I’ve never been to Rhode Island before, and in fact haven’t spent a lot of time in New England at all, so this has actually been a fun experience for me (hours of meetings notwithstanding.  But in all honesty, even the meetings weren’t bad – it’s nice to talk shop with colleagues from other institutions, you know?  ANYWAY).  I hit it off with a woman from Buffalo, and we ended up going out to dinner last night with a group of ladies from the Boston area (one of whom was a transplant from Ireland, so her accent was extra-fun).  It seems that quite a few of the conference attendees are from Boston and the surrounding areas, and I love listening to them talk.  I’m sure they probably feel the same way about me because try as I may, “y’all” keeps flying out of my mouth far more often than it normally would.

I’ve had excellent New England clam chowder, scallops that were among the best I’ve ever had, and a fabulous shrimp pasta.  The seafood options alone make coming here worthwhile, is what I’m saying.

I spent a pleasant (if surprisingly warm) afternoon walking around town taking pictures after the conference ended today.   I had a very nice chat with the poor lonely park ranger at Roger Williams National Memorial, and he gave me the scoop on where to go and what to see.  Providence is pretty small, and I was able to cover a lot of ground in just a few hours.  There are tons of gorgeous Colonial-era buildings, and an impressive amount of hills.  So in addition to a crash lesson in Rhode Island history, I was able to get in my daily workout at the same time.

The one downside of the trip (other than being lonely – I’d be having way more fun if N had been able to come) has been the complete lack of internet access in my hotel room.  N swears, the nicer the hotel, the crappier the internet service.  That seems to hold true here – it’s $9.95/day to get access in the rooms, and it isn’t wireless.  And OF COURSE the cable they provide doesn’t work with my computer.  So if you would like to know where I am sitting to bring this post to you – that would be the hotel lobby, where there IS free wi-fi.  I swear, the sacrifices I make for you people.

Here – since I’m already making sacrifices, enjoy some photos.  They were taken with my iPhone (the only camera I brought), and I had to e-mail each one to myself individually because the phone cable is back in my room.  You are welcome.

Providence, Rhode Island.

Please, try and contain your excitement.  You’re scaring the children.

I’m actually really looking forward to the trip.  I’ve never been to Rhode Island, and while I’m sure it isn’t the most riveting city on Earth (my apologies to its residents, who I am sure are quite lovely), I always like to experience new places.  Plus, three nights in a hotel room BY MYSELF.  I love my family more than life itself but rarely get the chance to do anything alone, you know?

I have to admit to being a little nervous, though – while I’ve done a great deal of traveling, very little of it has been solo.  In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve even flown by myself:

1.  I flew from Ft. Lauderdale, FL to tiny Panama City Beach one summer in high school to attend youth camp.  Everyone else rode a bus from Texas to Florida but I was already there on a family vacation, so I hopped a puddle-jumper to meet up with the church group.

2.  While we were living in Denver, I went from there to Houston a couple of times while I was pregnant with AE.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand…that’s it.  Not to mention, there was always someone I knew on the other end of those flights, be it my parents, husband, or a youth group leader.

I’m mildly freaked at the idea of getting to a city where I’ve never been, being greeted by absolutely NO ONE, and then being solely responsible for getting my luggage, finding a cab, telling the driver where to go, and checking myself into the hotel on my company’s dime.  At least it is just a cab.  If I had to rent a car and DRIVE MYSELF SOMEWHERE…well, let’s just say that it’s probable that no one would ever see me again.  My navigational skills are on par with those of a toddler.  Or possibly a rock.

So.  Rhode Island!  Yes.  And although it’s just an hour from Boston, it’s doubtful that I’ll make it out that way (see above re: lack of a car and also Adult Life Skills), but hey.  Fine by me.  If I have time (since I am there to attend a conference, after all), I’ll just wander around and see what I can discover.

I’ll probably also spend a fair amount of time fretting.  Because my flight gets back here at noonish on a Thursday, then I have to repack for the whole family, we have to load up and take the kids to my parents’ place near Austin, and we fly out for San Francisco early the next morning.

San Francisco.

Where I’m running a half-marathon.

Gah.

