Ed and I play The Grocery Game,* which helps us buy groceries and hygiene products, including razors, inexpensively. As a result, we have a LOT of razors. Recently, I realized I needed a new razor when I was already in the shower, so Ed went and grabbed me one.

He grabbed the Venus Spa Breeze. BEST RAZOR EVER! Gel is built into the blade, which makes shaving QUICK and not messy. This makes me freakishly happy.

Yes, I know I’m easy to please.

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My friend Brad, a public affairs office in the Air Force, was deployed to Baghdad, Iraq, last week. He’s started a blog, “Blogging Iraq.” Brad wants the blog to be about “what life is REALLY like” there, and he’s succeeding.

Since he’s been there, he’s blogged about everything from his flight from his supply stop into Baghdad and buying Burger King in the desert to the first sandstorm he experienced. I’m finding his stories about the “sandy beaches of Iraq” absolutely fascinating.

I asked him if I could share his blog address, and he readily agreed. He welcomes new readers in this post where he talks about when he’ll get to go home. (In that post, he also shows a video of him and a friend feeding some really hungry fish.)

As of this writing, you can only access the three most recent posts from the front page. You can access the rest of the posts by clicking on the “archives” link under the “subscribe” button in the right column. (Subscribe while you’re at it.)

He’s writing the blog so folks will read it, so feel free to blog about it yourself and tell your friends via Twitter, Facebook, etc.

Brad is looking forward to seeing you: Blogging Iraq.

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Here are the clothes I took for a 2 1/2 day trip to Kentucky for a media communications reunion, plus the groundbreaking for the new Center for Communication Arts at my alma mater:

That’s

• 4 shirts/blouses (5 counting the one I wore up there), plus one camisole “just in case”
• 2 pairs of slacks
• 2 pairs of shorts (3 counting the pair I wore up there)
• 2 pairs of jeans — one dressy and one less dressy
• 3 pairs of shoes (4 counting the tennis shoes I wore up there)

And this is what I wore the 2 1/2 days we were there:

That’s

• 3 shirts
• 1 pair of slacks
• 1 pair of shorts
• 2 pairs of shoes

We got home a little while ago. We had an AMAZING time. More about the trip soon.

And, for the record, Ed did not get a hernia carrying our freakishly heavy suitcase that contained WAY too many of my clothes.

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Yesterday, a certain couple announced they’re planning to divorce. (Good grief, the headlines, but that’s another post entirely, and one that will, most likely, go unwritten by me. I am conflicted enough about writing this one.)

I’ve watched Jon and Kate Plus 8 for almost two years. When I started hearing rumors that they were having difficulty, especially when they acknowledged it themselves, I started really thinking about my reaction to the news that this couple, whom I’ve never met but who I care about in an I-watch-them-and-their-cute-kids-every-week sort of way, might be considering divorce.

I pretty quickly realized that I feel much the same way about this as I feel when I learn about a close friend who is divorcing: really, really sad. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s sad for couples with kids and for couples without. It’s sad for couples with $10 between them and for couples with billions. It’s sad for Christians and sad for non-Christians. It’s sad when the couple is on television every week and for the couple who doesn’t have a television. It’s just sad.

Marriage troubles STINK… no matter what. :(

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Remember the segment on “Sesame Street” where a resident of the Street (usually Bob) would go around meeting different folks?

I always LOVED this segment, and I’m still curious about such matters.

Today I’m particularly curious about the folks who are the people in my Internet neighborhood.

I get about 20 visits a day via Site Meter, mostly from folks looking for an old-fashioned water pump or researching zits. But, I’m also getting more hits from Georgia (where I live) than I used to.

Feedburner indicates about 30 people a day access my blog’s feed in some way. I don’t fully understand the wonder that is Feedburner, so I don’t know exactly what that number means. But, I know that at least a few of those Feedburner hits come from people, not bots.

I’d love for those of you who read — and especially those of you who mainly “lurk” — to say “hi” via comment or e-mail and tell me something about you. I LOVE that each of you comes, whether it’s every day or every few months.

It’s a pleasure to meet you.

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For the last 6 1/2 years I’ve been seeing a therapist to help me deal with anxiety and depression issues. Last April, I “broke up” with the person who had been treating me and started seeing someone new.

Making the move was the right thing to do. I’ve made more progress in the last year than I did the previous 5 1/2 combined.

Today I mentioned to my therapist that I’m frustrated; I feel like so much of my first 5 1/2 years of therapy was wasted. I wondered what might be different in my life if I’d done a better job of taking care of business to start with… if I’d “broken up” with my old guy earlier.

“Rebecca,” my therapist profoundly responded, “you’re getting yourself back.”

He’s right. All the work I’m doing is part of the process of getting myself back. I was about eight when my mother took me to the doctor for what I now realize was panic attacks. So, clearly, I’ve been dealing with this anxiety thing for quite awhile now.

When a person has been dealing with something, on one level or another, for more than 25 years, one shouldn’t expect to be “cured” after just a year of good therapy. So this process of “getting myself back” may take – is taking – longer than I’d like.

But I am, slowly but surely, getting myself back. That makes all the money and all the pain of the process worthwhile.

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Last August I weighed 140 pounds.

This is a photo taken of me right before my August 2008 Curves weigh in, which is when I got back on the exercise horse.

I wasn’t overweight by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn’t feeling well, physically or emotionally, at that weight. In fact, I used that photo in a post in which I shared my lament about my weight.

In April, after eight months of exercising 3 times most weeks and eating better (most of the time), I weighed 130. My weight has dipped just a smidge since then a couple of times, but my body seems to be happy at 130.

I feel GREAT!

I’m looking pretty fierce, too.

And, best of all, I’m happy.

Happy is good… Hooray for “happy”!

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I filed my first police report this afternoon.

My purse is missing in action. I know where I last had it (on the floor next to my chair) and that we came straight home. We’ve not been anywhere else since then. Unless it’s donned camouflage (have stranger things happened?), it’s not in the house. We called the place where I last had it, and no one has turned anything in. The first step after something like this happens is filing a police report, so that’s what I just did.

If I did, indeed, leave my purse there, shame on me for doing so. But, shame on someone else for not turning it in.

Again, there’s still a slim chance it could turn up.

In the meantime, however, I’ll spend the rest of my Sunday doing all of the things one has to do when one’s purse is lost or stolen. And I’ll spend at least some of the next several days doing the same.

Bummer.

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Remember last year on Memorial Day weekend when I got a sunburn while doing the equivalent of watching the grass grow?

Well, today I got this.

I belong to a pool. HOORAY!

After I swam 9 laps at the indoor lap pool, Ed and I spent no more than 15 minutes at the outdoor pool, with overcast skies in effect, so I wouldn’t get a sunburn.

I got a slight sunburn.

I just LOVE belonging to a pool where I can get sunburned. Next Memorial Day, though, maybe I’ll finally get that whole wearing sunscreen thing right. :)

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