Wow.

I was brought to tears tonight. 

I'm not a big crier, as I hate to cry either alone or in front of people -- I really have to be hurt deeply to cry at all, let alone in front of anyone.  I'd rather drop a cement block on my toe than cry in front of people. 

Tonight though, I did cry. 

I picked up my mail from yesterday after I returned home from a totally delicious dinner at Mary and Lee's house.  I wandered into the house, sorting it, then happened to notice an envelope from my alma mater, Cottey College.

Last week I'd received notification that I'd been appointed to the alumnae board for Cottey.  I posted this on Facebook and a friend of mine suggested that my P.E.O. friends, as well as classmates, make a donation to Cottey in my honor.

She did so.  The notice I received today was notification that she had done that. 

I am honored, flattered, amazed and just overwhelmed by the kindness.  What An Honor.

Relaxed ... but ...

Lots of things on my mind. 

Received some news today that wasn't entirely unexpected but still shocking. 

Went to the flea market today with Dad and Stepmom -- bought lots o'fruit and veggies, as well as some jewelry.  Good times.

In my jammies by 3 p.m.  Not sure if this is a sign of my impending hermit-life but I'm loving it nonetheless. 

More later as things develop.

Some things I cannot explain.

Have you ever felt like some things in your life are so sensitive that the moment you think about them you get a little prickly and cranky?

There are a few things I've been dealing with that have caused me to turn a bit inward, to figure out how to become less prickly, less cranky.  Less annoyed over circumstances that I cannot change.  I have found myself relying on the serenity prayer a lot lately. 

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.

Swedish men's curling team.

http://skipcottagecurling.blogspot.com/2009/12/salute-to-sweden.html

Niklas Edin - skip.  Age 24.  Ridiculously hot.

Watching the men's curling tonight reminded me of all the reasons I loved Sweden so much.  My God, the men were incredible looking and all appealed to my inner Swede. 

Not sure if I'm going to Sweden this summer after all -- auntie N and cousin T seem to be out for reasons unknown.  Now thinking a trip with Angela to Ireland may be on the front burner.  Wonder if Irish men will have the same effect on me?  My other ancestry is Irish/English, so time will tell ...

Feeling kinda pissy today.

I was ill yesterday -- some kind of stomach virus that made everything I ate or drank pass through my system at warp speed.  That was highly unpleasant.

Today -- got a shot and blood drawn all in the same day.  As I've planned to go back to school, some extra vaccinations are needed.  The measles-mumps-rubella I expected, as I had to have that redone for college -- hence the blood draw to ensure that I am full innoculated.  The shot today was the first of three for Hepatitis B and I also need to get my meningitis shot. 

Apparently it is down to the County Health Department for my meningitis shot.  Oy.

In other news ... a couple potential dates this week.  I'm feeling rather down on the notion of dating these days so I'm not sure if I'll actually go.  I'm trying to set a course in my life for the future and right now, dating really doesn't register on that course.

Gardening.

There is something decidedly theraputic in gardening for me.  As a kiddo, my paternal grandmother gardened (flowers and lots o' veggies), as did my maternal grandmother (lots of flowers).  At age 9, my parents, sister and I moved to a bigger house with a much bigger yard and we had an enormous garden.  That garden provided most of the veggies I remember eating as a kid, as well as copious amounts of blackberries and raspberries hot off the vine. 

In my own life, I've always had pots of flowers wherever I've lived and when I maintained some permanency, I had a garden.  My little house on Maple Lane had all flowers and a continuously growing amount of flower beds surrounded the place.  I planted flowers and plants wherever I could, just to give the house a super-homey look.  I loved being in my garden.

After I got married, sold my house and moved in with the Hex, I started on his garden beds, making them much bigger than what they ever were before and also adding a decent sized garden in the back yard.  I planted all sorts of veggies and herbs and many a night's supper was supplemented with a basket full of produce direct from our garden.  Even when things were turning sour between us, I found solace in the garden, working the soil and seeing one thing spring to life from the ruins of another. 