Thursday my mom came into town to watch the kids so that N and I could go out and have some time to ourselves.  So we headed out mid-afternoon and just puttered around town, something we rarely get to do (not in a leisurely fashion, anyway).  We putzed around the mall, browsed at Spec’s (and bought plenty of wine), and laughed at the ridiculous band-related merchandise you can find at Hastings.  (Seriously, folks, does anyone really need an old-fashioned twin bell alarm clock with Korn or Slipknot emblazoned on the face?  Survey says: NO.)

We had dinner at Abuelo’s, where I had a sinfully delicious guacamole/shrimp/scallop/white wine enchilada platter with steamed vegetables.  OMG it was so good, I unapologetically ate every last bit.  (And consequently had a horrible stomachache later that night but it was so worth it.)  We followed that up with a trip to a local wine bar, which was pleasantly quiet (as was the restaurant, thanks to spring break) and a nice place to sit and chat.

Then yesterday, my actual birthday, we took the kids to the Houston Zoo.  AE had been asking to go for quite a while and we hadn’t taken the poor kid since his sixth birthday (a year and a half ago).  The weather was nice so we decided to give it a try.

And as it turned out, so did most of the population of the greater Houston area.  Holy crap, but there were a lot of people.  We got stuck in a traffic jam in the museum district, where some moron two cars up was insistent on letting in every single sly rule-breaking last-minute jerkoff into our lane, thereby causing an even bigger delay.  Which would have been a mere annoyance, if it weren’t for the fact that I had consumed a large cup of coffee during the 1.5 hour drive.  And I needed to find some facilities tout de suite, if you catch my drift.  It got so bad that I seriously considered jumping out of the car to utilize a nearby porta-potty.  Or possibly a tree.

We made it to Hermann Park in the nick of time, where N had to let me jump out of the car and run (literally) to the restrooms at the theater while he and the kids searched for a parking spot (which ended up costing us NINE DOLLARS in a nearby garage, but what can you do).

I always forget how much I enjoy the zoo until I actually get there.  My brain manages to hold on to everything that makes it a pain in the ass – the long drive, lack of parking, ticket expense, hot hot sun, crowds, etc. etc. etc. – and blocks the fact that I always have a good time.  I love looking at all of the exotic animals, and it’s always more fun to watch the kids get excited.  Miss T was in absolute AWE.  She loved everything.  She dubbed the Golden Lion Tamarins “baby lions” almost immediately, and she thought the giraffes were most excellent.  She wasn’t as fascinated by the real lions, however, probably because all they do is sleep.  We have animals at home that do that (in fact, later that evening she compared our dog to the lions because of the way she was lying on the carpet.  Very astute, baby girl.)  We had a picnic, checked out the koi in the reflecting pool, and saw the keeper feed the meerkats.  Miss T and I got up close and personal with a 2-year-old Galapagos tortoise while N and AE were in the reptile house, which was pretty neat.  So we had a really good time, traffic and personal near-catastrophes not withstanding.

AND THEN, we got home and I was given my birthday gifts.  One of which was a brand-new laptop!  Whee!  We’ve been talking for a while about how I’ll need my own laptop once I start classes in the fall, so that I can leave the house and study and all that fun stuff.  I’d oh-so-sneakily mentioned to N a few weeks ago that Dell was running a special on their notebook computers, but it turns out that he already knew that and had in fact already ordered me a shiny green one.  Yay!  I’d been giving him a hard time about topping last year’s gift (a trip to a surprise destination) and I think he did a great job of coming pretty damn close.  But now, of course, he’s just creating a greater challenge for himself with each passing year.  I figure by the time I turn 50, he should have worked his way up to the purchase of a small tropical island, yes?

SO!  To sum up:  I may be a year older, but had a pretty awesome birthday celebration to soften the blow.  Win!

Today, though, I find that I simply do not give a rat’s ass.  Not one measly rat, or his tiny little ass.  Would you like to know the last movie I saw in the theater?  Why, I’ll tell you.  It was Star Trek.  Seriously.  And not only am I not interested in the Oscars (I don’t even know who’s hosting this year), but I was actively pissed off at the gym earlier, when the pre-show was playing at volume eleventy-billion and twelve and I didn’t have the option not to hear it.  (Side note:  when I can clearly hear the TV over Rob Zombie playing millimeters from my eardrums, the TV is TOO LOUD.)

