I love my life as it is and I wouldn’t change a thing (except maybe all the dog hair all over everything) but sometimes, sometimes… I miss the time with myself to do all the things I don’t get to do anymore (SSB). I miss me.

{Day 10: Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like}

{photo via}

After much thought and deep consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that there is nobody else I’d rather meet. Ever.

I could have gone deep and philosophical (or cliche, depending on how you look at it) and said, “Jesus, for sure. You know, just to see what all the hype’s about.”

Or I could have gotten artistic and sophisticated and said, “Leonardo da Vinci. He was the SHIT, man.”

OR. I could have gotten emotional and said, “My grandpa, who died before I was born. I’ve heard so many stories about him and it just seems like he was a kick-ass guy.”

Alright, alright so all of the above are pretty true. But for my sanity’s sake – and, yeah, it’s just more fun to drool over sexy pictures and definitely easier to write about – I’m going with The Man Of My Dreams…

Johnny Depp.

(As if that wasn’t obvious by the pictures, the drool-inducing pictures, every-fucking-where.)

Dude’s got skills.

I don’t care what you say – the guy can act. Sure, he does weird well (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, anyone?), but he also does multiple personalities (Secret Window), murderer (Sweeney Todd) badass (Public Enemies) junkie (Blow) and bat-shit crazy (PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN hello) so. damn. well.

Not to mention he is eeeeasy on the eyes.

Seriously. I could stare at that all day.

And sometimes I do.

(Kidding. Mostly.)

So yeah, I’d like to meet my late grandfather and Leonardo da Vinci and maybe even Jesus. But really, gimme a little Johnny Depp and I could die a happy lady.

{Day 9: Someone you wish you could meet}

{photo via}

There aren’t a lot of other bloggers I’d consider a friend.

There are some I’d love to call my friend – like Kyla or Nicole or Sleepy Jane or EP or Erin or Jamie or Ev’Yan or Kerri or Doni or Renee or Brandy or Lauren or Ben or Peter or or OR!!! – but that would be a lie… a stretch, at best.

The truth is, there’s only one I’d be comfortable calling for a chat, or flying to another state to visit, one on one. (Not by choice, of course, because all those beautiful people (AND MORE) I mentioned above? Love. But, ya know, if I flew to see them I’d basically have attained stalker status at that point. Which I’d be kind of alright with, but I’m not sure they would be!)

Lauren is… well, Lauren is a lot of things. I’ve written about her before, but that post got lost in the debris of many a website hosting terror so I can’t link to it. I CAN however, give you an excerpt:

It all started idunnohowlongago (sometime over the summer), when Lauren commented on my wordpress.com blog.

“Hey! Where have you been?” she wrote. “It’s been too months and no new posts “

She was, obviously, having a blonde moment. (No, really. Just ask her. Her words, not mine.)

The rest is pretty much history.

And by that, I mean we’ve become, at least on some level, friends. Email, gchat, exchanging phone numbers. We’ve learned we have a lot in common.

And, I mean, the girl made kacijohanna.com happen. Single-handedly. (Though we’re still working on the whole kacijohanna.com not redirecting to the blog site, but WHATEV it’s just being rude.)

You should go check her out at The Off Beat Report. She’s a writer and not too shabby of a photographer, either.

Anyway. She’s the first friend I’ve made through blogging. And it makes me want to keep going.

Same’s true today. If you haven’t checked out Lauren’s site yet, I highly recommend you do so. Like, NOW.

{Day 8: Your favorite internet friend}

{photo via}

I don’t remember having conversations about what’s important in life and what’s not. There were no huge life lessons I remember her making a point to teach me. Maybe it was the little things, like her telling me, in not so many words, she’d rather have me nurture my relationships with friends and family than spend every waking minute making sure my bedroom was free of clutter.

Bedrooms doors, after all, can be closed – and I’m the one who had to live in the clutter, nobody else. But once a relationship is gone, once a friendship is broken, it’s not so easy to get it back.

It’s the people, the relationships that matter. I learned that much growing up.

But in an attempt to go full circle here, I really don’t know how I managed to learn all I did growing up. I hate to toot my own horn, but I like to think I have some pretty damn decent morals and values. Don’t get me wrong – I’ve fucked up, been fucked up and fucked people up, but I always knew the wrong I was doing. I always knew, for the most part, the mistakes I was making. I just chose to do it anyway. Which doesn’t exactly make me the Pope or anything, but I never claimed to be anything more than human.

