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I’ve been told I’m loud on more than one occasion. Okay, on many occasions.
I’m pretty quiet in a large, unfamiliar crowd, but once the proverbial guard is let down, my tongue roars faster than a Mazerati and my voice is completely unsuitable for people within 15 feet of me. I can’t help it. I’m half Puerto Rican…it comes with the package.
When I’m excited (and it seems I get excited more frequently than the average person), I have a tendency to yell and/or shriek. I don’t even realize I'm doing it until people peel away from me and rub their ears. Like I said, it comes with the package.
Yesterday, by the octave of my voice, one could easily assume it was a great day. Despite the horrific weather here in Irvine caused by the Santa Margarita fires (crimson sky, ashes floating everywhere, palpitating heat), I had a totally fun Day After Session in San Juan Capistrano, then rushed home to make dinner for my best friends. Every week we congregate in a different home to watch America’s Next Top Model and the host is in charge of dinner. I’ll usually spring for Thai take-out, but last night I wanted to impress everyone with my mad Chef Boyardee skills, so I made an Italian meal. As we sat down to say a simple prayer before the meal, my heart was so overwhelmed with thankfulness and happiness, I kinda, sorta cried. I squeaked a prayer past the enormous lump in my throat and then thanked my friends and JD for their constant love and support.
And what better way to watch ANTM than in front of a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies! Ahhh, yes, nothing surpasses a good dose of chocolate, surrounded by friends, watching the painfully annoying Tyra Banks crush a girl’s modeling aspirations! ;)
Just in case any of my blog readers want something to shriek about, look at this…
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As I poured milk for a few of my friends to eat with their cookies, I poured myself a glass of orange juice. I drink OJ with all my desserts. I know, I know…some think it’s gross, but I loooove it. There’s just something so unnerving about milk to me. I totally abhor it, so growing up I got accustomed to drinking OJ with sweets.
Go ahead, shriek in disgust.
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