So.  What would be the point of me watching the Oscars?  I have seen exactly zero of the movies that they’re all geeked up about.  I never made it to Avatar, I barely know the basic premise of The Hurt Locker.  Not a consistent Tarantino fan, so I’m not interested in Inglourious Basterds.  I haven’t even watched Up, and we own the DVD.

Because I Do. Not. Care.  I’ve never really cared about the fashion aspect of it.  I mean, yeah, some of the dresses are wild and others are gorgeous and the stars all look fantastic but what purpose does this serve to me?  None, really, except to remind me that  a) I will never be a movie star and b) I will never be that rich.  I’ll catch up with the style in the post-Oscars issue of People magazine.

So when you knock that aspect out, what’s left?  Oh yeah, the movies.

I’m not sure when I stopped caring so much about movies in general.  I used to work at a movie theater, for crying out loud!  I saw pretty much every movie that was released during that time, often before the opening date!  I can sing the closing music for any move released in the late 1990s!  I have an entire category of this blog devoted to movie reviews!

I think that these days I’m just a lot less willing to get out of my Movie Genre Comfort Zone.  My down time is limited, so I’m not really willing to potentially waste it, you know?  Why would I want to devote 3+ hours of my life for Avatar (which, admittedly, I would probably love), when I could be using that time for other things?  Like sleeping?  Or drinking wine?  Or Netflixing movies that I know I’ll enjoy, like Wolverine?  Or, um, Resident Evil.  ANYWAY.  I do have a point (sort of) and here it is:

I’m old and crabby.  And clearly, I’m wholly intolerant of your Oscar-worthy film making.  Now get the hell off my lawn.

1. How old do you look?

I am actually a little afraid to answer this.  I don’t think I look my age (which is less than three weeks from 31), but I would be so totally horrified if I underestimated how old other people think I look.  But truly, I’m thinking maybe 28?  29?  Hopefully?

2. Where do you live?

Central Texas, kind of between Houston, Austin and Dallas.  It’s a nice spot, an easy day trip to almost all of those cities.

3. Are you waiting for something?

I don’t feel that way as much as I used to.  I used to ALWAYS feel like I was waiting on the Next Big Thing.  Not that I wasn’t happy, but I think I’ve mellowed a bit with age and am far more willing to go with the flow.

4. What’s one pet peeve of yours that is not common?

Hee, do I ever have a lot of pet peeves.  I’m not sure that any of them are terribly uncommon, but I am exceedingly anal about certain aspects of housekeeping (crumbs on the kitchen counter, vacuuming the carpet).  I’m also very bothered by people who wear overly casual (and often, UGLY) clothes to work in a business casual office.

5. Do you want/have kids?

I do have kids.  A seven-year-old boy and a two-year-old girl.  I always wanted a boy and a girl, in that order, so I guess you could say my family’s just the way I always imagined it.

6. Have you ever thought about converting your religion?

Yeah.  I was raised Southern Baptist, but have serious issues with a lot of the teachings and theology.  My husband is Catholic, and at one point we had discussed my conversion.  However, it turns out that I’m really not very religious.  I believe in God, and consider myself a Christian, but unfortunately that’s about as far as it goes.  It’s something that bothers me about myself, especially in terms of raising my kids.

7. Last shocking news you heard?

A coworker of my husband (who I’ve interacted with socially) recently lost her husband in a car accident.

8. What was the last thing you drank?

I’m drinking a glass of wine right now.

9. Who do you most look like in your family?

Oh, but I am a carbon copy of my mother.  There’s no denying what I’ll look like in 30 years.  Her high school classmates, people I had never previously met, have seen me out in public - by myself - and correctly identified me as being her daughter.

10. If you could have something right now, anything, what would it be?

Limitless cash flow.  And a Porsche.

11. Where does most of your family live?

Texas.

12. Where did you grow up?

South of Houston, Texas, about fifteen minutes from the beach.  Same place as Allison, my husband, Valerie, Carol, and Kristine.

13. Where do you want to go on vacation?

I would love to go to Greece or on a Mediterranean cruise, but my Vacation Wish List is longer than my arm.  I adore traveling.

14. Have you ever had a panic attack?

Yep.  I have a mini-panic attack any time I’m up high and don’t feel secure.  Like when I’m on ski lifts, ferris wheels, and the now-demolished Astroneedle.

15. What can’t you wait for?

I am super-excited about starting graduate school in the fall.  Terrified, but thrilled.