When I moved to La Porte I just had some potted plants, then upon return to Carmel, I had several potted veggies and herbs.  When I bought my condo in Indy, I spent hours and hours amending the very neglected soil with composted manure, peat and garden soil.  One weekend I hauled over 1500 lbs of that mixture into the garden beds.  After that, I planted many of the flowers that now showcase the condo, as well as creating a raised garden bed for my veggies that summer. 

In Florida, gardening is a different animal.  Many of the native flowers I know nothing about.  The growing season starts in February, rather than May, and the soil here is mostly sand (as you'd expect).  However, the knowledge I gained while working at my grandmas' sides, as well as my parents' sides was put to good use this weekend.

Yesterday at Mary and Lee's four raised beds were created.  Four by four in size, cedar board construction, with good dirt, the beds were a labor of love for Mary, Lee, Mary & Lee's kiddos and I.  By the end of Sunday, we had planted: corn, broccoli, peppers, cucumbers, pumpkins, zucchini, parsley, oregano, strawberries, asparagus, peas, green beans, lettuce and spinach.  I'm sure I'm missing a few things.  There are four raised beds yet to be created, with even more things to come.  I do know that one of the four boxes to come will showcase flowers for a cutting garden, as Mary, Mary's mom and I all love fresh flowers for the house. 

So I'm gardening again.  It felt like a slice of heaven to be playing in the dirt again.

Cutesy Couples on Facebook

I, for one, am sick of seeing cutesy little flirty comments between couples on facebook.  I mean seriously, if you ARE, AT MAX, TWO ROOMS AWAY FROM EACH OTHER AND I NEED TO READ WHICH BODY PARTS YOU ARE GOING TO KISS FIRST, I HAVE BUT ONE THING TO SAY:

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THAT IS HOLY, SHUT THE FUCK UP.  NO ONE, LEAST OF ALL ME, NEEDS TO KNOW THIS.  ARE YOU IN FUCKING HIGH SCHOOL?

Thank you.

This rant has been brought to you by: Facebook.  Now making everyone know just how often, how much, and just where you'd like your lover to touch, kiss, suck, etc you. 

Gag.  Double Gag.  *Vomit*

VFW

Today's plans included garage saleing, Jersey Boys, beach time and the Edison Festival of Lights parade. 

After we finished garage saleing, Jersey Boys and beach time, Mom and I were ready to do something other than the Edison parade.  I've heard it is great, I'm sure I'll see it next year (perhaps).

On our way home from Fort Myers Beach, I suggested a stop in the Fort Myers Beach Veterans of Foreign Wars post.

A couple things you should know before this completely sounds weird.

One: my Dad is a Vietnam Vet.  My Mom's dad is a WWI (yes, One) vet. 
Two: My dad used to be a part of the VFW drill team while I was growing up.
Three: I spent many a formative hour of my kidhood at the VFW, with friends at the VFW or hanging with my parents and their friends at the VFW.  It was a big family deal.

So going to the VFW is no big deal to me -- and I've been a VFW Auxilary member for ten years+ now. 

So we go.  Apparently it is pizza night at the V, so I see it when we come in and suggest that we order pizza for dinner from there.  The place is crazy packed and there is a guy singing (actually, rather well) as entertainment.  I'm the youngest by twenty years or so, except for about four other people. 

I order our pizza, we sit at the bar and relax.  People watching, enjoying the music, generally having a good time.  Mom (who is apparently on a mission to have me date) spies this guy across the bar (one of the four around my age) and notes that he is pretty cute.  I concur and notice he appears to be sitting with his parents.

We get our pizza and OMG IT IS SO DAMN GOOD. The  best pizza I have had since coming here by far.  FAR.  DELICIOUS.  After pizza, we are just relaxing a bit more, then decide to head home.  I've had some across the bar banter with this guy's Dad, so before we go, I buy a pitcher of beer for him, his Dad and Mom.  Mom walks out and I go over to introduce myself. 