Unless it’s before 8 a.m. Then I’m not even human.

But that’s the difference I guess. Knowing vs. not knowing. Choosing vs. choosing to not.

Warning: This is where I may cease making sense, if I even started that way.

The point I’m trying to make here, people, is this: How the fuck do people do it? How do you be a good parent?

No, I’m not pregnant, nor am I planning on being pregnant. Nor am I attempting to get pregnant.

It’s just. Well. Look, I know that at some point in my life unless something goes horribly terribly wrong, I’m going to be a mother. I want children. I want to be a parent.

I just don’t know how to be a good one. I don’t know how to instill all these things I want to instill in my children.

And yes. I know. When I’m not even near the Land of Pregnancy, I probably don’t even really need to be worrying about this. But sometimes, the fact is, I do worry about this. Because I have no fucking clue how it’s done. And it scares me.

{Tim_Beyer}

Yesterday was a stressful, exciting, nerve-wracking day. Neither The Boy nor I had ever purchased a dog out-of-state before, nor had we flown a pet in the past.

Needless to say, we were a little clueless. Do we go to the air cargo area? The airline’s front desk at the airport? Where do we park? WHY DID YOU PASS THAT PARKING SPOT RIGHT THERE NOW WE HAVE TO GO ALL THE WAY BACK AROUND AND WHEN WE COME BACK IT’LL BE TAKEN THEN WE’LL HAVE TO WALK THREE MILES AND I’M IN FLIP FLOPS AND HAVE YOU EVER WALKED THREE MILES IN FLIP FLOPS IT’S NOT FUN?!!!???

I also learned airports aren’t good for your relationship.

But in the end we got it all figured out (air cargo area, in case you were wondering) and we have our little man! The airline staff joked with us, saying we couldn’t take him “because he’s too cute.”

And you know what? I think they were right. This guy is ADORABLE. He is constantly doing something that makes me go, “Awww! Look! Look what he’s doing! Oh he’s so cute!”

Like when he goes nose-to-nose with one of the kittens, then sticks his butt in the air, ready to pounce. Or when he tries to snuggle up to Callie, who is most definitely not impressed or happy with him or his addition to our family.

Or when he thinks it’s a good idea to pick up my favorite pair of flip flops and carry them off into a corner to chew on them.

We’re still adjusting. It’s been almost two years since we’ve had a puppy in the house, and in that time I forgot how tiring it is. I forgot about having to wake up every couple hours to let him outside so we don’t have messes in the house. I forgot that puppies have two speeds – GO! and sleep.

And I forgot how much I love the smell of puppy breath.

Now, the basics…

Colt is an English springer spaniel. For those of you keeping track, Callie is also an English springer spaniel. Yes, we plan on breeding them in the future. He was born June 10, so as of today he is 8 weeks, 1 day old. His registered name with the AKC will most likely have Single Action in it. (Single Action Colt… get it? It’s a gun thing.)

Yes, that makes three dog names related to firearms… Trigger, Caliber and Colt. Yes, it’s intentional.

Colt is our fifth dog, second springer.

“Just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to, doesn’t mean they don’t love you with everything they have.”

- Unknown

It’s unnerving to me how many times in my past I’ve relied on this quote to get me through. It’s unnerving because I can’t imagine today the heartbreak I once unintentionally forced myself to experience.

It’s also a little comforting, because now I’m so confident that I’ll never feel that way again.

{photo via}

But then I realize I can’t even remember what I did for my 23rd birthday. And that my life has changed drastically since I celebrated my last birthday.

A year ago, I was working at a job that made me miserable, living in a home that didn’t feel like home. I spent most of my free time alone because my only time off from work was odd hours, and I didn’t have many friends here. I missed holidays with family because of work and I was underappreciated and underpaid.

All of that’s changed. We’re homeowners. I love my job and my coworkers with a passion I didn’t know was possible to have for a job. And that job encourages time with family – no more missing Thanksgivings, no more worrying I won’t have time to see all our families for Christmas. I have friends now who are accessible in a physical sense, rather than just via the internet or phone.

I turn 24 tomorrow.

Bring it on.

{photos via here and here}

Good riddance.

{Day 7: Your ex-boyfriend/crush/love}