16. Have you ever smoked?

I’ve tried it a few times and lo, it is disgusting.

17. Want someone back in your life?

I had a good friend, a coworker from the credit union I worked at in Colorado.  We lost touch when we moved back to Texas several years ago, and she never seemed interested in maintaining the friendship.  It still makes me sad.

18. What do you order at the bar?

Depends on how I’m feeling.  Usually I order a nice Chardonnay.

19. When was the last time you cried really, really hard?

You know, I don’t remember.  I usually cry at least once a month.  I’ll let you figure out why that might be.

20. Ever licked someone’s cheek?

Yes.  It pisses off my husband.

21. What is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter?

I like peanut butter on waffles, particularly blueberry ones.  I also like PB on apples and celery.

22. Where were you on July 4th, 2008?

Umm.  Hmmm.  I’m not sure.  At home, probably.  Clearly it was a night to remember.

23. What are your nicknames?

I have a nickname from high school, which is a bastardization of my first name.  But since I blog (semi)anonymously, I don’t really want to reveal that here.  Suffice it to say, it was rampant enough that almost everyone I knew called me that from time to time.

24. If you could go back in time, how far back would you go?

Goodness.  You know, I’ve always thought that I would want to go back in time and make a few changes but I’ve seen enough sci-fi to know that you don’t mess with the timeline, yo.  I would like to go back to our wedding, just as an observer.  I’m told it was a kick-ass party.

25. What is something you are passionate about?

I tend to get my panties in a twist regarding the old stay-at-home vs. working mom debate.  I work full-time and I’m proud of it.  I have a good job that I enjoy (most days) and I want to work outside the home.  In my opinion, not everyone is cut out to be a stay-at-home mom, and my children would NOT benefit from dealing with me all day, every day.  I get very offended at the implication that I’m not taking an active role in raising my children because they’ve both been in daycare full-time (AE since he was 11 months old, and Miss T from 10 weeks).  They’re my kids and the fact that I’m a working mother will never change that.  SO THERE.  (GAH.  See?  Touchy!)

First, a wine review!

This is a Montepulciano d’Abruzzo dry red wine, Monte Campo, Italy.  Interestingly (to me, anyway) it’s marked denominazione di origine controllata.  (Click on the link, maybe you’ll learn something new, like I did!  Wine drinking: it’s educational!)

I’ve repeated many times that I’m not generally a fan of reds, but this one was a gift so I thought I’d give it a go.  (Full disclosure: it was gifted to N.  But he doesn’t drink wine, so all tasting and consumption responsibilities fall to me.  It’s a hard life.)  So taste it I did, as a last resort, when my wine fridge was empty of everything except the Francis Ford Coppola Bianco Pinot Grigio that I’m saving for a special occasion.  (N keeps asking me what this “special occasion” might be, exactly, because it has been in there for months already and that’s by far the longest a bottle of wine has ever survived in this house.  And I always tell him that I’m not sure, BUT I WILL KNOW WHEN IT HAPPENS.)

ANYWAY.  Out of white wine, yes.  So the red wine was on deck.  And guess what?  I liked it! I know!  Despite the fact that the label touts it as having a light cherry, berry and leather bouquet.  I read THAT and was all, leather, WTF, why would I want to drink anything that tastes/smells of leather.  But.  It was very smooth, and had a sweet undertone, and wasn’t as dry as I find most reds to be.  So in short, YUM.  And I bet it would be an excellent wine for cooking also.  I went to the liquor store today, hoping to buy another bottle, but they were out.  So I picked up another Montepulciano d’Abruzzo from a different winery, in the same price range, so I’ll compare.  It’ll be like a science experiment!  (But I will have to buy another bottle of the Monte Campo too.  For control purposes, of course.)

So there you have it:  Thing #1.  A red wine exists that I will not only drink, but actually enjoy.  Who knew?

And now for Thing #2.  I’ve been accepted into the graduate program at Arizona State University, to pursue a Master of Arts in Criminal Justice.  It’s a step toward my ultimate goal, my lifelong dream -  to go into federal law enforcement.  I had planned to wait until Miss T started kindergarten before trying to get into grad school, but I finally decided that since I’m not getting any younger it was time.  Most federal agencies have an age limit for new field agents, and I don’t even know if I have a realistic shot at becoming an agent, but if I don’t at least try I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

Maybe my goals will change as I move through the MACJ program, and I’ll discover something else that appeals to me.  It’s entirely possible.  But either way, I’ll be coming out of it with a Master’s degree, and that’s certainly not a bad thing.  The program is entirely online, so I’ll be able to keep working full-time and we won’t have to relocate or anything like that.