Turns out that "C" just moved here from Maryland, his parents live here, and he spent nine months working in the Elkhart, IN area last year.  I hand him my card, ask him to call me and we'll have lunch.

I'll keep you posted. 

Dating Advice From My Mother

Apparently this week in Florida has given my mother something to worry about: my dating life.

Each day has been comments on why I should be dating, who I might date, what I ought to do to meet people to date, etc etc.

All of that discussion makes me want to throw myself in front of a LeeTran (the local bus service).

Like I've said before, just when I think I've reached the basement level of pathetic, I retrieve a shovel and dig a little deeper. 

Fuck Me.

My Mother Wants Grandkids

and I am in no hurry to provide them.

Yesterday afternoon, I was at a grant meeting in Collier County.  My mom, reading the newspaper, notes that the Clydesdale horses will be in town.  She leaves a voicemail for me at work -- that we should collect Mary and Lee's four kiddos and take them to see the horses. 

Yes, my Mom is not above poaching grandchildren, especially since her own kids have been so reluctant in providing her some.

I've just about washed my hands of kids.  I mean, I'm 36, no kids so far, no boyfriend/lovah/sweetie on the horizon, not looking too promising, IMHO.  My sister, however, just got married last year.  Mom's Great Hope For Grandkids.  I teased Sister about that this morning -- telling her that Mom is now poaching grandchildren since we have been slackers in this regard.

I like kids.  I would like to have my own kids.  It just isn't looking promising.

So the poaching continues.  Readers -- if you have kids in need of a fabulous wanna-be grandparent, my Mom is willing to informally adopt them.  Just let me know and I'll have her get in touch. 

As for me, I'll just focus on my career/life goals right now, as those seem to be the things that are going well in my life right now.

The Craziness Continues

I received word today that I have been selected to be a part of my alma mater's alumnae association board.  This is SUCH an honor and a joy I can hardly contain my excitement. 

I'll go in a month to meet the board and be inducted, then my first official meeting is this fall.

Cottey College Alumnae Board. 

Wow.

Diving Into The Deep End Of The Pool.

I think I've finally cracked.  I know, there are those of you that think I have cracked long ago (and you are right) but perhaps I'm even more cracked now (shocking, isn't it?).

Today I applied for admission to a Ph.D. program.

Public Affairs, to be precise.  It goes along well with my Masters in Public Affairs I have now. 

I am nervous they won't accept me.  I am nervous that I won't be able to juggle all the things I should.  I'm nervous that I will completely lose what is left of my marbles.

But totally excited too.

Stay tuned.

Puttin' on my crankypants.

So Evan Bayh is not running again.  Let's be honest, Evan Bayh was no more a Democrat than I am Republican.  What plays well in Indiana is a R in D clothing. 

The best thing I can say about Evan is that his wife was a good advisor to the Butler Democrats while I was there and I finagled a nice summer internship (which later turned into a career-change) while he was Gov. 

The worst thing I can say about him (before two days ago) was that he had the SOFTEST hands of any man, woman or child I have ever met.  EVER.   I don't know what lotion he used, how many manicures he had or even if he had ever picked up anything heavier than a prop shovel at a groundbreaking but I can say this -- his hands were the stuff silk would be jealous of.

Now.

Let's talk about the general commenters on the various websites talking down my home state.  Fuck Off.

For those that want a fast pace, big cities and endless parades of insanity, Indiana isn't your place.  Go ahead, go back from whence you came.  If you can never just appreciate the whispering sounds that a breeze blowing through the corn fields  makes -- Indiana isn't your place.  If you don't understand the fascination with basketball (or Class Basketball, if you really want to start a fight), then Indiana isn't your place. 

Indiana isn't California, Colorado, Massachusetts or even Florida.  It is Indiana.  It has its own charms, apparently lost on many out there in other states.  From the Lake Michigan sand dunes to rolling fields of corn to the hills and valleys -- Indiana has a beauty all its own.  From agriculture to race cars to basketball, Indiana holds a special place in my heart. I love my home state. 

