I'm not married, but if I was. . .

I would be married to him. Plain and simple, I love my Johns. Having him back on Idol on Wednesday just rekindled a love affair that had started back at the beginning of the season. But like any relationship, sometimes loves takes a while to come to rolling boil. Not like those new stoves from the devil that Kelly Ripa is advertising. 90 second boil, please. Instead, my love for Michael resembles that of the old Jenn Air stove top in our country home growing up. At least 10 minutes on high. AHHH, at times if felt like an eternity.

Here is a chronicle of our love-

Love at first sight: Michael walks into the Idol audition in San Diego. Attention grabbed.

First date: Michael sings Queen. "Mama!"

Rendezvous to meet the parents: Mr. Johns sings "We Will Rock you!" Please, do you promise??

Time for engagement photos: I might need to take a moment to collect myself here. Breathe out. Michael brilliantly combined two of my loves, Michael Johns and none other than Dolly Parton. Michael sings, "It's All Wrong, but It's All Right." Watch and love. I can't express the feelings I experienced listening to him pay tribute to another Idol in such an intoxicating manner. Don't worry, I have been to the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede in Branson, MO. Sadly, no actual Dolly. Just an amazing gift shop. So, in other words, Michael, please marry me.

Honestly, I'm sure all I need to do is say the word and he will leave his poor-man's-version-of-me of a wife. Because well, frankly, that's just the way my life is.

Hey Marcia, pass the mirrored sun reflector.

Got a tan this weekend in 60 degree weather. Just sitting at the baseball game. It's May, and I have a healthy glow. Oh yeah, I won a free T-shirt from Cosmo too. All thanks to my Spidey reach.

Overnight Miracle

So, I needed my birth certificate ASAP. But when it comes to the government, they are no respector of persons . . . or so I thought. On Tuesday, I did a little googley googlin and came across a site that I could use to pay with a credit card. Credit cards are better than checks, because they aren't paper and they're not so mommy. OF course this seemed the best option, except that there was just no way around getting a notarized signature faxed to the vital records office in Fairfield, CA, my place of birth. And fax? Please, is it the 80s? Anyway, everything was seeming a bit archaic, but I decided to play by the rules. Reluctantly.

However, during the ordering process, I did notice there was a fed ex option for delivery. Fed Ex is obviously better than USPS because it's usually more expensive. Check yes please. So, of course it cost a little more, but I've never been afraid of a dollar sign. Finally, Tuesday afternoon I got all my ish "faxed" off and awaited a 2 week arrival of my package, or whenever pony express could get it here.

Now, I wasn't expecting to have any special treatment, but sometimes this stuff just follows you. And ta dah, Wednesday afternoon, after returning home from a pleasant day at work, my roomie, Liz, presented me with a beautiful Fed Ex package. Inside: MY Birth Certificate. Sheesh! Turns out, it pays to "DISCOVER."