With a full-time job that’s demanding and often high-stress, and two kids and a husband, and extended family and housework and pets and everything else, it’s going to be hard.  I have no illusions otherwise.  (Not to mention the expense.)  But N is awesomely supportive, and my bosses are very understanding.  So somehow I’ll figure it out.  The courses all look fascinating to me, and I’m really excited at the prospect of going back to school, and I have no doubt that this is the right choice and the right time.  It’s adding one more ball to my sometimes-delicate juggling act, but I’ll make it happen.

Because anything worth having is worth working for, right?

There are a few items of note in this photo, circa late 2000.  First off, is that hair?  On top of N’s head?  Why yes, I do believe it is.  And notice the height difference between him and Bill, eight years his junior.  They’re the same height now (give or take), but I still think of Bill as that hyper 12-year-old that he was when N and I first started dating.  (Even though he’s 23 now and getting married in June.  GAH.)

Oh look, another sibling photo from the same year.  Obviously this is me and my sister.  Aww, aren’t we cute?  And so young-looking!  That shirt I have on is major fug, but I do wish I still had those Doc Martens.

This photo is just for comparison purposes.  It was taken on Christmas Eve, 2009.  I think we’re getting better looking with age, if I do say so myself.  (She’s actually only about 2 inches shorter than me.  I was wearing 4-inch heels.)

My, my, my.  This was our engagement dinner, so sometime in spring 2000 I would guess.  (Surely I am not expected to remember that specific date, am I?  I hope not.  I do remember the date of our actual engagement, of course.  Because it was my 21st birthday.)  I do have to wonder who we’re all listening to in this picture.  My mom clearly finds the conversation most amusing.  And we all seem to have an eerie white glow to our faces.  (Also pictured:  my grandma’s skeletal old lady hands.)  But the main thing with this picture?  MAH HAIR.  LOOK HOW BLONDE IT WAS, before it turned all dark thanks to PREGNANCY and AGE.  WAH.

Relatedly, I have to admit that I’m getting a leeeeeeetle tired of maintaining my hair color.  I still love the shade (Blowout Burgundy, which is redder than the Chocolate Cherry I used when I first dyed it back in August) but it’s very extreme from my natural color.  And as my stylist, Celeste, pointed out, blonde roots are almost as obvious as gray ones.  Which means that in order for it to look right, I really should touch it up about every 3.5 weeks AND do a full re-dye about every 2 months (and that requires 2 boxes of dye because my hair is so thick).  Bah.  It’s getting expensive, but I know it will be a good chunk of change to get it back to where I started.  Six of one, half a dozen of the other, I guess.  I’m not planning on leaving it this color forever, so I suppose it may be time to bite the bullet and pay Celeste the big bucks to return it to the dark blondish-brown it was before, so that I don’t have to worry with all of this root touch-up baloney.

This is where I started…

Then I went with the Chocolate Cherry…

Then got a little more adventurous with Blowout Burgundy.  And like I said, I still LOVE the shade, but oy.  The maintenance, it buuuuuuuuuuuuuurns.  I really would prefer to not have to deal with the roots all the time, because when push comes to shove, I am incredibly lazy.  And cheap.

But it’s awfully damn tempting to take in a picture like this one and tell Celeste that I want my college hair color back.

So instead of rambling on in great detail about how there are incredibly bitchy people in the world (OMFG, YOU HAVE NO IDEA), I’m going to try and counteract it and remind myself that HELLO, YOU HAVE A PRETTY SWEET LIFE by making a list of things that I am grateful for.  Kind of like I did here, so the obvious things (husband, kids, friends) are mostly excluded because DUH.