Career Goals

So after reading a friend's blog on how she turned her life around, I'm taking this to heart.  There are many things in my life I cannot control, but the things that I can -- I will. 

Career goals ... for Athena.  2010-2020.

*Apply to Florida International University in Miami, Florida.  Three professional references: SH, NT, MC.
*Be accepted into Florida International University in Miami, FL for a Ph.D. program in public administration.
*Complete Ph.D. program and earn Ph.D. by 2017. Dissertation topic: effect of grant funding on student success.
*Seek employment as a professor in a Florida public administration program.

The list.

A number of friends of mine have lived through situations very much like my own.  A divorce, losing lots of stuff and being nearly homeless - I've lived it.  I don't recommend to others but I would say it caused me to really think about what is necessary in my life and what is not.

What isn't necessary: drama, lies, fighting.

What is necessary: love, communication, compassion.

Today on FB, I was reading another friend's blog.  She described a life much like mine and how she began to pull out of it and make her life her own again.  I admire her -- and her resolutions to herself.   It is knowing that others have walked my road and have lived to find love again means that anything is possible. 

I'll be making that list for myself.  A list among many.  It is time to restart my life.  Time to look for love, communication and compassion.  For me.

I miss him.

And there is nothing to be done about it.  

*sigh*

It is a wonder

that some people can sit up and take nourishment, let alone not wander into traffic without guidance.

Seriously.

The dumbass from yesterday is back in my email today.  Apparently he is not deterred by my obvious sarcasm nor hints that he is illiterate.  Fuck.

The potluck-from-hell went okay today.  I didn't kill the administrative assistant.  It was touch and go for awhile.

Picking up Mom at the airport in an hour.  Looking forward to her visit. 

Open Letter To A Dumbass

Dear Dumbass,

Although it may appear to you that emailing me relentlessly with questions is your idea of a fine day, I disagree.  The document you requested was sent to you yesterday as an email attachment.  While I know it is hard to imagine actually (shock, dismay, horror) opening the document, you might find what it is exactly you are looking for in the document.

I should have felt bad about reciting chapter and verse of where you could find the information you requested in the fucking document you didn't bother to open, stupidfuck, but I did not.  Instead, I willingly bedrudgingly gave saved you your some sorry pointers ass on where exactly to look for what it is you were looking for in the first place but were too damn stupid and wouldn't open the document. 

Best of luck to you fuck off and die in your endeavor,

Athena your bitch

Singles Awareness Day

Dating no one? (check)
Any potentials? (no, check)
Spending time with Mom on Valentines Day? (check)

Level of pathetic in sub-basement?  (triple check)

Hurricanes

Now that I'm here in Florida, I pay a little closer attention to hurricanes.  I did when my Dad first moved down here -- but now that my stuff could be blown all over hell's half-acre, I am a bit more interested in them.

I'm working on a grant.  Specifically it is for emergency management in our collegiate high schools.  I was asked by our grant partner if I had any instances of us using an emergency managment grant and the only thing I could think of was Hurricane Charley.

Hurricane Charley was a 2004 storm that was headed for Tampa when it decided to make a sharp right turn over Pine Island and lay waste to Punta Gorda/Port Charlotte.  I remember it vaguely, as I was visiting my dad a year later and saw the devastation (trees, rubble, light poles bent in half, etc.).  I didn't live it though, so my appreciation was more on the level of "Holy Crap."

I asked our Charlotte campus president for information regarding how Hurricane Charley affected our Charlotte campus, as well as the personnel of it. 

What I received made my eyes tear up -- just at the thoughts of total loss. 

I emailed back, thanking her for the documents and telling her I began to appreciate what a hurricane does to an area in a way I had not appreciated before.  She replied back, telling me that her admin assistant was in tears compiling it for me.

Five. Years. Later.

I feel like an ass, a heel, a fool and the worst kind of gawker, knowing that I caused her pain even after all this time.  So the next time you hear of a hurricane, say a prayer for all those involved, as even five years later is too fresh for many.