So now I present:  Things that are key to NonSoccerMom’s happiness right this very minute, just in case you were wondering (and even if you weren’t):

My faithful, perfectly-broken-in pair of boot-cut jeans.  Kat von D’s Sinner perfume.  New silver hoop earrings.  Twitter.  The delicious discovery of D’Vine Wine of Kemah.  A recently re-discovered blanket my grandma made that folds into a pillow.   Realizing that there’s only one week until Burn Notice returns with new episodes.  Singing loudly in the shower.  A really kick-ass pair of heels, on sale for $19.  Incredibly fugly sweater-like socks, the most comfortable things in the world.  A pair of sweatpants from my high school drill-team days.  Urban Decay De-Slick Mattifying Powder.  Finding out that what could have been a catastrophic plumbing issue was just a simple broken valve.  Watching toddlers do gymnastics.  Live Free or Die Hard. Drinking coffee without creamer.  NCIS on DVD.  Mysteriously being allowed to wear jeans all week at a normally business-casual office.  Roasted red pepper hummus.  Playing Trivial Pursuit with N in the evenings.  Shuffling the songs on my iPod and hearing a long-neglected fave from the end of a list. Vegetating at the end of a long day.  Kangaroo Cry by Blue October.  Guitar Hero:Metallica for Wii.  The Shazaam iPhone app.  This awesome post by Amalah.  Being able to make a friend laugh.  Having a good hair day.  My Skullcandy headphones.  The $1 side salad from McDonald’s.  Vaseline as lip balm.  Being mature enough to finally realize that maybe it really isn’t about me.  Chenin blanc.  Knowing exactly where to find a document when the CEO personally stops by to request it.  Finally having a few minutes to sit down and write.  The unwavering support and endless patience of a wonderful man.  Infinite possibilities.

Rock candy rock candy rock candyrockcandyrockcandy.  I’m sure it was very annoying.  (In fact, apparently more than one of my sister’s friends saw my FB status updates and kept saying FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WILL YOU PLEASE GET YOUR SISTER SOME ROCK CANDY.)

As it turns out, there is unfortunately no rock candy to be had in the town where I live.  At least not that I could find, and believe me when I say I carted poor AE all around town one day in search of it.  I even went into kitschy Texana-type stores, which I normally avoid like the plague.  I discovered that the local mall’s candy store is for crap.  Usually it’s readily available at souvenir shops, and sadly, I simply do not live in a tourist mecca of any kind.  You can get it at Cracker Barrel, but we don’t have one of those either.  At least not for another couple of months, and my craving for rock candy was not willing to wait that long.

Some of my friends were all “MAKE IT YOURSELF!  You can do it!”

Spoiler alert:  No.  I cannot.  But I did try.  And while I’m on the subject, should you ever lose your mind (like me) and decide that you need rock candy RIGHT THIS MINUTE, I will let you in on a little secret (that you probably know already if you have taken a science class at about a 3rd grade level).  Rock candy takes a while to form.  It’s like a science experiment, and you have to let it sit for at least a day so all the little crystals can…well, crystallize, I guess.  Anyway.  Homemade rock candy = not an endeavor for the impatient.

Step 1: Make sure you have all necessary ingredients (sugar, water, corn syrup, and food coloring if desired) on hand.  Check.  Also, wine.  Check check.  Heat until the sugar dissolves.

Step 2: Put your weird cooling jar/string/dowel rod/pencil contraption whatzit out of the way, someplace where it can sit for a couple of days while the crystals supposedly form on the strings.  (Which in this case, means in front of liquor non-cabinet in far corner of kitchen.)

Step 3: Pour the hot, sugary, colored goo into your glasses to crystallize (or make your husband do it, as I did).  As it turns out, you need some sort of weight on the ends of the strings otherwise they just float up.  Lesson learned, after a few stressful moments of rigging them with part of a binder clip, for lack of anything better.

Step 4: Uncertainty sets in but as it turns out, sugar crystals do not.

Step 5: Wait a few days.  Admit defeat, cut your losses, and go visit your sister, who lives in the nearest metropolitan area where there are actual decent candy stores that carry rock candy.  Locate one of these candy shops with your iPhone, and go buy some freaking rock candy in what will probably be the quickest sale ever made by the befuddled store owner, who is used to people browsing his shop for extended periods of time instead of weirdos like you, who march in, grab a package of purple rock candy (the only acceptable color) and bring it to the register inside of fifteen seconds, while your sister is trying to convince you to buy more than one package because for the love of all that is good and holy, she doesn’t ever want to hear about your need for rock candy for the rest of her life, she’s warning you.

The end.