Looking back.

Before I was married, I had a cute little house in a cute little neighborhood in Indianapolis.  It was a two bedroom, one bath bungalow.  Good size basement for my glasswork, nice finished attic for a spare bedroom/storage.  Former carriage house turned into a garage -- fenced yard, brick carport.  It was mine and it was just a complete slice of heaven.

In this little house, I used to host a party every Valentine's weekend for friends.  Specifically single friends, as I found that most of us needed an excuse to not wallow in our own self-pity (or, well, I needed an excuse not to wallow).  Guests were asked to bring a bottle of wine, while I made dinner.  Generally a big salad, a lasagne or two and some sort of dessert.  It was work, no doubt, but always made those Valentines Days a little better, or at least, a little more hungover :) 

Some of my best memories involve friends, laughter and fun -- but perhaps the most striking one in my memory is when I invited a guy I'd been dating (NOT seriously -- like we'd been out on two dates, maybe), as well as a coworker.  What I didn't know then was that he was dating both me and the coworker and hadn't bothered to share that information with either of us. 

Well.

That made for a most interesting evening, as he attempted to avoid both of us in this tiny little house.  Unfortunately for me, I ended up getting food poisoning from my lunch that day (part of my preparation always included lunch out for me, since I was cooking all day, I wasn't making my own lunch too), and he thought that the reason I was sick was because he was dating my coworker. Talk about ego!  You might imagine (correctly) that both I and my coworker dropped him like a hot rock after that night, so Mr. Stud Muffin was left to date no one. 

Most mornings-after the party found various sleeping people all over my house due to the excessive amount of alcohol consumed.  Although guests were asked to bring one bottle of wine, most brought two, and two bottles per person = big drunken fun times.

Ah, the "cupid's got a bad aim" parties.  Miss 'em.

Potluck of the Damned.

as in, damned if you do, damned if you don't.

This Friday is a potluck/pitch-in at work.  Various people are bringing various things.  I volunteered to pick up all the paper products as well as beverages, then collect money from the directors for the purchase of such.  Seems reasonable, yes?

Oh Fucking No It Is Not.

There is an administrative assistant that is riding my ass as if I have been saddled.   Every day, a stop by, an email or a phone call (or a combination of the three) on my progress.  Apparently I am her personal bitch.  I have taken to saying that I'm gonna call (administrative assistant) on so and so unless this is done, because clearly in the reporting structure, it is my job to call her with an update.

I may go batshit.

Mary is, of course, enjoying the living hell out of this.  She loves to torture me.   The initial plan was a potluck.  Somehow it has now morphed into a (gag me) Valentine's theme.  So now Mary emails me every few hours to tell me it is now a costume party, no, a luau, etc etc. 

She better be nice or I'm sic'ing the administrative assistant on her. 

Thoughts from today ...

Tonight I had dinner out at one of my favorite places, the Mona Lisa.  I saw the owner, Joe, had some laughs with him and generally enjoyed myself.  I was seated next to a couple who were on their second trip to the ML and next to them was a single guy who was on his first trip to the ML.  After the couple left, he and I began chatting about this and that.  He recently relocated from NJ, likes it here so far but is trying to meet new people.  I ended up giving him my card, told him to call me if he wanted to meet for dinner.  I'd guess him in his early-mid 40s, which has generally been my age group for dating.  Seems nice, time will tell.

Also tonight -- talked to Jason.  Basically Superbowl recap, plus some regular bs'ing.  It was good to talk to him.

Busy day tomorrow -- trip to Collier County for a meeting and Zumba tomorrow night.

Life.

Colts.  sigh.

Talked to the Marine yesterday twice ... once at 6:27 a.m. (when he woke me up) and once at midnight last night (when he woke me up again).   Just BS talk about the Colts, life, dating, etc.  I love to tease him about his sheets, his house, his life and his penchant for dating the young'uns.  He loves to jerk my chain about nearly everything in my life.  I am an easy target, what can I say?  He seems to be doing well, might want to change careers and definitely wants to rid his house of roommates.  I gave him some advice, we laughed, it was all good.  I had to tease him last night tho -- when he woke me up for the second time in 24 hours -- I told him that I generally only like wake ups twice in one day by someone I'm sleeping with, and since he isn't and we're not, he owes me.

Finally shutting the door on someone I should have a while back.  Feelings are a hard thing to deal with -- and sometimes some real quality time is spent sorting through those feelings to determine the best course of action.  For me, that best course is letting go, accepting and moving on.

Mom arrives this Friday -- for about ten days.  She is totally excited (as am I) and is looking forward to some days in the sunshine.  I'm not sure what days I'll be taking off yet, but I'm working that out now.

Need to refocus on taxes, application to grad school.  Double sigh.

If only ignorance were a disease.

I would hope that a cure can be found.

I definitely get cranky when I see legislation that prevents same-sex couples from the same level of civil rights as married couples have. 

Yes, I said Civil Rights.

I do believe that same-sex marriage is a civil rights matter, and here's why:

• Marriage is not a predominately religious institution.  Judges, lawyers, justices of the peace and even city/town officials can "officiate" a marriage. 
• The status of "marriage" as a civil institution, affords benefits in:
• health care
• end of life decisions
• tax benefits
• financial benefits (applying for a mortgage, car loan, etc)
• custody disputes
• transfer of property
• Marriage licenses are issued by the state, not by churches, religious bodies or clergy.
• Marriage versus Civil Union is one of semantics.  If we are to separate the two, I recommend "Marriage" for those unions performed by clergy and completed in a church/temple/mosque/house of worshiop.  Civil Union for all other partnerships.

Just as I believe in the separation of church and state, I believe in the rights of same-sex marriages.  As marriage licenses are issued by the state, it is a civil matter, thus not one for debate in the religious community.

The Weekend is Wide Open

Not real sure what I'll be doing this weekend. 

I *need* to get my taxes together (but that sucks), get the house ready for Mom's arrival on Friday (but that sucks) and generally do a trash run around here (but that sucks).

Oh, and the ever-present, never-ending, always-growing pile o'laundry.  I truly need a houseboy/cabana boy.

How useful would it be to have someone do my laundry, pick up my house, do my shitwork for me while I'm at work, so I can come home and just take a moment to relax.  Wow.  Now I'm thinking like a 1950s suburban dad.  Dear Lord.  This blog has come off the rails.

***********
In family news, it appears that my cousin's wife has yet again gone off her meds for bipolar disorder.  This is not good news, friends, as they have two very young children.  Oy. 

In other family news, my great-uncle Glenn passed away this past Sunday night.  He and my Aunt Vera were married for 65 years.  He's suffered from alzheimers for a few years now, so it is nice to think he is at peace.  Godspeed, Uncle Glenn. 

************
Not much else to report, I'm just living as me. 

Back in FM

Good people, I'm about to tell the dirty, filthy truth about the state capitol of Florida. 

It belongs in Georgia or Alabama, and I don't care which.

It is 6.5-7 long hours from Fort Myers.  For you Hoosiers, picture the state capitol in New Albany -- and you (and the rest of the far-more-populous areas) live in South Bend.  Now, picture New Albany an hour further south -- and you get the picture.

The panhandle of Florida isn't really Florida-like.  No palms.  Lots of deciduous trees and pines. 

Give it back to Georgia or Alabama.  Doesn't matter which.  Move Florida's state capitol to somewhere mid-state -- like Orlando.  Let that place be known for more than RatWorld.

As far as state capitols go (and I've been in my fair share) -- Tallahassee isn't good enough to be in their numbers.

I'm Crass.

I might as well admit it out loud.  I am. 

I'm here in Tallahassee at a conference.  Tally is about 7 hours from FM, way up in the Panhandle of Florida.  It is super boonie-land up here, really reminds me of southern Indiana in many ways.  In fact, I-10, which runs the panhandle, looks a whole lot like I-64 in southern Indiana.

But I digress.

As much as I love hotels -- someone else to make my bed mmm mmm mmm -- I also hate them.  I hate the paper thin walls.  The petty annoyances of those around me just grate on my nerves.

Last night. 

Up later than I would normally be, after having my mind blown by LOST.  So there I am, trying to fall asleep while the room on the left of me is obviously having a conversation with someone in ANOTHER STATE as she is so damn loud, while the guy on the right of me is playing the TV at approximately 3 million decibels.  All this at midnight.

So how does this relate to me being crass?

Well.  Here we go.  Ugly truths about Athena. 

I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep.  This noise level has gone on since 10 or so.  I didn't mind while LOST was on (as I was concentrating) but at midnight? 

So I had some beers last night.  And beers make me gassy.  I would generally try not to release my gas in a grotesque or unpleasant manner, generally trying to either go into a restroom or hold it.  Even when I'm alone, I'm not big on behaving like a boor.

Last night I didn't hold back.  AND IT WAS SUPER DUPER CATASTROPHICALLY LOUD.  Think Elephant trumpet.  Times 10.

All the sudden, both rooms quieted down.   And I fell asleep.  Crass, crass me.

Time keeps slipping away.

Last week I lost an old friend of mine, Robby Ross.  I'm sure he would have probably laughed at me calling him Robby, but when you know someone from 3rd grade on, some names just don't change. 

We lost track of each other after HS, as I have with so many people I knew from "back then."  It is weird, sometimes, how memories float to the top after realizing what is lost.

We kissed, once, back in 6th grade or so.  A game of Spin the Bottle, no less, at my friend Tricia's house.  It was a slumber party at her house and of course, what fun is it in small town America if boys can't crash a slumber party.  I couldn't tell you if I kissed anyone else that night, but here are two things I remember: he had super soft lips and he was good at kissing, even then.  To tell the truth, if I look back, he was probably among the top 10 kisses I've ever had.  It was soft, it was sweet and it had just the amount of pressure to it to let you know that he kissed me because he *wanted* to, not just because the bottle happened to point at us both.

He was also the first guy I ever remember wearing a Megadeath and Metallica t-shirt.  I had no idea (at the time) what these names meant, only that Robby seemed to like them. 

Peace be with you friend.  I'm glad your suffering has ended.  See you later ...


Robert J. Ross Oct. 9, 1973 - Jan. 26, 2010


NEW CARLISLE - Robert J. Ross, 36, of New Carlisle, IN, passed away Tuesday, January 26, 2010, at Northwestern Hospital in Chicago, IL. Robert was born October 9, 1973, in LaPorte, IN to the late Robert and Carol (Ross) Ross. Robert is survived by his wife, Susan, a sister, Rhonda (Dennis) Wilson of Rolling Prairie, IN and children; Douglas (Jamie) Brasseur of Kingsbury, IN, Bethanne (Dale) Howard of LaPorte, IN, Kathryn (John) Brasseur of New Carlisle, IN; five grandchildren; Maggie, Ryan, Lyla, Nathan, and Austin, many aunts, uncles, cousins and lots of good friends. He was employed as a mechanic with Summer Song in South Bend, IN, and K-Fex Excavating & Trucking in New Carlisle, IN. Visitation for Robert will be from 2-8 p.m. (Eastern Standard Time), Sunday, January 31, 2010, at the Kaniewski Funeral Home, 3545 Bendix Drive, South Bend, Indiana. Funeral services will be at 1 p.m. (E.S.T.), Monday, February 1, 2010, at the Kaniewski Funeral Home. Entombment will follow in Riverview Cemetery, South Bend, Indiana. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to Shriner's Children's Hospital, 2211 N. Oak Park Avenue, Chicago, IL 60607 or Riley Children's Foundation c/o Epilepsy Research, 30 S. Meridian Street, Indianapolis, IN 46204.